« The upshot is that Jonah and Cord were recognized, and Nightingale agreed to come with us when we promised mating opportunities. We took him to the Sultana to apologize for causing problems, and she agreed to a fair trade of grapes to Nightingale’s gang in exchange for wine to export. She also signed a treaty and trade agreement with us – I think that’s a good day’s diplomacy. Speaking of diplomacy, Ailann, return me to Frangfrang. »
« But we really need you, » says Mickey. « We’re still missing branches and sparks… »
« Not hearing it. Take me back to Frangfrang. »
« Of course, Tara wants to leave, » says Lorcan. « All we’ve done since she came here is work her to the bone. We never even got to that hot tub orgy. And weren’t we going to have a party in the Gold Lounge? Or better still, maybe she’d like to experience the scene at Sloane’s. »
Lorcan is very canny. I think about it for a moment, think about an orgy of gorgeous studs performing for my pleasure…old favorites like Whirljack, Patrick, Wynne… « Sloane’s, » I murmur. « No, I can’t. I’m really worried about Tielo. »
« Tielo is very powerful, » says Ailann.
« But he pays a price for it, Ailann. And also, he gets so weird – leave him alone too long, and he might say or do something to offend our hosts. »
Tommy hands me a drink. « You have to have more trust in Lady Lorma, » he says. « You can relax. »
« Are you going to tell me what’s going on? »
« Why do you think something is going on? » asks Tommy quickly.
« Because you’re my best friend, and you look like the puppy that ate all the sucksow sausages. »
« Suibhne was hoping you’d come see him polish the penguins, » says Suibhne.
« Suibhne, maybe on another occasion. Wait, you’re going to do what? »
« Polish the penguins. They can get a little tarnished without proper care. »
« Is that an actual thing? »
Shamefaced, Suibhne glances in the opposite direction. « Not really. Penguins are naturally hygienic once they’re house-broken. The guano is rich in nitrogen, which is a win-win for plant species once the penguins are provided with adequate public housing and sanitation. »
« Do you want to go dancing? » Tommy stammers. « I could play the piano. I’ll bet you’ve never danced with Ross. Ross is a real good dancer, almost as good as Patrick. »
« That’s right. You’re a musician, too. You can keep time. How long have I been in here? »
Tommy is silent.
« That’s it. Where’s Rand? »
I spot him trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible behind Patrick.
« Spill it, » I demand.
« We can’t return you to Frangfrang, » says Rand.
« And why would that be? »
« Ah, we’re not actually at Frangfrang anymore. We’re approaching Earth’s moon. »
« WHAT? »
« A group of Frangfrangian radicals, apparently with the tacit support of the government, had planned to assassinate us. When you made the announcement about homesteading on Earth, the government changed its position and tried to put us under house arrest for our own protection. When Tielo escaped, they then tried to put our ship under quarantine. In order to avoid that, we made an emergency departure from Frangfrang, but were immediately attacked by an unknown ship which seems to be employing CenGov tech. We won the battle although our assailants eluded us. Tielo told Lady Lorma that they were going to Earth, which we can’t seem to confirm internally. All Lens sees is an enormous mountain, blocking his view of everything. Tielo has been really unstable, but Lady Lorma and Lieutenant N’Sha have chosen to accept his orders at face value, probably because they want to kick some ass. »
« Do I really need to explain how much trouble you’re in, Ash? »
« Probably not, » Ailann sighs. « Would it matter if I said we weren’t able to get a decent risk assessment, and we were being cautious for the sake of your safety? »
« Just put me the fuck outside. »
“I was right,” I hear Lady Magdelaine say as I’m coming down the hall. “There is a message from Tubby.”
She waves her hand over the datapad. A holographic image of the svelte aristocrat materializes. “Return immediately to Skarsia!” he commands. “Forget what the Archon told you. The power grid has become even more unstable, and we’ve been having a rash of minor terrorist incidents. There’s even been a protest march on Dalgherdia, claiming that the Dol-lan elites have turned their backs on the commercial classes. Protest march – do they think we have a democracy? If the Ipsissimal Couple is abandoning their IndWorld visit, we need them here.”
“Hmmm,” says Lady Magdelaine. “The Archon outranks him. I suppose that we could make the argument that His Holiness is currently unfit to rule, but I’m not sure I want to challenge the Living God.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to back down now that we’ve come this far,” says N’Sha. “The ashes of my ancestors would turn to uranium.”
“I agree.” My two trusted retainers jump and spin around immediately, surprised by my unexpected arrival. “I’m up for kicking some ass myself.”
The sad truth is that I am furious. I know that Ash was looking out for my safety, but I hate it when he treats me like a child. I hate it when he lies to me. And I hate the fucking assassin, CenGov, Frangfrangian whatevers for putting me in a position where I feel like I can’t trust my husband.
I don’t know what to do about Ash. But the ones who attacked my ship? Burn the motherfuckers.
“Your Eminence, to brief you on the situation…” begins N’Sha.
“I’ve had the briefing,” I reply. “Is the ship which attacked us in the Terran system?”
“It’s exactly as the Archon predicted,” says N’Sha. “On course for the moon.”
So Tielo was right after all.
“Also, we’re getting communications from Earth traffic control. They’ve phrased it more politely, but basically they’re wondering what the fuck we’re doing here.”
“Tell them it’s a surprise inspection. They’re the ones who wanted to be a protectorate of the Matriarchy.”
N’Sha and Lady Magdelaine are both grinning. All three of us grew up with battle training from the age of five. It’s really been too long since we’d been in a good fight. And this should seriously be a good one, since no government in their right minds would claim to have anything to do with these fuckers. Nobody wanted an all-out war.
We could pound the assholes with impunity.
We follow the ship to the bright side of the moon. Then it vanishes.
“A hidden base,” muses N’Sha. “Well-hidden. I’m not picking up any characteristic energy traces at all.”
“I’m not about to give up. Calculate the spot where it should’ve landed given its trajectory. Land nearby. We’ll take a look around.”
“We might have to land a little distance away,” says N’Sha. “It’s in the ghost towns.”
The ghost towns – the old, abandoned lunar colonies. At this point in history, basically dumping grounds for junk. “Then we might have a bit of a hike. Let’s kit up.”
It’s also been a while since I wore a space suit. In a way, I suppose it’s like diving, except that the headgear is a lot more awkward. And I’d gladly keep the flippers in exchange for the thermal suit. The conduits itch.
There’s an announcement over the comm. It seems unusually faint. I’ll have to ask N’Sha to check on it.
“Caddoc of Seachange, Big Banger to Her Eminence the Matriarch. 84th to emanate, 81 in the color scale, resonates to 419. 1.757 meters tall, cock size 17.12 cm when erect, apparent age 32. Explosives technician. Totem is Delonix regia, the royal Poinciana or flame tree, fixed star is Mulu-lizi, the man of fire. Esoteric symbol is the Minchiate trump Il Fuoco, fire. Dessert is Crepes Tara (crepes flambéed in caramelized sugar, butter and nau’gsh wine). Function is combinatory resistance, proto-conscious tendency is intensity, designated Heat. Blazon is feuillemort, on a pile raguly or, an exploding grenade, feuillemort.”
Or not.
I run down the corridor to our suite. The new emanation – Caddoc – is just where I expected him to be – stepping out of the bathroom. He’s a compact, muscular man, wearing the kind of heat-resistant coverall I often see on fuel technicians. He has an angular face, a determined jaw, thick, dark hair with heavy, evenly-trimmed bangs and sideburns.
Caddoc, he’s the one that, the one…which one was he? An orange one, maybe the one up in the tree? No, that one was Gwion. “What happened to Tielo?” I ask.
Caddoc stands in the doorway, staring at me.
“Caddoc, where’s Tielo?” I repeat.
“Back inside? I would think…that would be obvious?”
“Let’s start over. Why is he back inside?”
“He’s messed up pretty badly and needs some time to recover.”
“But what about you? I thought Ash was in the middle of a power shortage. Emanating someone new doesn’t make sense. And why not one of the six zillion unrecognized emanations?”
“I think part of it is that I could get the achievement for visiting the moon. I don’t know why it was me.”
“You tell Davy that he has to stop making eggs. Stop it now. That’s a direct order.”
“He said okay.”
“Good.”
“He said that he’s already got another dozen, and that he’s low on sparks anyway. But also about what you said – we don’t seem to be having a power issue. In fact, Canopus is getting an enormous influx of power.”
People have the wrong impression about penjing. They think a penjing or bonsai is supposed to be a miniature tree. Penjing actually means “tray planting,” and is used to refer to any sort of artfully potted plant although often a tree or shrub. When compared to the mountainous Atlas, Canopus is small, but is nobody’s idea of miniature.
That said, Canopus has grown so much I can’t see how we are going to be able to fit it through the door. The addition of the rowan branch had been bad enough, but now an olive, yew, willow, and maple were also crammed into the extremely undersized pot. “Maple? But how? The only power crystal I know of in the solar system is the burnt-out one in Clive’s apartment, and it isn’t connected to the grid. If Tielo isn’t supplying power directly from Yggdrasil, Canopus should be dormant, not growing new branches…”
“My feet hurt,” says Caddoc, sitting heavily on the side of the bed. “Davy says that’s because we’re root bound. It’s worse for the Canopus emanations. Quennel is quite ill; Hollis and Nash have been complaining about it as well.”
I bend closer to inspect. Strangely, it looks like there’s some kind of grass sticking out. How could Ash carelessly let weeds grow in his container, especially when there is so little space? Annoyed, I reach down to pull the leaves.
“Stop!” cries Caddoc, grabbing my hand.
“Are you seriously worried about a few blades of grass when we’re just about to blow some people’s heads off?”
“That’s…it’s Palmer.”
Palmer.
I am a botanist by trade. Even though my specialty is xenobotany, I still remember the basics from my studies on Earth. “You’re growing a freaking palm tree?”
“Um,” says Caddoc.
“How does that even happen?” I rave. “And we thought the conifers were weird. A monocot? I can only imagine pollination.”
Caddoc clears his throat. “Um, about that. Ross says that we’re in Earth’s jurisdiction. That means we have to file the proper documentation, or we’ll be guilty of a sex crime.”
“What?”
“Consent forms. You need to formally agree to any sexual acts in which we might engage.” He hands me a datapad.
“Look, we’re married.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“This list is…extensive. Doesn’t this kill the mood?”
“You can fill it out in advance and then activate it when needed. It works out rather well in hookup bars where people use their lists of acceptable sexual acts to advertise for a partner. Ross says the point is that there’s never a legal question about…”
“So what you’re saying is that the government here keeps records of everyone’s sexual activity?”
“Well, yes…”
“We have diplomatic immunity.”
It’s at that moment I realize we’re being watched from the doorway. “Which one is he?” asks Lieutenant N’Sha.
“Prince Caddoc.”
“Monocot or folding cot, for the sake of my own sanity, I’ve stopped questioning the propriety of your harem,” says Lady Magdelaine. “But filling out sexual consent forms when we’re kitting up to go hunting is excessive, even for you.”
N’Sha is gaping at Caddoc. “Milord,” she says weakly, “didn’t you just emanate Princes X’khaim and Hyde? This is unprecedented…”
“Not entirely,” I say dismissively. “Sometimes Ash just has an, um, growth spurt. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a few more before this is through.”
“Well,” says Lady Magdelaine, “at least he seems a bit more stable than Archon Tielo. And so what is it that you do, Prince Caddoc? Other than the obvious.”
“I blow things up,” says Caddoc.
That’s right – explosives technician. At least that’s a potentially useful skill. “Let’s get moving – we need to get home as soon as possible to transplant Canopus. If you’re coming, suit up.”
We step gingerly onto the surface, but we end up bouncing a little nevertheless – it always takes some time to get used to low-g. “I can’t believe that you’re going to infiltrate an enemy base personally,” says Caddoc. “You’re the Matriarch of Skarsia. Don’t you have soldiers for this?”
“I’m the daughter of the Terror of Nightside Elsinore. I don’t let other people fight my battles for me.” Lord Danak would probably have said the same thing. Men just don’t understand honor. “Look, Caddoc, nobody likes a ruler who is too much of a saint or a wuss. In my line of work, sometimes you just have to beat up assholes with a big stick.”
Caddoc gives me a side-eye that says We were patronizing, and now you’re trying to get even by taking an unacceptable risk. Well so fucking what?
Our small party makes its way through the desolate lunar landscape full of junk and old, abandoned buildings. “What happened to all the people?” Caddoc asks.
“The moon was popular in the early days of space colonization. Especially when the ecosystem of Earth took a nosedive, space living was trendy. But once interstellar travel became practical, the lunar colonies were abandoned. Why live here when you could go to a nice planet like Skarsia or Cybae?”
“There are still a few operational bases on the other hemisphere, mostly for mining and communications relays,” says N’Sha.
“It is depressing,” says Lady Magdelaine. “I couldn’t imagine not being able to go outside into the fresh air.”
“You should try living on Dalgherdia,” I say. “Especially with that four-hour light cycle – it completely screws up your circadian rhythms.”
“This lunar dust gets into everything,” mutters N’Sha. “Makes equipment maintenance a nightmare.”
Caddoc stops abruptly. “This is interesting. The region where that ship disappeared is heavily shielded – shielded, in fact, by a technology none of us recognize. It’s an extension of the way CenGov cloaks their ships. There’s a base there, a large, underground base inhabited by several thousand people.”
“What if they’ve been here all this time?” asks N’Sha. “What if a number of CenGov personnel went into hiding here instead of retreating to Memehaven?”
“So these people have probably been under the surface since before the fall of CenGov – that’s almost five years,” says Caddoc. “They’ve got to have a few plasma-fasteners loose.”
“Why didn’t we know this before now?”
“Quite possibly because the last time we were in this system, Lucius and Benbow were using Clive Rivers’ body,” says Caddoc. “Rivers’ sense of smell isn’t good enough to detect a hidden base on the moon.”
“And the RevGov probably doesn’t know about it either,” says Lady Magdelaine. “Should we inform President Tellick?”
“That might tip our hand,” I decide. “Given the demonstrable superiority of CenGov’s tech to the current Terran government, I’m not all too certain that our secure channels would be secure. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there are infiltrators in high places anyway.”
“They must have noticed our landing, though,” comments N’Sha. “They’re probably shocked that we found them.”
“They’ll probably assume that we have wormhole tracking technology. I wish. Ash, can’t you work a little on the Quicknodes to give that up?”
“Philosophia will probably have better luck,” says Caddoc. “Thoughtful 45 can’t keep a secret.”
We keep walking until Lady Magdelaine says, “This is where the ship vanished. I don’t see anything.”
Caddoc crouches, resting his gloved hand on the surface. “There’s a very cleverly disguised and well-shielded landing platform right beneath our feet. It lowers into an airlock which is connected to a hangar. There are ten ships stored, ranging in size from a shuttlecraft to a dreadnaught.”
“Surprise, surprise,” I murmur. “But not enough to take on the current government’s fleet.”
“That’s probably why they didn’t emerge during that scuffle with the Alliance. They didn’t want to risk losing this ace in the hole if the Hreck attacked.”
“But why come running here now?”
“They didn’t exactly expect us to track them back here,” says N’Sha.
“And we’re supposed to be on a diplomatic tour of the Alliance and the IndWorlds,” adds Lady Magdelaine. “If this ship had appeared in one of those systems, we might have noticed and asked uncomfortable questions.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” says Caddoc. “Landing here practically gives their location away to RevGov.”
“I wonder…does Tellick already know about it? He was a member of that Starless Sequester thing…honestly, I don’t trust that guy farther than I can throw a neutronium codpiece.”
“So now what?” says Lady Magdelaine. “They aren’t doing anything.”
“They’re probably hoping that we won’t find the base. They’re hoping that we’ll stand here baffled about where the ship went.”
“That’s stupid,” says Caddoc. “An underground base is the only logical possibility.”
“They’re betting that we can’t find it. Skarsian tech in that regard is even worse than Earth’s. But they’re forgetting that we have Cu’endhari technology at our disposal.”
“Cu’endhari technology?” says N’Sha.
“That’s what Clive calls alchemy.”
“Just give us a minute,” says Caddoc. “Owen and Barnabas are analyzing the equipment. They’re pinpointing the location of the hydraulic system controllers. All I’ll have to do is create a slight electric disturbance in the system and the platform will lower.”
“That’s remarkable,” says N’Sha.
“It’s nothing,” says Caddoc. “The more finely calibrated the technology, the less effort it takes on a molecular level to disturb it.”
“He’s right. Native Skarsians are impressed far too easily,” I add. “Dolparessans know that this level of alchemy is something almost any Cu’enashti could perform. It’s the knowledge of how to apply the force which makes Ashtara unique. Most Cu’enashti aren’t at all interested in science.”
“Ah, here we go,” says Caddoc. I feel a slight vibration under our feet; a hiss as the airlock activates. We start to descend.
Five minutes later, we’re hiding behind a shuttle as plasma bursts whiz past our heads. Just because they don’t expect you to find them doesn’t mean there won’t be alarms. “Perhaps it’s time to contact Tellick,” I suggest.
“Communications are jammed,” says N’Sha. “Apparently the shielding also makes it difficult to send messages outside of the base.”
“This was not one of my better ideas,” I say, cocking my rifle and hoping I’m not too rusty – I haven’t been in a real firefight in years.
“There are 2,845 people on this base, probably all trained fighters,” says Caddoc. “We’re not going to be able to take out all of them with a handful of troops carrying small arms. Fortunately, I have a better idea.”
“A better idea is good,” I agree.
“This base is full of all sorts of things that could potentially explode – from fuels to lubricants to bleached wheat flour. It will take remarkably little energy to provide a spark or catalyst to set off the fireworks.”
Lady Magdelaine ducks behind a repair crane as she reloads her energy pack. “Now would be a good time.”
“Just a minute,” says Caddoc. “Owen is helping me to calculate the possible ramifications.”
“What ramifications?” I yell. “Blow something up already!”
“We’d prefer not to injure sentient beings, and we’d especially prefer not to injure ourselves,” says Caddoc with considerably more calmness than is warranted under the circumstances. “We’re calculating where we can cause the most distraction with the smallest number of casualties.”
“Oh good grief. I hope Cillian is ripping you a new root system for being squeamish.”
“OK, got it,” says Caddoc, giving me a thumbs up. “Let’s blow shit up!” The shock of a rumbling explosion shakes the concrete platform beneath us. In the distance, I hear the whine of a safety alarm.
Caddoc is grinning contentedly. “You look happier than a tree in a fertilizer factory and higher than an interstellar transport.”
“It’s the adrenaline. And…explosions. I mean, I really like them.”
There’s another roar in the distance. Some of the soldiers have ceased firing and are scrambling in confusion. Caddoc ignites a can of petroleum stored behind one of the shuttles. There’s a deafening roar and a wall of flame, but the shuttle protects us from being hit by debris. That’s the good news, but into each life a little rain must fall. In our case, a sprinkler system activates, drenching us.
“They seem pretty distracted,” says Lady Magdelaine. “Perhaps we should take our leave.”
“Maybe we could force them to evacuate,” suggests Caddoc. “Surely, ten ships leaving the moon without authorization will get the attention of the RevGov?”
“The whole point of this was to find out the identity of our would-be assassins.”
“CenGov, surely?” asks N’Sha. “The shielding technology proves it.”
“I’ll bet a breakfast taco that they’ll deny it. That rat Gweseki will say he had no idea this group of refugees was hiding on the moon. We need concrete evidence. And there’s a sliver of a chance that they aren’t behind this – there was a telepathic attack on Cybae, and it wasn’t by a member of the Telepathic Corps.”
Caddoc shakes his head. “Patrick and Quennel both advise against confronting Gweseki with the evidence – it would only push us into a war we’re not ready to fight yet. Patrick says that the combination of humiliation over this botched visit of state and greed for homesteading on Earth will cause Frangfrang to take our side in Alliance politics – or perhaps even withdraw from the Alliance entirely. We’re better off doing nothing.”
“I’m not sure I like that ‘yet,’” says Lady Magdelaine. “But that’s definitely the ship that attacked us. And the design…”
“Um,” says Caddoc.
“What?”
“The main hull is made of starslick. That’s not CenGov tech – Mickey says it was designed especially for use with SSOps stealth fighters.”
I look at him incredulously. Maybe it’s just hard to think with things blowing up right and left, but that seems incredibly stupid to me. “Why would they use that if they have access to this amazing shielding technology?”
“The shielding on this base is using a lot of energy – which is easily provided by the solar panels that once powered the abandoned lunar cities,” Caddoc explains. “The advantage of starslick is that it’s just a material coating – it doesn’t use any energy at all. Highly efficient for a small ship.”
“Let me rephrase that. Why are they using our technology?”
“The better question is how. Starslick is a military secret. Someone in our organization is selling our military tech – if not directly to our enemies, then at least on the open market.”
“Let’s get back to blowing things up,” I decide.
Twenty minutes later, we’re on board the Victorious Tara. “I hope the evacuating ships don’t decide to take a shot at us,” says N’Sha.
It feels damn good to get out of this thermal suit. “Where the hell is Tellick? You can’t possibly tell me he didn’t notice that little conflagration, let alone the mass exodus from the base.”
“I’m surprised to hear myself say it,” says Lady Magdelaine, “but I’m starting to agree with Tubby. There are too many loose ends, too many complications. We’re overextended here. We need to go home.”
“Either go home, or find someplace to take on more fuel,” says N’Sha. “There’s a reason why space travel lacks a certain spontaneity. It’s fortunate that we had enough gas in the tank[1] left from all the interplanetary travel we’d planned for the IndWorld tour.”
“We can’t leave yet,” says Caddoc.
“You’re kidding.”
“The real reason we’re here lies on Earth.”
“Real reason? Aaargh! This is another one of Ash’s bait and switch operations. Why don’t you ever tell me the truth about what is going on?”
“Davy was trying, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Davy? I thought he was just helping Ailann with that bullshit trick to keep me from finding out about all this.”
“Tielo wasn’t concerned with following the assassins,” says Caddoc. “He had two destinations in mind. One was the moon – because one of us had to visit the moon to get the quest achievement. The other was to investigate the enormous power source on Earth’s surface – lying beneath Earth’s second tallest mountain.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with Davy?”
Caddoc looks at me helplessly. “He says it’s obvious. Tara, please believe me, we’re not trying to fuck with you. Sometimes we just have these intuitions.”
Yeah, I know, dammit, I know. When have you ever been wrong? “It would be a little easier to take mysterious things on faith if you didn’t keep lying to me, Ash.”
“Please, Tara.”
Caddoc’s eyes are so sad and so earnest. Ash, you droidfucker, you send me a new emanation now, someone who had nothing to do with the wool you pulled over my eyes. None of this is Caddoc’s fault. Dammit, we just found his spark swimming around outside of Atlantis. That’s the reason you sent a new emanation – not to get the achievement and not to blow things up. You manipulative son of a bitch.
No, it’s all three reasons. Ash is nothing if not efficient. “If we’re going to climb a mountain, maybe Marius would be better,” I sigh.
“We’re not climbing. K2 is ridiculously hard to climb. We’re going inside of it.”
“What?”
Caddoc raises his arms above his head. It looks like a ripple in water, a ripple in light, and then he’s gone, and Ash is there.
For a moment, I’m torn between the wonder I always feel at seeing him in this form – the pure energy of the mothman – and anger. But then I notice something different, almost imperceptible. There is vulnerability in his expression, and I know that there is something wrong, something that goes a lot further than the stupid machinations of CenGov and Frangfrang and a bit of sabotage back home.
I take his hand, dissolving into blue light.
What I see through his non-existent eyes is incredible, a panoramic view of the Himalayas in electric blue, enormous mountains, larger than anything on Sideria or Skarsia, worlds where the geological activity has settled with age. It’s been a while since I was on Earth, and I’m awestruck. We Skarsians tend to be nostalgic about the Earth, but it seems clear to me that the inhabitants don’t appreciate the exotic beauty which surrounds them. They’ve certainly done enough to fuck it up.
We swoop and suddenly we’re inside the mountain, travelling deep through kilometers of rock, and then…
…roots?!?
An enormous tangle of roots, the rootball to end all rootballs. The central grouping must be at least three MayaXtreme fields in diameter, branching off into five spokes which seem to extend infinitely in their pentagonal directions. It’s a clonal colony, then.
My mind resists reaching the obvious conclusion. This despite three decades of study which assure me that they’re unmistakably nau’gsh roots.
We emanate inside of the tangle, in a cavern created by the gigantic growths around us. Caddoc doesn’t return, though. It’s Suibhne, staggering under the weight of Canopus, which is now larger than he is.
There’s something about the central roots which is strange, different from the ones leading back to the trees. They’re misshapen, lumpen, and for a moment, I panic, thinking they’ve got a blight which would cause them to form abnormalities in the wood.
Burls.
The rootball is the physical nexus of the grove. It only makes sense that it’s a communications hub as well. This must be the place where they create all the public chatburls, stored in the safest place they could find, miles below Earth’s second highest mountain.
“Why not the tallest mountain? I understand why the rootball is on Earth – the source, the origin point for humans and nectarines, but why not put it under Everest? It just seems more symbolic of Ailann’s ambitions…”
“Everest is crawling with tourists,” says Suibhne, propping Canopus against one of the flatter root surfaces. Bizarrely, he begins to unfold a shimmering formal gown, unmistakably one of the historical pieces I saw hanging in the wardrobe in his palace a few years back. “What do offworlders always want to see? Everest, the Great Wall of China, the Mayan Pyramids, the Illuminati Complex at Rosslyn, Yellowstone Volcano and the ruins of New York. But no one ever comes here – it’s a miserable and dangerous ascent. Now we should get ready to go.”
“Go where?” I ask, expecting him to hand the dress to me. But instead, he pulls the voluminous skirt over the top of Canopus, wrapping the enormous silken train around the pot.
“Inside the pleroma,” he says. “You know, I was so mad at Quennel for ruining your dress.”
“At Quennel for…” Wait, he must be referring to the orgy at his palace. I borrowed a dress from Suibhne, but Quennel transformed the material. “He thought it was an improvement.”
“He had no idea how hard those moths worked to make that fabric,” Suibhne sniffs. “Let’s go.”
“But what about Canopus? You can’t just leave it here.”
Suibhne gives me an exasperated look. “Do you think I would’ve dressed it all up if I planned on leaving it here?”
“I really don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Don’t you know where we are?”
“Under the mountain designated K-2, in the Himalayas, on Earth.”
“I mean where in the pleroma we are.”
I shake my head helplessly.
“Suibhne will try to make this easy for you. Atlas, Goliath and Yggdrasil are towers in New Merenis. Ashvattha is on an island in the Southern Ocean. Ophion is an ocean port in the far north, located near Atlantis. Now why do we have so much power?”
“Huh?”
“We have so much power because we are at the rootball. And why is Suibhne here?”
“You’ve got me.”
“Tara, you’re not even trying. A penguin could do better. Why do we need seven Archons?”
“I thought you needed one for each tree, but it’s true that you can fill the role of Archon – Archon at large, I suppose…”
“It is because Suibhne is the Archon of the center. The Archon of Ouroboros.”
“Inside the pleroma…this coincides with Mt. Ouroboros?”
Suibhne nods. “So we should…oh! We need one of those, don’t we?”
He points to one of the roots. At first, I don’t see it. Then I notice a tiny whorl of dingy green, the color of antimatter coolant fluid. A nul-being – here? But then I remember that nau’gsh roots convert pos-matter to nul-energy. Did Ash inadvertently make this? Curious, I scoop it up between my palms. It starts to vibrate. It’s magnetic; I can feel its warm humming to the soles of my feet, and I don’t want to let it go.
“Come on,” says Suibhne, and then it’s blue again, a curtain of blue, just for a second. We step through, emerging at the crèche. Briscoe glances up, momentarily startled, then gazes back into the water. He doesn’t look good, his bronze face with an undertone of ashy gray. He’s clearly in pain, probably feeling the effects of being root-bound because he’s a Canopus emanation.
I release the green-gray spiral, placing my hand upon Briscoe’s shoulder. « Get some rest – that’s an order. »
Briscoe doesn’t look happy to leave, but he listens. « Don’t worry, » says Suibhne. « You’ll feel better soon. » Then I notice that Suibhne has set Canopus on the ground and is unwrapping the dress. Canopus – it’s in the pleroma!
« Did you know that the silk made from blue angel moths is perfectly designed for the retention of nul-energy? » says Suibhne. « I’ll bet you didn’t. If it’s properly exposed within the first 48 hours of being spun into thread, it can provide a protective covering allowing objects to be brought into and out of the pleroma. »
Of course, I didn’t know that – it’s completely bizarre. You can bring objects in and out of an imaginary space? I could see why humans would love to do that, but anything Ash could create or alter in here, he could probably do the same in Universe Prime by using alchemy. Is it just a metaphor for that power?
Or maybe a transportation system – just as I’m able to emerge from the pleroma at any of Ash’s trees, he could use this to move objects from one place to another without using teleportation. But to bring in Canopus! What effect will that have on the branches which emanate from it?
My thoughts are interrupted by a loud, shattering noise. Suibhne has dashed the pot against the hard stone of the cave floor, reducing it to fragments. Canopus looks unharmed, but its roots are coiled tightly, painfully because they had been jammed against the sides. Poor baby…what a terrible excuse for a horticulturalist I am.
Suibhne picks up the crystals, once embedded in the pot, now scattered on the ground, and puts them in his pocket. Then he throws his arms around the massive trunk and dunks the tree into the cenote. The sparks dart in and out of the uncoiling roots. « I wish you would tell me what you’re trying to do. »
After a few minutes, Suibhne hoists Canopus, its trailing roots now dripping with moisture, and moves towards the tunnels. « We have to go upstairs now. » Laden with the tree, he waddles a bit like the penguins of which he is so fond. I follow him until we emerge at the perilous wooden staircase which leads along the side of Mount Ouroboros. For some reason which eludes me, he wants to bring Canopus to the Lotus Temple. I shake my head – it isn’t going to be an easy climb.
Fortunately, the weather is clear although cold; the water on the roots is frost by the time we arrive at the cable car platform. It’s then I see it – the Swan Boat, perched atop a glacier halfway up the mountain. « What the fuck? » I query eloquently.
« The boat goes where Canopus goes, » says Suibhne.
I puzzle it out… there are locations in the pleroma corresponding to the physical locations of the trees, and since Canopus moves, it’s represented by a vehicle, and if Canopus is on Earth… « But how did the boat get here? »
Suibhne shrugs.
Finally, we’re at the temple; Suibhne positions the tree in the center of the tile mosaic. Its lotus petals glow in the places where there is a spark swirling on the ceiling directly beneath the floor. Before my eyes, the grassy spikes extend into a palm tree, and another branch pokes its way up from the opposite side of the tree – an elm.
« Once it’s fully grown, we can make another pot for it without anybody getting sick, » says Suibhne. « We can leave it here for a while. Let’s go down to Daniel’s. »
Was this the point? Or was it for me to see the rootball? Or was it for me to find that spark? I consider asking Suibhne, but his answer will probably be “Yes,” or something totally non-sequitur.
There can’t ever be a simple reason, can there?
No, of course not. Because Ash is a communal being, and he always chooses the path which will combine the largest amount of his multiple objectives.
What I really want to know is why they had to bring me back to the pleroma in the middle of a crisis. « How long will Canopus have to stay there? » I ask, but what I really mean is “When can I get back to the ship?”
« Until it connects with the rootball, » says Suibhne.
« You mean we won’t be able to move it around anymore? » This comes as a shock, a very upsetting shock. It would mean losing the ability for Ash to travel freely out of the Domha’vei, but more than that, I wouldn’t be able to keep it with me. I’d gotten used its presence, a comfort to me when I couldn’t look out of the window and see the Atlas tree looming over the strand. The trees are important to me, a living part of Ash, like a hand or a leg.
Suibhne shakes his head. « That’s why the roots have to connect on the inside, not the outside, » he says. « Outside, it will still be in its pot. »
I have no idea what he’s talking about. I need to speak to someone more capable of making sense, like Malachi. I suppose going down to Daniel’s isn’t a bad idea.
I’m in a bad mood as we descend. I’m going to have to give them the lecture to end all lectures. They lied to me again, and there must be consequences for their behavior. Ash has been pulling the same shit for three decades, and it will never stop if I don’t put a stop to it.
Briscoe is already back at the cenote. « Hey, did we hatch more emanations while I was sick? It looks like four of the sparks are missing. »
The lecture to end all lectures just became the lecture to ignite the apocalypse. But when I stick my head through the hole in Daniel’s wall, there is already a scene of chaos. Three new men are sitting on the bed, and Davy is nearly in tears. « I’m telling you, I didn’t do it! »
« He didn’t! » says Manasseh. « He’s been right here, playing Go Floatfish with me and Axel and Tannon. »
I climb down onto the bed. « And Suibhne was with me. » I take a deep breath. « But according to Briscoe’s count, we’re still missing one. » I look down at the three naked men at my feet. « Gentlemen, I’m being terribly rude. We haven’t been introduced. »
« Actually, we’ve already met, » says a refined man with bobbed ginger hair. « Currently, I seem to be called Granville of Seachange, but you knew me as Nightingale the Robber. » He gestures towards Tarlach. « My good man, you wouldn’t happen to have some libation? »
He stands, taking a step towards me, and begins to sing. The colors in the room intensify; there’s a heady scent of wine and nau’gsh blossoms. It’s intoxicating, making me giddy.
« Do we need to keep an eye on you? » asks Daniel, resting his hand on Granville’s shoulder.
« An exaggeration! » Granville protests. « I am a trickster, I admit, but I would never harm anyone. »
« Moving along, this is Beauregard, » says Tarlach, indicating a lovely, sweet-faced youth with a mop of wavy hair. Then he points to the other man, bearded and dark, with a fine nose and sharply intelligent face. « And this one is Sanobar Palmer – he prefers to go by his surname. »
« Palmer? Fucking compost! » yelps Davy, running from the room.
« I’m sorry? » says Palmer. « Is that a faux pas? »
« Chase is the only other one who goes by his last name, but it isn’t a problem, and I strongly doubt that’s why Davy was upset. »
« Davy is upset because Palmer is a Canopus branch, » says Malachi. « He wasn’t in the cenote. That means there are actually two sparks missing. »
« Probably three, » I reply. « Canopus just grew the elm branch. »
« I seemed to awaken in a pool of water, » says Granville. « It was very confusing. I felt drawn into a cave, near a fireplace, where I found a mirror. When I saw my face, I learned my new name. A few minutes later, I heard yelling. »
« I looked up at the ceiling, » said Palmer. « A high ceiling is often one of the most impressive elements of any space, but this one, with all the swirls of light, was simply incredible. I got distracted and slipped under the water again. I’m not the best of swimmers. Granville rescued me. »
« I was in the pool too, » says Beauregard. « And there was another man right after me. He thought the tunnels were a kind of maze and couldn’t wait to explore, but I wanted to examine the cave more closely. It has some pretty interesting geological features. Then I heard shouting, and when I came back, I ran into Palmer and Granville. »
Palmer is staring at me. « It’s not good enough, » he murmurs, spreading his arms in a gesture encompassing the room. « It’s not good enough to hold her. »
« I know, » sighs Daniel. « But it’s a little better now that I’ve got some rustic candles. »
« Come on guys, focus. This is a crisis. There’s something terribly wrong. » I rest my head in my hands, closing my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts. What do we do – go after the missing emanations? Try to find the rogue sparks? Try to get these guys recognized?
All those things are important, but we’re missing the big picture. Why is this happening? If we figure out why, we can get control of it.
« Hey! » shouts Briscoe. « What do you think you’re doing? »
Cillian gives me a boost back into the cave. By the time we get there, Briscoe is examining a datapad, apparently handed to him by an enormous emperor penguin with a shocking pink egg sitting on its feet.
« He has a work order, » says Briscoe helplessly, handing me the datapad.
« A work order – from whom? »
« Direct from upper management, » says the penguin. « Now if you would excuse me… » Before we can react, the penguin waddles to the edge of the cenote and flexes his talons, causing the egg to roll into the dark waters.
Almost immediately, a spark of the same shocking color rushes towards the egg. It seems to fly through the shell, which cracks on contact.
« Get outta here! » yells Cillian, dragging me back into the living space in Ari’s cave. « Can’t let him see you! »
Davy bursts into the cavern. « You were right. We’re missing Lennox. But actually, we’re also missing Bastien, Diego and Jesse. »
« We found Jesse, » Briscoe calls. « He’s quite a swimmer. We can’t seem to get him to come out of the water. »
Cillian muscles through. « Hey, that isn’t a recreational pool! »
Briscoe and Cillian pull Jesse out of the water. His hair is short and sporty, his face square, his smile dimpled. « Aw, come on. We could all use some exercise. »
« The recreation coordinator, » muses Dermot. « Have you noticed that we needed a social engineer and then got one, we needed an explosives expert and got one, we needed a recreation coordinator… »
« Did you really need an airship captain? »
« It’s very likely that we’ll be able to see the utility of that soon. »
« I still need a perfumier, » says Quennel.
« An architect, » says Ethan. « Davy promised one on Yggdrasil, but that was before the war with the Denolin came up. »
« Actually, I’m an architect, » says Palmer.
« What we really need is someone better than Suibhne to manage the fokkerflies, » says Tarlach. « There’s no way we can service all the potential cross-pollination now. »
« We’re getting distracted. Mickey and Cillian, come up with a strategic plan. »
« This is more of a matter of logistics than strategy, » Cillian replies. « I think that’s X’khaim’s bag. »
« The only way we can get this under control is by running simultaneous operations, » X’khaim replies. « Any of us can help unrecognized emanations, but only Tara will be able to find the lost ones. »
« How do you figure that? They ran away from me. »
« They’ve never encountered you directly. But I think if you go out into the pleroma, they’ll come to you, sooner or later. If they’re part of I and Us, it’s in their natures. Look at how quickly the dragon capitulated once you got involved. So the first thing I would do is to brainstorm a list of easy achievements and assign those quickly. Then send a team with any remaining unrecognized ones to find the rogue sparks, hoping they can pick up achievements on their way. Tara goes in the opposite direction. »
“Poole of Seachange, Siderian Imperial Brewmaster. 76th to emanate, 92 in the color scale, resonates to 479. 1.847 meters tall, cock size 20.09 cm when erect, apparent age 32. Brewer. Totem is Taxodium distichum, the bald cypress, fixed star is Kin Yu, the carp. Esoteric symbol is the Minchiate trump I Pesci, Pisces. Dessert is taiyaki waffle pop filled with frozen nau’gsh shandy. Function is adjudicative inspiration, proto-conscious tendency is thirst, designated Libation. Blazon is sea green, a bendlet or, to dexter a mug or, to sinister two koi reversed or.”
« It’s achievement #12, » Wynne explains, « “Score a ton 80 in darts.” He’s over at the Moth and Lamp playing with Templeton. »
« Templeton missed it again, » sighs Julian.
« It’s not Templeton’s fault, » says Ace. « Poole says that Templeton actually won the game, and Poole loves darts. »
« Templeton just seems to have incredibly bad luck, » says Wynne. « Maybe I should help him out. »
« Let’s find an easy achievement for him, » says Ailann. « If worse comes to worse, we can give him the seven metals. »
« Why don’t we sit down with the new emanations and go through the options? » says Solomon. « If we knew more about their skills and preferences, it might be easier to match them with an assignment. »
But there’s a problem with this plan. « I hate to say this, but we can’t stay for long in orbit around Earth. Tellick is going to start to ask painful questions. Besides, we need to go home and evaluate the situation. Lord Danak thinks there’s something wrong, and he has good instincts. My gut says he’s right, and more – there’s a connection between the troubles in the Domha’vei, the incidents on the IndWorld tour, and Ash’s sudden inclination to spew emanations whenever possible. »
« I agree, » says Ailann, surprising me. « Someone needs to emanate and tell Lieutenant N’Sha to return to Skarsia. Someone with some authority, maybe Cillian or Mickey. »
« Once we get home, we can get back to the hunt, » I suggest.
« There’s no reason you can’t do it now, » says Ailann. « I said one of us should emanate, not you. The ship is going to be in a wormhole for over seventeen hours. What good would it possibly do to have you there? »
He has a point. Cut off from real space, the ship can’t even communicate. I’d just be bored, stalking the halls of the Victorious Tara with nervous energy.
« There’s a lot you can accomplish in here in seventeen hours, » says Malachi.
« I’ll need a timekeeper. You, Julian. »
« Julian? » says Tommy. « Don’t you want someone with more experience? »
« I want someone who hasn’t tried to trick me. » Beat and Tommy visibly flinch, but they had it coming.
« I’ll get started on the list of assignments, » says X’khaim. « As soon as Templeton gets here. »
There’s a moment of silence.
« Where is Templeton? » asks Ailann.
Ace sends a quick chatburl to Poole. « He left a few minutes ago. Said that he couldn’t sit around doing nothing. »
Yet another husband has strayed. I’m really starting to see the virtue of monogamy.
[1] Literal translation of an ancient idiomatic expression: evocation drives have neither gas nor tanks – trans.