The Namura Stone (4 page)

At last there had been movement aboard the New Independence. The flimsies and their small boxes had embarked again, and the large quantum entity had transported them all to a new planet, one they referred to as Enara, in the Feather Constellation, unfortunately nearly 90,000 light years from the Dessite homeworld itself.

The subtraveler had been able to survive long enough to exit the space trader and travel down to the planet’s surface. The small envoy of the Dessite Empire waited, still cloaked, listening to everything that was said on the planet between the new Enarans and their benefactors and transmitting it back instantaneously to the home planet. Then, as soon as the transients had left, it had put the Dessites directly in contact with the Enarans. The subtraveler had had only minutes of life left in its cramped neurons, but since both races could connect through quantum non-locality, a brief interchange of ideas was possible before the tiny neurons sustaining the link ceased to transmit.

To the Dessites’ great disappointment, the new Enarans had proved to be a similar race to themselves. They were capable of communicating quantically, but not of transporting from one place to another by decoherence. However, they did seem more skilled at trapping minds. The Dessites could learn from them. Unfortunately, at that particular time the new arrivals had not appeared to be greatly inclined to initiate any sort of dealings with other species. Since the Dessites had been a privy to their conversation with the orthogel entity, however, they were aware that they had things to offer this new species that would prove extremely tempting. It was simply a matter of biding their time.

The subtraveler had deceased, dying quietly and without fuss. Nobody had mourned it; after all two-thirds of its structure survived in the small ship in orbit around Pyraklion, and the parent neurons of the traveler were still in a cryovat back on Dessia. However, its name had become synonymous with a better future, and it was remembered by all the Dessite hinterworlds with great respect and admiration.

It had left behind a tremendous inheritance for the prognosticator. He had made fleeting contact with a valuable ally; one which could instruct the Dessites in fine-tuning their own skills. True, these potential allies did not seem exactly keen to further their acquaintance right now, but no doubt they could be brought to change their minds. That would be in the interests of both parties. And the influence these new beings had over the canths had caused an electric excitement to travel all around the mindwall. These Enaran animas – these Ammonites – were capable of causing danger to the canths. And it was the canths who had been responsible for the debacle on Pictoria. If it weren’t for the canths, the Dessites would have succeeded in their plans there.

The prognosticator had become famous instantly. The sheer brilliance of his plan, the gallant sacrifice of the subtraveler, the amazing findings … it had been enough to propel him to global fame and the security of a place on the council of guardians.

The prognosticator came back to the present with a shiver of his fronds. It had taken time, but now – finally – communication with the Ammonites had been reestablished. A few days earlier one of the travelers had managed to reach Enara and drop into a stable orbit above the planet. They had been lucky to find that one of their ships had got almost as far as that quintile of the galaxy. It was on the other side of the supermassive black hole at the centre of the Ammonite Galaxy, and was just beyond the edge of the area the Dessites had managed to explore in their hundred thousand years of space travel. Luckily, one of the earliest travelers had been found to be within reach, and it had been redirected immediately. Although, ideally, the prognosticator would have liked to have more ships at his disposal in the area, he was optimistic that one would be enough for his purposes. The pilot had engaged maximum speed, and only 12 months had been required to cover the rest of the distance separating the tiny vessel from the new destination. Others had been deviated from their current courses to the same co-ordinates, but the earliest arrival of the following ship was estimated to be in another forty years.

As he himself had predicted, it had proved less of a challenge to catch the newcomers’ attention than he had envisaged. The Enarans had been more approachable when they discovered exactly how the Dessite mindwall was capable of dominating the orthogel entity, and when they learned of the effect of carbon nanographite on its quantum decoherence abilities. It was undeniable that both races supplemented each other. They just needed time, the prognosticator felt. He was confident that a few months, a year at most, would be enough for the Enarans to see the mutual benefits of an agreement between the two races. Their common dislike of the orthogel entity meant that an alliance would clearly be of benefit to both worlds.

Meanwhile, the prognosticator and his team were using the time to plan. Once the Arcan alien had been dragged down to Dessia, he would never escape. They were in the process of building a detainment tank with the carbon nanographite that the alien disliked so much. They had plenty of time to prepare a trap that the orthogel entity could never escape from. His body could then be divided up in millions of small pieces, and each piece would provide a Dessite subgroup with their own effortless way of traveling through space instantaneously. Which would mean that he, the prognosticator, would become the most famous Dessite ever!

On the Island of the Forthgoing, a system of nanographite hulls had also been developed. There were hatches and controls which would enable the power in the alien orthogel to be tapped without allowing the animal itself to escape. Brilliant!

The prognosticator waved his membranes in satisfaction. Only a little more patience was necessary, then the Dessites would be free. Free to roam space as and where they wanted. Space travel would become as normal as pruning a membrane, and he foresaw that, within a decade, the Dessite species would have spread out over the entire Ammonite Galaxy.

This waiting was irksome, and he wished that his prospective allies were quicker to reach decisions. The small traveler in orbit around their planet was becoming exhausted by the necessary diplomacy. But it would all be worthwhile in the end. After all, the prognosticator thought, he did not envisage a long-lasting alliance. Once Dessia had captured the orthogel entity it would have little use for partners; it would no longer need them.

Chapter 2

DIVA SETTLED THE New Independence into the orbiting station above Coriolis. She had wanted to retain some degree of autonomy on Raven’s first visit, so she had asked Arcan if she could borrow his space trader, although Arcan had brought them this far to save time. Six had finally agreed to stay away, after insisting that Bennel and Tallen accompany her.

“You can leave Tallen with the Namuri clan for a while,” he had told her. “Since Petra died he … he seems to have lost his way.”

“Of course. She was his sister.”

“I know that. But he needs to put her death behind him. He can’t just sit grieving while life passes him by.”

Diva had grudgingly agreed to take the Namuri boy to Coriolis with her. “But why should I have to take Bennel, too?” she had complained.

“It seems a bit hard, after all he has been through, not to let him spend some time with his family, on Mount Palestron,” he had pointed out.

Diva had looked at him suspiciously. “You mean I can send him off with his family? I won’t have him hanging around me all the time I am there?”

Six had shaken his head and given her a cherubic smile. “Of course not. I thought he should stay with you when you visit Mesteta – just in case your dear second cousin chooses to put in an appearance – but that you could send him off to see his family while you visit the Namuri clan. You’ll have Tallen with you there.” He had rethought that statement. “… I mean, he will have you to take care of him there.”

Diva had again given him a challenging look. “You seem to be under the impression that I can’t look after my daughter on my own.”

“Not so! I am only trying to make sure that they both get to visit Coriolis. It seems unfair for you to go and leave them both here.”

She had sighed. “Oh, all right. I suppose they can come with me.”

Six had smiled, “Thank you.”

Now Diva looked around at her companions. Bennel was holding Raven in his arms and the little girl was fast asleep. She had adored Bennel from the first moment she had seen him, when she had been four months old. He had bent down and stretched out his long arms, and she had scrambled up them to perch herself atop his shoulders with high glee. From that moment there had been a special bond between them. Now, nearly a year and a half later, that bond was even stronger. Raven loved to trail around after the Coriolan.

Diva smiled. Although she hadn’t said so to Six, she was relieved to have Bennel with her. Even after practice at being a mother, it didn’t set well with her. She was still a warrior at heart, she thought, and she didn’t have the same easy trust which Raven and Bennel had instantly felt for each other. In a way she envied him that.

Tallen was fiercely protective of the little girl, too, though the easy rapport she had with Bennel was not there. Raven stared at the Namuri boy with wide open, admiring eyes, but she kept her distance, as if able to sense the grief which was consuming him. Occasionally she would slip her own tiny hand in his and drag the 14-year-old Namuri to see some sight or other, as if she were the elder of the two, rather than the other way around.

Diva met Tallen’s gaze. “Ready?”

He looked around and then nodded. “We can transfer to the shuttle.” He sounded stiff and rather formal, and Diva found herself relenting.

“At least you will soon be with the clan.”

His black eyes met hers. “That will not help,” he said, after a long pause.

“No. But they are your people.”

There was another long silence. “Yes. They are my people.” But it was said with an almost bitter tone, as if he would rather not belong to the clan. It was Diva’s turn to stare.

“You worship your clan.”

“I used to.”

She frowned. “What happened?”

He stared at her. “You know what happened.”

“Petra died?”

“No. At least, Petra did die, of course, but that is not the reason I feel differently about the clan.”

“Then?”

He shrugged. “It is hard to feel the same when you have traveled to the centre of the galaxy and seen what can be.”

She was forced to agree with that. Her outlook on life had changed too, she was no longer the Coriolan meritocrat she had been born as, and she knew she could never go back to that sort of a life.

“I know,” she told him. “But you need to spend some time with your clan.”

“So do you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to spend time with the Namuri. The sibyla augured it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Diva blinked.

“At Petra’s …” his voice stumbled over her name, before recovering itself, “… at Petra’s funeral. She said you would live amongst the Namuri for a short time, and that the future of the clan would shift into the sunlight because of your stay.”

Diva blinked again. “And the … the sib… sibyla …?” she waited for his nod of confirmation, “… is the ancient old woman who worked the pulley?”

“She is the fount of all wisdom of the clan. The sibylas are the seeresses of our people. They predict the good and the evil that will befall the whole tribe. They are the protectors of the stones.”

“She knew that I would go back?”

“Of course. She asked me to tell you that she is waiting to talk with you, and that you will be very welcome.”

“Well … nothing is sure of course. I may decide not to go, in the end.”

Tallen raised his stubborn chin. “You will go. It is written in the blue stone.”

“The one person who must certainly go is you. You need time to heal.”

He gave a sad smile. “She told me something about that, too.”

“What?”

“She said that I would need many years to heal and that I would see many faraway places before that happened. But she also told me that I would come back to Coriolis and that, one day, I would reunite the clan with its past.”

“Then you will be an important person.”

“What did you think, Meritocrat? That I am only any good as a bodyguard?”

Diva smiled and shook her head. “I changed my opinion about you back on Kintara,” she said.

He looked surprised. “Did you? I never realized.”

“I know. But I did.”

He held up two diffident hands. “Perhaps we have both changed our minds about each other?” he suggested.

She nodded. “Perhaps we have.” She held up her own hands and they gently touched palms and fingers, in the binary system salute.

“Well, Namuri?” she challenged, in a softer voice than usual.

She caught the amused flash of his teeth – the nearest she had seen to a smile since his sister’s death.

“Well, Meritocrat?” he answered.

She felt a sudden slight contraction in her heart. The Namuri boy looked so tough, and so fierce, and yet so lost and unhappy at the same time. She cleared her throat.

“So, are we all ready?”

Bennel inclined his head, and Raven jumped up and down excitedly. ’Iolis, Be’ll ’Iolis!” She still called Bennel Be’ll, unable to get her young tongue round his full name, and ‘Coriolis’ defeated her too, with its four syllables. He grinned down at the squirming bundle in his arms.

“Indeed, Lady Raven, to meet your grandparents.”

Diva frowned in his direction. She had asked him not to address either of them as ‘lady’, but it was ingrained in his training. He made a moue of apology.

“Ganpents,” shouted the little girl. “Ganpents!” She wasn’t sure what grandparents were, but she could tell from Bennel’s tone that he considered them a very good thing. In her child’s mind she foresaw tables laden with sweets and perhaps even chocolate, which was something her mother had spoken of to her but she had never seen. She looked across at her matchless parent, who was staring back at her with dancing laughter in her eyes, and knew how lucky she was to have such a special person as her mother. Raven gave a contented sigh. Good things were about to happen, she felt sure.

INDOMITA AND MAXIMUS were waiting for them in the palace, as usual keeping any feelings they might have had under a veneer of composure. They maintained a dignified silence but began to look Raven over. The little girl stood silently, her shoulders back; she found the inspection distasteful. Moreover, there was a distinct lack of anything edible around them. She narrowed her eyes, looking suddenly very like her mother.