Kona waited, adrift in the zero gravity of the warren’s forest room—though tonight the light panels did not display the forest for which the room was named. The walls, along with floor and ceiling, glowed in a gradient of white light, dimmest at the door, bright at the front of the room where Kona would soon be speaking.
For now, he waited to one side, silent, somber, refusing any attempt at conversation. The buzz of voices grew louder as more people arrived.
Three days ago Clemantine had released the image of Verilotus. Since then, Kona had listened to the discussions, the arguments, the competing analyses circulating among the ship’s company. He’d worked quietly but incessantly to guide that debate, speaking privately to influencers like Tarnya, Naresh, Shoran, and Vytet, locking in their support.
He’d called this meeting only after he was sure he could win consensus.
A DI tracked attendance. A few minutes before the scheduled start of the session it notified him: *All present.
He messaged Clemantine and Vytet, both nearby: *It’s a little early, but I’m going to start.
Clemantine, her gaze coolly determined, nodded her agreement. Vytet gestured with her hand, Go ahead.
Kona reached for a ceiling ring, used it to launch himself in a slow glide to the front of the room. People shifted, opening a path for him. Soft-spoken words of encouragement eased his way.
Centuries ago, when Urban had taken himself away on the Null Boundary Expedition, Kona had believed he’d lost his son forever. When he’d caught up on all the known facts surrounding Urban’s disappearance, he’d plunged into that recidivist nightmare again. This time though, he intended to do more than mourn.
He grabbed the speaker’s pole. Used it to turn around, face the gathering. A hush fell across the room. Everyone knew, or guessed, what he’d come to say, but their culture of reasoned consensus demanded he say it, that he make the argument, do all he could to persuade the doubters before he asked for the assent of the company.
He told them, “We are here to make a decision. It will be some time before Dragon is fully repaired, but the immediate emergency is past. The reef is healthy and back under control of the cell field, giving us the option of navigating a new course. It’s time to decide—Verilotus or Tanjiri?
“We’ve all had time to study and consider the few available facts surrounding Verilotus. We’ve all engaged in creative speculations based on those facts. I think there is now general agreement that Verilotus is the system Lezuri regards as home, and that he is on his way there now.
“We allowed this thing to escape the Rock. I think it is our obligation to pursue him.
“Realize that the entity which infested our ship, defeated our defenses, brought us to the edge of self-destruction was surely no more than a fragment of the entity as it must have been in its grandeur at Verilotus.
“We know almost nothing about Verilotus and we have not begun to understand the physics of the luminous ring that surrounds it, but both appear to me to be wondrous creations, worthy of admiration—though my admiration does not extend to their creator.
“Lezuri presented himself as condescending, self-serving, dominating, and ultimately violent when he could not achieve his goals by persuasion alone. In his story of his origin, he told us he grew into his power by seizing the resources of lesser minds. He was not ashamed that he had subsumed the existence of others to further his own position. For him, there was nothing wrong with this. He took what he needed to create himself.
“And then he lost himself. This being of immense power contended with another and lost. ‘One whom I loved betrayed me.’ Those were his words. Imagine it: These were beings with the power to create worlds but without the values to sustain peace between them.
“And Lezuri was exiled. Left alone, marooned on the Rock, brooding over what was done to him.
“I believe Lezuri is returning home for the reason he stated—to restore his world—but also to restore himself.
“I think it would be a mistake, an abrogation of our duty to allow him to do that. We all know how the frontier has suffered under the scourge of Chenzeme power. If Lezuri succeeds in regenerating himself as he once was, his power will far exceed that of the Chenzeme, and from what I’ve observed, he does not have the temperament for it.
“I’m not alone in this judgment. At the Rock, two starships were scuttled to stop Lezuri from escaping his exile. Dragon was nearly scuttled in the struggle to free ourselves of his looming tyranny.
“I do not want to be complicit in releasing this regenerated entity on the Hallowed Vasties. He will never be weaker than he is now. We need to hunt him down and destroy him while we can.”
Chapter
43
Each day, at least twice a day, Fortuna’s DI directed the telescope to seek out Dragon. For many, many days the only visible change was the slow closure of the dark hull scars.
Then a day came when the newest image showed the bright sparks of navigational jets firing alongside the hull. The conclusion was inescapable: Dragon was changing course. It was no longer bound for Tanjiri System.
The courser’s new heading could not be calculated from a single image. Urban needed to observe the ship over several days to confirm Verilotus was its destination—but to get there first he had to act now.
He summoned the ship’s DI. “Redirect our course to intercept the object MSC-G-349809-1b.”
“Confirming course redirection,” the Dull Intelligence responded. “Target heading is star system MSC-G-349809. Specific destination is the inner-system object 1b, labeled as Verilotus.”
“Correct,” Urban said. He’d designated the immense luminous ring—so thin, graceful, perfect—that surrounded the world of Verilotus as Object 1a. Lezuri had called it a blade. He’d described it as an intrusion of another Universe and he’d admitted, It could be used as a weapon.
“Course modification underway,” the DI informed him.
The simulated reality of the library did not replicate the sudden harsh radial motion as navigation jets fired in calculated sequence, but Urban was able to watch the ship come about through a three-dimensional projection posted by the DI. Fortuna was small, nimble. The adjustment did not take long. Infinitesimal odds that any watching eyes aboard Dragon had detected the brief spark.
Lezuri had said the flow of time was accelerated at Verilotus, that a year played out on that artificial world as days passed outside. An effect of the blade? Perhaps.
Urban was days closer to Verilotus than Dragon. If he could maintain that lead through the coming years, through the time it would take him to reach the system—and if Lezuri had been telling the truth—then Urban would arrive there with an interval to explore and to prepare.
It would be a long voyage, but he’d endured such before. He knew the tricks.
He would not allow himself to think too hard on his present existence: less than a mote, an aberrant spark in the immensity of the void, light years of emptiness all around him and centuries of travel time separating him from any known human presence.