‘No. No, you probably wouldn’t.’
Rekka sipped from her tea, closed her eyes, exhaled.
Good for you.
As for herself, today was surely the beginning of her last big adventure. Relocation at UNSA’s expense was a benefit that few people in her position would have taken, preferring the cash option to add to their pension at home.
That Jared had turned out bad, or at least estranged from both Amber and Rekka, was a festering memory that lay between them, not to be discussed today. For herself, Rekka had occasionally wondered whether the boy would have turned out a better man had he gone to Zurich, when Karyn McNamara still ran the place.
Nowadays only the grandson, Kian, remained alive, as far as anyone knew. He was married to an acerbic American scientist, and had consistently refused plastic surgery, preferring to wear his injuries as a reminder of the way that fear and ignorance produce intolerance.
‘I could still take you back.’ Amber’s voice pulled Rekka into the present. ‘And hang the schedule.’
‘That kind of thing can get you in trouble.’
‘Like I should care, at my age.’
Rekka squeezed Amber’s hand. ‘I’m where I need to be. Nulapeiron. The world with no borders. It’s a good name.’
‘Also ironic, given how they plan to live.’ Amber hesitated. ‘I have a contact for you. Someone who’s ex-AAC. She’ll give you a consulting job if you want it.’
‘XAAC? I’ve never heard of it.’
‘I mean she used to be with the Altair Adventurers’ Combine, the neurocomp division, before they relocated to Fulgor and called themselves LuxPrime.’
All these new colony worlds. It was hard to keep track of them.
‘Her name’s Claudette d’Ovraison,’ Amber went on, ‘and she’s working on a concept called logotropes, which should be right up the alley of a smart person who can make an autofact sit up and beg, never mind force-evolving new proteins on a whim.’
‘Unfortunately,’ said Rekka, ‘that smart person got replaced with a tired old woman who falls asleep easily. But I’ll talk to this Claudette.’
Rekka was going to Nulapeiron to live out her remaining days – and that did mean living, not slowly dying. A challenging job, no matter how little she might contribute in the end, was exactly what she needed.
‘She lives on one of those floating terraformer spheres,’ said Amber. ‘Could probably make room for you to stay on one, if you’ve problems finding a place to live.’
‘I’d rather take my chances living below ground,’ said Rekka. ‘But it’s nice to have another option.’
‘So. Good.’ Amber reached out to the side, and a narrow robot arm delivered a package to her hand: a slim box the length of a person’s forearm. Amber held it out and said: ‘A present for my sister.’
No court would recognise the relationship, but they were sisters: the last two members of the de facto family they had chosen.
‘Shall I unwrap it?’
‘If you like. I inherited the thing when Aunt Adele died. I’d rather you owned it, you and not a museum.’
‘Er . . . Amber! Is this some kind of replica? Because if it isn’t, it’s far too valuable.’
It was in the shape of a spearhead, but formed of crystal.
‘Heirlooms should be kept in the family, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, Amber.’
They hugged then, the gift forgotten amid the greater significance of the moment.
*
An hour later, in the cargo hold, they embraced for the last time. Then Rekka stepped into the drop-shuttle that already contained her belongings, everything she needed to begin her new life on a new world, settled back in the tiny cockpit that flowed shut and vitrified into solidity.
She glanced back at Amber standing there with her blind silver eyes, then felt the sudden jerk and the stomach-dropping freefall that followed as her drop-bug took her out into space. It headed down towards the cloud-filled atmosphere, below which a nascent, perhaps superior, civilisation was being brought into existence.
As on the day she learned of Simon and Mary’s betrayal, and later when Jared was orphaned, with Amber unable to cry for the lack of tear-ducts, Rekka bit her lip and wept enough for both of them.
But when she reached the surface, her crying stopped. She would not feel so deeply, had there not been love in her life. That being so, what was there to be sad about?
The drop-bug descended slowly inside a vertical shaft, to a bright reception area below ground, with smiling people waiting to greet her.
A new world!
For a moment Rekka was young again, alone on the surface of EM-0036 before it became Vijaya, on the verge of changing her life and becoming the person she was meant to be.
I’m in the right place, at the right time.
This would be a good ending.
SIXTY-ONE
LUNA, 1005300 AD
The crystalline man twitched on the silver bier. He opened his transparent eyelids as he came awake, seeing a woman, equally of living crystal, asleep on a bier like his. At that beautiful sight, he smiled.
–You’re so beautiful, and I know you.
For now he remembered nothing more, but confidence was strong in him, and soon everything would come back. He swung himself to his feet, onto a polished floor; a shining hall of sapphire and glass surrounded them. This was a fastness, a place of power, and his body thrummed with it.
Shields hung on the walls, decorative and war-like simultaneously, some ancient and battered, others new and formed of exotic matter, each marked with a rune; and each of the runes glowed a soft blood red. A sign of some kind. There was deep history here, a sense of the glory involved in sheer survival across time.
In an archway, he paused at the threshold of an even larger hall, this one star-shaped with nine annexes, while sapphire dots of light shone overhead, soft and elegant, a sign of great powers tamed. Another man was lying here asleep, his name almost available to memory; but another mental image came crowding in.
The galactic core, the light of a billion suns, and the fifty-thousand-lightyear jet arrowing outwards, stretching from the dark-matter centre to the outer halo, the bridgehead of . . . what?
Darkness.
Peaceful vitality filled him, but this was not a time of peace.
There was an enemy invading from beyond the void, and the warlike glory of these halls reflected long preparation for the Final Days. He understood that conflict was, is, and always would be awful; that pride and camaraderie are born of necessity, without which defeat will follow; but there was the possibility of moving beyond fear, of finding the best within a person when the universe was at its worst.
From the wall, he took down one of the heavy spears, and runes flared upon the haft.
He walked through to a long, gleaming corridor of crystal, and followed it to an external balcony set upon an outer wall of that shining fortress, overlooking the grey landscape marked with sharp black shadows, beneath a black and airless sky.
This was the homeworld’s moon.
And there it was, the planet that gave birth to so much: her disc full, revealing blue oceans and green land, beneath the ribbons of crimson and silver that girded the globe.
–Hello my love.
The words had formed inside his head. He smiled as he turned.
–My beautiful Gavi.
More than beautifuclass="underline" wondrous.
–Is that my name?
He took her hand.
–I am sure it is. If you remember mine, let me know.
Hand in hand, they looked out upon the moonscape for a long time before she asked a question:
–How long have we slept?
Looking at the stars, he shook his head, then stopped. Three stars formed a distinct row.