‘Matjek! Where are you? I’ve brought an old friend to see you.’
There is no answer. I open the admin interface to the vir, make it transparent to my gaze. He is nowhere to be found.
I summon the cat avatar. It appears obediently.
‘Where is Matjek Chen?’ I ask. It cocks its head and looks at me with its glassy eyes.
‘Young Master ran away,’ it says in its whirring voice. ‘He said to tell you he’s gone to find himself.’
I can’t suppress a groan. So, it’s Young Master now, is it? I should have kept a closer eye on him. I access the ship’s records of our passage past the F-ring and in the vicinity of the Sobornost fleet. They confirm my suspicions: a thoughtwisp was launched without my knowledge when we were passing the orbit of Rhea.
‘Is the copy of the Kaminari jewel the previous Prime acquired still on board?’
‘Negative,’ the cat says. ‘The Young Master took it with him.’
I close my eyes and press both fists against my forehead, hard. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’
‘What is it?’ Mieli asks.
‘Matjek has gone to kill the Chen-Prime.’
For the past weeks, Matjek has been moving through the Leblanc’s systems like a ghost. I review spimescape snapshots, watch him work his way up in the privilege hierarchy, until he has access to the small space where the few physical objects onboard the ship are stored, wrapped in q-dot gel. I watch a smartmatter shell form around the fake Kaminari jewel. He fuses it with a thoughtwisp and launches it – and himself – at just the right moment, when the Leblanc is carrying out the high-G manoeuvre of grabbing Mieli.
‘Why in the Dark Man’s name would he do that?’ Mieli asks.
‘He found out about what he became when he grew up,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t matter how.’ I tell her about the weapon the Great Game planned to use on the chens. ‘He has gone to detonate it under Matjek Chen-Prime’s ass.’
Mieli shrugs. ‘I’m sorry for the boy,’ she says. ‘But this is war, and if it works, he could save us all a lot of trouble.’
‘Except that as you found out, all the higher chens are now infected with All-D. Matjek doesn’t know that. And he is just a boy. He is not ready for this.’ I close my eyes. ‘I’m going after him.’
‘What?’
‘You are the one who almost got us both killed to protect this boy’s innocence, remember?’ I try to keep my voice cold. ‘Besides, we need him.’
As we speak, I track the trajectory of the thoughtwisp. It went straight at the main body of the Sobornost fleet. Right at the chen guberniya. I can launch a faster wisp: I don’t have to worry about extra payloads like the fake jewel. Still, he will get there a few seconds before I do. That might as well be an eternity. Even the microseconds in the Leblanc’s fast-time vir might make a difference.
‘Need him for what?’ Mieli asks.
I take a deep breath. ‘We need two things to qupt to the Planck brane. One: matter that is entangled with something over there. That will have to be your department. By the sound of it, the Spooky-zoku have something like it. Two: we need a modulated gravitational wave source. We are made of stuff that is stuck on this brane, but gravity sees the higher bulk dimensions. Make a big enough bang and its gravitational echo will carry there.
‘The Gun Club Zoku have a device called an ekpyrotic cannon, Matjek and I saw it when we stole the Leblanc. Assuming Iapetus is still intact, we will need it. Matjek got into their gunscape virs last time, and I’m certain he left back doors. I don’t think we can get in without him, not this time. I managed to piss Barbicane off pretty royally.’
Mieli raises an eyebrow. ‘I can relate,’ she says, dryly. Then she grows serious. ‘Jean, this is the worst plan I have ever heard. You can’t go up against the chens and the All-Defector alone. The last time you tried, they caught you. I’ll come with you.’
‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘If we don’t make it, you will at least have a chance with the zoku. And I have more tricks up my sleeve than last time. You take the Leblanc to Saturn, and try to get us some Planck brane entanglement. Matjek and I will meet you there.’
‘Very well.’ Mieli looks down. ‘But how in Dark Man’s name am I supposed to get the stuff? I can’t just go knocking on the Spooky-Zoku’s door.’
I think for a moment. ‘I trust you, Mieli. You will find a way. But maybe this will help.’ I pass her Isidore’s last qupt that contains the Kaminari’s message. ‘This is the last mystery that Isidore Beautrelet solved. It shows you how to make a viral zoku. Maybe it will help.’
Mieli accepts it, her mouth a line of grim resolve.
‘Kuutar and Ilmatar go with you,’ she says quietly. ‘And Jean? Try to come back. I’m tired of losing friends. And I can’t find the words for death-songs anymore.’
I stare at her, astonished. Then I give her a grin. ‘I know what you mean. Don’t worry. I have a feeling it will be a high roll, this time.’
I take her strong, small hand and squeeze it hard. Her fingers are cold. ‘I have been many things, but I have never been an Oortian’s friend before. It makes me proud. Take care of yourself, Mieli. It’s been fun.’
With that, I pass the admin rights of the Leblanc over to her, think a thoughtwisp into being in the ship’s mass driver, and launch myself at the Sobornost fleet.
Interlude
THE GODDESS AND THE DEMON
Joséphine waits, sitting on the sand. She lets her metaself soothe her into a timeless state of readiness. Eventually, the pale morning comes, and the All-Defector returns.
She gets up. There are butterflies in in her belly.
The All-Defector is still wearing Matjek’s shape, but the grown-up one, now, the monkish countenance and the grey hair. She imagines it striding through the guberniya in the glory of its Prime aspect, devouring high-ranking gogols with its mirror maw, sating its appetite.
She smiles at it.
‘I am ready,’ she says, looking at it like a lover after a long absence. ‘You can take me now.’
For a moment, the All-Defector hesitates, looking into her eyes, as if wanting to say something. Then it whispers the Founder Code of Matjek Chen. It rings in the dream-vir like a thunderclap. The demiurges scream and scatter. Briefly, there is a glimpse of the All-Defector’s Prime aspect, towering over the vir, seeing everything. The Joséphine-partial crumbles like dry sand and is no more.
‘You can come out now, Joséphine,’ the All-Defector says.
Joséphine gets up from her hiding place. Her bones feel fragile. Her legs shake.
‘A partial with a self-destruct loop hidden inside,’ the All-Defector says chidingly. ‘That was never going to work.’
‘How did you know?’
‘Another pellegrini tried a similar trick. You are very predictable, Joséphine. You all are. And that is the problem.’
For a moment, he is her Jean, in a white suit and blue glasses, the one she made the partial to love and adore, and in spite of herself, her breath catches in her throat.
‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A mirror that reflects you perfectly. Well, I am the mirror that becomes. I look at you and make myself into you, know you better than you know yourself.’
‘If you are going to torture me,’ Joséphine says, ‘please do not use philosophy. I thought there was something of him left in you, and I was right. You really are a terrible poet.’
‘It’s not poetry. It’s what I am.’
‘Sasha told me what you are,’ Joséphine sneers. She imitates the Engineer-of-Souls’ lecturing tone of voice. ‘A game-theoretic anomaly, a zero-determinant strategy in the Prisoner’s Dilemma, an agent that extorts others to do what it wants with a superior theory of mind. Like the Predictor in Newcomb’s Paradox. You are running simulations of me, to see what works best.’