‘Here,’ said Kulic, opening the box and lifting out a fist-sized device, passing it to Jacob with an uncertain grin. Something about his expression made Jacob think of a dog desperate for its master’s approval.
He studied the device by the dim light of the ceiling-mounted lantern. In outward appearance it looked like nothing more than a blunt, copper-plated sphere, but in reality it was a compact mass of molecular circuitry impervious to any but the most ruthless scan. It sang with information from the moment his fingers touched it, firing a blizzard of condensed data into his lattice that had the quality of long-held memories.
He looked up at Kulic. ‘I see you’ve been speaking to it, telling it everything that’s been happening?’
Kulic nodded, his expression full of awe. ‘Yes, just as my father asked me to. I . . . wondered if I was being a fool, talking to a piece of metal, as if it had ears.’ He looked at Jacob with hope. ‘It worked?’
‘Yes.’ Jacob nodded.
‘My father told me it could communicate with other worlds.’
Then he told you too much, thought Jacob, frowning. The device was indeed built to pick up instantaneous transmissions across space, regardless of distance, although the power consumption required to boost a signal across so many light-years without it dissolving into random noise was quite enormous. Along with news of events back on Temur as well as throughout the Tian Di, Jacob had in just these last moments received adjustments to his mission plan. Although his primary goal remained the same, there was now an added urgency to his purpose in being here.
‘The device tells me the Left-Behind split into factions, and that the more rigidly conservative faction became dominant.’
Kulic stared at the device nestled in Jacob’s hands with horrified fascination. ‘That little thing – it told you all that?’
The Left-Behind had briefly been a powerful force on the surviving colony worlds following the Abandonment, preaching that the artefacts responsible for turning every living thing on Earth to dust had been sent there by God, in order to gather the souls of mankind prior to a final judgement. The religion had eventually been outlawed throughout the Tian Di, but here in the Coalition followers were permitted to exist, so long as they remained far from the provenance of the cities.
‘You told the transceiver that Bruehl had begun to believe he was some kind of messiah, destined to lead the Left-Behind through the Founder Network.’
‘I still remember him from when I was much younger,’ said Kulic, nodding. ‘Before he died, my father told me Bruehl was responsible for setting up safe-houses for other Tian Di agents. Bruehl was tasked with penetrating the Coalition’s secure military networks, in order to find their weaknesses. But something happened.’
‘What?’
Kulic’s balding pate glistened under the dim light of the lantern. ‘He started telling people God was waiting for us up at the end of time, along with everyone else who’d been rescued when the angels razed Earth; he said that was why the Founder Network had been created, so that all sentient beings could find their way there. This went against the doctrine of the Church’s Elders and made them very unhappy.’
‘And your father? How did he feel about this?’
‘At first he thought Bruehl was insane, but I think my father had a great deal of trouble adjusting to life here. He married because it was expected of him, and it was his duty to fit in. I . . . realize now that I was nothing more than part of his cover, that he had never really wanted a child.’
‘He told you this?’
‘No.’ Kulic shook his head. ‘I worked some of it out for myself, once I knew the truth about him . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘Go on,’ Jacob prompted.
‘I think my father committed suicide, in a way,’ Kulic finally said. ‘He changed his mind about Bruehl, and began to believe him. I think his new-found religious beliefs were a way to hide the truth from himself, that he no longer wanted to live.’
‘Bruehl had quite a few followers, I understand. Your father was only one of them.’
‘Yes, Bruehl had a great number of followers after a while. Even I was one. We all followed him when he left for the cities. He said he’d had a vision, that God would guide us through the Founder Network, and the Coalition wouldn’t be able to stand in our way.’
‘How many of you went with him?’
Kulic shrugged. ‘A thousand, perhaps. At that time I had no idea of my father’s true identity, and the same went for the other agents like Bruehl. When we left, the Elders condemned us for our actions.’ The old man stopped, gazing wistfully into the distance.
‘And?’
‘And we never even reached the cities. First Bruehl and my father started fighting, and before long the people who’d followed them started to take sides.’ Kulic shook his head. ‘Folks around here don’t like to speak about those days any more, but I was there. A few hundred continued on with Bruehl, while the rest followed my father back home. But not all of us were allowed back in – old scores were being settled, I suppose.’
‘And what happened to Bruehl?’
‘More people abandoned him and drifted back to their villages over the following days and weeks. As far as I know he managed to lead a few dozen as far as the nearest city, but all I know about what happened after that is rumour and conjecture. From what I heard,’ said Kulic, with an uncharacteristic touch of sarcasm, ‘they never reached the Founder Network, since God apparently failed to supply them with the necessary authorization to pass through a single transfer gate.’
As if even the Coalition would have wasted one moment listening to the ravings of madmen straggling in from some self-imposed backwater, branches and leaves clinging to their holy beards, thought Jacob. Learning about such things left a sour and unpleasant taste in his belly. He could only imagine that Bruehl and this man’s father must have been suffering from some shared psychosis they had somehow kept hidden during their mission training – a psychosis that had achieved full flower once they found themselves surrounded by people even crazier than themselves.
‘And Sillars? You haven’t said anything about what happened to him. Was he part of all this?’
Kulic shook his head. ‘No. Sillars didn’t believe like the others did.’
Jacob felt a flush of relief. ‘He stayed true to his mission?’
Kulic nodded. ‘He argued with Bruehl and my father before we headed for the cities. Bruehl got into a fight with Sillars, and . . .’ He licked his lips, eyes darting towards Jacob.
‘Go on.’
‘My father told me Bruehl killed Sillars. Sillars was afraid Bruehl might compromise their mission and alert the Coalition authorities to their purpose here. I remember one particular night just before we set out, when my father took me to Sillar’s house. He had been stabbed, and was losing too much blood for even his microchines to cope. He died that same night. My father claimed it was God’s will, and told me I was never to tell anyone what had happened.’
‘That’s something I was wondering,’ said Jacob. ‘If they had become so fervent in their beliefs, then why in hell didn’t your father or Bruehl ever think to tell anyone else who they really were, where they’d come from?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kulic replied, shaking his head. ‘Maybe they were afraid of what might happen to them. But after Sillars’ murder, something went out of my father. It’s like he chose to pretend it hadn’t happened. But when he died, he told me the truth of what he was, and told me someone like you would come one day.’
Jacob stared at the old man with sick disgust. It was nearly unbelievable so much could have gone so badly wrong, but all the evidence was right there, in the transceiver gripped in his own hand. Kulic couldn’t have lied to it if he’d wanted to.