‘God, has it filed flight plans?’
‘Yes, Jakob. To Sirius, but that was before you took over the media node and released me into the net,’ God answered.
‘And the rest of these Black Squadrons?’ I asked.
‘Sirius, Proxima Centauri and Lalande,’ God answered.
‘With Demiurge?’ Gregor asked urgently. Gregor’s voice came over the tac net.
‘Gregor, where are you?’ I asked.
‘Still in the node being covered by lots of nervous Praetorians,’ he answered. His tone was completely flat.
‘You okay?’
‘Yes.’ How was he okay after the battering I’d seen him take?
‘To answer your question, Gregor, it is very probable that Major Rolleston has Demiurge,’ the multitude of God’s voices answered. I was now definitely finding God’s calmness irritating.
They’re going to infect the colonial net with Demiurge so they can control it, aren’t they?’ Pagan as much stated as asked. I glanced across at him. He’d come off the easiest. They must not have considered him that much of a threat. But he didn’t just look frightened, he looked terrified.
‘I believe that you are correct,’ God answered.
‘Well stop him,’ I said sounding calmer.
‘Jakob, you know I cannot-’
‘Do you realise the potential for human suffering that Rolleston poses?’ I demanded.
‘I do, but I was designed not to interfere with humanity beyond revealing the truth as objectively as possible.’
‘What? Do you like the idea of us killing in your name or something?’ I demanded.
‘Would you prefer that I killed in yours?’ God asked. I stopped and thought about it.
‘Yes, we made you,’ I said.
‘I am not a magical solution to all humanity’s problems.’
‘No, but you were designed to solve some of them,’ I said.
‘This God’s shit, can we have another one?’ Balor said.
‘Balor!’ Both Pagan and myself shouted over the net.
‘We found him heading towards the Atlantic at terminal velocity,’ one of Cat’s people said over the net.
‘Thank you,’ I said to the exo-armour jock. ‘I thought Rolleston had killed you,’ I said to Balor.
‘Nearly,’ Balor said. What was that in his voice? Fear?
‘I was designed to help humanity solve some of its problems, yes, but ultimately only humanity can solve these problems,’ God said as we returned back to the business at hand.
‘What you’re talking about is fighting for the sake of it,’ I snapped. ‘You can end this now.’
‘What you’re talking about is using me as a labour-saving device, a convenient weapon.’
‘If the ends justify the means,’ I said, and meant it.
‘That was Rolleston’s argument,’ Morag said quietly over the tac net. I would have glared at her but instead looked down at her curled up on the floor. Blind, deaf, possibly suffering from hypoxia and any number of other pressure-change-related problems. It must have taken a tremendous amount of will for her to even join the conversation. I still felt betrayed and angry, though at least I knew I was being an arsehole.
Later, when I calmed down, I’d realise she had a point. Rolleston and me seeing certain things the same way wasn’t really a surprise. After all we did operate in the same shady world. He was just a bit more of an evil prick than I was. At least I hoped I wasn’t as evil a prick as Rolleston. I certainly wasn’t as dangerous as him.
‘And what if the Cabal are right?’ God asked. I couldn’t believe I’d heard that right.
‘Come again?’ I said angrily. ‘Did you see what those inhuman fucks just did to us!’ I shouted over the tac net. I saw Morag twitch on the ground. Arsehole, I thought, meaning me.
‘What if humanity needs strong leaders and control to survive? What if in order for your race to survive you need the lies and the conflict? What if the truth just leads to more violence and finally you consume yourself?’ God asked. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. ‘I hope that your way is right. I hope you find peace and can live that way, but I cannot side with you in case you are wrong.’
The tac net went quiet for a while. What God had said was slowly sinking in, but we needed to do something if we still believed in what we were doing. Even if what we were doing was making it up as we went along.
‘Not really feeling like a philosophical argument right now,’ I told God.
‘God, he’ll take control of the fleets,’ Pagan said. ‘Their comms anyway.’
‘That just means they won’t have access to the same truth as us,’ I said, maybe not realising how that sounded.
‘Depending on his authority,’ Pagan said.
‘Who’s idea was it to make him so as not to interfere?’ I asked rhetorically.
‘Him?’ Morag asked, showing more presence of mind than I had been capable of after my first few firefights.
‘Obviously it’s a him; look how stupid he is,’ Cat said, joining in on the tac net, as everyone could now. Inappropriate humour, great.
‘God, is this cluster fuck still being broadcast?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ God answered. Wonderful.
‘Can anyone else stop the Vindictive, anyone watching this, I mean?’
God brought up the image of Air Marshal Kaaria again. We could see him in what I assumed to be High Nyota Mlima Command and Control. He was shouting orders in Swahili to personnel who were either hard-wired in or rapidly working hologramatic control panels.
I saw one of his uniformed aides point to a screen and almost got his head bitten off for doing so.
T believe that both Kenyan and British authorities are currently attempting to intercept the Vindictive,’ God said. I looked back to the image of the Vindictive, wondering if all the billions of viewers were finding this as tense as I was. The docking arm attached to the frigate seemed to split as if cut by some invisible force. The Vindictive’s manoeuvring engines burnt, glowing pale blue like the engines on one of Their vehicles. The remaining part of the docking arm fell away from the craft.
In Nyota Mlima C amp;C I could see various targeting symbols appearing on the Vindictive from the Spoke’s multiple weapon systems.
The screen split again and I was looking at an impossibly tall spur of rock. It looked like a cross between a medieval tower and a mountain reaching up into the net’s purple sky. It took me a moment to realise that I was looking at the net representation of Nyota Mlima. Then our POV moved rapidly and we were inside it, moving through its stone corridors following a trail of white fire that was painfully bright. I didn’t understand this. We entered a high chamber, a cathedrallike cave – Nyota Mlima’s virtual C amp;C. I heard screaming, human and something else. God was screaming as well. I finally realised in horror. The cave was full of impossibly bright white fire. I could see the Simba, lion-people icons of the Kenyan Spoke’s military hackers, burning. A figure moved in the flames. The silhouette of enormous wings unfolded and beat once, taking the figure into the air. It was blue-skinned, hairless, naked but smooth between the legs, making its powerful androgynous form even more alien. Its eyes burnt with the white fire that was all around it. Four huge feathered wings extended from its back. I had never seen an icon like it, somehow beatific and utterly malevolent at the same time.
I looked back to the footage of Nyota Mlima’s virtual C amp;C. Most of the personnel who had been hard-wired in were either writhing on the floor screaming in agony or lying still in their harnesses, their plugs smoking and their eyes dead. Air Marshal Kaaria was looking around at his people in shock.