‘Not that, Academician. We have a much grander vision . . .’
And, with another Virtual display, she demonstrated the Coalition’s dream.
The plan was simple and breathtaking: to turn back the Xeelee with supernovas, detonated in a wall thousands of light years long, right along the inner edge of the spiral arm.
‘You’re as insane as the Integrality.’ Vala sounded stunned.
‘Quite possibly,’ Sand conceded.
‘And it won’t work. Only the most massive stars go supernova,’ Coton put in. ‘Everybody knows that. And besides, most of the Galaxy’s stars have had their fusion processes tinkered with by the photino birds anyhow.’
Sand regarded him. ‘But that’s what we plan to do – tinker with the stars to suit ourselves. We’ll send in the Starfolk through microscopic wormholes, just as in the past. They’ll be equipped to adjust the fusion processes in a star’s core. The physicists promise that a star of only one or two solar masses could be induced to deliver a good enough detonation for our purposes.’
‘Many of those stars must have worlds. People.’
‘Not by the time the stars are detonated,’ Sand said. ‘Remember, lad, the Scourge will be closing.’
Vala asked, ‘And will you abandon the Starfolk to their fate?’
‘Of course not,’ Sand said evenly. ‘They’ll be retrieved in each case. There will inevitably be losses—’
‘She won’t do it,’ Coton burst out.
Sand looked at him in surprise.
Vala said, ‘Coton, hush—’
‘My mother taught me that what was done to us Weaponised was wrong, and it’s been a wrong that’s lasted generations. Vala’s here to help the Starfolk, not exploit them. She won’t help you. Tell her, Vala.’
Sand glanced at Vala. ‘Academician?’
And, to Coton’s horror, Vala hesitated.
4
As the whale flotilla closed in on the Forest, alarm whistles blasted and wooden rattles were spun. Lura crouched down in the lead tree’s foliage with the Mole tucked under her belly. Pesten was beside her, and old Jorg came scrambling up the tether from his fire-pots. But Lura felt very exposed up here.
Twenty-Four gave a great wooden groan, and shuddered and strained. It was a standard tactic to cut a few trees loose when a raid came, to provide platforms for counter-attacks, and Twenty-Four, with the rest, was adjusting its spin and angle to take up the greater burden that was left.
And now the whales were here, sooner than Lura had expected, looming out of the crimson sky.
One slid by her position, only the diameter of the tree away. It was a rough sphere as much as fifty paces across, with tremendous paddle-like flukes turning at the back, and three misty eyes in the ‘face’ at its front, the whole swathed in ropes and ragged nets for its riders to cling to. Its skin, cartilage covered by a soft foamy layer, was translucent, and inside she could see the shadows of internal organs. The riders on the whale’s flanks, clinging to the nets, leaned over, whooping and shaking spears – naked, pumped up and exhilarated, and ready for the fight. One man saw Lura and grinned, showing sharpened teeth. She yelled obscenities back, until the tree’s rotation took her away.
Further down the flank of the Forest, the whale riders were making their attacks. Looking down through the foliage Lura saw spears being thrown from whales into the Forest, and in response arrows shimmered in clouds from the trees. But the whale riders were already leaping across the void to take on the Forest folk, and the cries of battle rose up – and the screaming began. Twenty-Four’s shuddering worsened as the ongoing battle interfered with the work of the tree pilots, and the trees began to grow as confused as their occupants. All this evoked deep primal fears in Lura; the Forest hadn’t been raided like this since she was a child.
‘You need to get down from here,’ Jorg said to Lura. ‘We’re vulnerable – the lead tree always is.’
‘I agree,’ said Brother Pesten sternly.
‘All right. But I’m not leaving the Mole behind.’
‘Here.’ Pesten took his rope belt from his waist. ‘Make a harness out of this. Be quick.’
But even as she started fumbling with knots, Jorg cried, ‘Here they come!’
That whale came in again, much closer now, rising up over the rim of the tree. Lura found herself looking directly into its huge, misty face, those three great eyes swivelling to fix on her as the whale rolled on its axis, its body counter-turning to the rotation of the flukes. The face was vast, each eye alone as big as a person. There was nothing remotely human about the whale – it wasn’t even as much like a human as a rat, say. Humans don’t belong here. But she thought she read something in those eyes – pain, perhaps, or pity.
And now the whale’s roll brought a party of riders up above the tree rim, half a dozen of them, all armed, all naked and smeared with some kind of oil. Their faces were twisted into masks of bloody anticipation and there was the man with the sharpened teeth, now sporting an erection.
‘By the Bones!’ Jorg cried. With startling strength he ripped a slice of wood from the leading edge of the nearest branch, threw it as an improvised spear, and put his other gnarled hand on Lura’s head and tried to push her deeper into the foliage. But the riders dodged the splinter easily, laughing; it stuck harmlessly in the hide of the whale. Two of them let fly with their own spears at Jorg, one after the other. He dodged the first – but the second skewered his chest. Jorg clutched the spear, trying to speak, and a hissing gurgle came from the wound. Lura reached for him. But he went limp and fell back, floating down through the turning branches of his tree. Lura was horrified by the skill and efficiency with which his long life had been ended.
And, unopposed, the whale riders sailed easily across the gap.
Lura, still holding her Mole, scrambled to find something to fight with, anything. She felt she was moving as slowly as an old woman; the riders were so much faster, so much more determined.
They came plummeting down out of the sky.
One landed on Lura’s back, pushing her over, flattening her face down against the branch. Pinned by huge strength, she managed to twist her head. She saw that Pesten was on his back, trying to fight. But he had no weapons, and when he tried to grab one of the riders his hands slid over slick, oily skin.
Already it was over.
5
Vala had requested an hour’s break to gather more data, and her thoughts, before she made any decision. She rushed off, leaving Coton in a small cabin aboard the Marshal’s flitter – so small it was like a cell, he thought, and sparsely furnished.
When she returned to collect him, they had to wait once more, outside the Marshal’s cabin, while Sand completed yet another meeting.
Vala looked at Coton, agonised. ‘I came here with no idea what this Marshal wanted of me. Now I see I have some leverage with our new overlords. And I have a chance to save you – and, perhaps, for us to achieve much more together. Later we’ll discuss it properly—’
‘You always say that. You never do. You haven’t discussed any of this with me. Nobody told me I had this alien thing in my head—’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Sincerely. But events press, Coton. You have to take opportunities when they come.’
A guard beckoned them back into Sand’s cabin.
Marshal Sand still sat behind her desk. As Vala entered she looked up, faintly amused. ‘You again.’
Vala marched up to her desk. ‘Marshal, I’ll not waste time. I’ve come to a decision. I’ll work with you—’