‘So the sum purpose of the beast’s attack was for Cowl to ride in on its energy front just to get to you?’ Maxell asked.

‘So it would seem. Cowl knows from previous experience that he cannot break our defences in one all-out attack. That he managed a limited penetration at all is due to the fact that he had been provided with our defence frequency at that time. And he has yet to learn that our defences are not always so well maintained.’

‘Risky—allowing such an attack,’ said Maxell.

‘For veracity,’ said Goron. ‘A gambit to give him the confidence to commit when he hears the greater lie.’

Maxell nodded and was silent for a moment before saying, ‘I’m sorry about Vetross.’

‘She knew the risks.’

Again a longer silence, Maxell changed the subject. ‘The storm cycle will be impossible to maintain once the “greater lie” achieves its purpose.’ She was gazing at the main screen. ‘We’ll lose most of this, which means a refugee population of twenty million to transship back to Earth Station.’

‘If all goes well,’ Goron replied, as he casually manipulated the image on a screen before him. This showed a transparent computer diagram of the sun tap, with the locations of thousands of points within it.

‘Timing is everything,’ said Maxell.

‘Now there’s a statement that can never be contested.’

‘It will work?’ she asked him.

‘The sun tap was not designed for this. The excess of redundancy was built in, and many of the autorepair systems operate faster than anything less than catastrophic failure. But, yes, it will work—the displacement generators will do what is required of them. That, however, is not why you asked me here.’

Maxell did not look round. She continued, ‘And Mars?’

‘You know the new mirrors will work better than the old and that now we do not need the energy to create an environment but only to maintain it. Our loss will be great but sustainable. When are you going to get to the point?’

Maxell turned towards him. ‘Only a select few of you on Sauros know what is going to happen. How do they feel about this? And, most importantly, how do you feel?’

‘Three hundred years and you’re asking me how I feel?’

‘I am.’

Goron stood up from his console and walked over to stand beside her, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the view. ‘We few who know, know the consequences of our actions: the ending of the greatest threat the human race has ever encountered, and as a result the survival of the Heliothane Dominion. Those who will die… I mourn them already, as I mourn Vetross, but their sacrifice is unfortunately necessary. Veracity permits it to be no other way.’

‘But the Dominion’s survival may not be something you’ll see. You know that, without an adjacent interspace source of energy, mantisals cannot jump accurately. We’ll have perhaps two hundred years of concurrent time. I’ve calculated the chances of us getting a mantisal to you—one mantisal, not the hundreds that may be needed.’

‘As have I, and it’s roughly one in a hundred thousand. And that’s discounting our slide down the slope.’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll do well enough.’ Goron shrugged. ‘And there’s always the chance Saphothere could bring us tors, if he survives making his kill.’

‘There is also a chance that the technology will become available…’

‘I know. But I know too that every day we exist after the event, and every day Saphothere does not come, will push us further down the probability slope. And things will change here. We’ll be praised as dead heroes and quickly forgotten.’

‘I’ll not forget.’

Goron turned to her. ‘So really all this was about was saying goodbye?’

‘Yes, that’s all.’

‘Then goodbye, Maxell.’

14

Traveller Thote:

It was a close-run thing with the Roman. Keeping him on life support, we nearly managed to remove his tor and interface it with a mantisal. I subsequently see that it is just a question of using a quantity of the old bearer’s genetic material as a buffer, plus some method of fooling the tor’s propensity for pattern recognition. However, it seems I am not going to get a chance to try out my theory as Maxell has cancelled all energy allocations for this kind of work, and it seems Goron’s project now has prime status. I am now to return to other duties subordinate to the Engineer. I do not mind, for we must choose the best option we can find… to kill our enemies.

Endless seashores. It appeared that the vambrace was intent on bringing him back into the world in the same sort of location each time. The gods were casting him into places to fight battles he did not understand at their whim. He just kept himself honed and focused on survival. He hated his gods.

The jungle was a dense wall of green, spilling into mangroves to the Roman’s left as he faced seaward on the strip of sand on which he had been deposited. To his right weird trees, and other strange plants he could not identify, halted their march towards the sea at the beginning of a rocky promontory. Resting his hand on the pommel of his sheathed gladius, he headed towards that, assuming that wherever rocks were bathed by the sea there would be shellfish, which had served him well enough thus far. As he walked he suddenly felt ebullient, light-headed. The air here had a strange clarity and was as intoxicating as wine.

Reaching the edge of the sandbar, Tacitus scrambled up the rocky face and began to head out onto the promontory itself. After a moment he noted that scattered over the stone were nautiloid shells the size of dinner plates. He laughed and kicked one into the sea. Drew his sword and waved it at the sky.

‘Send them now, curse you!’ he shouted at the gods. ‘Send your monsters and your trials!’

But there was no immediate response and, from past experience, he expected none. Usually the monsters came in the night, sniffing after him as if after spoiled meat.

He moved on towards the end of the promontory, where he squatted and gazed down into the deep water. His head was buzzing almost as if he was getting too much air, and he noted that his breathing was shallow. Observing a nautiloid drifting along in the pellucid depths, with its tentacles outstretched and its shell striped red and white, he wondered if he was beginning to see the kind of visions wounded soldiers saw before dying.

He prodded at the surface of the water with his gladius and something rose up out of those same depths, in an expanding ring around the nautiloid, like an odd piece of jewellery carved from grey rock, ivory and rose quartz. The nautiloid jetted aside in a cloud of ink and the circle kept growing larger. Then Tacitus realized his challenge had been answered.

Recognizing the apparition in that instant as an enormous open mouth, Tacitus flung himself back as a huge fish shot up over the rim of stone in an explosion of foam. Its mouth was filled with jagged teeth, its blunt head armoured. He shoved himself further away, sliding on his backside, the sea boiling behind the great creature as, with its moray tail, it tried to force itself further onto the promontory. Realizing he was getting close to the sea on the other side, he scrambled to his feet, and turned and ran. After thrashing around, trying to get to him, the sea boiling and spindrift tumbling through the air, the giant fish flipped back into the water with a huge splash, then came hammering alongside the promontory, driving a wave before it. Tacitus leapt onto the beach as the wave also reached it, and didn’t stop running until he reached the wall of vegetation. Turning, he watched the fish, half emerged from the water, begin thrashing from side to side to pull itself back into the sea. He spat on the sand—recognizing this sending from Neptune—then turned to peer into the greenery.