A week after the crews returned from the core, Arches Base received visitors from Earth. The scuttlebutt in the dorms was that one was a member of the Grand Conclave itself, the highest body of governance in the Coalition: one of just twelve people who governed a Galaxy, and she was here. Not only that, the scuttlebutt went, she had come to give them all medals.
The day after that, the crews of Exultant Squadron and everybody connected with Operation Prime Radiant were called to the hangar. The hangar was covered by a translucent dome that gave a view of the sky, and the hot white light of the Core beat down into the interior of the pit. All ten of the ships’ cradles were empty now; the surviving ships would perform a flyby, piloted by reserve crews.
Everybody was here, brought together for the first time since they had dispersed after their debriefing. With Pirius were Torec, Burden, and the rest of the surviving crews. Cohl was here, and Enduring Hope brought a gaggle of grinning ground crew techs. The more senior officers, including Captains Marta, Seath, and Boote, kept apart, resplendent in new dress uniforms.
Others came out for their share of the limelight. Aside from civilians like Commissary Nilis and Pila, there were much more lowly types: workers, techs, administrators. Many of them were older than the flight crews, and their ranks gleamed with metallic implants, for this was the Navy’s way of using its surviving veterans. But they performed the various unglamorous but essential jobs that kept the base running and the ships flying, and with Pila’s help, Pirius had made sure that they would be here.
A piping sounded, a tradition, it was said, dating from a time when man’s ships sailed only the seas of Earth. The officers muttered quiet orders. The military staff and civilians alike drew their ranks up a little tighter and stood rigidly to attention.
A party swept from the shadows into full Galaxy light. Marshal Kimmer and Minister Gramm accompanied a much more imposing figure. Philia Doon, Plenipotentiary for Total War, tall, slender, was dressed in a long golden cloak that swept around her feet. Her gait was graceful — and yet it was not quite natural, as if she used prosthetics, and her footsteps were loud and heavy, abnormally weighty. Kimmer was speaking to her, but she was looking into the sky, and Pirius had the impression that even as she took in Kimmer’s words, she was listening to some other voice only she could hear.
The skin of her slender face shone a subtle silver-gray. There wasn’t a hair on her head.
Doon took her place on a low platform. One by one the staff of the base were presented to her. Marshal Kimmer himself went up first, followed by Nilis, who bowed as he was handed some kind of elaborate data desk. Then Doon began to work her way through the officers, down the ladder of superiority.
When it was his turn, Pirius found his heart thumping as he approached this strange creature. She towered over him.
“Congratulations, Pilot,” the Plenipotentiary murmured. Her voice was rich, but too precise — artificial, he thought. She said, “Your squadron — Exultant — was well named.” But even as she talked there was no expression in that silvered face, and she didn’t even seem to be looking at him. She beckoned him closer, and he smelled a faint scent of burning. She pressed her hand to his chest, and when she lifted it away a bright green tetrahedral sigil glowed there, his new battle honor.
Pirius was very glad when the ceremony was over and they were allowed to break ranks.
Nilis approached Pirius. “Well, Pilot, now you have seen right to the very heart of our marvelous Third Expansion — and that is the type of creature that festers there.”
“You mean Plenipotentiary Doon?”
“She is what is called a raoul,” Nilis said. “Do you not recognize the texture of her skin?”
“I don’t know the technology.”
“Not technology. Not even biology — or at any rate, not human biology. That stuff is the hide of a Silver Ghost. The Plenipotentiary is a symbiote; she has the internal organs of a human, but the flesh of a Ghost. Oh, and she has implants tucked into her belly, I believe: more symbiotes, another conquered alien species living on within the bodies of our rulers, a group-mind entity that once, it is said, conquered the Earth, and is now used to provide instantaneous links between the Plenipotentiaries and their circle of chosen ones.
“There is plenty of justification for all this surgery and genetic tinkering: the Plenipotentiaries have such responsibility that they need such powers, such dispensations from the Doctrines that are supposed to govern us all. But I hardly think Hama Druz would approve, do you? He would say she is a monstrosity, perhaps. But that monstrosity is what you have been fighting for.”
A monstrosity? Watching the Plenipotentiary, Pirius remembered Nilis’s talk of an eleventh step in human evolution. Were those prostheses no more than cosmetic — or would Doon somehow breed true? Perhaps this extraordinary woman really did represent the future, whether she made him comfortable or not.
They joined Pirius’s friends. Nilis told them high-level gossip he had heard about the impact of the operation on Earth. “Do you know, on Earth, for the first time in millennia the Library of Futures is blank. The future is unknown.” For a moment he sounded almost gleeful. “I hear that a lot of people are very scared. We really have shaken everything up, haven’t we, Pilot? All the way back to the corridors of Earth itself! Who can say what is to come? Oh, we face a great dislocation, of course. I suspect our greatest challenge will be to keep mankind from tearing itself apart, now that it has no one else on whom to vent its anger and frustration. We don’t need warriors anymore, but we do need peacekeepers, I fear!
“But isn’t it refreshing?” he said, and he bounced absurdly on his toes. “Think of it! Can we not now place Hama Druz in the grave which he so richly deserves? Druz in his neurotic terror longed to keep mankind static, unchanging. But that denies the basic creativity of the universe in which we are embedded — a creativity, indeed, which flows from the creatures inside that spectacular artifact you attacked, Pirius. Now we need no longer deny our essential nature: now we can swim with the flow of the universe rather than against it — and perhaps, at last, uncover our true destiny as children of the cosmos.”
All that sounded a bit vague to Pirius.
Enduring Hope said, “But, Commissary, when we get up tomorrow morning — what shall we do?”
Nilis laughed, avuncular, and spread his hands to the sky. “Why, there is a whole universe out there waiting for you — now that you don’t have to die before you grow up.” He pointed to the senior officers, to Kimmer and Seath and Marta. “They are too old to change. No doubt they hoped to die before the war ended — well, bad luck! For young people like you, the future is suddenly opened up. Perhaps some of you will come with me back to Chandra, to study that remarkable nest of transcosmic life. And perhaps some of you will go sailing beyond the bounds of the Galaxy itself. Why not? We’ve always been so busy battling to survive in this Galaxy, for twenty thousand years we haven’t so much as sent a probe out there.”
Cohl said seriously, “But the Xeelee are still out there — they are everywhere but here.”
“The Xeelee will keep for another day,” Nilis said gently. “And in the meantime you have families to build.”
Pirius was shocked. “Families?”
“Well, why not? The old machinery has always been there, even if we don’t use it anymore. And now all the rules have changed. It will do you good to have a real family, you know, to put down roots. You really don’t know how it feels.” He winked. “And I always did want to be a grandfather — honorary, at least!”