God Star

Extinction Event

1. Extinction Event“Deploy the solar shroud.” Hierarch Chalce's voice was a murmur as he gave the order for the killing of thirty-six billion people.

Malleus, sitting opposite the Hierarch in the ring, almost raised his voice in objection. Horror thrummed through him, seizing hold of his insides. It was fortunate that his throat dried and restricted, preventing his words of dissent from coming. Surely Chalce didn't intend to carry out such orders? They were there to watch over Borial, protect it, guide its people. Not this. Anything but this.

A memory from his boyhood flashed through Malleus's mind. His family home on the planet, the house where all his people still lived. Days of peace and warmth. The great ironoak in the grounds that was his starship or his castle or his hiding place. He'd said farewell to his parents and his sister beneath the shady boughs of that tree the day he left his old life behind to join Concordance.

In the Angelic Gaze's inner sanctum there was a moment of silence as the convocation circle took in Chalce's words. The Hierarch was wearing his full ceremonial garb, his robes purple, his crown glistening with gold and red gems. His face was blank, giving nothing away, although his knotted facial muscles spoke of an inner tension to those who knew him well. The moment stretched taut as Malleus waited for some further explanation, some correction to the order.

None came.

Behind the Hierarch's high throne stood the emissary who had arrived on the cathedral ship two hours earlier. The Void Walker was dressed plainly in the grey robes of his sect. The caterpillar scar where the bead had been embedded behind his left ear was livid, as if he'd only recently been inducted into the fallen ranks, although the word was he'd been travelling the galaxy in the service of Concordance for years. His name was Kane, although everyone, whispering in the corners and cloisters where they thought no one would hear them, referred to him simply by his title. There is a Void Walker on board and A Void Walker has been sent from Omn.

A look of satisfaction lit up Kane's features at the Hierarch's words. This, clearly, was the instruction he had travelled from Omn to convey. Malleus caught the man's gaze, seeing a hungry glint of delight in them. Malleus looked away. To peer into the eyes was to look into the soul, and this man had no soul. His eyes were open pits of darkness, black holes into which he, Malleus, might fall or be pulled. He wondered what crime, what abomination, the young man had committed for him to become as he was.

Perhaps it was best not to know. To willingly leave your spirit behind and accept your fate as an empty vessel, a tool, a thing, was an unimaginable horror. A denial of life. They all served Omn, but to do so in such a way was beyond understanding. Were the Walkers even truly alive?

Malleus swallowed, stood and dipped his head to the Hierarch. “My Lord, may I speak with you?” The Void Walkers spoke the words of Omn, unquestionable, but Hierarch Chalce commanded the ship and he decided how to carry out those orders. There was surely scope for interpretation. Chalce was a good man. He could not mean to extinguish all life on the planet. Not in such a brutal way.

Chalce glanced up at Kane, as if seeking the Void Walker's assent. A look of indifference on Kane's face made it clear that the request was of little consequence. But, as the Hierarch rose and left for the Augury, Malleus following, the Void Walker's eyes narrowed briefly and he shot a glance of open suspicion at Malleus. Suspicion and something like hatred, too.

Malleus dipped his head and followed the Hierarch, his dry throat constricting once again.

The Augury Chamber was a small ovoid room, its roof a plain white dome. The only feature within it was a sphere of milky glass upon its pedestal in the centre. Malleus, out of habit, placed his hands upon the cool glass, closing his eyes in case the voice of Omn came to him.

“Anything?” asked Chalce quietly. There was, perhaps, the faintest note of hope in the Hierarch's voice. Sometimes the words given to them were heard by all, sweet and clear in the Augury Chamber. Sometimes they were mere whisperings in Malleus's mind.

After a moment Malleus shook his head. His supplications had received no answer for three weeks. Omn came and went and such things were not to be questioned. A clear message from the God Star, speaking through the ship's Augur, was the only way that a direct command given by a Void Walker could be overridden. But that was not to be.

“There is nothing,” said Malleus.

Chalce nodded his head, light glinting off the jewels in his ceremonial attire. “Very well, then we must proceed with the instructions of Omn as handed to us by his emissary.”

“My Lord, are you sure this is right?”

Chalce's eyes narrowed as he replied. “You surely do not question the word of Omn, Augur Malleus?”

“Of course not. Of course not. But I understand that sometimes there is a need to … debate the words given to us. To see beneath the surface of what is said; to grasp what is meant literally and what is, perhaps, a metaphor. Such is the duty of an Augur.”

“The words of the command are extremely clear,” said the Hierarch. “Complex life on the planet is to be ended as an example to the wider galaxy. I see little scope for interpretation. The remaining orbital stations and the colonies on the moons and other planets will be left alone, but Borial is to be rendered uninhabitable.”

Malleus had hoped for less clear terminology, words that he could call into question. The pronouncements of Omn were often surprisingly malleable. Malleus thought about asking Chalce if he trusted this Kane, but decided against it. He berated himself for thinking such a thought. The Void Walkers operated at the personal command of the First Augurs, who in turn spoke in person to Omn.

“Borial was your home,” said Chalce, his voice a little softer.

“I belong to Omn now.”

“Even so, none of us can completely change what we were. You have family there still, I think?”

“I do.” Most of the crew of the Angelic Gaze were second or third generation members of Concordance, but Malleus had left only five years previously, shortly after turning seventeen.

“Ah,” said Chalce. “I am sorry. I'm sure none of your kin were involved in the blasphemies that have necessitated this terrible act.”

“No.”

“It is perhaps hard to understand why so many must die so that a few may be punished.” The Hierarch's words were partly a statement, partly a question. In his own way, Chalce would also suffer from events to come; his standing within Concordance would be hugely diminished as the size of his flock was reduced to a few scattered millions.

“Yes,” said Malleus. The shroud was a cruel weapon. There were quicker, cleaner ways to deliver judgement to a whole planet, but the scale and visibility of the shroud made it a chillingly effective declaration to the wider galaxy. It said, deny Concordance and we will blot out your sun.

Chalce put a hand on Malleus's upper arm, a gesture of support and reassurance. “All are known to Omn, all will receive the eternity that is rightfully theirs. That is what we must think of.”

“Yes,” said Malleus again, wanting to find comfort in such words, wanting to say more, to argue and question. He stopped himself. Some thoughts were too dangerous to give voice to.

“The shroud will take a number of months to fully deploy,” said Chalce. “You will be allowed to visit your old home, your people. For a final time.”

“The Void Walker would permit this?”

“There was nothing in his words to prevent it. The operation of the Angelic Gaze is in my gift, not his.”

Malleus looked into the eyes of the man who had consented to carrying out the act of g******e against his home world. “Thank you, my Lord. That is most generous.”

With a nod, the Hierarch swept away to oversee the shroud's deployment. But at the door he stopped and turned back. “Will you take food with me before you go? Your experiences on the surface might be … difficult, and I could offer you advice. A listening ear, at least.”

“Thank you, yes,” said Malleus.

“Very well.”

The Hierarch left. Malleus lingered a while longer in the room. He placed both hands back on the orb and closed his eyes. He was, he knew, willing words to come to him from Omn. Sometimes, when he did that, he heard a voice that wasn't the musical, beautiful presence from afar. It was his own voice; words that were simply what he wanted to hear. And there was wisdom to be found among such words, it was true; they could be an insight into the soul. But they would change little; he couldn't stop what they were about to do with mere wishful thinking.

“Does Omn reply, Augur?”

The Void Walker, Kane, stood in the doorway. Malleus wondered how long he'd been watching. His plain, grey robes were in stark contrast to Chalce's opulent garb.

“He chooses not to grace me with his wisdom.”

“You seek an explanation for his words to me perhaps? You seek … confirmation?” The tone was quiet, respectful, but the sneer on the man's face told a different story. He was enjoying his position of power and, perhaps, considered Malleus was attempting to undermine him.

“I seek his guidance and help in these difficult times, that is all. The people on the planet are facing a living hell.”

“Perhaps hell is where they belong.”

“Surely there are some innocents amongst them? The children at least.”

The Void Walker looked amused, as if Malleus were the child, asking a child's question. But, also, a moment of confusion passed across Kane's features at Malleus's question.

It passed, and Kane said, “The Hierarch has informed me you are going to go down to the surface while the shroud is constructed?”

“To do what I can to help. And to say goodbye to people known to me.”

The prospect seemed to delight Kane. He was fully himself once more. “You should be careful, Augur. At some point, we may have to blockade the planet, prevent anyone leaving. It would be a shame for you to be stranded down there when their sun goes out.” The Void Walker turned to walk away.

Malleus called after him, unable to stop himself. “Tell me, what is it like to have your soul ripped from you? To leave it behind as your body is hurled across the galaxy at such unnatural speeds?”

The words stopped the Void Walker. He turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “We all do what we can in the service of Omn.”

“But does it hurt?” Malleus pressed. “Does the emptiness inside hurt? Or are you no longer aware of mortal things like pain and suffering?”

It was dangerous to goad the Void Walkers. Strictly speaking, they had no official position in the hierarchy of Concordance, but their exemption from all normal restrictions meant they were greatly valued by the First Augurs and were given many vital or unpleasant tasks to perform as a result. They were trusted absolutely. Their souls already ripped from them, they had nothing else to lose. The God Star spoke directly to them, it was said, communicating through the beads they each carried in their brains.

Malleus's words seemed only to amuse Kane further. “Tell me, Augur, have you ever seen Omn? Have you ever found yourself lost in the viridian perfection of his eye? Have you ever talked to him directly as I am now talking to you?”

“You know I have not. The God Star lies many light years from here.”

“Such a shame. It must be a comfort when his quiet whisperings come to your ears. Perhaps, one day, you will truly see him in all his splendour and glory, as I have. Perhaps you will converse with him properly, as I have. Although I suppose that can only be when you die and meet him for your final judgement.”

Kane turned and walked away.

Three hours later, the Angelic Gaze manoeuvred until it was within a hundred thousand kilometres of the cloud-streaked, turquoise planet. Brown and orange land masses were clearly visible among Borial's sparkling oceans. Malleus picked out the yellow, triangular continent, the interior of which was taken up by the deserts of the Golden Sea. Then the peninsula off its northern coast, lush and green, that had been his boyhood home. He had often lain on those rolling, grassy hills, warm night air from the desert on his face, staring up at the stars in wonder and delight. It was strange, still, to be up here and staring down. Strange, too, to understand that it would soon all be gone. It was too big a thought to fully take in. He comforted himself with the understanding that Omn saw more than merely one planet, saw also the future that was to come. Who knew how much worse events would come to be if this thing was not done to Borial?

“We are in optimal orbit,” said the voice of the ship's Stellar Mechanic, sitting beside Chalce in the convocation circle, eyes staring blindly into the distance as images and numbers streamed into the fleck embedded in his brain.

“Begin,” said Chalce.

Malleus felt the slightest shudder through the ship as the hub that would form the central axis of the shroud was jettisoned. Dwarfed by the bulk of the Angelic Gaze, it seemed so small, so unimportant as it drifted into sight through the planetward windows, sunlight picking out lines of brightness on its smooth surface. The hub was a round-ended cylinder, three hundred metres long and fifty wide. Strange that so small a thing could be the seed from which so terrible a flower could bloom.

Steering rockets flared from it as it manoeuvred itself into its ordained point in the heavens. A gentle, delicate procedure, the calculations required so very precise. Positioning took the best part of an hour. When it was there, one end pointing directly down at the unsuspecting planet, the other at the heart of the sun, more jets of light fired as the hub imparted the necessary spin to itself. Holding its precise point in the sky would require constant thrust against the pull of the planet, especially as its mass increased. Eventually, in a thousand years, the entire structure would run out of power and spiral into the atmosphere of the planet. By then, it would be far too late to matter.

“Orbit locked,” said the Stellar Mechanic. “Deploying the spoke lines.”

Everyone in the convocation, Kane back in place behind Chalce's throne, watched through the ring of windows. No one spoke.

At first nothing appeared to happen on the hub, and Malleus found himself hoping that the terrible mechanism was broken. That, perhaps, Omn had spoken after all, his test of their faith complete. But then he saw that twelve fragile lines were growing from the central cylinder, seemingly little more than delicate tendrils of light or the gossamer webs of an arachnoid. They fanned out at their precisely calculated angles, the entire structure beginning to resemble some enormous wheel revolving in space.

The lines unwound and unwound from the casing of the hub until they were five kilometres long. Their bonded nanofibres would take the strain of the entire structure once it was complete. Eventually they would be extended to a length of one thousand kilometres as the necessary materials were mined and fabricated. That work would continue even as the sheets of the shroud itself – scales of opaque silicate – were constructed and fitted into place between the spokes.

As a boy, Malleus had often stared up at Enai, the inner and smaller of Borial's two moons, delighting at its blue beauty. He could never have guessed the use to which its mineral resources were to be used. Shuttles and mining rigs from the Angelic Gaze would be busy in the coming months, extracting the required materials from the moon, refining and processing, constructing lines and sheets and then attaching them to the growing shroud.

In only a few months it would be there: a perfect circle in the sky, a circle that covered the disc of the sun exactly, tracking it across the heavens, casting the planet below into the night of an eclipse.

A night from which there would be no morning and no awakening.

Malleus gripped the arm of his chair tight as the hub rotated, the skeleton of the shroud catching the light of the sun with flashes of gold. He said nothing. Hierarch Chalce's face remained an inexpressive mask. Kane, standing over Chalce, nodded his head in approval at the sight.

A hundred thousand kilometres below, on the red and orange and brown landmasses, thirty-six billion people went about their lives, oblivious to the skeletal flower blooming in the sky above them.