Red Star

The Mass Engine

2. The Mass EngineSecundus Godel smiled at the shackled figure standing in front of her. “Now, tell me all that you know about the location of the object.”

The man – Harjan Roach – was another renegade, but nothing like Ondo Lagan. Roach was not motivated by intellectual curiosity or a desire to overthrow Concordance. He was concerned only with accruing personal wealth and living a life free from the control of others. She knew of a few like him here and there in the galaxy: outlaws and pirates dodging authority, making a living buying and selling illicit technology left over from the degenerate culture that Concordance had swept away. She kept an eye on them. Her researches had opened out to her the surprising age of galactic civilisation, and occasionally people like Roach discovered something far more interesting, a truly ancient artefact.

Such was the case now.

He looked amused rather than terrified as he replied. He seemed to be enjoying himself. “Oh, I'd prefer not to tell you anything if that's acceptable to you, but if you wish to buy the information, then I'm sure we can come to an arrangement.”

The man's arrogance riled her. She could obviously pay him, however outlandish the sum of money he came up with, but she did not treat with people such as Harjan Roach. She took what she wanted from them. He was not her equal.

She sighed as if bored. “I can inflict agonies upon you that will break you. I can keep your body alive for years while your nerves burn. Do I need to go to all that trouble?”

Roach simply grinned. Blood ran freely from the cuts to his face he'd received during his retrieval by her Walkers. “Inflict your tortures; I can switch my pain responses off. You don't frighten me, purpleskin.”

He was probably telling her the truth: the scans suggested all manner of forbidden technological enhancements riddling his brain and body. Nevertheless, she tested him out. She directed a focussed attack into his nervous system, using an energy intensity that would be enough to incapacitate any normal person from the sheer searing agony.

Roach immediately screamed and collapsed to the floor, his body writhing and his limbs flailing as the torture raged through him. That was satisfying; he wasn't immune to her apparatuses after all. But then, unaccountably, he stopped thrashing and peered up at her with nothing more than an amused grin on his face.

He was toying with her.

“Ouch,” he said.

She amped up the attack even more, taking it to borderline-fatal intensity. Roach winced, as if mildly discomforted. There was a clear tremor in his legs as his nerves glitched out, but he clearly wasn't feeling any of it.

Godel forced herself to smile, as if she were enjoying the game. “Then, perhaps it would be easier to kill you.”

“And throw away all chance of learning the whereabouts of the object? I don't think so. Even if you do, that's fine. I've lived my life free. That's all I ever wanted.”

She believed he was telling the truth there, too. People like him revelled in their lawlessness, their outsider status. She'd lost three Walkers in the fight to pluck him from the backwater world he'd lurked upon and bring him aboard the Storm Gatherer.

“Then I need to exert influence upon you in another way.” Godel waved a hand, and one wall revealed live images of Roach's homeworld, Terios, transmitted directly from the Watchful Presence, the Cathedral ship in attendance of the system.

Roach climbed to his feet. His hair plastered his face as he looked at her, and there was something approaching madness in his impudent grin. “If you think threatening to destroy the planet I was born on troubles me, then you know nothing about me. I hate Terios. It's so peaceful, so nice. Please, feel free to destroy it. Send phalanxes of Void Walkers through its cities with their blasters blazing. Unfurl another of your damned shrouds; it can only improve the place.”

“You have family there.”

Roach shrugged. “None that I care about.”

He really was too easy to play. He still hadn't worked out what she was threatening him with. “Life on Terios is well-ordered, and no one is allowed to step out of line. The slightest misdemeanour is harshly punished.”

“I know. Why do you think I fled as soon as I could…”

He tailed off. He had worked out what she was proposing. It was to his credit that he switched his strategy immediately. “Let's talk about this. We can come to some arrangement, yes?”

“We will return you to the surface, inform your loving family, monitor you closely from orbit to ensure that you don't leave. Your people may have to restrain you to ensure that you don't attempt to take your own life, but I believe they are very proficient at providing such … care. Once your augmentations are cut from you, there will be little you can do to resist. After a decade or two, you should become resigned to your new station.”

He looked from the planet back to her, and she could see in his eyes that he knew he was beaten. All he could do was to salvage what he could. The right buyer – if one could be found – would have paid a fortune for his discovery, and that possibility had slipped through his fingers in a moment.

“If I tell you what I found, will you let me return to my old life?”

“Living outside the loving gaze of Omn?”

“I could be useful to you. Inform you if I hear anything else that might be of interest.”

She pretended to consider his words for several moments. “Very well, tell me where the device is. If your information is reliable, we can come to an arrangement.”

He hesitated for only a few moments, searching in vain for another strategy. He had none. He sent her the coordinates of the mysterious object that he'd found deep in interstellar space.

“Very good,” she said.

She despatched a Walker to jump to the location to confirm the truth. Finally, it seemed, her plans were coming together. Roach's discovery of the ancient device was something approaching a miracle – a very welcome miracle. She'd worked tirelessly for years, without the approval or even the knowledge of the Primo, attempting to map out the metaspace pathways criss-crossing the galaxy. The routes of most remained a mystery; there was simply no way of knowing which gateways connected to which, a fact that infuriated and frustrated her in equal measure. She didn't know where the entrances on Coronade led to – or even if they led anywhere, as Lagan and Ada appeared to believe. She didn't know where in the galaxy the renegades might emerge – if they ever did.

The records had been left deliberately incomplete, and she probably only knew where a fraction of the gateways even were. But, the glory of it was that she'd identified seventeen gateways lurking beneath the surfaces of seemingly-normal stars. The ancient records she'd uncovered from the ruined temple on Toronsay, sun-baked and sand-blasted, were irrefutable, although it had taken her three years to interpret them correctly and map the stars identified onto the present-day galaxy. Seventeen systems connected by tunnels built through the void, joining one star system to another, or to seemingly insignificant patches of interstellar vacuum. Seventeen systems, and no fewer than seven with inhabited planets orbiting them. The figure was a wonder to Godel. There had to be a reason for them being there. Seven galactic civilisations whose stars were connected to a network that could be used to destroy them.

False believers like Carious talked only of triads in their apostasy. The triple stars, the three aspects of Omn, the three divine attendants that wait upon him. But she knew the older scriptures, and in those seven was the number that recurred again and again. The seven eyes of Omn, the seven galaxies, the seven sacred roads. And, of course, there were the seventeen sevens of the sacred tally. The significance of that could not be denied; the numbers did not lie. How glorious the sight of them had been over the surface of Fenwinter.

It had troubled her that some of the tunnels she'd identified opened into regions of space that the Cathedral ships refused to fly into. The Walkers' ships, also, had been incapable of making the journey, at least at first. Something in their navigational systems had simply refused to pass through the void to the designated areas. She'd wondered if some unseen hand was acting against her, attempting to thwart her plans. Omnian theology described hosts of malignant entities that would delight in sending the righteous off the true path. She'd overcome the limitations of the technology by forcing the ships to fly where she wanted them to go. Doing so had involved crippling the machines, delving into their workings and excising certain components from them. She'd lost a total of eleven Cathedral ships during her attempts to force the ships to fly where she wanted. It was almost as if the vessels were fighting her.

But, of course, no one could explain to her why the regions of forbidden space even existed. Her suspicion was that they were nothing more than an attempt to hide the truth about the star systems set aside for supernova. Metaspace ships built in recent times – including all those on the opposing side in the Omnian War three centuries previously, most of which had been destroyed – had not had the limitation. Very few metaspace ships had been constructed since those days, as Concordance made sure, although those that had often retained the aversion. That appeared to be superstition among stellar cartographers: a copying of ancient designs, there for no good reason that she could see.

It didn't matter. She now knew enough of the topography of the metaspace tunnels to make use of at least some of them, and uncovering the whereabouts of the mass engine was the final piece of the puzzle. She had uncovered allusions to the devices in the records, but had never been able to discover the location of one – until now. With such a device under her command, she could produce something truly glorious. She had never succeeded in opening a single gateway, but it was clear from the records that the mass engines, once docked into a suitable entrance, would automatically do exactly that.

An urgent demand from the First Augurs intruded into her thoughts at that moment. The convocation circle was sitting in session at the God Star, demanding her presence. What did they want now? They seemed to delight in interrupting her. Could they not leave her in peace to work?

She couldn't afford to antagonise them further, though, not yet.

“Stay there,” she said to Roach – although he obviously had no choice, bound as he was to the pillar in the centre of the room. She sealed the room behind her as well, in case the man had augmentations that allowed him to break free. He wasn't going anywhere.

She ambled to the Storm Gatherer's Augury sphere, deliberately taking her time. They could not summon her like a pet. She bowed her head in feigned subservience as she opened up the connection to the other First Augurs.

Carious wasted no time in launching his attack. The orb brought the images and words across the galaxy, allowing them to converse as if they were in the room together. “Welcome, Secundus Godel. It is most unfortunate that you are unable to attend the convocation in person.”

“My apologies, Primo, but there are matters here that I had to attend to. You bade me pursue the heretics Ondo Lagan and Selene Ada.” Which was true, although she was privately more concerned with extracting knowledge from them than with bringing them to the light of Omn.

“And how is that proceeding?”

“We believe both are now dead. Their ship entered the atmosphere of a planet utterly inimical to life, and has not reappeared.”

“You have promised me their death before.”

“This time I am sure of it.”

“It is to be hoped that you are not also engineering another Fenwinter.”

So, they had finally caught up on that. That was their urgent concern. It had taken them months to discover the truth of the pathogen she'd released. They really were out of touch, hiding away at the God Star.

“Secundus Godel?” Carious prompted her, demanding her response. Godel had to resist the urge to laugh in their faces. The high and mighty rulers of the galaxy: they were ridiculous. They were such small people, utterly at odds with the public face they presented. The galaxy saw titans, but she knew them as they were: small-minded fools, hiding away behind the miraculous devices they had been given. They gave themselves impressive titles – Augur, Hierarch, Lore Lord, Stellar Mechanic, even Secundus – but the words were all part of the act, whether they admitted it to themselves or not. In truth only one designation mattered: that of Primo. Only the Primo received the unfettered word of Omn, which meant that no one else knew whether each command given had truly come from the godhead … or had been thought up by the Primo.

Carious was, at least, intelligent, but the others could barely muster an original thought between them. Valomar, Catterbron, Mezzovain and Xinthe appeared to understand the essential futility of their lives, but the other two First Augurs – Brein Ha and Mekley – lacked even that insight. Their contribution to any debate was to regard her with pin prick eyes and to mouth empty platitudes, seemingly at random. The unspoken truth was that they were all there filling time, waiting for the day when one of them might need to pull on Carious's white robes and continue the line of Primos.

It was useful in many ways: she alone spent her days uncovering the truths hidden in the God Star's archives or scattered in ruins around the galaxy. She alone knew, for instance, that there were beads and flecks that could be embedded into the brain to allow individuals to communicate across the galaxy, as she did with Kane and the others. Once, perhaps, that had been the norm, and an incomprehensible babble of words had been flung around the galaxy without any oversight. Now, only the ships could communicate with the God Star via their Augury spheres, and conversations were properly controlled – apart from the orders she gave to the Void Walkers loyal to her.

The First Augurs' docility was useful, but it also meant that they occasionally liked to hold her to account, burden her with their own resentments and failings. Attempt to pin her back, keep her in her place. The summons to the convocation was one such effort. She grew tired of her subservience. Much was moving in the galaxy, and she didn't need the distraction of another delay.

She answered, seeing no reason to deny what she had done. “It is true that I brought the people of Fenwinter into Omn's light. Is that not our purpose?”

It was the utterly loyal Xinthe who replied, speaking, no doubt, with the words of Carious. “This convocation does not share your belief in the doctrinal force of the sacred tally, let alone your calculation that the number has been reached.”

She had to play along for now, pretend she was loyal to them. The texts she had drawn on were vague, perhaps, but they gave her enough of a grey area in which to operate. “My apologies, but the writings I made use of are very clear, and the calculations cannot be denied.”

“Nevertheless,” said Carious, speaking before Xinthe could reply, “while we obviously approve of your zeal, we demand that such actions be taken only with the approval of the convocation in the future.”

Mekley chose that moment to throw in one of his random interjections. “In the light of Omn.” Everyone ignored him.

She couldn't push them too far, not yet. “I believed I was acting in an approved manner.”

“You were not. There must be no more Fenwinters unless we all agree.”

He meant unless he agreed. “Of course. I give you my word.” Agreeing was no hardship; she had already moved on from that approach. Uncovering the truth of the mass engines gave her much greater scope for action, in ways that they were too ignorant to understand.

“Return to the God Star as soon as you are able,” said Carious.

“I will,” she said, dipping her head again as she closed the connection.

Deep in thought, she returned to her interrogation of Roach. But, as she walked, a message came in from Kane, one that she had been waiting for. There were so many demands on her time.

“Secundus Godel, I have the Radiant Dragon within missile range. Shall I destroy it? Its energy hull is completely depleted.”

She could sense his hunger to destroy the renegades' vessel. “Is there any sign of Lagan or Ada?”

“None. They have not emerged from the atmosphere of the planet.”

“Their ship is running up to metaspace translation?”

“It is.”

“Very well. Do no destroy it. Hit it with the AI incursion device that you are armed with, then let it go. Their ship intrigues me; it appears to have capabilities we do not understand. Follow your orders, then return to the planet to watch for the heretics in case they do re-emerge.”

There was a moment, perhaps, when Kane hesitated to follow her command. Maybe it was only the slight delay of communicating across the galaxy.

“Yes, Secundus,” he said eventually.

“Inform me of any developments.”

“Yes, Secundus.”

She closed the connection as another communication vied for her attention. Sometimes everything seemed to happen at once. It was the Walker she had despatched to Roach's coordinates.

“Well?”

“It is here. It is … vast.”

“Does it look operational?”

“I can detect no damage to it.”

“Very good. Stay there. Guard it. I will send reinforcements.”

The sly grin on Roach's face riled her more than she could say as she returned to the chamber where she held him. He knew well enough what she'd found.

“Impressive, isn't it?” he said.

“It is as I expected it to be.”

“Then, we have a deal. The device in exchange for my freedom?”

She didn't reply. She studied him as the hope drained out of his face. Despite all his claims, it appeared that he did value his life after all.

She walked up close to him, whispering into his ear. “There is no deal. I have all that I want from you.”

“But…”

He spoke no more. This time, the bolt of energy through his synapses was enough to burn away his cerebral cortex in a heart's beat. His body slumped to the floor. The faintest wisp of burning flesh came to her nostrils. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she strode away from the room, instructing one of her underlings to eject the renegade's body from the ship.

Kane wondered, briefly, what it was that Godel hoped to learn from the Radiant Dragon. The location of the Refuge? They had searched in vain for Lagan's hideaway. It puzzled him why the Augurs were going to so much trouble: if the Refuge was that important, why had Omn chosen not to reveal its location? It made little sense to Kane, and a strange surge of anger trickled through him. But, immediately, it defocussed and slipped away, and he returned to following his orders.

Back at the planet, he dropped his ship onto a low-orbit around the dead planet, grazing the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The vessel rattled and boomed as it bounced off the fringes of the planet's storm-wracked skies. He continued to monitor the scraps of telemetry from the sensors they'd dropped. There were no signs of life, no suggestion that the two they were pursuing had survived. The halo of orbital devices, watching the world from every angle, reported no whispers, no echoes.

Why had the fugitives gone to so much effort to reach this world? It was utterly lifeless; the very opposite of his own planet. It made no sense. The question ebbed away in his mind as soon as it occurred to him, a twist of smoke that he couldn't seize hold of. It troubled him no more. But the two were surely dead: if their plunge through the hurricane-force winds hadn't torn their meagre vessel to pieces, the orbital nukes he and the other Concordance forces had dropped would have struck them. It was a fitting end: he'd almost died at Maes Far, barely escaping the raging plume of Lagan's own atmospheric detonations.

He'd almost caught up with Ada on Migdala. Her presence on the world had been a surprise to him, although perhaps the Augurs in their infinite wisdom, Secundus Godel in particular, had known she'd be there and had sent him to intercept her. After the battle at the Temple she'd fled, as she always did, and he'd longed to pursue her. But it appeared Ada had been harboured by some contact on the planet. He could have discovered who that was eventually; learning the truth was simply a matter of imposing enough suffering on people until they cracked. He could have scorched the world with his fury until the truth was told, but his duties elsewhere had taken priority, and Ada had escaped.

Returning to his homeworld had triggered a series of odd feelings in Kane's mind. He tried to force the troublesome thoughts aside, but he found they kept returning, creeping up on him when he least expected them. He'd been happy there as a boy, hadn't he? The world was filled with evil, that was clear, but he'd loved it, nevertheless. It must have altered fundamentally at some point in the recent past. That had to be it.

The memories of his youth were hard to tie down, though, glimpsed as they were through a thick haze of cloud that filled his thoughts. His recollections were little more than brief flashes – places, faces – but they were there: Migdala with its mountains and its forests, its wide beaches and its carnivals. The heady scents of the blooms in the midsummer flower processions. The taste of freshly-caught fish cooked upon a crackling beach fire. In his mind's eye, in his dreams, people whose names he couldn't recall spoke to him, although he could never hear their words. Their mouths moved, but there was no sound. He wondered what they were trying to tell him.

It didn't matter. They were demons trying to tempt him. False memories. They were lies, and he saw the truth. His world was so much bigger now. The vessel he spent so much of his time in was small, yes, but he could go anywhere in it, travel to whichever corner of the galaxy Secundus Godel instructed him to visit. The visions in his head from the past meant nothing. He could ignore them. He had to ignore them.

The First Augurs would tell him what to do, and he would carry out their instructions. There was comfort in accepting their words, for they spoke with the wisdom of Omn. The doubts that occasionally shot through him were echoes of his own failings, the sin-filled heretic that he'd once been. Their words were a bright flame that burned through the fog in his head, directing him onto the right path to take.