Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

Araminta knew this was the first real test of her claim to be the Dreamer. Phelim wouldn’t crumple like Darraklan, though she was certain that ultimately he wouldn’t be able to withstand Ranalee’s dominance technique. She sincerely hoped the Skylord would lend its assistance again if she asked, if she showed an obstacle to bringing the faithful to the Void as she had promised she would. In fact, it really shouldn’t need the intervention of a Skylord. To the whole of Living Dream she had assumed her rightful position as their leader, their savior. Clerics had become nothing more than administrators and bureaucrats, simple functionaries to facilitate her wishes. Judging from the expression on Phelim’s face and the few tightly controlled thoughts he did permit to be shared through the gaiafield, he was beginning to realize that, too.

I just have to keep going , she told herself in that little core of identity she didn’t share across the gaiafield, be an unstoppable force just like I promised Bradley. The true followers won’t stand for anyone interfering with me, not now that I can deliver the Pilgrimage. That’s what Living Dream stands for; it is everything to them .

A phony respectful smile spread across Cleric Phelim’s face. “Second Dreamer,” he said, with a slight emphasis on “second.” “We are so glad you have chosen to come forth at last. Welcome.”

Araminta didn’t even stop walking. She headed straight at the troopers lined up behind Phelim. They quickly shuffled aside. “Part of the reason I remained concealed was the suffering you unleashed on this world,” she said as she led her supporters through the troopers. Mareble, who had stayed close by the whole way down Daryad Avenue, glared at Phelim. It was a common sensation directed at the man. Up ahead was the wormhole; Araminta could see the violet-blue Cherenkov radiation leaking out from the edge. A different sunlight shone through the center.

Phelim’s expression hardened as he struggled to restrain himself. “I assure you we did everything that we could to-”

He was moving with her now, ambling in an awkward sideways gait. She’d won. “When I sit in the Orchard Palace, I will order a full and open inquiry into your part in this aggression,” she said dismissively.

“Wha-” Phelim managed to blurt.

“Violence was something the Waterwalker strove to eradicate. He devoted his lives to it. The cause almost broke him, but he succeeded. That is his true inspiration to us. And this monstrous invasion is the antithesis of everything Living Dream stands for. To believe you will go unpunished for such an atrocity is arrogant beyond belief.”

Cheering broke out all across the docks as Phelim abruptly stood still, watching with an open jaw as Araminta carried on to the wormhole. A lot of the enthusiastic jeering voices were rising from the protesters just outside the entrance.

Araminta smiled proudly, savoring the victory. The wormhole was directly ahead of her now, guarded by tall metal pillars studded with weapons and sensors. The Ellezelin forces parted before her. Helmets were discarded, showing grinning faces. The true believers were delighted she was here, was going to lead them onward just as the movement had always promised. She was cheered and applauded.

“Thank you,” she told them. “Thank you so much.” It was hard not to laugh outright. She’d accessed politicians working the crowds enough times, always hating the smug cynical bastards putting on a human persona whenever elections were due. Now she understood how they did it; puppeting the crowds was apparently an inbuilt ability.

Just as she reached the wormhole, she slowed and gripped Mareble’s hands. The woman looked at her with an alarming degree of adoration, eyes bright above the dried blood staining her face and dress. “You can go home now,” Araminta told the overwhelmed woman. “I will lead us on Pilgrimage shortly, once the ships are ready.”

Mareble’s lower lip trembled as she began to cry.

“It’s all right,” Araminta assured her. “Everything is all right now.” That was a lie on the grandest scale possible. She was rather pleased with herself for carrying it off with such panache.

Araminta raised a hand to her newfound friends and walked into the mouth of the wormhole, where she was engulfed by Ellezelin’s warmer, yellower sunlight.

“Holy crap!” Oscar muttered.

“That’s not her,” Tomansio said.

“She’s fucked us,” Beckia grunted. “Totally fucked us. She’s killed the whole galaxy.”

On the other side of the starship’s cabin, Liatris shook his head, his mouth raised in a lopsided smile of admiration. “Smart lady. They kept pushing her and pushing her, backing her into an impossible corner. There were only ever two options. Cave in or come out fighting. They never expected her to do that.”

“Because that’s not her,” Tomansio said confidently.

“Looked like her,” Oscar said. His u-shadow was still accessing the unisphere news feeds, showing the mouth of the wormhole not half a kilometer from the Bootle amp; Leicester warehouse where the Elvin’s Payback was secreted. It had taken a great deal of willpower not to run out of the starship and take a look at events for himself. The unisphere feed showed him hundreds of joyous people following their newfound messiah through the wormhole to Ellezelin. Unisphere coverage ended there. The other end of the wormhole was in a security zone.

The gaiafield, however, was still gifting Araminta’s sight and emotions as she walked across the nearly empty staging field. Capsules rushed through the air toward her. People were breaking off from their tasks on the acres of machinery scattered about to cheer her arrival in Greater Makkathran. And how is dear old Cleric Conservator Ethan going to react to this? he wondered.

“So that’s it,” Beckia said. She was still cranky at having to wear the medical sleeve on her arm, which was busy knitting the deep-tissue repairs she’d undergone after the fight in Francola Wood. Three other enriched agents had swarmed her, and her integral force field had temporarily overloaded down her left side. Oscar had pulled her out of the fray just before the capsules landed. He considered her lucky. Tomansio had managed to extract them, and the medical capsule that had repaired her had performed a minor miracle.

“Maybe,” Oscar said. “She must have a plan.”

“That’s a dangerous assumption,” Tomansio said. “Liatris got it right; she’s been forced into this act simply to survive.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t her,” Oscar countered.

Tomansio’s handsome face shone with a bright smile. “Touche.”

“It’s her,” Oscar said.

“Still not convinced,” Tomansio said. “This … empress isn’t the same girl we’ve been chasing after. Facing down Living Dream simply isn’t in her psychology.”

“What, then?” Beckia demanded.

“Double bluff,” Tomansio said. “They got to her; they broke into her mind and installed their own operating routines. This is a puppet of Living Dream, one that’s been pushed out center stage to focus everyone’s attention. Big bonus that she’ll do what every follower wants and lead them to Pilgrimage. It makes perfect sense for Ethan to do this; he gets everything he ever wanted.”

“Except lead Living Dream,” Oscar said. “That’s her next step. It has to be; she can’t do anything else but claim the throne now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tomansio said. “He still gets what he wants, which is a ticket into the Void, and at the same time he doesn’t get any of the blame if it all goes belly-up.”