Линда Нагата - Edges

*I figured out what Urban was doing when the war started. Come to the library. I’ll show you .

A flush of fear, a rush of gratitude. She generated a ghost and sent it.

In the library, Pasha had created a three-dimensional astronomical projection. Dragon ’s position was labeled. So was Tanjiri System. Another star was marked too, but only with a catalog number. MSC-G-349809. It was closer than Tanjiri, but on a different heading.

Pasha pointed to it. “Urban was looking at this system right before he closed the data gate to Griffin .”

Clemantine studied the point of light, re-read the label. It meant nothing to her. She turned to Pasha for an explanation.

“It’s a G-type star,” Pasha said. “Never cordoned. Never even settled, at least according to our records. This is the most recent image of it captured by the standard survey.”

“And?” Clemantine urged, desperate to understand what it meant, what it had meant to Urban.

“Something’s there. I don’t know what, and it’s too small to resolve visually in this image, but the spectrum indicates a second luminous object, inconsistent with any known type of star.”

“Did Urban know this?” Clemantine asked, struggling to grasp what this implied about the conflict and Urban’s disappearance.

“He was looking at it,” Pasha repeated. “He diverted three telescopes, and focused them on a point close to the star.”

“That must have produced a more detailed image than this.”

“Yes,” Pasha said. “But there is no such image in the library. I think he deleted it. Erased it.”

“No. Not Urban. That’s not how he handles data.”

“I’d repeat the observation,” Pasha said, “but Dragon ’s scopes are not working, and we’ve lost communications with all the outriders except Artemis .”

“Yes. Every attempt to reach Elepaio returns an error message. And since Elepaio is closest, no communications are being relayed to the more distant outriders.” She hesitated, still struggling to accept the truth of what must have happened. She told Pasha, “Urban sent a submind out there. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“The predator followed him.”

“Oh no .”

“Yes. The predator wiped our archive here on Dragon . I think it wiped all intelligence from Elepaio too.” She shook her head. “If Elepaio had been physically damaged, it would have self-repaired and renewed contact. Failing that, the other outriders should have responded to the break in communications by dropping back, re-establishing the link. But that hasn’t happened.”

“You think all the outriders were corrupted?” Pasha asked her.

Clemantine nodded. “Urban kept his backups out there.”

Pasha looked away, clearly struggling for something to say. She settled on, “ I’m sorry .”

Clemantine pushed back against a smothering sense of loss, strove to focus on the present. Gesturing at the nameless star, she said, “Tell me what this means.”

Pasha visibly gathered herself, then she confessed, “I don’t know what it means. But I think we need to know what’s in that stellar system. It can’t be coincidence. Something Urban saw there triggered the conflict. We need to know what it is.”

“Our telescopes are out of commission, but I can ask Griffin to look.”

“That’s good. We should do that. But if we could find the image, we’d know exactly what Urban saw. You just said he wouldn’t have erased it. So what would he have done with it?”

“ Ahh ,” Clemantine said, in imitation of a sigh, though her ghost did not breathe. She opened a library window. “He kept a sequestered data cache—personal things.”

“He gave you access?”

“Yes.”

The cache inventory appeared in the window. She searched for the newest file, found it.

“It’s an image,” Pasha said, triumph in her voice.

In the metadata accompanying the image of the ring-shaped world, a DI had conveniently included two fields derived not from observation, but from testimony.

Object Name: Verilotus, per the entity Lezuri .

Summary Description: An artificial world-system constructed after the rise of the Hallowed Vasties, exploiting technologies not described within the local library. Inner torus intended for habitation. Existence of current population unknown. Outer luminous ring represented as an intrusion of an alternate Universe, with gravity-manipulating properties. Source: the entity Lezuri (uncorroborated).

Kona waited, adrift in the zero gravity of the warren’s forest room—though tonight the light panels did not display the forest for which the room was named. The walls, along with floor and ceiling, glowed in a gradient of white light, dimmest at the door, bright at the front of the room where Kona would soon be speaking.

For now, he waited to one side, silent, somber, refusing any attempt at conversation. The buzz of voices grew louder as more people arrived.

Three days ago Clemantine had released the image of Verilotus. Since then, Kona had listened to the discussions, the arguments, the competing analyses circulating among the ship’s company. He’d worked quietly but incessantly to guide that debate, speaking privately to influencers like Tarnya, Naresh, Shoran, and Vytet, locking in their support.

He’d called this meeting only after he was sure he could win consensus.

A DI tracked attendance. A few minutes before the scheduled start of the session it notified him: *All present .

He messaged Clemantine and Vytet, both nearby: *It’s a little early, but I’m going to start .

Clemantine, her gaze coolly determined, nodded her agreement. Vytet gestured with her hand, Go ahead .

Kona reached for a ceiling ring, used it to launch himself in a slow glide to the front of the room. People shifted, opening a path for him. Soft-spoken words of encouragement eased his way.

Centuries ago, when Urban had taken himself away on the Null Boundary Expedition, Kona had believed he’d lost his son forever. When he’d caught up on all the known facts surrounding Urban’s disappearance, he’d plunged into that recidivist nightmare again. This time though, he intended to do more than mourn.

He grabbed the speaker’s pole. Used it to turn around, face the gathering. A hush fell across the room. Everyone knew, or guessed, what he’d come to say, but their culture of reasoned consensus demanded he say it, that he make the argument, do all he could to persuade the doubters before he asked for the assent of the company.

He told them, “We are here to make a decision. It will be some time before Dragon is fully repaired, but the immediate emergency is past. The reef is healthy and back under control of the cell field, giving us the option of navigating a new course. It’s time to decide—Verilotus or Tanjiri?

“We’ve all had time to study and consider the few available facts surrounding Verilotus. We’ve all engaged in creative speculations based on those facts. I think there is now general agreement that Verilotus is the system Lezuri regards as home, and that he is on his way there now.

“ We allowed this thing to escape the Rock. I think it is our obligation to pursue him.

“Realize that the entity which infested our ship, defeated our defenses, brought us to the edge of self-destruction was surely no more than a fragment of the entity as it must have been in its grandeur at Verilotus.

“We know almost nothing about Verilotus and we have not begun to understand the physics of the luminous ring that surrounds it, but both appear to me to be wondrous creations, worthy of admiration—though my admiration does not extend to their creator.