Read Online Resplendent by Stephen Baxter - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Baxter
Tags: Science-Fiction
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Spline; Hama had a brief, ugly glimpse of fleeing, crumpled flesh, oozing scars metres long, glistening weapon emplacements like stab wounds.
The ship reached clear sky. The air was crowded. Ships of all sizes cruised above Conurbation 11729, seeking to engage the rogue Spline. Hama saw, with a sinking heart, that one of the ancient, half-salvaged ships had already crashed back to Earth. It had made a broad crater, a wound in the ground circled by burning blown-silicate buildings. Already people had died today, irreplaceable lives lost for ever.
The ship soared upward. Earth quickly folded over into a glowing blue abstraction, pointlessly beautiful, hiding the gruesome scenes on its surface; the air thinned, the sky dimming through violet, to black. The ship began to seek out the orbiting angular structure that would carry it to the outer planets.
Hama began to relax, for the first time since Gemo had revealed herself. Despite everything that had happened he was relieved to leave behind the complications of the Conurbation; perhaps in the thin light of Jupiter the dilemmas he would have to face would be simpler.
Gemo Cana said carefully, ‘Hama Druz, tell me something. Now that we all know who and what we are—’
‘Yes?’
‘In your searching, has your inquisition turned up a pharaoh called Luru Parz?’
‘She’s on the list but I don’t believe she’s been found,’ Hama said. ‘Why? Did you know her?’
‘In a way. You could say I created her, in fact. She was always the best of us, I thought, the best and brightest, once she had clarified her conscience. I thought of her as a daughter.’
The Virtual copy of her real daughter, Sarfi, turned away, expressionless.
Nomi cursed.
A vast winged shape sailed over the blue hide of Earth, silent, like a predator.
Hama’s heart sank at the sight of this new, unexpected intruder. What now?
Nomi said softly, ‘Those wings must be hundreds of kilometres across.’
‘Ah,’ said Gemo. ‘Just like the old stories. The ship is like a sycamore seed … But none of you remembers sycamore trees, do you? Perhaps you need us, and our memories, after all.’
Nomi said, anger erupting, ‘People are dying down there because of your kind, Gemo—’
Hama placed a hand on Nomi’s arm. ‘Tell us, pharaoh. Is it Qax?’
‘Not Qax,’ she said. ‘Xeelee.’ It was the first time Hama had heard the name. ‘That is a Xeelee nightfighter,’ said Gemo. ‘The question is - what does it want here?’
There was a soft warning chime.
The ship shot away from Earth. The planet dwindled, becoming a sparking blue bauble over which a black-winged insect crawled.
Callisto joined the community of foragers.
Dwelling where the forest met the beach, the people ate the grass, and sometimes leaves from the lower branches, even loose flaps of bark. The people were wary, solitary. She didn’t learn their names - if they had any - nor gained a clear impression of their faces, their sexes. She wasn’t even sure how many of them there were here. Not many, she thought.
Callisto found herself eating incessantly. With every mouthful she took she felt herself grow, subtly, in some invisible direction - the opposite to the diminution she had suffered when she lost her hand to the burning power of the sea. There was nothing to drink - no fluid save the oily black ink of the ocean, and she wasn’t tempted to try that. But it didn’t seem to matter.
Callisto was not without curiosity. She explored, fitfully.
The beach curved away, in either direction. Perhaps this was an island, poking out of the looming black ocean. There was no bedrock, not as far as she could dig. Only the drifting, uniform dust.
Tiring of Asgard’s cold company, she plucked up her courage and walked away from the beach, towards the forest.
There were structures in the dust: crude tubes and trails, like the markings of worms or crabs. The grass emerged, somehow, coalescing from
The ship reached clear sky. The air was crowded. Ships of all sizes cruised above Conurbation 11729, seeking to engage the rogue Spline. Hama saw, with a sinking heart, that one of the ancient, half-salvaged ships had already crashed back to Earth. It had made a broad crater, a wound in the ground circled by burning blown-silicate buildings. Already people had died today, irreplaceable lives lost for ever.
The ship soared upward. Earth quickly folded over into a glowing blue abstraction, pointlessly beautiful, hiding the gruesome scenes on its surface; the air thinned, the sky dimming through violet, to black. The ship began to seek out the orbiting angular structure that would carry it to the outer planets.
Hama began to relax, for the first time since Gemo had revealed herself. Despite everything that had happened he was relieved to leave behind the complications of the Conurbation; perhaps in the thin light of Jupiter the dilemmas he would have to face would be simpler.
Gemo Cana said carefully, ‘Hama Druz, tell me something. Now that we all know who and what we are—’
‘Yes?’
‘In your searching, has your inquisition turned up a pharaoh called Luru Parz?’
‘She’s on the list but I don’t believe she’s been found,’ Hama said. ‘Why? Did you know her?’
‘In a way. You could say I created her, in fact. She was always the best of us, I thought, the best and brightest, once she had clarified her conscience. I thought of her as a daughter.’
The Virtual copy of her real daughter, Sarfi, turned away, expressionless.
Nomi cursed.
A vast winged shape sailed over the blue hide of Earth, silent, like a predator.
Hama’s heart sank at the sight of this new, unexpected intruder. What now?
Nomi said softly, ‘Those wings must be hundreds of kilometres across.’
‘Ah,’ said Gemo. ‘Just like the old stories. The ship is like a sycamore seed … But none of you remembers sycamore trees, do you? Perhaps you need us, and our memories, after all.’
Nomi said, anger erupting, ‘People are dying down there because of your kind, Gemo—’
Hama placed a hand on Nomi’s arm. ‘Tell us, pharaoh. Is it Qax?’
‘Not Qax,’ she said. ‘Xeelee.’ It was the first time Hama had heard the name. ‘That is a Xeelee nightfighter,’ said Gemo. ‘The question is - what does it want here?’
There was a soft warning chime.
The ship shot away from Earth. The planet dwindled, becoming a sparking blue bauble over which a black-winged insect crawled.
Callisto joined the community of foragers.
Dwelling where the forest met the beach, the people ate the grass, and sometimes leaves from the lower branches, even loose flaps of bark. The people were wary, solitary. She didn’t learn their names - if they had any - nor gained a clear impression of their faces, their sexes. She wasn’t even sure how many of them there were here. Not many, she thought.
Callisto found herself eating incessantly. With every mouthful she took she felt herself grow, subtly, in some invisible direction - the opposite to the diminution she had suffered when she lost her hand to the burning power of the sea. There was nothing to drink - no fluid save the oily black ink of the ocean, and she wasn’t tempted to try that. But it didn’t seem to matter.
Callisto was not without curiosity. She explored, fitfully.
The beach curved away, in either direction. Perhaps this was an island, poking out of the looming black ocean. There was no bedrock, not as far as she could dig. Only the drifting, uniform dust.
Tiring of Asgard’s cold company, she plucked up her courage and walked away from the beach, towards the forest.
There were structures in the dust: crude tubes and trails, like the markings of worms or crabs. The grass emerged, somehow, coalescing from
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