Swallow the Sky: A Space Opera (23 page)

“Wow!”

“I’ve done the same
thing” said Carson, “but I charged a fortune. How can people afford the
service?”

“Economics of scale, old
boy. Millions of letters are sent each day; postal delivery is a huge business.”

“So much for the glamour”
said Aiyana.

The Consul checked a
display. “Not much of a fee I’m afraid.”

“Is it possible to pay me
in local currency?” Carson asked. “All I have is synthetic gold.”

“Absolutely! Of course,
there is no official exchange rate because there is no exchanging going on, but
we can work one out.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it to
pay a hotel.”

Renshu insisted that they
stay at the Consulate.

“My residence is on the
upper floors. It’s just me so there’s plenty of room. I must confess that it is
all rather fine, and provided gratis by the Falk government. But I do spare
them from having to deal with Outsiders.”

That evening Renshu took
them to eat at his
local
, The Firkin, an ancient bar two blocks from the
Consulate. Here any distrust of Outsiders was absent and the patrons greeted
the Consul as an old friend. Everyone insisted that they sample the local beer,
Wurlington Brown, which arrived in huge foaming glasses. Reinforced by her
second
pint
, Aiyana wandered off to investigate a game that involved
throwing metal spikes at a target.

“How can that be safe?” Carson protested.

“It’s not darling, that’s
why it’s fun.”

Carson raised his glass
to the Consul. He decided it was time to touch on the real reason for his visit
and began by discussing antiques. It seemed reasonable that if the supply dump
had been found the antique-collecting community would know about it.

“Do you know of any
dealers in Wurlington?”

“Goodness, no old boy. What
you and I think of as an antique is a godless futuristic contraption to these
people.”

“Yes, that’s true, but
some of the machinery currently in use is exquisite: the steam engine that
brought us here and the mechanical scribing device, the
typewriter
, that
your receptionist uses.”

“Those things are for
sale, I suppose, but not by antique dealers. Sorry, they simply don’t exist. Besides,
how would you pay? The only money you have is from the postal delivery, and no-one will trade for anything coming from Outside.”

“I’ll think of something,
I usually do” said Carson with a grin. He returned to his original point. “When
I was last on New Earth I did some research in the Archives that suggested Falk
may have been visited very early during the colonial expansion – long before
the planet was permanently settled. These early visitors may have left a supply
dump. If so, you can imagine its value.”

Before Renshu could
answer there was a roar of laughter. Carson turned round to see Aiyana
wrenching a metal spike out of a bar stool.

“Hey guys” she yelled
“come and have a game of
darts.
”

Carson waved and turned
to the Consul.

“Even early colonial
technology would repel these people” he said.

“It wouldn’t be kept in a
museum or anything?”

“I doubt it – bad
influence on the young and all that. At one time there was a sect called the
Guardians of the Flame that actually went round confiscating anything that
smacked of modernism.”

“And they destroyed what
they took?”

“No idea old boy. I say,
do you have any detox tablets on you? Mine ran out years ago, what with the
Wurlington Brown and all that.”

Two hours later they
meandered along the sidewalk to the Consulate. Aiyana had made a dozen new
friends who wanted her to join them again the following night.

“Next time we’ll drink
the stout darling, it’ll put hair on your chest” one shouted as she left the
bar.

Renshu was also in a fine
mood. He was telling them about the history of the Firkin when he suddenly
stopped.

“I say, the Rose is
blooming tonight.”

Carson and Aiyana gaped;
straight ahead of them Falk’s giant moon had risen above the horizon. Aeons ago
the satellite must have been struck by a huge asteroid and the resulting
devastation was clearly visible as a series of concentric circles radiating out
from the impact site to the periphery of the disk.

If Falk had been a G class
star the full moon would have appeared silvery white, but here the red sunlight
suffused it with a delicate pink. The coloration and the nested rings gave the
satellite a startling resemblance to a monstrous rose floating in the night
sky.

“You know, people would
travel light years just to see this” Carson said to Renshu.

“God forbid, my friend,
it would be my job to look after them.”

The following morning Carson resolved to find out more about the Guardians of the Flame. If the Yongding’s supply
dump had been discovered by early settlers it was perfectly possible that the
Guardians had confiscated the lot. Then there was the question of what they did
with it.

Renshu suggested he visit
the Great Library.

“It’s by far the largest
information source on the planet, and you can borrow my pass. It was supplied
to me courtesy of the Falk government but I hardly ever use it.”

Aiyana declined to join
him.

“You’ll enjoy it far more
by yourself. Besides, I want to explore the city.”

Carson gave her some
local currency and warned her to be careful.

“Oh darling, you’re so
sweet when you get all protective” she said.

“And no more games of
darts
!”

He set off down the
street following Renshu’s directions. The Library was located in the heart of
Wurlington and despite the lack of an ambient information infrastructure he had
little difficulty finding his way. What did perplex him was traversing the
roads. The ubiquitous wheeled transports, the
cars
, zoomed past at
breakneck speed, but somehow he was expected to get across without being hit. The
only viable strategy was to stand behind a native waiting at the sidewalk and
dog his heels as he threaded his way through the traffic.

The Great Library was a
large circular building made of grey granite. Inside, red sunlight angled
through the domed glass roof to illuminate a vast reading room lined with
bookshelves twenty meters high. Balconies circled the walls to facilitate
access to the collections.

Carson was entranced. The
only book he was familiar with was The Book, the famous child’s encyclopedia
that had survived the Melt and the flight to Eridani. Here there must have been
a million volumes. For over an hour he wandered along the catwalks, pulling out
samples at random and marveling at the static, frozen pages. Aiyana had been
right to let him come alone.

Finally he got down to
business. There was no way he would find anything by himself and he enlisted
the help of one of the resident librarians who, after consulting a gigantic
array of printed cards, scuttled off and returned with four books on the
Guardians of the Flame. Carson settled at a desk to do some serious reading.

The Guardians, it
transpired, had been at their height three thousand years ago. This was when
the people of Falk had turned their backs on the modern world. At first the
movement was not universal and many inhabitants continued to use
technologically advanced equipment. The Guardians had served as shock troops,
seizing machinery and in some cases persecuting the users. Finally, with
nothing left to confiscate and no-one to intimidate, they had faded away.

But what happened to the
stuff they took? Carson leafed through another volume.
Although most of the
equipment was destroyed,
he read,
the Guardians kept some of what they
considered to be the most egregious examples to display as a warning to their
followers. Today, the diabolical collection is stored in the crypt of Lilly
Cathedral at the southern tip of the Wessle continent. It is still put on
display once a month, traditionally on the evening of the full moon. The cache
includes machinery used by the first pioneers, some of it apparently dating
even earlier to the beginning of the colonial era.
He threw the book onto
the table. Bingo!

When was the full moon? It
had appeared full last night; had they missed their chance? Carson went to the
librarian’s desk and asked for an almanac. He ran his finger down a column of
dates; oh God it was tomorrow! He returned the books and hurried out of the
Library.

“Where are you honey?” he
yelled as he walked into their rooms at the Consulate. There was no reply but
he heard singing coming from the bathroom. Carson stuck his head round the door
and shouted in horror. Aiyana was sitting in the bath, her face and hand
completely black.

“What the hell happened
to you?”

“I’ve been driving the
train!” she said and submerged her head beneath the foamy water. When she
resurfaced most of the black was gone.

“Symbolic expression of brotherhood, my soapy
bum
!” she cried tossing a sponge at Carson’s head. “It
was a coating of coal. That’s what they combust in the steam engine”

She lay back in the
water, closed her eyes and smiled. “Just for that you can wash me all over.”

After a great deal of
splashing about Aiyana climbed out the bath and dried herself while Carson told her about his research.

“Oh my super-smart
mailman!” she said, kissing him. “Can we get to Lilly by tomorrow?”

“I doubt it – not with
the local transportation.”

Renshu confirmed his
fears.

“Sorry old chap, Wessle
is five thousand kilometers to the east. I believe there is an
airplane
service but that runs once a day. It will never get you there in time for the
ceremony. You will have to cheat.”

They got up two hours before dawn. Renshu, clad in
a red velvet dressing gown, led them through the rear of the building and into
the grounds. The Consulate was part of a square of houses surrounding a
communal garden; hidden from the rest of the city, it made the perfect setting
for a covert landing. They padded across the black dew-soaked grass to the
center. Everything was still; the people of Wurlington, the Consul assured
them, were not early risers. Carson sent a signal and two minutes later the
silent buggy dropped out of the sky.

“See you tomorrow night”
Aiyana whispered as they climbed in.

“I’ll be here. I’m always
here” Renshu replied. He stepped back as the small spacecraft lifted into the
air. Within seconds it had disappeared from sight.

“Can you bring up that
globe of Falk?” Carson asked the buggy.

The image of the planet
shimmered into life in the center of the cabin.

“Hey, this is a lot more
detailed!”

“I’ve been performing an
orbital survey since you landed” the buggy said. “I now have high-resolution
imagery of most of the landmass.”

Carson pointed to the tip
of a long strip of land in the northern hemisphere, the continent of Wessle.

“Magnify here”

The image exploded
outward, giving the impression of a precipitous fall to the surface. A small
town surrounded by farmland came into view; at its center was a large
structure.

“That’s our destination,
Lilly” Carson said “I assume the big building is the cathedral. Buggy, you’d
better drop us outside the city limits, it’s already daylight there.”

By now the small craft
had risen a hundred kilometers above the atmosphere on its eastward journey. Directly
ahead the sun rose over the horizon filling the cabin with warm light while
behind them Falk’s bizarre moon sank lower and disappeared behind the curve of
the world. Fifteen minutes later they landed besides a deserted country road. Carson
and Aiyana jumped out and the buggy immediately shot into the sky.

“And no on-one the wiser”
Aiyana said. “I love those steam engines but you can’t beat a push drive for
getting about.”

“Now comes the hard part”
said Carson. “Lilly is about two kilometers down the road. Better get going.”

They set off walking,
keeping a brisk pace in the cool morning air. The town came into view as they
crested the first hill. Lilly would have been unremarkable if it were not for
the cathedral which grew out of a basalt slab two hundred meters above the
surrounding houses. Constructed entirely of stone, it had been built to last. The
whole edifice was enveloped in nebula of flying buttresses, each one crowned by
a spire, and as they got closer they could see that every square meter was
encrusted with statues, gargoyles, and icons. One end of the building
terminated in twin towers while the other was sealed by a pair of huge ornate
doors beneath a circular window.

They carried on down the
hill and into the town. It appeared to be some kind of holiday, for despite the
early hour the streets thronged with people. In the central square booths
decorated with stripped awnings hawked statuettes of Cissokho, engraved
medallions, crystal globes containing miniature cathedrals, and a hundred other
souvenirs. Aiyana stopped at a street cart to buy two
currant buns
which
they munched as they followed the stream of visitors up a steep avenue of yew
trees to the hilltop. The dark mass of the cathedral loomed over them as they
trudged up the path.

The entrance to the building’s
vestibule was a small gate set into the massive oak doors, then beyond them another
pair of doors opened into the main atrium. If the exterior of the cathedral
embodied stone solidity then the interior was air and light. Slender pillars
soared sixty meters above them to a vaulted ceiling upon which was painted
scenes from the early colony. Red sunlight filtered through stained glass
windows turning the pale granite walls a delicate rose. Somewhere an organist
was playing a third millennium cantata.

“I’m sorry” an attendant
explained “but you will have to wait until after the service to view the
relics.”

Carson groaned. “Don’t be
so impatient” Aiyana scolded. “It’ll be fun.”

The pews were already
filling as they sat down. For the next hour the congregation grew until every
seat was taken. The mood of the crowd was cheerful – this was as much a holiday
as it was a religious ceremony. Finally, the cathedral organ blasted out a
chord signaling everyone to stand as a procession moved slowly down the aisle. At
its head was a woman dressed in a white robe embroidered with gold. Behind her
came two rows of white-clad acolytes, each carrying a burning oil lamp. The
woman mounted the steps to a pulpit while the others positioned themselves on
either side. The crowd became silent.

“Friends, honor to the
Covenant” she began. “I am Mother Baker, the Archdeaconess of Lilly Cathedral,
and I welcome you all. I am particularly pleased to see so many families here
today.” Right on cue a baby began to wail. She smiled and continued. “We should
always remember that the Blessed Cissokho insisted that the children of the
colony be the first to sign the Covenant. The sacred document was also taken to
the sickbeds of the old and the dying. Even those who were too young added
their names when they came of age; eventually every colonist was included, and
thus every one of you, every human being in this teeming galaxy, is a descendent
of a signer. Let us never forget this simple lesson.

“Today we celebrate the
adoption of the Covenant while beneath our feet are examples of the implements
that have brought so much misery to the world. Many years ago the sight of these
diabolical devices horrified the people Falk. Now we realize that we have
nothing to fear. We are comfortable and secure in our path. Of course, if we
had embraced these instruments we could perform miracles, we could talk with
machines, we could fly anywhere in the world within minutes [
uh oh,
thought
Carson], but we have remained true to the Word, true to ourselves.”

She paused, and with the
sermon over Mother Baker appeared to relax and again she smiled.

“The children of Lilly
will present a short play depicting the events leading to the signing of the
Covenant.”

With that she left the
pulpit and a pair of curtains parted. A five year-old girl in a homemade
costume marched to the center of a small stage.

“I am Adhiambo Cissokho
and today is a great moment in history!” she cried.

Carson writhed on the
wooden bench as the children recited their lines. He opened a private channel
to Aiyana.

“I thought this was
supposed to be short!”

“Oh stop being a grouch,
they’re adorable.”

The play had reached the
climax where the Techs fled New Earth.

“We shall never submit to
the Covenant” shouted the small boy playing Samuelson.

Carson’s head jerked up as
if he had been slapped. The child was waving a Bingwen spread-spectrum digital
radio, the standard communications device on the Yongding.

“Oh my God” he hissed
“they’ve discovered the supply dump.”

Moments later the drama
was over. The children took a bow to rapturous parental applause and the
curtains closed. More performances and readings followed until eventually the
service was over. The congregation shuffled out while Carson, Aiyana, and a
small group of tourists moved up the aisle to a small side door. Here acolytes
handed each person a black hooded cloak which they donned over their street
clothes.

The hooded procession
headed down a narrow stone staircase and entered the darkened crypt under the
cathedral. The low ceiling was supported by massive crenellated pillars between
which were indistinct piles covered with black cloth. Here in the musty gloom
the holiday mood evaporated.

When everyone was present
the lead acolyte shouted “Behold the diabolical instruments!” and ripped the
black cloth from the nearest pile. Carson leaned forward, his eyes scanning the
jumble of artifacts.
Quantum encryptor – earthquake predictor – organ growing
kit – hand-held gene sequencer – laser drill

“It is the supply dump?”

“Not this stuff – it’s
old, but nothing earlier than the fourth millennium. Let’s take a look at the
others.”

“Behold the evil
machines!” All around them cloth was being pulled off to reveal ancient
machinery. Carson rushed from one dusty mound to another.

Superconducting
adhesive – liquid optics – push drive coil – information compactor –
monofilament loom – synthetic placenta – inertial field generator – diamond
laminator

Most of the crowd was
content with a quick peek, after which they scurried back to the warmth and
light above. Soon Carson and Aiyana were left alone to roam the heaps of
equipment.

“Damn, after I saw that
radio I was certain we’d find the dump” he said after examining the final
decrepit collection. By now there was no need for secret communication.

They wandered upstairs. The
nave was virtually empty and the staff was already tidying up in readiness for
the evening service. Carson climbed onto the small stage where the children had
performed. The digital radio was sitting on a small stool waiting to be put
away for another year. He stooped down and picked it up.

“I knew it was the Bingwen”
he said picking up the ancient communicator.

He stared at it wonder,
feeling the weight of eight thousand years of history.

“Only three others exist.
Two are in the Archives and one was purchased by the Huan Museum for four
hundred million Ecus. They’d probably pay double that to have a matching pair.”

Carson looked around the
cathedral. Fifty meters away a woman was arranging flowers. Two men chatted as
they straightened chairs. No-one was paying him the slightest attention. He
could slip the radio into his pocket, summon the buggy and be gone within
minutes. Sighing, he put it back on the seat.

“Honor to the Covenant my
son.”

Mother Baker was standing
behind him. Startled, Carson turned round to face her. She had shed her
ceremonial clothes and was now dressed in a simple white robe. It was clear
that she was very old. While she superficially appeared to be the same age as
everyone else the precise, economical way she moved and the certainty with
which she spoke suggested great age. And there was an odd familiarity in the
deep grey eyes; they were slightly defocused as if she were staring at a point
directly behind his head.

“You’re Outsiders, from
New Earth” she said. It was a statement, not a question. Now Carson recognized
her expression.
“Careful,”
he sub-vocalized to Aiyana on their private
channel
“she’s telepathic.”

“And you can communicate
without speaking” Mother Baker said. “How interesting!” She showed no sign of
hostility. “You have met others with the gift.”

“Yes” said Carson “only twice. It’s incredibly rare.”

She turned to Aiyana. “Please
do not be alarmed, my daughter. The human mind is not an open book but an
ocean. It is vast and mysterious and much remains hidden in the depths.”

“Oh, I think I’m more
like a shallow lagoon” Aiyana said with a smile.

“And you have brought
mail, although it is not your principal reason for visiting our planet.”

There was no question of
lying to this woman.

“This is a fascinating
world” Carson said. “If I had known about it – your lovely old machines, the
amazing moon, buildings like the Great Library and this one – I would have come
centuries ago, but you are right – we are here is to seek treasure.”

He told her about the
secret voyages of the Yongding and their search for the supply dumps.

“But the relics in our
crypt are not what you seek.”

“Yeah, it’s
disappointing. After I saw the Bingwen I was convinced we had come to the right
place. Do you know of any similar caches?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

She stared at him without
speaking. Carson tried not to squirm.

“You plan to give what
you find to the Archives, even though it is extraordinarily valuable.”

He grinned. “Well I am
hoping to negotiate a finder’s fee.”

“But you will do it even
if there is no reward.”

She bent down and picked
up the communicator from the stool.

“You could have spirited
this away but you didn’t. Why?”

Carson shrugged. “It’s
not mine to take.”

“But it is mine to give.”
Mother Baker stepped forward and pressed the device into his hand. “Carry it to
the Archives where it will be safe.”

“I can’t, do you have any
idea how much –”

She laughed. “Carson, it
is a prop in a child’s play! It might as well be a wooden block. It will not be
missed.”

“Thank you Mother, you
are very kind.”

“I must go and prepare
for Vespers” she said. “Come, both of you, give me your hands and I will bestow
my blessing.”

She held their hands in
her own and closed her eyes.

“Great Mother, we ask you
to guide your children Aiyana and Carson in their journey. May the radiance of
the Blessed Cissokho light their path, amen.”

“Amen” they chorused.

She made to leave, then
turned once more to Carson.

“I have to be near a
person to touch their mind, but on occasions I hear echoes from across the
light years, like the Leviathans calling to one another across the great
oceans.”

She moved closer.

“God manifests Herself in
many ways and so does the Devil. Be careful my son, great evil pursues you.”

“I know, a crazy old man…”

“No, not Juro, he is
merely the vessel for something infinitely worse. Something that could swallow
the sky.”

As he looked into the
grey eyes the world turned to glass, then fell away. Carson was suspended in
the void, staring at the glistening stars while the cold of space ate into his
bones. Was that movement out there in the vastness? A small yellow sun
trembled.
Something was coming
. Then he blinked and he was again on the
stage surrounded by the gaily painted scenery of the play. The Archdeaconess
had gone.