Ione couldn’t quite fathom the Edenist’s attitude. Why do you think she’s interested in Joshua?

I have no idea. Unless she wants to punch him on the nose for Puerto de Santa Maria.

I doubt it. She’s an Edenist, they don’t do things like that. You don’t suppose she and Joshua . . . ?

I doubt it. She’s an Edenist, they have more taste.

•   •   •

Athene didn’t want him to come to the house. It would be too upsetting for the children, she explained. Though they both knew it was she who was discomforted by the whole idea; keeping him away was a way of establishing a psychological barrier.

Instead, she chose one of the spaceport reception lounges in the habitat’s endcap. There was nobody else in the spacious room when she arrived, not that there could be any mistake. The hulking figure was sitting on a deep settee in front of the long window, watching service crews bustling around the voidhawks on their pedestals outside. It was a squadron assigned to assist the Kulu Kingdom in the Mortonridge Liberation campaign, one of them would soon be transporting him to Ombey.

I missed this,he said, not turning around, I watched the voidhawks through the sensitive cells, of course, but I still miss this. The habitat perception doesn’t provide any sense of urgency. And my emotions were not suppressed exactly, but less colourful, not so keenly felt. Do you know, I think I’m actually becoming excited.

She walked over to the settee, an extraordinary sense of trepidation simmering in her mind. The figure stood, revealing its true height, several centimetres taller than she. As with all Tranquillity serjeants, its exoskeleton was a faint ruddy colour, although a good forty per cent of its body was covered in bright green medical nanonic packages. It held up both hands, and turned them around, studying them intently, its eyes just visible at the back of their protective slits.

I must be quite a sight. They force-cloned all the organs separately, then stitched them together. Serjeants take fifteen months to grow to full size usually; that would be far too long. So here we are, Frankenstein’s army, patched together and rushed off the assembly line. The packages should have done their work before we reach Ombey.

Athene’s shoulders drooped, mirroring the dismay in her mind. Oh, Sinon, what have you done?

What I had to. The serjeants must have some controlling consciousness. And seeing as how there were all us individual personalities already available . . .

Yes, but not you!

Somebody has to volunteer.

I didn’t want you to be one.

I’m just a copy, my darling, and an edited down one at that. My real personality is still in the neural strata, suspended for now. When I get back, or if this serjeant is destroyed, I’ll return to the multiplicity.

This is so wrong. You’ve had your life. It was a wonderful life, rich and exciting, and full of love. Transferring into the multiplicity is our reward for living true to our culture, it should be like being a grandparent forever, a grandparent with the largest family of relatives in the universe. You carry on loving, and you become part of something precious to all of us.she looked up at the hard mask that was its face, her own frail cheeks trembling. You don’t come back. You just don’t. It’s not right, Sinon, it isn’t. Not for us, not for Edenists.

If we don’t help the Kingdom to liberate Mortonridge, there may not be any Edenists for very much longer.

No! I won’t accept that. I never have. I believe Laton if no one else does. I refuse to fear the beyond like some inadequate Adamist.

It’s not the beyond we have to worry about, it’s those that have returned from it.

I was one of those who opposed this Mortonridge absurdity.

I know.

By committing ourselves to it, we’re no better than animals. Beasts lashing out; it’s filthy. Humans can be so much more.

But rarely are.

That’s what Edenism was supposed to be about, to lift us above this primitivism. All of us.

The serjeant put its arm out towards her, then withdrew it hurriedly. Shame leaked out into the affinity band. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I see how much this hurts you. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes one last time.

They’re not your own eyes; and you’re not even Sinon, not really. I think that’s what I hate most about this. It’s not just Adamist religions the beyond undermines, it’s ruined the whole concept of transference. What’s the point? You are your soul, if you are anything. The Kiint are right, simulacrum personalities are nothing more than a sophisticated library of memories.

In our case, the Kiint are wrong. The habitat personality has a soul. Our individual memories are the seeds of its consciousness. The more there are of us in the multiplicity, the richer its existence and heritage becomes. Knowledge of the beyond hasn’t ruined our culture. Edenism can adapt, it can learn and grow. Surmounting this time intact will be our triumph. And that’s what I’m fighting for, to give us that physical chance. I know the Mortonridge Liberation is a fraud, we all do. But that doesn’t stop it from being valid.

You’re going to kill people. However careful you are, however well intentioned you are, they will die.

Yes. I didn’t start this, and I won’t be the one who stops it. But I must play my part. To do nothing would be to sin by omission. What I and the others do on Mortonridge might buy you enough time.

Me?

You, Consensus, the Adamist researchers, maybe even priests. All of you have to keep looking. The Kiint found a way to face the beyond and survive. It’s here somewhere.

I’ll do what I can, which at my age is very limited.

Don’t underestimate yourself.

Thank you. You haven’t been edited down that much, you know.

Some parts of me can’t be edited, not if I want to keep being me. Bearing that in mind, I have one last favour to ask of you.

Go on.

I’d like you to explain this to Syrinx for me. I know my little Sly-minx, she’ll go nova when she hears I volunteered for this.

I’ll tell her. I don’t know if I can explain, but . . .

The serjeant bowed as best the medical packages would allow. Thank you, Athene.

But do please take care.

I can’t give you my blessing.

•   •   •

There was no lavish farewell party this time. Monterey had a more serious, less triumphant air these days. But Al chose the Hilton’s ballroom anyway to watch the fleet coming together, and to hell with any bad feelings and resentment it stirred up in his head. He stood in front of the window, gazing out at the starships clustered around Monterey. There were over a hundred and fifty of them, dwindling away until the more distant ones were nothing more than big stars. Ion thrusters fired microsecond jets of gauzy blue neon to keep their attitude locked. MSVs and personnel commuters swam among them, delivering new crew and combat wasps.

The stealthed mines which the voidhawks from Yosemite had scattered were no more, returning space around New California to a more peaceful state. Even the voidhawks sent to observe the Organization were finding it increasingly difficult to maintain their inspection high above New California’s poles.

As if to emphasise the change in local strategic fortunes, a hellhawk hurtled past the Hilton tower, twisting about in complex curves to dodge the stationary Adamist starships. It was one of the harpies, a red-eyed beast with a hundred-and-eighty-metre wingspan and a vicious-looking beak.