The starship accelerated forward eagerly, passing through the small aperture. Behind it, the boundary closed again, shutting off the pale light. The pinnacle sank down again, merging back into the featureless surface of infinite darkness.

“So where are we?” Aaron demanded. The starship’s visual sensors were working perfectly, showing stars and nebulae all around. There was no sign of the boundary.

“Working on that,” Troblum said. He was sweating profusely.

“Well, whadda you know,” Tomansio said. A cup of tea was floating in midair, ten centimeters from his outstretched fingers. It lifted a little, then wiggled from side to side. He grinned wildly. His mind was radiating smugness and satisfaction for all of them to perceive.

“Oh, crap,” Corrie-Lyn exclaimed. Her mind shimmered rapidly in everyone’s farsight, its surface luster dimming as she ponderously fought down the exuberant emotions, shielding them from psychic perception like a mother folding her arms protectively around a crying babe. Images and memories persisted in flashing out: Edeard scrambling to shield his own thoughts, the techniques he employed. After a short while the surface of her mind hardened to an impermeable screen from which nothing leaked, not a single emotion or memory or sensation.

There was a long minute while everyone struggled with the same technique with varying degrees of success. No one was surprised when the two Dreamers shielded themselves perfectly. But no matter how hard he tried, Oscar simply couldn’t contain his ebullient thoughts; the best he could achieve was to tone them down a bit. “This group’s Edeard,” he said ruefully. “He could never protect himself fully. Personally, I see it as a sign of superiority to the lot of you.”

Everyone allowed a glimmer of amusement to trickle out. Except Troblum. His shield was darker than most, and the thoughts below were convoluted. His emotions didn’t match anything familiar.

Aaron was satisfied with his own protection, though the others were giving him curious looks. Their emotions were hurriedly wrapped away from perception. “What?” he asked. His longtalk matched his voice in intensity.

“It’s like you’re at war,” Corrie-Lyn said. “Your thoughts are shining out, yet they make no sense because they have so many contrary facets. You are anger and conflict.”

He gave her his old concessionary grin. “But I still function.”

“So?” Tomansio asked, his inexorable curiosity infecting them all. “We’re in the Void. What next?”

“Makkathran,” Aaron said solemnly.

Tomansio let out a growl of frustration.

Araminta-two looked at something far beyond the cabin’s bulkheads. “It’s here,” he said in wonder.

Aaron’s farsight felt the Skylord approach, a benevolent concentration of thoughts that intimidated through sheer size. Somehow it seemed to negate worry, sharing satisfaction on a level that was impossible to refute.

“You are here,” it told Araminta-two.

“Part of me. The rest will follow as I bring those who seek fulfillment.”

“My kindred welcome you. They welcome those who are to join us here in the Void.”

“Makkathran,” Aaron whispered.

“Will you guide us to the world we spoke of before?”

“Yes.”

Aaron instinctively reached out to grab hold of something and steady himself. Mellanie’s Redemption was twisting around, gravity shifting in strange swelling motions. Exoimage relays from the fuselage cameras showed him the huge crystalline folds of the Skylord’s body rotating spryly against the flexing ribbon of violet phosphorescence that was the Buluku nebula. Then the stars ahead were brightening as the Skylord executed its temporal acceleration function, and the starship was flashing toward the hot blue light points at close to lightspeed. Behind them, the Void shifted down to a dull carmine.

Araminta-two inhaled sharply, his hand pressing flat on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked him.

“It’s very weird, like I’m being torn in two. You seem fast, yet I’m not slow, or part of me is. The Pilgrimage fleet is hardly moving until I concentrate on it. Arrrgh. Ozziedamn, this is so strange.”

“Temporal rate difference,” Troblum said. “You are conscious on both sides of the Void boundary, which means you’re living at two different speeds. It will be hard to reconcile.”

“You’d better go into suspension,” Tomansio said.

“No!”

The spike of alarm from Araminta-two’s mind was enough to still them all.

“Sorry, but no,” he said. “I-this body-has to live through this. If this me goes into suspension, that means it’ll be just her left; I’ll be out there all alone. If they come for me with those brain infiltrator things, I won’t have any refuge.”

Tomansio nodded in understanding. “How far are we from Querencia?” he asked Troblum.

“We’re heading for a star system about three light-months away,” Troblum said. “I guess it’s Querencia.”

“Three months. Well, I suppose it’s better than three years.”

“Or thirty,” Oscar said. He was leaking sympathy and concern.

Araminta-two fumbled for his hand. “Thank you, Oscar.”

Now embarrassment was added to the emotional blend he was betraying. “I think I’d better head straight back into suspension,” Oscar said. “Who else?”

“Us as well,” Tomansio said.

Inigo and Corrie-Lyn consulted on some unknown level. “We’ll sleep it out,” Inigo said. “There’s nothing for me to do until we reach Makkathran. Is there?”

“No,” Aaron confirmed. “How about you?” he asked Troblum.

“Me what?”

“Okay, then. That’s myself, Araminta-two, and Troblum staying up for the rest of the flight.”

“I’m sure you’ll all be very happy together,” Corrie-Lyn said. Her mental shield allowed no feeling to show through.

It didn’t matter, Aaron knew how much she was laughing inside.

Everyone in the Commonwealth was desperate to know what the hell that confrontation between Araminta and Ethan had been about. She was many? Like a multiple? But she wasn’t. So was she referring to the other Dreamers? She claimed to be with Inigo. And why had he chosen now to release the Last Dream? Had Araminta asked him to?

Nobody knew. And for all her apparent devotion to Living Dream, Araminta resolutely refused to enlighten her desperate followers back in the Commonwealth or her equally vociferous opponents. Strangely, Ethan gave nothing away, either.

So the Pilgrimage fleet flew on at fifty-six light-years an hour toward the Void for day after day with no change. It was apparent now that nothing could stop it apart from the warrior Raiel.

Or perhaps Justine and the Third Dreamer, some suggested. Gore certainly had some kind of idea. He, too, proved elusive.

They were odd days, those which marked the flight of the Pilgrimage fleet. The whole Commonwealth knew that if it was successful, that was the end of everything, that if they were lucky, the Heart would become aware of them and bring their stars and planets unharmed through the Void’s boundary as it swept out to engulf the galaxy. Devoid of ANA’s guidance, Higher worlds were turning their replicator systems to producing armadas of starships in preparation to flee the galaxy. On the Outer worlds, anyone lucky enough to own a starship was busy modifying it to make an intergalactic trip. The Greater Commonwealth government contingency was to have everyone update his or her secure memory store, which would then be carried by navy ships to whatever cluster of stars was selected to establish the New Commonwealth, a plan of action invoking the spirit of the New47 worlds of a millennium ago. Knowing your new self would be resurrected in an alien galaxy at some unknown time in the future wasn’t quite as reassuring as it should have been, not when that meant you’d have to watch your immediate doom smashing down out of the sky.