“We’re losing him,” Inigo said. “And if we lose him …”

“No,” Corrie-Lyn said. “We won’t lose him, not to her. Not before we reach Makkathran. He’s stronger than that. I know.”

“Yeah, but this?” Tomansio gestured at the sleeping cubicle.

“Less than two hours,” Corrie-Lyn said. “And we’ll be walking though Makkathran’s streets. His subconscious knows that.”

“His subconscious is the problem,” Oscar muttered dourly. “Where’s Troblum?”

“Where he’s been for most of the flight,” Araminta-two said archly. “In his sleeping cubicle.”

“Has he got problems, too?” It came out before Oscar really thought about what he was asking.

A mildly guilty flash of amusement shimmered across the cabin, a brief intimate connection shared by everyone equally.

“Okay,” Oscar said, desperate not to let any thoughts wander in the direction of the big man’s cubicle. “Why?”

“Wouldn’t like to guess, but his solido projector is in there with him.”

“Wow, this must have been a great trip for you.”

“Wonderful,” Araminta-two admitted. “Being on the Lady’s Light was just about preferable.”

“Did the Pilgrimage fleet make it through?”

“Yes. About a week ago. I had a spot of trouble with Ethan afterward, but that’s settled now.”

Oscar was curious, but instinct made him hold back from asking for details. “And Ilanthe?”

“Oh, yes, it’s here. It killed a Skylord and consumed its abilities.”

“Christ. So where is it now?”

“The other Skylords say it’s on its way to the Heart.”

Oscar almost wished they’d left him in suspension. “Let’s wake up the others,” he said.

Aaron emerged from his sleep cubicle just as Beckia was taken out of her medical cabinet. Oscar took one look at him and drew in a sharp breath. Aaron was in a bad way. His face looked as if he’d had some kind of capsule smash, with scars and bruising contaminating his skin. Eyes bloodshot.

“Good to see you,” Oscar lied.

Aaron gave him a sour glance. “Where’s Troblum?” Without waiting for an answer, he thumped his fist on Troblum’s door. Oscar saw that each fingernail was black and bleeding.

Troblum emerged, his mind spilling resentment into the cabin. He gave everyone a sullen glance and dropped his gaze to the decking like a censured teenager.

“Land us,” Aaron said. “Come on, we don’t have time for your personal crap; you need to focus on this. Justine encountered some difficulties on the way down.”

“I’m ready,” Troblum replied sullenly.

Acceleration couches rose up out of the floor.

“Talking of personal crap,” Tomansio said levelly. “Have you considered what you’ve been spilling into the Void?”

“What?” Aaron snapped.

“Well, let’s just hope your ex-girlfriend hasn’t been replicated like Kazimir was. I’d hate to bump into her down there.”

Oscar gripped the sides of his couch. The first amber warnings flickered into his exovision. Several systems were glitching. He wished they’d left him in suspension until they were down and this particular hell was over.

It was late afternoon in the Anomine city, and the air was already starting to cool. Gore pulled on a black cashmere sweater as he moved along the intrusion systems lying like a giant spiderweb across the plaza. The strands were sticky, glistening black in the rose-gold sun. His field function analysis of the individual strands was showing up few imperfections amid the long-chain molecules that were twined together around their active penetration filaments. Production quality had been high, which was impressive given that the replicator had never been designed with anything quite like this in mind.

He gave Tyzak an unobtrusive look. The big old Anomine was squatting on his hind legs on the other side of the plaza, close to Gore’s little camp. It still had no true idea of the web’s actual purpose.

I guess mistrust and suspicion are greater in humans than Anomine. Shame, but there you go, it gives us an edge. And yet … they went postphysical. Though not this variety. It’s almost as if they bred two strains of themselves, the go-getters and the naive.

A theory as good as any. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Tyzak and his kind achieving postphysical status.

Maybe that’s true biological evolution. Achieve the pinnacle and decline back into peaceful extinction, irrelevant once your true achievement has elevated itself out of this universe. Perhaps spacetime has no other purpose than to be an embryo for sentience.

He tried to recall how many species the navy exploration ships had found that had backed away from the apex of science and intellect without achieving the leap to postphysical. The statistics eluded him, but he didn’t think there were many.

Something ripped noisily through the clean air above the city, bringing a wave of joy and relief. Tyzak hadn’t heard it; therefore-

Gore smiled contentedly to himself. He felt surprising calm for a mere meat body as his u-shadow opened a link to the Delivery Man. “How’s it going?”

“Well, amazingly, I’m still alive. No change up here. The incursion package is loaded. I’m just waiting for you to say go to activate it.”

“Go.”

“What?”

“Initiate the wormhole and start the siphon power-up sequence. We’re going to need that energy soon.”

“Oh, crap. Okay, I’ll try.”

“Thanks. For everything.” Gore closed his eyes, opened his mind, and watched the sky.

The sonic boom crashed across Makkathran without warning, sending the local birds wheeling through the sky, their wings pumping in alarm. Panicked animals across the city started an ugly bawling. Justine looked up and smiled widely in utter relief. She wanted Dad to know this, a wish that surged out of her, as strong as any Void-derived psychic ability. It took a moment, then she found the pure white contrail sketching a beautifully straight line high across the turquoise sky. The dark tip was already out across the Lyot Sea. It started to curve back around again.

“Finally!”

The starship vanished from sight behind the high wall surrounding the little courtyard garden at the back of the Sampalok mansion. Justine told the two ge-chimps to carry on raking the new section of the vegetable patch she was preparing. The funny little creatures swished the crude tools back and forth across the soil as she directed. Sculpting them had been one of the most satisfying moments she’d had in ages, even though the first had one arm longer than the other and the second seemed to have a hearing difficulty.

Justine hurried out into the central square and stood on the specific spot she’d been using for the last seven weeks. “Take me down,” she asked the city. The ground beneath her feet changed, and she fell through the city substance to the travel tunnel underneath. And that was the single most satisfying achievement just about ever. She still hadn’t talked to or even sensed the city’s primary mind, buried heaven only knew how many kilometers below the buildings and canals. But she had finally managed to impress her thoughts on the more simple routines that regulated the fundamental aspects of the city structure. Whatever Makkathran actually was, its management network was a homogenized one. Farsight had showed her that electricity powered the lights and some of the pump systems. Gravity was manipulated to make the travel tunnels work. All of that confirmed everyone’s original belief that the city had come from outside the Void. But it still didn’t tell her anything she wanted to know.

She descended into the dazzling illumination of the travel tunnel and pushed her sunglasses firmly back on her nose before asking the city to take her to Golden Park. Gravity began to shift, and she made sure she was leaning forward as it altered. She’d made the mistake of falling feetfirst once and didn’t want to repeat that. Flying headfirst, now, that was another matter. It was more exhilarating than Inigo’s dreams had ever conveyed. She punched her fists out in front and whooped joyously as she performed her first corkscrew roll.