Hork’s eyes narrowed. “Ah,” he breathed. “So they do need us, these Colonists. We are the hands, the strong arms which built the world…”
The discontinuity drive engines hurled the Star from its birthplace. It soared out of its galaxy and sailed free across space.
The Ring was close to the Star’s native galaxy — so close that light would take no more than ten thousand years to cross the void to the Ring, Karen Macrae said; so close that the immense mass of the Ring was already distorting the galaxy’s structure, pulling it apart. The Star — with its companion, its planets and gas ring, and its precious freight of life — fell across space toward the Ring, glowing in the darkness like a wood-burning torch.
A century passed inside the Star. Thousands of years fluttered by in the universe outside the Crust. (Dura could make nothing of this.)
The Ring neared.
The Colonists grew afraid. The Star-humans grew afraid.
“Why?” Dura demanded. “Why should they fear the Ring? What will happen when we reach it?”
The Colonists retreated into the Core. They had constructed a wonderful virtual world for themselves in there — unreal Earths… And they believed they would be safe there, that they could ride out any disaster which might befall the Star.
The Star-humans were left bereft in the Mantle like abandoned children. They had their wormholes and other gadgets, but without the guidance of the parent-Colonists the devices were like so many gaudy toys.
Resentment grew, displacing fear. The Star-humans determined that they would follow the Colonists into their Core haven if they could — or if not, they would make the complacent Colonists as fearful as themselves.
Wormhole Interfaces were ripped from their anchor-sites in the Mantle and hurled downward into the Core. Armies, grim-faced, lanced through the wormholes in improvised ships. The technologies which had once built the discontinuity drives were pirated to craft immense weapons.
“The Core Wars,” Hork said slowly. “Then they really happened.”
Hork’s anger was intense; it was as if, Dura thought, the huge injustice of abandonment had occurred only yesterday, not generations before.
The Colonists, insubstantial Core-ghosts as they were, had nevertheless retained immense material power. The War was brief.
Power failed; weapons exploded, or dissolved, killing their operators. The Interfaces were dragged into the Core, or fell into uselessness, their linking wormhole tunnels collapsed. Once the Mantle had sustained a single community of Star-humans, united by the wormhole network. In a few heartbeats that Star-wide culture collapsed.
Humans, naked, defenseless, fell into the Air.
A huge silence fell over the Star.
With the War ended, the Colonists retreated into the Core and prepared for eternal life.
Hork pounded his fist into his palm. “The bastards. The cowardly bastards. They abandoned us, to generations of suffering. Illness, disease, Glitches. But we showed them. We built Parz City, didn’t we? We survived. And now, five centuries after dumping us, they need us again…”
Dura couldn’t drag her eyes away from the Ring. Lights flickered over the huge construct, dancing silently. “What’s happening to the Ring? I don’t understand.”
Hork snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? The Ring is under attack. It’s a war, Dura; someone is attacking the Xeelee.”
He pointed at the incongruously delicate patterns of light. “And it would be too much of a coincidence for us to arrive here, aboard this Star, just as the first battle is being waged. Dura, this war — the assaults on the Ring — must have been enduring for a long time.” He rubbed his chin. “Generations, perhaps; centuries of war…”
She felt a pulse pound in her throat. “Humans? Are they Ur-human ships?” She stared at the tableau, willing herself to see more clearly, seeking the huge ships of those spectral giants.
The battle unfolded, slowly, even as she watched. Some of the sparkling ships disappeared, evidently destroyed by Xeelee defenders. Others plummeted through the Ring, she saw; and if the old stories were correct those ships were now lost in different universes. She wondered if the crews of those ships would survive… and if they did, what strange tales they would have to tell.
“Oh, yes,” Hork said grimly. “Yes, the assailants are humans. Ur-humans, anyway.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because the Star is heading straight for the Ring. Don’t you see it yet, Dura? The Star has been aimed at the Ring. We’re going to collide with it…”
Dura stared at the remote, twinkling battlefire. Was Hork right? “I don’t know how big the Ring is. Perhaps it’s bigger than the Star; perhaps it will survive. But surely the Star is going to be devastated.”
Hork raised his fists to his chest. “No wonder the Xeelee have been attacking the Star; they’re trying to destroy it before it gets to the Ring. Dura, the Star has been launched on this trajectory, straight at the Xeelee artifact, as a missile.” His tone had become hushed, almost reverent. Dura looked at him curiously; his eyes were locked on the images of distant battle, evidently fascinated.
She wondered if he were still quite sane. The thought disturbed her.
So that is why we are here, she thought. That’s the purpose of the whole project. The Colonists, the manufacture of Star-humans… That is the meaning, the purpose of my race. My life.
We are expendable weapons’ manufacturers, serving a huge war beyond our comprehension.
And when the Star destroyed itself against the Ring — or was destroyed first, by the Xeelee starbreakers — then they would all die with it, their purpose fulfilled.
No.
The word was like a shout in the turmoil of her mind. She had to do something.
Without allowing herself to think about the consequences, she Waved briskly across the chamber toward the floating control seat.
“What are you doing? Dura, there’s nothing we can do here. We’re in the grip of immense forces; forces we barely understand. And…”
She took her place in the seat. Around her the ghostly Ur-human seat swiveled, trembling in response to her touch. She grasped the twin handles fixed to the seat’s arms.
A globe swelled into existence in the Air, fat and sullen red; a neat grid covered its surface, laid out like the anchor-bands around Parz City.
Dura, startled by this sudden apparition, lost her nerve; she screamed.
Hork laughed at her. His voice, thin and shrill, betrayed his own tension. “Damn it, Dura, you’ve just witnessed a battle, immense beyond our capacity to comprehend. You’ve learned that our world is doomed. And yet you’re scared by a simple conjuring trick like this!”
“But what is it?”
The globe was about a mansheight across; it hovered just in front of the seat. “Isn’t it obvious?” Hork snapped. “Take your hands off the levers.” She did so; the globe persisted for a few seconds, then deflated gracelessly, finally disappearing. “It’s an aid,” Hork said briskly. “Like…” He gestured vaguely. “Like a window in an Air-car. An aid to a pilot.”
She tried to focus on this new puzzle. She glanced across the chamber and out at the Star, that scowling yellow-red speck at the center of its immense setting of gas and light. “But that globe looked like the Star itself.”
Hork laughed, the shrill edge still present in his voice; his eyecups were wide with excitement. “Of course it did! Don’t you see? Dura, one is meant to pilot the Star with these wonderful levers…”
“But that’s absurd,” she protested. “How can a Star — a whole world — be driven, directed like one of your Air-cars?”
“But, my dear, someone has already done so. The Star has been launched at the Ring, with deliberate intent. That we have found a device to do this is hardly a surprise. And this is a map-Star, to help you pilot a world…”