“What?”
“Maybe these Firstborn aren’t just here to record the end. Maybe they caused it. I bet you hadn’t thought of that either, Bis.”
Abdikadir said, “Why couldn’t you tell Josh this?”
“Because he’s full of hope. I couldn’t crush that.”
They sat in tense, brooding silence for a while. Then they started to talk about their future plans.
Abdikadir said, “I think Eumenes sees me as a useful tool in his endless quest to distract the King. I’ve proposed an expedition to the source of the Nile. The Firstborn seem to have preserved fragments of humanity perhaps from the first divergence from the chimps—but what were the very first? What quality about those deepest, hairiest ancestors did the Firstborn recognise as human? That’s the prize I want to dangle before Alexander …”
“It’s a fine ambition,” Bisesa said. Privately, though, she doubted if Alexander would be sold on it. It was Alexander’s worldview that was going to shape the near future—and that was a dream of heroes, gods and myths, not a quest for resolving scientific questions. “I have a feeling you will find a place wherever you go, Abdi.”
He smiled. “I have always inclined to the Sufi tradition, I think. The inner exploration of faith: where I am doesn’t matter.”
“I wish I felt the same,” she said earnestly.
Casey said, “As for me I don’t want to live out my life in a James Watt theme park. I’m trying to kick-start other industries—electricity, even electronics maybe …”
“What he means,” Abdikadir said dryly, “is that he’s becoming a schoolteacher.”
Casey squirmed a little, but he tapped his broad cranium. “Just want to make sure that what’s up here doesn’t die when I do, so generations of poor saps have to rediscover it all.”
Bisesa squeezed his arm. “It’s okay, Case. I think you’ll be a good teacher. I always did think of you as a surrogate father.”
Casey’s swearing, in English, Greek and even Mongolian, was impressive.
Bisesa stood. “Guys—I hate to say it, but I think I should get some sleep.”
With one instinct, they pulled together, and wrapped their arms around each other, heads together, huddling like players in a football game.
Casey said, “You need a Blue Bomber?”
“I have one … One more thing,” Bisesa whispered. “Let the man-apes go. If I can break out of the cage, so should they.”
Casey said, “I promise … No good-byes, Bis.”
“No. No good-byes.”
Abdikadir said, “Why is life given / To be thus wrested from us? …”
Casey grunted. “Milton. Paradise Lost, right? Satan’s challenge to God.”
Bisesa said, “You never cease to amaze me, Case. The Firstborn are no gods.” She grinned coldly. “But I always admired Satan.”
“Fuck that,” said Casey. “The Firstborn have to be stopped.”
After a final, long moment, she pulled away, and left them with their wine.
Bisesa sought out Eumenes, and asked permission to leave the banquet.
Eumenes was upright, contained and apparently sober. He said in his stilted, heavily accented English, “Very well. But, madam, only on condition I am allowed to accompany you for a while.”
With a few guards, they walked up Babylon’s ceremonial way. They called at the town house commandeered by Captain Grove. Grove embraced her and wished her luck, in his clipped Noel Coward accent. Bisesa and Eumenes walked on, out of the city walls through the Ishtar Gate, and into the tent city of the army beyond.
The night was clear and cold, with the unfamiliar stars and a bony crescent Moon showing through high, yellowish clouds. When Bisesa was recognized she was greeted with cries and waves. The troops and their followers had been given gifts of wine and meat by the King in Bisesa’s honor. The whole camp seemed to be awake: the tents glowed from lamps lit inside, and music and laughter rose up like smoke.
“They are all sorry to see you go,” Eumenes murmured.
“I just gave them an excuse for a party.”
“You should not—um, underestimate your contribution. We were all pitched together into this fractured new world. There was great suspicion, even incomprehension, between our various parties—and the three of you from the twenty-first century were the fewest and most isolated of all. But without you to help us, even Alexander’s wiles might not have prevailed against the Mongols. We have become an unlikely family.”
“Yes, we have, haven’t we? I suppose that says something about enduring qualities of the human spirit.”
“Yes.” He stopped and faced her, and his expression showed the grim anger she had seen in him before. “And where you are going, as you face an enemy even Alexander could not challenge, you must call on those same qualities again. On behalf of us all.”
A nursing mother, the wife of a soldier, sat on a low stool outside one of the tents, her baby at her breast. The baby’s face was a pale disc, like the Moon. The mother saw Bisesa watching, and smiled.
Eumenes said, “The Babylonian astronomers have decided that the Discontinuity should be considered the start of a new calendar, a new year—indeed, the start of one of their mighty cycles, their Great Years. Everything began afresh that day. And the first babies to be conceived on Mir have already been born. They did not exist in whatever world we came from— they could not have, for some of their parents came from different eras—but their past is not fractured like ours; they only exist here. I wonder what they will do when they grow up?”
She studied his face, its tanned plains shadowed in the uncertain light. “You understand so much,” she said.
He grinned, disarmingly. “As Casey says, like all ancient Greeks I’m smart as a tack, and smug with it. What do you expect? …”
They embraced, stiffly. Then they walked back to the city.
43. The Eye of Marduk
When Bisesa arrived in the Temple of Marduk the following morning, Abdikadir was waiting, and Casey was already working, checking out sensor equipment. They were here for her; she was touched by their faith in her, and reassured by their competence.
The Eye floated impassively, as it always did.
Josh was here. While Bisesa was wearing her flight suit, much patched, Josh wore a rumpled flannel suit and shirt, and, absurdly enough, a tie. But, she thought, they had no idea what they would face today; why not look your best?
But his face was white, and there were deep shadows under his eyes. “Into infinity with a sore head!—at least I can’t be made to feel any worse, whatever happens.”
Bisesa felt oddly impatient, irritable. “Let’s get on with it,” she said. “Here.” She held out a small backpack.
He looked at it dubiously. “What’s in it?”
“Water. Dried rations. Some medical supplies.”
“You think we will need this? Bisesa, we are entering the Eye of Marduk, not hiking across the desert.”
“But she’s right,” Abdikadir snapped. “Why not anticipate what we can?” He took the bag and thrust it at Josh. “Take it.”
Bisesa said to Josh, “And if you’re going to grouse all the way, I’ll leave you behind.”
Josh’s pained face crumpled into a smile. “I’ll be good.”
Bisesa looked around. “I told Eumenes and Grove to keep everybody else away. I’d have preferred them to evacuate the damn city, but I suppose that wasn’t practical … Is there anything we’ve forgotten?” She had used the bathroom, cleaned her teeth: simple human actions, but she wondered where, when she would next have time to groom herself. “Abdi, take care of my phone.”
Abdikadir said gently, “As I promised. And—one more thing.” He held out two pieces of paper, Babylonian parchment, neatly folded and sealed. “If you don’t mind—”
“From you?”
“Me and Casey. If it’s possible—if you can find our families—”
Bisesa took the papers and tucked them inside her jumpsuit. “I’ll make sure they get them.”
Casey nodded. Then he called, “Something’s happening.” He adjusted his headset and tapped an electromagnetic sensor lashed up from the guts of the chopper’s ruined radio. He glanced up at the Eye. “I don’t see any change in that thing. But the signal’s intensifying. It seems somebody is expecting you, Bisesa.”