The Line of Polity

Epilogue

The sun had overtaken Calypse and, preceding the gas giant behind the horizon, had thrown it into partial silhouette — its whorls and bands of colours turning the hue of ancient cathedral paint. Out over the more vivid colours of the flowering flute grasses, Ram and Rom reflected nothing but this colour from their polished cases as they slid silently through the air. Seated on a cold mollusc-studded rock with Eldene pressing close to his side, Apis wondered if he would ever become inured to the fantastic sunrises and sunsets here — and hoped not. He then transferred his gaze to the approaching vehicle that the two war drones guarded.

"I wonder if she found her hatchery," Eldene said.

"I doubt she had the time."

They both watched the ATV come out of the grasses and into a lane of black plantains, against which the multicoloured pollens splashed all over its surface showed up clear like a strange camouflage.

"Here come the others," said Eldene, pulling closer so that he would put his arm around her. Obliging her he glanced aside at the encampment from which Lellan and Fethan approached. Lellan had long been essentially the dictator here, but then Fethan had pointed out that when ECS came to help them, and once it established a runcible on one of the Braemar moons, there would be another dictator and it would be made of silicon. She had not seemed particularly averse to the prospect.

The ATV drew to a halt on an area of crushed-down rhubarb that abutted the river winding out from the foothills. First out of its door was Gant, carrying Mika's huge sample case. Next came Thorn — very nimble on his feet since one of Mika's 'little doctors' had established itself inside him, but then Apis knew exactly how that felt. Thorn, like himself and Mika, no longer wore a mask. Sometime soon Apis hoped Eldene would follow the same route, for if they were to become true Masadans they must learn to live on the surface, not merely exist.

"Let's get down there," said Apis, removing his arm from Eldene's waist.

"Oh, all right," she pouted, mock angry.

They clambered from the rock and side-by-side walked down the scree slope towards the vehicle, as next emerged Mika and Scar. Lellan and Fethan joined them and the four approached it together.

"Did you find the site?" Fethan asked.

"Yes, fragments of shell from where they burrowed their way out of the ground," said Mika. "I'll need excavators to dig down deep enough. The whole thing will have to wait until ECS gets here."

Apis noted her distraction as she stared upriver to a shuttle that rested half in the water. This craft bore some resemblance to a huge U-shaped section of grey pipe, but with thruster motors and guidance fins attached.

"I don't think I've seen one like that before," she remarked.

For enlightenment, Lellan and Fethan looked to Apis, who said, "It's a good century out of date." When Mika just stared at him, he explained further, "We studied landing craft on Miranda. It was one of our more academic subjects." He shrugged, very aware that much had since ceased to be academic to him.

Turning to Lellan and Fethan, Mika stated, "You have been inside it."

"Door's open," said Fethan. "We had a look then decided to leave it until you got here. No telling what it might do."

Mika's expression showed both curiosity and irritation. "What might do what?" she asked, wincing at the clumsiness of her question.

Fethan gestured towards the grounded craft, and the group of them began walking in that direction.

"What more do you think ECS will find… when they get here?" Lellan asked, studying Scar as she brought the conversation back to Mika's recent jaunt into the wilderness.

Mika shrugged. "I'll probably only get confirmation. Dragon converted most of its own mass into eggs hidden underground, out of which eventually hatched the dracomen. It's the same method employed by Skellor for his raptor creatures."

"Very similar technology," Lellan observed.

"Very," Mika agreed, "though the raptors were not intended to breed."

"Pardon?" said Lellan.

Mika glanced at Scar. "Oh yes, the dracoman population here is set to rise — and I think that maybe that will be a good thing."

"Your idea of a good thing might differ from everyone else's," muttered Thorn.

Shortly they reached the craft and, staring at the open door with its extended ramp, Apis could not repress a shudder. He too had seen the Polity and Jain technology melded to the mutilated calloraptor. So he and Eldene held back with the others as Mika followed Thorn and Gant inside. Apis listened to the creature within's painful hissing, and its truncated struggle in attempting to pursue its programmed instinct to attack. Shortly, the interior of the craft was filled with the viridian arc-welder flashes of Gant's and Thorn's APWs, a sound like the exhalation of a giant snake, then stillness. Exiting the craft, Gant and Thorn wore grim expressions, and even Mika's perpetual curiosity seemed tempered.

Nodding half to herself, Mika said, "Dracomen… any of them really. I think we're going to need all the allies we can find." She gestured back into the craft. "It's out of its box now and I don't think there's anyone who can put it back."

Apis knew she didn't mean the creature itself, but the technology it represented.

A woman danced in space, surrounded by diaphanous white material. Close focus now revealed that she had floated out from the shade of a shattered habitat, and the last vital fluids were boiling from her body. The silver-haired man shut off close focus before the child on his knee decided to ask him a question about the revealed image. Observing at a distance the broken bodies desiccated by vacuum into rolling woody statues, the mass of shattered biodomes, and the habitats melted into grotesque baroque shapes, his expression turned utterly cold.

The boy reached one pudgy hand towards the screen. "Dead?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Oh yes," said the man. "Certainly that." He paused for a moment, then in a bitter voice explained, "You see, this is what is called a Cadmean victory."

Pulling his hand beck, the boy put his finger in his mouth as he stared at the screen. After a moment his attention wandered to those toys of his scattered on the floor.

Abruptly he swung back to the man. "Story now?"

When this elicited no response, the boy began to fidget. Eventually the man reached across and picked up the storybook from the chair beside him. Opening it, he observed a heroyne, caught in the damaged memory fabric of the page, in a cycle of perpetually swallowing the same priestly individual. He closed the book and returned his attention to the main screen.

With his gaze fixed, and his eyes hard as nail-heads the man began, "Once upon a time… on a planet far far away… there lived a Dragon…"