War in Heaven

Epilogue

Only I knew. I knew because I had made contact with Them. Through Ambassador, the soft warm whisper in the back of my head, I had managed to communicate with Them. Rannu, Pagan, Mudge and Jakob had been separated and were being kept under guard. This was in itself a novel concept for Them.

They were not sure what to do with us. As a race they moved in concert, They were one. There was no common ground for Them to understand the madness of individuality. They barely understood death. When They told me that one of us had malfunctioned They certainly didn’t understand grief. Or at least I thought They didn’t until Ambassador started to sing. It was beautiful. The others had joined in.

No body could have survived the abuses that Jakob’s had received. Mudge’s chemical cocktail had kept him alive just long enough to do the job. He had finally succumbed to the radiation poisoning he’d fought against for most of his life. On the streets of Fintry growing up, then Them, then the Cabal’s henchmen and finally Gregor, his best friend turned into a monster. It had taken a nasty little Nazi punk to kill him.

I finally got to see the body. Ambassador had managed to convey my pain to Them. I think they thought I was suffering the way They had when They’d first been attacked by the Cabal. They were trying to fix him. They had dissected him. They knew the metal and plastic components were mostly working and had stripped them out. There had been so much metal and plastic and so little flesh. They had burrowed deep into what remained, tasted his dead flesh, sampled it, figured out how it worked so they could replicate it and grow it around the metal and plastic.

I threw up and became hysterical. I think I lost it, maybe for a few days, but we were still being kept separate so the others never knew.

I meant to tell the others. I really did. I meant to ask Them to destroy the copy but I couldn’t. I rationalised it to myself. We’d need him if we were serious about trying to stop Rolleston. In the end I think it was just the fantasy of a lonely girl whose boyfriend had died. Selfish wee bitch.

I had wanted him. I had needed him. It hadn’t worked out very well. Probably because at some level I knew it wasn’t him.

I was pretty sure that Pagan suspected. Mudge must’ve known at some level, they were so close. Rannu would never have suspected. For all the deceit in their world, people like that trust each other, they have to.

I think that Jakob started to suspect after the Citadel.

I’m sorry, Jakob. You didn’t deserve that.

Millions had died in the bombardment, then thousands more in the fleet engagement, the battle on the net and as a result of the net crashing.

Parts of Africa, Europe and the Americas had been hit by the seed pods bearing Crom Cruach, which had started to transform the terrain around it without Rolleston’s sick guidance. Even now people were fighting to control its spread.

The net was free of Demiurge and God. It was back to the way it had been before. It was as if all our efforts to see the truth told had been for nothing. There were unconfirmed reports of Pagan’s ghost being seen on the net. There were few sightings of the gods of the net and none of them were confirmed. That was good, as I couldn’t think that they’d be very happy with me. Still I couldn’t allow myself to be too frightened to go online.

A terrified assault shuttle pilot had taken us off the Bush. Bran had ordered the Black Squadron creatures to help us off and carry the dead. Cutting Cat out of the biomechanical spider’s body had been brutal. Rannu had had to help Merle out of the room.

Of course we hadn’t been party to the negotiations and had no idea what the Grey Lady had said to Akhtar and the other leaders, but she and the Black Squadrons were allowed to take the Bush and the surviving frigates and leave on the proviso that they never returned and never had any contact with humanity again. It seemed risky but I was sure that Bran would keep her word. I think it was a problem the world leaders were glad to see the back of. It was funny to think of one lone woman leading a fleet of monsters who’d sold their humanity.

More than three quarters of the people possessed who survived the mass exorcism committed suicide. Of the remaining quarter many ended up in mental institutes. After all, possession by Demiurge was little more than viral insanity. I wondered if, after his exposure to Rolleston’s insanity, Jakob would have been okay. I think he would have survived, but it would have haunted and tormented him for the rest of his life.

At least after the exorcism most of the relevant people had stood down or surrendered their commands. We didn’t find out until afterwards, but there had been a significant fifth column operating on many of the ships that had been under Rolleston’s command, and during the action there had been a number of mutinies. Most of them had been put down by automated systems controlled by Demiurge. In many ways they were the bravest of the people who had stood up to fight. They’d had nearly no chance and still done it.

Lalande 2 had declared independence. There were some familiar faces in the managing council. The corps had kicked up a fuss. They would have to pay and treat people reasonably. It would bite into their profits. Tough shit. Nobody on Earth had the stomach for any more fighting. Besides, it would be much cheaper for Earth if the colonies had to look after themselves. The Sol system would remain their biggest trading partner. We were always hungry for resources. The other colonies were expected to follow suit.

Sharcroft was dead. He liked spending time in sense simulations, power fantasies where he was whole, young, physically powerful and worshipped. Where he could hurt people. Pagan had found this out when we’d worked at the Limbo facility. Despite his flaws and jealousy, Pagan had truly been one of the most remarkable hackers of his generation and had stepped up to save us all. Again. He had developed a black assassination program. With God gone, Sharcroft had started empire-building again. Rannu had sneaked into the Limbo facility and introduced the black program into one of Sharcroft’s power fantasies. One of his virtual victims killed him. It was well past his time anyway.

It was called the Eagle’s Nest and had been decorated in imperial splendour for an empire that had never made it because it had been polluted with fucked-up ideas. Here was another power fantasy: unreal attractive women fawning over some wannabe. It seemed unlikely that women who looked like that had ever existed, and if they had they wouldn’t have acted that way or been interested in a vile little prick like Messer.

He was surprised when the women disappeared and flowers started to grow out of everything. He had been left naked and alone. Sanctums are supposed to be difficult to find and nearly impossible to violate. He looked frightened because he didn’t understand what was happening. How could this little wanker have killed Jakob? I forced myself to control the anger.

‘Hello, Messer,’ I said as I walked out of the wall and into his sanctum as the Maiden of Flowers.

‘You…’ he said. My face was the same, but he’d done well to recognise me as the last time he’d seen me I’d been dressed in fascist chic and sporting a suedehead. I walked towards him over a carpet of blossoming flowers.

‘Well done,’ I said and smiled brightly.

I went to sit on the old-fashioned couch-thing next to him. He shrank away from me, practically curling into a foetal position. He seemed ashamed of his nakedness now he wasn’t in control. And violating his sanctum was a pretty raw demonstration of power. That and I had shut down the command for his icon to appear clothed.

‘You killed my boyfriend,’ I said sweetly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he stammered.

‘No, you’re frightened, and that’s different. You killed him on a whim because you’re a fucked-up little boy full of fear with a head full of bad ideas. I’ve seen how that ends. I should kill you, shouldn’t I? Not out of revenge but because of what you may become, the damage you could do, the pain you could cause.’

‘I’ll change-’ he started.

‘No, that’s another lie. That’s fear talking again.’

I waved my hands over his face, it was a bit theatrical but it made his crystalline insect eyes disappear. He had pretty green eyes underneath. Or at least his icon did. He looked more naked and afraid in the way that only men can.

‘You have to find a way to live free of fear. Maybe you’ll keep up with this nonsense when you do, but I doubt it. There are a lot of bad things out there, a lot of things that maybe you should be afraid of, but that’s okay because there are people out there who’ll help you, protect you, watch your back, help you help yourself. More to the point, they’ll accept you.

‘We’ll find a way to root out the bad things, cast a light on them and show them to everyone, and we’ll see that, like you, they’re not all that scary.’ He looked at me uncomprehending and still frightened. I think he thought he was talking to a mad person. Maybe he was.

‘More than anything now we need new and better ideas for all sorts of things, and the ideas you have are old, bad and not even very original. You need to think for yourself.’ He nodded, still not getting it. He flinched away from me when I stroked his face. ‘It’ll be okay,’ I promised him and I meant it.

I stood up and started towards the wall. I reached up to touch the flowers growing out of the wall but stopped and looked back at him.

‘Do you know why you’re still alive?’ He shook his head. ‘Because even though you must have been terrified, you fought with the vagabond army. At some level, deep down you must have wanted things to get better.’

He just stared at me.

‘Try not to just react. Try to think about what I said. I’ll leave you with the flowers. They’re very pretty.’ Even if I say so myself. I walked through the wall.

Fiona didn’t get off nearly so lightly. I tracked her down to an expensive nightclub in Edinburgh. The bouncers didn’t want to let four scruffy bastards like us in. Well three — Merle scrubbed up nicely. Rannu and Mudge persuaded them. They didn’t hurt them too badly. One of the perks of hanging around with hard bastards (and overprotective males).

I’d analysed the imagery the evil cow had posted on the net and worked out who she was and where to find her. She was sitting with a group of her mates and some hired muscle. Rannu and Mudge took care of the muscle. Merle just sat down and ordered a drink. He said it was nothing to do with him.

Some little wanker called Alasdair tried to get involved. I scared him so badly I think he shat himself. I beat the shit out of her. Well you can take the girl out of Dundee…

So here we are on the side of a hill in the Highlands. It’s raining, it’s windy, it’s beautiful. We’re looking down on Loch Carron. Drinking whisky. Glenmorangie, Jakob’s drink. Each sip and it’s like I can taste him still.

Rannu’s here, the four furrows in his face still healing. Mudge is here, of course, smoking a spliff but reasonably straight and just about able to control his emotions. Merle is here, his arms wrapped in medgel casts. I don’t care how hard he likes to pretend to be, he’s here for Mudge. They’ll be going their separate ways after this though.

After here we’re going to Nepal. I want to meet Ashmi, Yangani and Sangar — find out why Rannu fought so hard. Also a place full of Ghurkha veterans is a reasonably safe place to live for a while. Mudge is going to come with us initially. He’s going to help. What we can do in the net he can do in the real world. Merle’s not coming. With what we’ve planned, Merle said he’s pretty sure that he’ll be paid to come and kill us. He was only half joking. He’ll probably refuse. To kill us, I mean.

It’ll be something like God but we’ll take more time, work it out better. Work the parameters better. Try and leave people with a bit more privacy. We’ve started building a network of hackers to gather information and networks of investigative types — journalists and other interested parties, to be managed by Mudge.

With a less total solution than God we might miss something. The hackers and investigators will pick up some of that, but hopefully we’ll be able to leave people with their dignity. They won’t be watched all the time. They can go and look at porn without everyone knowing.

We won’t be taking armed action against people; we’re just going to show people the truth to the best of our abilities. We will however defend ourselves in all sorts of interesting ways if they try to harm us.

See, we don’t care if you’ve got money and power. You want it. You work for it. We just want to live our lives. We care about abuse. People are more important. We are not a fucking resource. So if you take the piss you will be exposed. All we want is a level playing field, an equal chance. The bad people may have all the power, all the violence, all the guns, but we have the numbers. Or we will have. We’re kind of an oversight committee, free of government and corporate influence.

Will it be perfect? No. Will there be abuses, corruption? Probably. It’s a human institution after all, but we’ll do our best.

I hand the empty cup back to Mudge.

‘Another?’ he asks. I shake my head. He looks at me questioningly. I try not to think about the results of the test and not to touch my stomach. I’m convinced that I keep on doing it and must have given myself away. No fear? Yeah, right.

I stand up and take the ashes and unscrew the top. You have to be careful scattering ashes in a wind. We all get a taste of Jakob and end up coughing and spitting.

‘Sorry,’ I tell them. Mudge starts laughing first, then we all join in. Jakob’s copy is a cloud of dust for a while and then he’s gone.

Rannu hands me the trumpet. If I can learn to handle a Wraith on a submarine operation at depth with skillsofts, how difficult can a trumpet be? I put it to my lips and blow. It makes a horrible noise.