“In heaven, death would not return you to the beyond,” Choma ventured.
“Exactly. This life would be better than before. Energistic power gives us the potential to fulfil our dreams. We don’t need a manufacturing base, or money. We can make whatever we want just by wishing it into being. If that can’t make people happy, nothing can.”
“You would never know a sense of accomplishment,” Sinon said. “There would be no frontier to challenge you. Electricity is virtually non-existent, denying you any kind of machinery more advanced than a steam engine. You expect to live for a good portion of eternity. And nobody can ever leave. Forgive me, I do not see that as paradise.”
“Always the downside,” Cochrane muttered.
“You might be right. But even a jail planet trapped in the Eighteenth Century followed by genuine death is better than the beyond.”
“Then your energies would surely be better directed in solving the problem of human souls becoming trapped in the beyond.”
“Fine words,” Moyo said. “How?”
“I don’t know. But if some of you would cooperate with us, then avenues of possibility would be opened.”
“We are cooperating.”
“Not here. Back in the universe where the Confederation’s scientific resources could be marshalled.”
“All you ever did when we were on Ombey was assault us,” Rana said. “And we know the military captured several possessed to vivisect. We could hear their torment echoing through the beyond.”
“If they had cooperated, we wouldn’t have to use force,” Choma said. “And it was not vivisection. We are not barbarians. Do you really think I wish to consign my family to the beyond? We want to help. Self-interest dictates that if nothing else.”
“Another wasted opportunity,” Stephanie said sadly. “They do mount up, don’t they.”
“Someone is coming from the town,” Choma announced. “They are walking towards our encampment.”
Stephanie automatically turned to look back over the mud prairie behind them. She couldn’t see anything moving.
“It is only five people,” Choma said. “They don’t appear hostile.” The serjeant continued to give them a commentary. A squad was dispatched to intercept the newcomers, who claimed they were leaving Ekelund, disillusioned by the way things were in the ruined town. The serjeants directed them to the headland group.
Stephanie watched them approach. She wasn’t surprised to see Delvan was with them. He was dressed in his full nineteen-hundreds army officer regalia, a dark uniform of thick wool with plenty of scarlet, gold, and imperial purple-ribbons.
“Phallocentric military.” Rana sniffed disdainfully, and made a show of turning round to gaze out over the precipice.
Stephanie gestured to the newcomers to sit down. They all seemed apprehensive about the kind of reception they’d receive.
“You dudes had enough of her, huh?”
“Admirably put,” Delvan conceded. He turned a sleeping bag into a tartan-pattern blanket, and lounged across it. “She’s gone completely batty. Mad with power, of course. Saw it enough times back in the Great War. Any spark of dissension is classed as mutiny. I expect she’ll have us shot, if she ever sees us again. Quite literally.”
“So you deserted.”
“I’m sure she’ll see it that way, yes.”
“We believe we can keep her forces away,” Sinon said.
“Glad to hear it, old chap. Things were getting pretty dire back there. Ekelund and Soi Hon are still preparing for some kind of conflict. She’s got the power, you see. Now there’s no beyond for souls to flee back into, the threat of discipline is jolly effective. And of course she’s in charge of dishing the food out. A whole bunch of silly asses still believe in what she’s doing. That’s all it ever takes, you know, one leader with a bunch of loyalists to enforce orders. Damn stupid.”
“What does she think is going to happen?” Stephanie asked.
“Not too sure about that. I don’t think she is, either. Soi Hon keeps sprouting on about how we are as one with the land, and how you serjeant chaps are ruining our harmony. They’re egging each other on. Trying to convince the rest of those poor sods over there that everything will be dandy once you’ve been thrown over the edge. Utter bilge. Any idiot can see this chunk of land isn’t going to be the slightest use to anyone no matter who’s on it.”
“Only Annette could think that this island is worth fighting over.”
“I agree,” Delvan said. “Sheerest bloody folly. Seen it before. People become obsessed with one idea and can’t let go. Don’t care how many die in the process. Well, I’m not going to help her. I made that mistake before. Never again.”
“Yo, man, welcome to decentville.” Cochrane held out a silver flask.
Delvan took a small nip, and smiled appreciatively. “Not bad.” He took a larger drink, and passed it on. “What exactly are you all looking for out there?”
“We don’t know,” Sinon said. “But we’ll recognize it when we see it.”
Jay spent twenty minutes correcting and castigating the universal provider after breakfast that morning. It kept reabsorbing the dress and extruding a new one for her. The variations were small, but Jay was determined to get it right. Tracy had sat in on the session for the first five minutes, then patted Jay lightly and said: “I think I’ll leave the pair of you to it, sweetie.”
The design she wanted was simple enough. She’d seen it back in the arcology one day: a loose, pleated reddish skirt that came down to the knee, and blended smoothly up into a square-cut neck top that was bright canary-yellow, the two colours interlocking like opposing flames. It had looked wonderful on the shop mannequin two years ago, expensive and attractive. But when she asked, her mother said no, they couldn’t afford it. After that, the dress had come to symbolise everything wrong with Earth. She always knew what she wanted in life, but she could never get to it.
Tracy knocked on the bedroom door. “Haile will be here in a minute, poppet,” she called.
“Coming,” Jay yelled back. She glared at the globe floating over the wicker chair. “Go on, spit it out.”
The dress glided out through the purple surface. It still wasn’t right! Jay put her hands on her hips, and sighed in disgust at the provider. “The skirt is still too long. I told you! You can’t have the hem level with the knee. That’s awful.”
“Sorry,” the provider murmured meekly.
“Well I’ll just have to wear it now. But you’re going to get it right when I come back this evening.”
She hurriedly pulled the dress on, wincing as it went over the bruise on her ribs (the edge of the surfboard had whacked her hard when she fell off). Her shoes were totally wrong as well: white sneakers with a tread thick enough to belong on a jungle boot. Blue socks, too. Sighing at her martyrdom one last time, she picked up the straw boater (at least the provider had got that right) and perched it on her head. A quick check in the mirror above the sink to see just how bad the damage was. That was when she saw Prince Dell lying on the bed. She screwed her face up, riddled with guilt. But she couldn’t take him with her to Haile’s home planet. Just couldn’t. The whole flap over the dress was because she was the first human to go there. She felt very strongly that she ought to look presentable. After all, she was kind of like an ambassador for her whole race. She could imagine what her mother would say; carrying a scruffy old toy about with her simply wasn’t on.
“Jay!” Tracy called.
“Coming.” She burst through the door and scampered out onto the chalet’s little veranda. Tracy was standing beside the steps, using a small brass can with a long spout to water one of the trailing geraniums. She gave the little girl a long look.
“Very nice, poppet. Well done, that was a good choice.”
“Thank you, Tracy.”
“Now just remember, you’re going to see lots of new things. Some of them are going to be quite astonishing, I’m sure. Please try not to get too excitable.”
“I’ll be good. Really.”
“I’m sure you will.” Tracy kissed her lightly. “Now run along.”
Jay started down the steps, then stopped. “Tracy?”
“What is it?”