“We Bishops,” he said hurriedly, “we hunger for your cause.”
“Fiercely? Despite the sky demon we all witnessed?”
“A deep hunger. Yeasay, yeasay.” He made himself shout, “Show us the righteousness.”
Catcalls and jeers came from the crowd.
A puzzled expression swept over His Supremacy as his eyes went blank. His lips trembled and he gazed up as though seeking celestial advice. The mob rustled. A chilly wind swept across the mountaintop.
Finally His Supremacy said, “Yet generosity is sometimes wise. Mercy can flow from me as well as punishment, Cap’n.”
The crowd groaned with disappointment.
“Still, I cannot allow a Family to suffer the guidance of such a Cap’n.
Killeen opened his mouth, closed it. The man’s moods flickered so fast Killeen could not keep up.
“So! I shall appoint a new Cap’n of the Bishops. In time of trial—and this is surely such—I retain that right. You”—he pointed at Jocelyn—“you will be the new Cap’n. Step forward!”
Jocelyn took a pace forward and saluted smartly.
Hands released Killeen and helped him to his feet.
“I expect instant obedience in all things.”
“Yessir!”
“We begin planning immediately for our next battle, a great struggle which shall turn the tide against the legions of monsters. And this time the Bishops shall lead.”
“Very good, Your Supremacy,” Jocelyn said. “We are honored.”
“Prepare, Bishops!” His Supremacy called. “And tonight, celebrate with your holy exalted Tribal fellows the victories to come!”
He waved her away. She stepped back, bowing. The crowd yelled halfheartedly and began to break up. Bishops glanced at one another uneasily.
Jocelyn came to where Killeen stood, still unmoving. Only when she came to attention next to him did he realize
that he should return to the ranks. Mutely he swiveled and went. Behind him His Supremacy went on, announcing the celebration
of some religious event. The idea of carrying on a festival that evening, after the withering losses every Family had taken,
gave Killeen a bitter taste. Family members, shocked by the abrupt change in Cap’ns, stared at him as he passed their sharply
squared-out squads. Some in the formation gave him hidden signs of salute and others nodded in respect. The world seemed crisp
and fresh to him as he just kept walking on blistered feet.
FOUR
Quath hurried up a steep raw cliff. She should not expose herself so, but she needed to search these mountain passes quickly for her Nought. She had thought she was following it closely, but then she had come upon a large pack and had to slip away to avoid detection.
The Tukar’ramin agreed that she should avoid alarming the Nought packs until she was sure of snaring the right Nought, the one who knew the workings of the Nought ship from antiquity. To be certain her Nought was not caught in the ambushes that her fellow podia were springing on the fleeing stragglers, the Tukar’ramin had called off all attacks. Now all attention turned to Quath’s search.
But where was the Nought? Its telltale had not reported on time. Probably it was damaged.
This complication irritated Quath. She cast her electroaura outward and caught fragrances of Nought lacing the senso-air of the mountains. They were congregating here, yes. What an opportunity! The podia could annihilate these pests by the thousands, once Quath had her catch safely encased.
This vantage, scrabbling up the rough face of canted rock, gave her an umbrella coverage of the jumbled, sharp peaks of the entire range. She quelled the simmering panic among her subminds that height brought on. Only her sure grip saved her from succumbing to her deep fear of heights.
Strangely, here at the planet’s equator the effect of the Syphoning had thrust tortured crust still higher. It had compressed the basaltic underpinnings, splitting great seams and poking them into the underbelly rock of the range. Far away she saw a cone spitting sooty gouts into air already laden with churned dust. Calamity had cut broad swaths through the forests and plateau brambles. Mech mines had caved in. Their railways were smashed and buried.
All good, but the rubble gave pests myriad hiding places. Quath clambered with six legs onto a high notch in the mountain. The main gathering of Noughts was one peak farther away, and she hoped they were as dull-sensed as they had appeared to be in the battle, or else they might detect her here.
*Quath!* came the Tukar’ramin’s call. *I bring grave word.*
<My Nought?> Quath broke her communications silence in alarm. <Has someone killed it?>
*No, far worse. There is conflict among the Illuminates.*
<What…?How…?> Chaos reigned in Quath. <But they hold the supreme wisdom of our kind!>
*Yes.*
<How can they disagree?>
*I cannot fathom it myself, young podder, and I am far more skilled than you. This is the first time I have ever been privy to any Illuminate proceedings. To tap into a small fraction of the flow is to sense vast, sliding conjectures as tides in one’s very soul. Do not ask me to describe it, for I cannot. Conflict rages among them like the smashing of suns in my mind’s sky. I—I am still recovering my teetering equilibrium.*
<I understand,> Quath said, though she did not. The Tukar’ramin’s signals carried a sucking undercurrent of doubt and gray fear.
*Some Illuminates do not want any foray into Galactic Center. They wax fiercely.*
<But… why…?> Quath trembled at her audacity to question as great a being as the Tukar’ramin about the far grander majesties of the Illuminates.
*They sense a larger design behind this. A mech artifice, perhaps, to draw us into the Center.*
<But that is our historic aim, you once said.> Quath was careful to couch her objection in terms of the Tukar’ramin’s own dictates.
*I had been so told, and until this moment I had never doubted. You are a Philosoph, Quath—you cannot know the wonderful shelter that we unmitigated intelligences know….*
