Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [128]
And so they depart, three arks bearing Humanity’s hope for survival, three seeds of Earth flying out into the vast and starry night. Now we must turn our attention and all our strength to the onslaught that will soon be upon us. In twelve days, spearhead formations of the Swarm will land on the Moon and at once attack our civilian and military outposts there. We know what to expect. The Swarm’s strategy of slaughter and obliterate has never wavered, so we know that there will be no pity, no mercy and no quarter when, at last, they enter the skies above Earth.
Yet for all that the Swarm soldiers are regimented drones, their leaders, the Overminds, must themselves be sentient and able to learn, otherwise they would not have developed space travel. So if the Overminds can learn, let us be their teachers – let us teach them what it means to attack the cradle of Humanity …
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1
GREG
Dusk was creeping in over the sea from the east as Greg Cameron walked Chel down to the zep station. The great mass of Giant’s Shoulder loomed on the right side of the path, its shadowy darkness speckled with the tiny blue glows of ineka beetles, while a fenced-off sheer drop fell away to the left. The sky was cloudless, laying bare the starmist which swirled for ever through the upper atmosphere of Darien. Tonight it was a soft purple tinged with threads of roseate, a restful, slow-shifting ghost sky.
But Greg knew that his companion was anything but restful. In the light of the pathway lamps, the Uvovo stalked along with head down and bony, four-fingered hands gripping the chest straps of his harness. They were a slender, diminutive race with a bony frame, and large amber eyes set in a small face. Glancing at him, Greg smiled.
‘Chel, don’t worry – you’ll be fine.’
The Uvovo looked up and seemed to think for a moment before his finely furred features broke into a wide smile.
‘Friend-Gregori,’ came his hollow, fluty voice. ‘Whether I ride in a dirigible or make the shuttle journey to our blessed Segrana, I am always amazed to discover myself alive at the end!’
They laughed together as they continued down the side of Giant’s Shoulder. It was a cool, clammy night and Greg wished he had worn something heavier than just a work shirt.
‘And you’ve still no idea why they’re holding this zinsilu at Ibsenskog?’ Greg said. For the Uvovo, a zinsilu was part life evaluation, part meditation. ‘I mean, the Listeners do have access to the government comnet if they need to contact any of the seeders and scholars …’ Then something occurred to him. ‘Here, they’re not going to reassign ye, are they? Chel, I won’t be able to manage both the dig and the daughter-forest reports on my own! – I really need your help.’
‘Do not worry, friend-Gregori,’ said the Uvovo. ‘Listener Weynl has always let it be known that my role here is considered very important. Once this zinsilu is concluded, I am sure that I will be returning without delay.’
I hope you’re right, Greg thought. The Institute isna very forgiving when it comes to shortcomings and unachieved goals.
‘After all,’ Chel went on, ‘your Founders’ Victory celebrations are only a few days away and I want to be here to observe all your ceremonies and rituals.’
Greg gave a wry half-grin. ‘Aye … well, some of our “rituals” can get a bit boisterous …’
By now the gravel path was levelling off as they approached the zep station and overhead Greg could hear the faint peeps of umisk lizards calling to each other from their little lairs scattered across the sheer face of Giant’s Shoulder. The station