Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [63]
Much of his misery time was spent in reflecting on his life to that point, and on those with whom he’d shared it. No one really, save Doris Mueller and a stream of warmly ridged vaginas to which he could no longer attribute names or faces. Oh, there had been Miranda Seeward, briefly. But she was now involved with Lawmon Jise, and not to be trusted.
Tekton experienced a sudden longing for his own kind – educated politically devious sorts whose rules he understood. Were the other tyros under threat from the Post-Species? Were they still on Belle-Monde? He even thought nostalgically of his room there.
Inevitably his thoughts returned to the Entity. How strange that Sole would give the knowledge for the creation of such a profound device to his cousin Ra. What was it trying to do? Had it known of the Post-Species’ plans? Had Sole seen all this coming?
Perhaps Sole was warning us by giving Ra the knowledge to build the DSD, free-mind suggested. Giving us a chance to change things.
Somehow, Tekton thought, that did not fit his impression of Sole. He’d been afforded a glimpse into the Entity’s mysteries, and he’d not seen anything resembling compassion among the terrifying dizzying universe of knowledge and experiences he’d been plunged into.
And now that he thought more about it, he couldn’t fathom why the Entity had given him that glimpse. As far as he knew, the other tyros had not had similar experiences.
Why me? Why share with me? Unless …
Tekton jerked bolt upright and engaged with the device. Frantically he searched streams until he located a feed on Belle-Monde. The only eges in place appeared to be on the res-station satellites, broadcasting images of closespace around the pseudo-world; nothing on Belle-Monde itself, no view into the ménage lounge.
Right now, the sight of Miranda Seeward’s thighs would be as close to a homecoming as Tekton could imagine. He perused the views of res-station near space with irritation and disappointment. He’d hoped to learn something more about the Entity, but there was nothing … just empty, dusty space.
Nothing! shouted logic-mind. Can’t you see? Nothing!
Tekton toured through the images again, wondering what logic-mind meant.
It’s gone, free-mind wailed. Sole’s gone. Belle-Monde is destroyed.
A light sweat broke out over Tekton’s body. His minds were right: the gaseous distortion of space that signalled the Entity’s presence had vanished. Empty space.
Another rush of suspicions piled on top of the ones he already had. Tekton began reviewing some of the general feeds of random star systems, looking for Sole. Instructing the device to set a timeline record, he found an emerging pattern. The Entity had not left Orion, but was appearing in different places, each time close to where the Geni-carriers had deployed their incendiaries.
Sole appeared to be tracking the destruction.
Tracking it? That makes no sense, said logic mind. Observing, perhaps.
Tekton disengaged from the machine and lay back on the bed. He sipped on his reconstituted juice, letting his minds swirl with possibilities and questions.
Why had Sole given Ra the knowledge to create this device? Why? Not for the good of the sentients of Orion, he was sure.
Could it be simply a tease? A game?
Yes, screeched free-mind. A game. Of course, of course! Sole wants us to play.
Perhaps not a game. Logic-mind sounded sour and peeved. More likely a challenge. A competition.
Tekton’s akula swelled in a way it had not for some time; shades of Fenralia’s statue of homage to him. In fact, he hadn’t felt so hard since the time he’d had Miranda Seeward and Doris in bed together on Scolar. Logic-mind was right, he felt sure. The Dynamic System Device was a clue and a tool, and it was he, Tekton of Lostol, whom it had fallen to; he must unravel its meaning, and he must prevent the Post-Species destruction of humanesques and their allies.
Whether by accident or design, Tekton knew he stood a chance of becoming the most famous sentient Orion had ever known. So why, he begged his