Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

levels of the crust were stripped away. Or
perhaps that great blow against the Spline had been deliberate, a
conscious lashing out, a manifestation of the rage of those ancient
creatures at this disturbing of their aeons-long slumber.
    And now, all around the sky, she could see more Spline entering
the atmosphere: four, five, six of them, great misty moons descending
to Earth. A fine dust pulsed from them in thin, silvery clouds,
almost beautiful. The dust spread through the air, settling quickly.
Where the glittering rain touched, the land began to soften, the
valleys to subside, the hills to erode. It was shockingly fast.
    This was the wrath of the Qax. The overlords had learned not to
hesitate in the face of human defiance. And this nanotechnological
drenching would leave the planet a featureless beach of silicate
dust.
    She took the translucent tablet from a pocket of her skinsuit. The
scrap of Qax technology gleamed, warm. She thought of the wizened,
anguished face of Gemo Cana, of Symat’s vibrant, passionate
sacrifice. You must make your choice, Luru Parz.
    I am too young, she thought. I have nothing to remember. Nothing
but what was done today.
    As the mountains of Earth crumbled, she swallowed the tablet.
     
    We endured another century of the Qax.
    When their reign ended it happened quickly, the result of an event
far from Earth, the actions of a single human, a man called
Bolder.
    For all our conspiring, I think we never really believed the Qax
would leave.
    And we certainly never imagined we would miss them when they were
gone.

 
CONURBATION 2473
AD 5407
     
     
    Rala knew there was something wrong.
    For days, all around Conurbation 2473 there had been muttered
rumours. A cell of counter-Extirpationists had been found hoarding
illegal data. Or a group of cultists were planning an uprising, like
the failed Rebellion decades ago. Rala just wanted to get on with her
work. But everybody got a little agitated.
    It all came to a head one morning.
    The room lights came on as usual to wake them up, But when their
supervising jasoft didn’t come to collect them for work, Rala quickly
got uneasy.
    Rala shared her tiny room with Ingre, a cadre sibling. The room
was just a bubble blown in nano-engineered rock by Qax technology.
There was nothing inside but a couple of bunk beds, a space to store
clothes, waste systems, water spigots, a food hole.
    Ingre was a little younger than Rala, thin, anxious. She went to
the door - which had snapped open at the allotted time, as it always
did - and peered up and down the corridor. ’Luru Parz is never
late.’
    ’We’ll just wait,’ Rala said firmly. ’We’re safe here.’
    But now there was a tread, steadily approaching along the
corridor. It was too heavy for Luru Parz, their controlling jasoft,
who was a slight woman. Some instinct prompted Rala to take Ingre’s
hand and hold it tight.
    A man stood in the doorway. His skin seemed oddly reddened, as if
burned. He wore a skinsuit of what looked like gold foil. And there
was a thick thatch of black hair on his head. Nobody in the
Conurbation, workers or jasofts alike, wore hair.
    He wasn’t Luru Parz. He wasn’t from the Conurbation at all.
    The man stepped into the room and glanced around. ’All these cells
are the same. I can’t believe you drones live like this.’ His accent
was strange. Rala thought his gaze lingered on her body, and she
looked away. She had never heard the word ’drone’ before. He pointed
at the panel in the wall. ’Your food hole.’
    ’Yes - ’
    He smashed the transparent panel with a gloved fist. Ingre and
Rala cowered back. Bits of plastic flew everywhere, and a silvery
dust trickled to the floor. To Rala this was literally an unthinkable
crime.
    Ingre said, ’The jasofts will punish you for that.’
    ’You know what this was? Qax shit. Replicator technology.’
    ’But now it’s broken.’
    ’Yes, now it’s broken.’ He pointed to his chest. ’And you must
come to us for your food.’
    ’Food is power,’ Rala said.
    He looked at her more closely. ’You are a fast learner. Report to
the roof in one hour. You will be processed there.’ He turned and
walked out. Where he had passed Rala thought she could smell burning,
like hot metal.
    Rala and Ingre sat on their bunk for almost the whole hour, barely
speaking. Nobody came to fix the smashed hole. Before they left, Rala
scooped up a little of the silver dust and put it in a pocket of her
robe.
     
    From the roof the