The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Spanish Crepes had been another of Laril’s rotten companies. It was supposed to be a franchise supplying Colwyn City’s larger entertainment venues, dozens of stalls and swarms of eager staff supplying quality food at reasonable prices and paying Laril for the privilege. As always it had limped along as he battled with licensing authorities while buying stock from the cheapest suppliers he could find. Then there were subsidiaries dealing in the stalls and culinary units themselves, financed with a buyback scheme based offworld. More interlinked yet unregistered companies provided uniforms and transport. None of it had been declared to the Revenue Service.

  Araminta knew about it all because he’d left a file open one day on their apartment’s network. She’d never told him she knew about it; she’d even kept it from Cressida. It was to be her very last bargaining point if all legal means failed.

  A thorough inventory of every desk and cupboard produced very little. Useless hard copy of confusing receipts and agreements. Sample boxes of exotic crepe fillings. Dead potted plants. Worn culinary unit components. Electronic modules, function unknown. She found three cybersphere nodes, kubes in neat storage cassettes, a box of company aprons in trial colors, and a midcapacity management array with out-of-date software.

  However, as she sat at what must have been Laril’s desk with its ancient console and three portals, she found five cash coins in the bottom drawer, underneath some carry-capsule manuals. Difficult to find but not necessarily suspicious, so they weren’t there by accident. Like everything Laril did.

  She held one of the coins up and smiled at it. Good old Laril, dependably unreliable.

  Thirty minutes was spent opening up one of the nodes, using a handheld interface to adapt the software configuration, registering a new company unisphere account with money from the cash coin. She now had a very basic communication link through the management array that didn’t involve her u-shadow or include her identity. No tracer program or scrutineer would be able to place her at the Spanish Crepes office.

  In theory.

  She laboriously typed in the Oaktier code stored in her lacuna. The tiny array screen displayed icons showing the channel being established.

  Please, she prayed, be curious enough to accept the call.

  The portal projected Laril’s puzzled face into the air in front of her. She surprised herself by her reaction, but the sight of that awfully familiar thin brown hair, rotund cheeks, and excessive stubble brought tears to her eyes. It was just so unbelievably reassuring that he had remained exactly the same.

  “Araminta? Is that you? Have you reprofiled your face?”

  “Don’t go,” she blurted. “I need help.”

  “Ah. I didn’t know you knew about the, er, crepes company.”

  “Forget about that. Can you run a check to see if anyone is eavesdropping on this link?”

  His eyes widened in amused surprise. “Okay. U-shadow analyzing the connection route. Ah ha. The channel seems clean, but I’m not a true expert on these things. Are you all right? I’ve tried to call a couple of times. I was worried when your u-shadow didn’t respond.”

  Araminta took a deep breath. “Laril, it’s me they’re after.”

  “You?”

  “I’m the Second Dreamer.”

  “You know the Second Dreamer?”

  “No. I am the Second Dreamer.”

  “You can’t be.”

  Araminta scowled at the screen. This was Laril true enough, always the same and never giving her credit. “Why not?”

  “For a start, you don’t have gaiamotes.”

  “Don’t need them.” She explained about her previously unknown ancestry.

  “You’re related to Mellanie Rescorai?” was all he asked when she’d finished.

  “You know of her?”

  “Who doesn’t? Especially here on Oaktier; this was her birth-world.”

  Definitely Laril; no one else ever irritated her at this level. “I …” She shut her eyes, drew a breath, and looked directly at his projection. “I don’t know who else to go to.”

  He grinned, a hand reaching up to scratch the top of his right ear. “Wow. I’m flattered.”

  “You said if there was ever anything …”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t quite thinking along these lines, though.”

  “I see.” You can always rely on Laril to let you down. She reached for the keyboard, ready to cut the channel.

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t help,” he said in that soft caring voice he hadn’t used since their first week together.

  “Really?”

  “I loved you then, and I guess I always will.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sorry, but … You’re really the Second Dreamer?”

  She smirked. “Yeah.”

  “And you told the Skylord to get lost?”

  “I don’t want to go into the Void, especially not leading some crazy Pilgrimage for a bunch of religious nuts.”

  “Succinctly put. Unfortunately, there are bigger issues to consider.”

  “I know. For a start, I’ve got half of Ellezelin’s police force in the city looking for me. And Gore said there are others, too.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just sort of instinct coming to you.”

  “Again, flattering in a weird kind of way. But let’s face it, if anyone can advise you how to stay ahead of officialdom, it’s me.”

  “I’m not sure even you can help me on that score. Laril, the whole city is sliding into anarchy. Ellezelin is the only authority here. I don’t think I can hide forever.”

  “Okay, let me think for a moment here.” He patted his forehead theatrically.

  “Have you got someone now?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes. At least there’s someone I’ve started to see regularly. She’s just arrived on Oaktier for the same reason as me.”

  “That’s good. I’m pleased.”

  “Thanks. And you?”

  “Yes. You’d probably be surprised by him, but yes.”

  “So I have to ask, why isn’t he helping you out?”

  “I don’t want to involve him. It’s a bit much.”

  “Okay, that tells me what I need to know.”

  “What?”

  “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but your thinking about this is all wrong.”

  “How?”

  “Too small. Basically, what I’m saying is that it’s not about you.”

  “It’s very much about me.”

  “No. This is about the evolution of entire cultures and species. It might even be about the fate of the galaxy, if you believe the Raiel. You play a part in that, a very minor part given the nature of the events playing out here.”

  She started to argue, but he held up a hand.

  “However,” he said, “it is pivotal, and that’s where your importance lies. You have a choice, Araminta. You can be the small person, maybe try to run and hide. Then someone will catch up with you, and depending on who they are, your role will be subsumed into their agenda. Don’t make the mistake of thinking any of them will leave you alone to carry on as you see best. They won’t.”

  “And my other choice?” she asked waspishly.

  “Try to beat them at their own game. Turn around, stop running, face them down, and use the power you’ve acquired to bring about your own tenets.”

  “What are they?”

  Laril laughed quietly. “When you work that out, you’ll make the second choice automatically. Then universe, watch out.”

  Araminta slumped in the chair and gave his image a dirty look. “Oh, why did I call you?”

  “Practicality. Listen. You’ll either get there or they’ll catch you first, so don’t worry about it. In the meantime, I’ll give you my advice, which you can ignore as always, but at least my conscience will be clear knowing I did my very best to help you.”

  She pouted. “I didn’t always ignore what you said.”

  “Excuse me, I must have mi
ssed the one time you said yes.”

  “Go on, then. I called you, after all, so let’s hear it.”

  “Just let me take a moment. The galaxy’s future is poised on what I have to say; this is a real moment to savor.”

  “Get on with it.”

  His expression turned serious. “Are you supplying Justine’s dream?”

  “Justine is dreaming?”

  “Okay, that answers that. Yes, she is, but she’s gone into suspension, so that removes her from the outcome for a while. Which brings us back to you and your proven influence on the Skylord. If that is to mean anything, you have to use it. Talk to the Skylord again.”

  “I can’t. They have some way of tracking me through the gaiafield. I only just got out of my apartment the last time, and that was mostly luck.”

  “Ozzie! All right, you have to try and find a way; you need to talk to it.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Try to explain how many people want to come to the Void; try to make it understand how catastrophic that would be for the rest of the galaxy. If you don’t want to be taken over by Living Dream or a faction as their unwitting figurehead, then you have to bring this to an end.”

  “Yeah,” she said, exhaling heavily. “I suppose I see that. I’ll try using the gaiafield again, try and see if I can find a way around them finding me.”

  “That’s a good start. It sounds like your ability to do that is different from everyone else’s, so there’s a chance it’ll work in your favor. Here’s an idea: If you can use the gaiafield without them realizing, you might want to check out Inigo’s dreams. At least you’ll have a better understanding of what you’re up against. Failing that, you’re supposed to be able to commune with the Silfen Motherholme. Who knows what they’ll say?”

  “Thank you. That’s actually—”

  “Useful?”

  “Very.”

  “All right, then. Now, what about you? Where are you staying?”

  “I haven’t got anywhere.”

  “You’re in the Spanish Crepes office, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bottom drawer of my desk you’ll find a bunch of old manuals. Underneath them are some cash coins. Untraceable.”

  She held them up, trying not to smirk.

  “Ozzie,” he muttered. “I never did fool you, did I?”

  “Not much.”

  “All right, there’s a couple of thousand Viotia pounds loaded in. That’ll help. Do you know about Wurung Transport?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’m not totally useless, then. It’s another company I ran. A garage unit in the building two down from where you are now. There’s a fully licensed cab inside, just one; that’s all the company owns. I can load the activation code in from here, so it’ll be ready when you get to it. Now listen; there’s some interesting software in its management system which allows you to avoid being tracked by the city control network.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He gave an embarrassed shrug. “It might be useful if there were things you wanted to move around town without drawing too much attention to yourself.”

  “Oh, Laril!” There was concern as well as exasperation in her tone.

  “Those days are over,” he said. “It also has a unisphere node. I’ll remote switch it to standby; you can use it any time to call me. No one else will be able to access it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Araminta.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad it was me you called. I’m glad I can help.”

  She stared at his image for a long moment. “Why did you pick me?” she asked quietly.

  “Oldest reason for a man to have: You’re gorgeous.”

  Ridiculously, she knew she was almost blushing. “Don’t change too much to become Higher.”

  “You know me. Good luck. Call me when you need to.”

  “Bye, Laril.” She switched off the management array and the cybersphere node, then went out to check on Wurung Transport.

  The Purus and the Congo slid unnoticed among the awesome Ocisen Empire fleet as it raced toward the Commonwealth at four and a half light-years per hour. A detailed scan revealed no craft other than the Starslayers plunging onward through their wormholes. Whoever the Ocisen Empire’s allies were, they had a drive technology at least equal to that of the Commonwealth Navy ships.

  They took up position a kilometer behind the new command vessel and began to interfere with its continuous wormhole. After a sharp tussle of exotic energy the big Starslayer vessel was torn back into normal spacetime, its reaction control rockets firing continually to kill the errant rotation it had picked up during the abrupt transition. Random flares of light slithered over its dark ovoid hull as the force field generators tried to regain equilibrium while the FTL drive’s death throes spun out residual energy fluctuations. Both the Purus and the Congo dropped out of hyperdrive.

  A featureless spherical starship appeared beside the wrecked Starslayer.

  The Huron, the Nyasa, and the Baykal shedded their stealth effect. The three Capital-class starships were almost as large as the Starslayer and infinitely more potent. A second spherical starship materialized five kilometers from the first. The Onega and the Torrens revealed themselves.

  For three seconds nothing happened. The humans held their breath.

  Both of the alien vessels opened fire.

  It was ninety seconds before the ultrasecure TD link to Pentagon II was reestablished. The energy storm unleashed by the hellish firefight had strained the local structure of spacetime to a degree that affected even the underlying quantum fields, severing the link. Admiral Kazimir reviewed the updated situation fast. Both of the unknown ships had been destroyed, as had the Congo, while the Torrens had suffered so much damage that it was unable to fight, though the crew had survived. Most of the Starslayer’s hull had evaporated from the titanic energy bursts, even though no one had aimed at it. What was left of the outer structure was glowing cherry-red and bubbling furiously around the edges.

  “Not completely invincible, then,” Ilanthe said in a relieved tone.

  “So it would appear,” the Admiral agreed. They were all waiting to see if any more of the allies accompanying the fleet would turn back to assist their colleagues. The Capital-class ships had managed to detect fifty stealthed hyperdrives secreted amid the Starslayers, a truly formidable force.

  “Maybe not invincible but just about unstoppable,” Crispin said. “Do we have an equal number of Capital-class warships, Admiral?”

  “We have thirty-nine within deployment range,” Kazimir told the depleted ExoProtectorate Council. He was dismayed that it was his own family that was missing. Whoever it was who had released his mother’s dream into the gaiafield wasn’t coming forward. Not that knowing his or her identity would be of any use—she would remain in suspension for some time. But it irked him to know that someone could reach her.

  Even more dismaying was Gore’s nonappearance. When Kazimir convened the ExoProtectorate Council, Gore’s u-shadow reported him as unavailable. Kazimir couldn’t imagine what would keep his grandfather from attending, especially as his absence would allow Ilanthe to dominate the Council. Not, he admitted to himself, that the outcome was going to be anything other than the one he really didn’t want.

  “The remaining unknowns are staying with the fleet,” reported Sorex, the Onega’s captain.

  “Excellent,” Kazimir replied. “Could you get in close for a scan of the wreckage, please.”

  “So the fleet can be eliminated?” Creewan asked urgently.

  “Numerically it would be difficult,” Kazimir said as the Onega dispatched a swarm of sensor drones toward the largest chunk of wreckage from the second spherical ship. “As well as the unknowns, there are nine hundred Starslayers to consider. Our combined River-and Capital-class ships would probably defeat them, but the cost would be severe. We’d be left with very few vessels.”

  “Then we know what needs to be d
one,” Ilanthe said. “I believe there is one class of ship more powerful than the Capital class.”

  “Yes,” Kazimir said with extreme reluctance.

  “Admiral,” Sorex called. “High-resolution sensors are combining. Oh, great Ozzie—”

  Kazimir and the rest of the ExoProtectorate Council stared silently at the sensor results that appeared above the big table. The little drones were flitting through the broken compartments and passageways of the spherical warship, contributing their separate scans to a cohesive image. The battered chunk of hardware was texture perfect right down to individual structural components. Metal around the outside was still hot enough to glow. It was also terribly radioactive. Odd pieces of charred biological matter drifted around the compartments, torn from alien bodies as explosions and energy pulses ripped through the ship. Right in the middle, the bodies were larger, intact. The drones concentrated on one.

  Kazimir started at the terribly familiar pear-shaped torso with four gristly ridges running its length. Four stubby legs protruded from the curving base, while arms branched out of the body just above the legs, each one ending in an efficient quad-pincer arrangement. At the top of the body four small mouth trunks were open, drifting in zero gee like seaweed in a slow current. Between them were the sensory stalks, rigid in death, each one fused to a neat electronic module.

  “That can’t be,” Crispin exclaimed. “It can’t! We contained them all twelve hundred years ago. All of them.”

  “It is,” Ilanthe said emotionlessly.

  “Yes,” Kazimir said, fighting both shock and a tinge of fear. “A motile. The Ocisen Empire has acquired Primes as its allies.”

  The noise of ice crystals smashing themselves to sparkling dust on the ground crawler’s metal shell was making conversation difficult inside. Even under the constant barrage by the wild elements, the vehicle hadn’t moved. It was wedged fast in the fissure, with its narrow front windows covered by dirty granules that had filled the gaps around it. Minor quakes continued to shake it, but they only seemed to tighten the fissure’s grip. Several times, the thick metal bodywork had groaned in protest.