The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  She smiled bashfully. “I will. I promise. I can keep focused.” Like you wouldn’t believe.

  Bradley Johansson stopped, and a four-fingered hand ushered her onward with a grand gesture as his wings extended fully. He made an imposing figure, poised between two species, two styles of life. She turned her back to him and strode forward, refusing to let any doubt gain refuge in her mind. Ahead of her the path began to open.

  The building had been a single house once, designed as an extravagant ten-bedroom residence for a wealthy owner, with expansive reception rooms opening out onto a big garden that dropped down to the crowded forest of dapol trees that marked the city boundary. There was even a teardrop-shaped swimming pool beneath a spectacular white wing roof. It fit in perfectly with the Francola district’s original ethos as an enclave of successful, wealthy residents who would enjoy a modicum of privacy afforded by the tree hedges between their imposing properties. A taste of the countryside inside the city.

  After a promising start, the district had drifted on Colwyn City’s economic tides. The houses fell from fashion and were snapped up by developers to be turned into even more stylish apartments. Redevelopment took the district further downmarket, depressing prices still more.

  On the upside, that same depressed market meant that there were a lot of empty apartments for rent. Oscar and the team managed to secure a well-positioned apartment on the old house’s ground floor. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a lounge squeezed into what used to be one of the brash reception rooms. But the lounge had a panoramic window wall opening onto a lawn that ran all the way down to the edge of Francola Wood itself, giving them a perfect observation post.

  Sitting on a pyramid of cushions they’d moved in front of the window wall, Oscar could just glimpse the shimmer of the city force field through the dark trees. He wasn’t using his field scan function; that would be too much of a giveaway. Not that it stopped other teams. His biononics occasionally would catch a quick scan originating close by. Liatris had identified seven other apartments along the street that had been leased out in the last twenty hours. Two other perfectly legitimate flats had been quietly taken over by teams who thought their subterfuge would leave them less visible. They weren’t good enough to evade Liatris.

  But what comes around … thought Oscar. He was sure everyone else knew about them as well.

  Three of the rival teams had reduced their personnel after it became clear Araminta had left Chobamba. With a whole galaxy of worlds now available to her, they’d decided it was extremely unlikely she’d ever return here to the heart of Living Dream’s occupation army. That view was one he shared, but waiting here on the off chance was better than trying to guess where else she could turn up.

  It was midmorning, and as it was his shift, Oscar had been in his armor suit for five hours watching the forest when Paula called.

  “Any sign of her?”

  Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes; the gesture would be completely wasted. “None of the thirteen teams scanning from all along the street have noticed anything. And the eight Ellezelin capsules on permanent patrol overhead report an equally negative result. I imagine the new Welcome Team, which is actually lying in wait in the woods, is bereft, too.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm.”

  “Face it, Paula, this is a dead end. We did our best. We got her clear of Living Dream and the others; it’s up to her now.”

  “I know. But several agents followed her onto the Chobamba Silfen path before it closed up.”

  “Then we’ll never see them again. Not for centuries, anyway.”

  “I’d like to think we have centuries.”

  “We’ll stay here for another day or two. Unless you know better. How about it, Paula? Do you have contacts among the Silfen?”

  “Not really.”

  “Ah, you surprise me. If anyone has …”

  “But I have just been talking to the SI.”

  Oscar couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. On the other side of the lounge, Beckia shot him a puzzled look.

  “Only you, Paula,” Oscar said happily. “How is the SI?”

  “Unchanged. It claims. However, it has taken care of one potentially dangerous loose end. Araminta now has no one else left in the Commonwealth to turn to.”

  “So the theory is she’ll ask the navy for help?”

  “It’s a theory. Right now it’s the only one we’ve got.”

  “Well, let’s hope it works.”

  “Yes. And the one trustworthy contact she has with officialdom is you.”

  “Oh, bloody hell.”

  “There’s something else.”

  Oscar gave up and rolled his eyes. “What?”

  “Someone called Troblum may get in touch. If he does, I need to know immediately. And you must not lose track of him. If possible, take him directly into custody.”

  “Okay, so who is he?”

  “A slightly strange physicist who may know how to get through the Sol barrier. I’m sending his file. Oh, and the Cat is after him as well, so be careful.”

  “Is she? Well, that’s just made my day. Anything else?”

  “That’s all, Oscar. Thank you.”

  Oscar watched the file load into his storage lacuna, and then the secure link closed. He let out a breath and started to review Troblum. He kept on getting distracted by Beckia. Her mind was emitting little pulses of dismay and anger into the gaiafield. The gaiafield was Oscar’s private additional method of watching for Araminta. They already had thirty stealthed sensors scattered across Francola Wood to try to spot her should she return. On top of that, Liatris had tapped into sensors and communication links from the other agents and the Welcome Team. But Oscar was hopeful that he would somehow get advance warning of her arrival from the path. He thought, though he was in no way sure, that he could sense the alien wormhole. There was something there, some intrusion into the gaiafield that wasn’t quite right, a feeling of age and incredible distance. Very faint, and the more he concentrated on it, the more elusive it became. So he was content to let it wash against the edge of his perception, which meant he had to open his gaiamotes up to their full sensitivity. That was why Beckia’s little outbursts were becoming quite intrusive.

  “What?” he finally asked when a particularly sharp burst of indignation shunted his attention from Troblum’s amazing collection of Starflyer War memorabilia. He shifted around so that he was looking back into the lounge. His visor was open, so she could see his ire as well as feel it in the gaiafield.

  Beckia gave him a look etched with rebuke. She was curled up on a long corner couch, sipping a hot chocolate. Her armor was open and ready on the floor beside her. “Haven’t you been following the news?” she replied.

  He waved a gauntleted hand toward Francola Wood. “No! This is my shift, remember? I’d like to focus on that.”

  “No need to get touchy. The remote sensors will give us plenty of warning. Besides, you don’t really think she’s coming back here, do you?”

  “We have to be ready in case she does,” he said, hating how lame he sounded.

  “Do you know something we don’t, Oscar?”

  It was there again, that niggling little question of trust that had hung between them all since they had bumped into the Cat. “Apparently, some agents got onto the path at Chobamba,” he said. “Paula thinks they might flush her out faster than she’d like. Personally, I think that’s bullshit, but …”

  “The paths aren’t straight lines; you know that.”

  “I know. So what’s troubling you?”

  “Local news. It’s getting worse here.”

  “I’d like to say: impossible.”

  “Take a look. I’ll watch the remotes for a minute.”

  Against his better judgment, Oscar told his u-shadow to prepare a summary. Beckia was right; it wasn’t pleasant. Once it had been confirmed that Araminta was on Chobamba, Phelim had begun withdrawing the paramilitary troops from Viotia. It was a well-plan
ned pullout; starting with the cities farthest from Colwyn City. Ludor, the capital over on the Suvorov continent, had been among the first places to see the big dark capsules streak away. It also had the highest number of Living Dream followers. Without the paramilitaries to guarantee protection, Viotia’s native population began to turn on them. Local police forces did nothing to prevent the attacks; on several occasions they were seen joining in. Hospitals, already overcrowded from riot casualties, were deluged by yet more injured.

  In response, Phelim announced that the Ellezelin presence in Colwyn City would remain until Living Dream followers were safe. He didn’t say anything about the rest of the planet, and the paramilitary withdrawal continued unabated. Thousands of the faithful fled in their capsules, hoping to pass through the wormhole. But Phelim wouldn’t lower Colwyn City’s force field for anyone except the Ellezelin capsules. Thousands of the frantic refugees were stacking up in the skies outside the city. The lucky tens of thousands of followers who originally had taken up residence in Colwyn City were now trekking across a phenomenally hostile urban landscape, desperately trying to reach the docks where the wormhole would take them back to Ellezelin. It was almost impossible for them to get there; every street was seething with locals on the lookout for the faithful. All the Ellezelin capsules inside the force field were doing now was running a massive evacuation operation. Phelim had indicated that if there was no end to the violence against Living Dream members, he would impose a daylong curfew. That didn’t help; vigilante groups weren’t even waiting for the followers to try to make a dash for safety. Reports were coming in of houses being broken into to extract justice. Images of bodies savagely beaten to death in their own homes were snatched by braver reporters; there were a lot of children caught up in the violence. Of course, the most devout Living Dream followers didn’t have memorycells, because Edeard never had and they were all going to follow Inigo’s dreams into the Void, where such contrivances were an irrelevance.

  “Crap,” Oscar muttered. It would take a generation for Viotia to recover, he knew. If it ever did. If it even still existed in a generation.

  “We’re not supposed to get sidetracked,” Beckia said quietly. “But it’s hard sometimes. That’s when your strength is really tested.”

  “I lived through worse before,” Oscar said, aiming for tough and failing woefully. Dead children, for God’s sake; in the Commonwealth, where everyone should be safe and happy.

  “So it would never happen again.”

  “Yeah,” he said as he pushed the news shows to peripheral mode. “Something like that.” Because he was distracted, because he wasn’t paying full attention to that strange ancient strand of neutral thought in Francola Wood, he was almost immediately aware when it began to change, to stir. Freshen: the only analogy he could come up with.

  “Uh oh,” Oscar murmured. Naturally, when he tried to chase down the sensation, the damn thing slithered about, dwindling from perception.

  “What now?” Beckia was rising from the couch.

  “Get your suit on.” Oscar’s u-shadow was relaying images from the stealth sensors. It looked like he wasn’t the only one in tune with the path. Several members of the Welcome Team were on the move, emerging from the tangle of whiplit fronds to slip past the dapol trunks. Through the lounge windows he saw a flock of caylars take flight, their ultramarine wings flapping urgently. She can’t be this stupid, he thought. The girl he’d seen in Bodant Park had been scared, yes, but everything she’d done spoke of a smart mind.

  Oscar opened a secure channel to Tomansio, who was in their stolen capsule, flying a random course over the city. “Get over here. I think we’re going to need you.”

  “She’s coming?”

  “I don’t know, but something’s happening.”

  “On my way. Two minutes.”

  Sensors showed several team members stepping out of their apartments in full armor. They began to sprint over the long gardens that led down to Francola Wood.

  Beckia walked up beside him, her helmet sealing up. Oscar’s visor closed as his integral force field established itself. He ran a check on his heavy-caliber weapons. Accelerants flooded into his bloodstream as biononics complemented his muscles. “Here we go again,” he said in complete dismay. A low-power disrupter pulse shattered the lounge’s big window wall, and they ran out onto the lawn.

  Mellanie’s Redemption hung in transdimensional suspension a hundred thousand kilometers above Viotia. Passive sensors absorbed what information they could, revealing that space around the planet was empty apart from a single Dunbavend Line starship in a thousand-kilometer orbit. For a passenger ship it seemed to have an awful lot of weapons systems, several of which were active.

  A secure TD link routed Troblum’s u-shadow to the planetary cybersphere, allowing him to monitor events. The u-shadow also kept watch for the SI. So far it hadn’t intercepted his connection, but Troblum was convinced it would be watching the data flowing along the link.

  “Why are we here?” Catriona Saleeb asked. She was sitting on a simple stool beside the cabin wall, which had pushed out a small wooden bar. Appropriately, she was dressed for an evening out on the town, wearing a slinky blue snakeskin dress, her hair spiraling in an elaborate style and sparkling with small red gems.

  “It was the course I’d designated before the Swarm went active,” Troblum said gruffly. “And we had to test the hyperdrive.”

  Catriona glanced at the big image of Viotia that a portal was projecting into the middle of the cabin. “Are you going to call him?”

  “Who?”

  “Oscar Monroe.”

  “No.” He brought some performance tables into his exovision and studied them, checking through the hyperdrive’s functions. Peripheral displays showed the violence playing out across the planet as residents took their revenge on Living Dream members.

  “If you help them, they’ll take care of the Cat,” she said.

  His u-shadow slid the performance tables to one side. He gave her an angry stare. “They’ll do that anyway. Paula knows she’s been taken out of suspension; she won’t rest until the Cat is back where she belongs. It’s over. Do you understand that? Now I’m going to review the hyperdrive. Once I’m satisfied it’s working correctly, we’ll leave.”

  “I just want you to be safe; you know that.” Catriona picked up a long-stemmed cocktail glass and drained its sticky red liquid. She swirled the ice cubes around the bottom. “And I know you need closure on the Cat. If you run now, you’ll never know what happened. You won’t be able to live with that. You’ll spend the rest of your life seeing her everywhere; you’ll panic at every strange noise in the wind.”

  “I’m not that weak.”

  “If you’re not afraid, then call Oscar.”

  “That’s machine logic.”

  Her lips pouted, their glossy scales darkening down to purple. “For someone who cares about no one, you can be a real bastard at times.”

  “Shut the fuck up. I mean it.” He brought his exovision intensity up. On a street in Colwyn City a family of Living Dream followers was being chased by a mob armed with power tools and thick clubs. Their clothes had betrayed them, made from simple cloth in old styles. Two adults were dragging along three terrified crying children, the oldest no more than eleven. It was a residential street, houses and apartment blocks packed tight. The father found one he obviously recognized and dashed up to the front door, pounding away, yelling furiously. The mob slowed and surrounded them in an eerily quiet, efficient maneuver, some primeval hunter knowledge governing their movements. They closed in. The father kept hitting the door with his fist while the weeping mother pleaded for her children to be let through. As if knowing how futile it was, she put her arms around them, clutching them to her as she started screaming. The news show’s reporter was good, focusing perfectly on the makeshift clubs as they rose.

  Troblum actually turned his head away as his u-shadow canceled the news show; it was all too vivid.

&nbs
p; “Do you want to be human?” Troblum asked. “Did you think I would grow you a clone body and transfer your personality in?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Is that what you were hoping for?”

  “No,” Catriona said, sounding quite shocked.

  “I won’t do that. Not ever. The universe doesn’t need more humans. We have nothing to offer the universe. We need to leave our original form behind. It does nothing but generate misery and suffering. The External worlds are full of animals. They can’t be classified as true humans. They don’t think; they just act. Animals, that’s all they are—animals.”

  “So how do you define real humans? People like yourself?”

  “A real person would want independence. If you were real, you’d want a body. Did you talk about it with Trisha and Isabella and Howard?”

  “Troblum?” She sounded troubled. “Don’t.”

  “Was Howard a part of it, too? Were you going to put pressure on me to make it happen?”

  “No.”

  “Did you tell the Cat about me?” he yelled.

  “Stop this!”

  “I don’t need you.”

  “But I need you. I love you.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  She climbed off the stool and knelt at his feet. “I only exist because of you. How could I not love you for that? I would not betray you. I cannot. You know this.”

  Troblum flinched. His hand hovered above her thick, tightly wound hair.

  “Please,” she said. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Please, Troblum. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  He sighed, lowering his palm onto her head, feeling the springy strands of hair against his skin. Then her hand closed around his, letting him know her warmth, her light touch. She kissed his fingers one at a time. Troblum groaned, half-ashamed, half-delighted. She’s not real. She’s an I-sentient. Does that make her the perfect human for me? His whole mind was in chaos.