The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “We don’t dispute it,” Vintico said. “We simply ask to be allowed to reach our fulfillment. How can that happen when our families are wandering the cold streets without a roof over their heads? Do you think that enriches them, eh, Waterwalker? Does that make them fulfilled?”

  Edeard nodded in understanding even as he was reminded of something Finitan had said to him once in an unguarded moment: “Most people who have failed miserably in life itself have one last resort left available to them. They become politicians.” Now Edeard began to appreciate what he’d meant. “I understand your frustration,” he said. “But resolving such a massive problem to everyone’s satisfaction will take time. Something like communal way stations has to be built.”

  “Then build them,” Vintico said. “Leave us to get on with our lives.”

  “It would all go a lot easier if you could help overcome the short-term problems. Come, we know this is going to be a difficult time. I will speak with the next Skylord who comes to Querencia and ask if they can guide souls from other places, not just the towers of Eyrie. I will also lobby the Mayor for a large building enterprise outside the city. Together we can overcome this.”

  “Then join us,” Vintico said. “We would be happy to accept you. And you would be showing your approval of us.”

  “You’re too insular,” Edeard told him. “I can see that. Everything Our City embraces is a rejection of others. You must look outward, be welcoming. Closing yourself off like this, pushing the problem onto others, achieves nothing but antagonism and conflict. What kind of world will that build?”

  Vintico grinned maliciously, a bad humor that rippled through the clique in the square. “You mean we must become like you? Join you? Acknowledge your way as the right way?”

  “It’s not like that, not about ‘ways.’ True life is the understanding and support of other people, of selflessness, of charity, of kindness.”

  “Of being abused and exploited, you mean,” Vintico replied. “That’s what’s happened to Makkathran. We were being overrun by these parasites; they threw our hospitality and welcome back in our faces. Well, no more! We will not give up our claim on our city; our birthright is absolute. And soon everyone will join us in our goal.” His voice and longtalk rose, summoning up support from his audience, who shouted agreement.

  Edeard stared at the man’s stubborn expression, examining the minds glimmering angrily across the square around him, discovering the strength of resolution behind the words. Vintico meant everything he said. There would be no persuading them, no deal to broker, no halfway accommodation. Even for a novice politician, that was odd. He gave Vintico a shrewd examination, wondering just how he’d come by so much confidence. “Why would everyone join Our City?”

  There was the smallest flash of triumph shimmering through Vintico’s mental shield. “You’ll see. Even you will have to help defend our rights.”

  “Oh, Lady,” Edeard murmured barely audibly as he realized what Vintico had to mean. “The Fandine militia is coming, isn’t it?”

  Vintico sneered. “Not just them. The Colshire regiment is marching against us, as is the Bural. Three provinces seek to attack Makkathran. You will have to decide which side you’re on, Waterwalker. Ours or theirs, which is it to be?”

  A grimace of pain crossed Edeard’s face. Those closest to him took a nervous half step backward as a terrible anger rose through his mind, spitting out flares of misery and depression that made flesh judder and tenacity waver in even the most stalwart in the square.

  “In the Lady’s name, what do you want from me?” Edeard yelled furiously. They were backing off fast now. “Every time, every Honious-fucking time I do whatever I can to make things right, this is what happens. Every time, something or someone comes out of the darkness to screw things up.”

  Vintico’s mouth twitched uncertainly. “Waterwalker, we simply wish that our own children have the chance to—”

  “Shut! UP!” Edeard bellowed. “I have lost my grandchild to bring you this world today. My beautiful lovely little boy who brought no misery and suffering. Unlike you and your wretched kind who generate nothing else. I unmade him to give you a chance. And now I must do it again, because clearly I’m not allowed to go off voyaging around the world. Because when I do, you appear and ruin what peace and hope there is. The militias can’t be stopped now that they’re on the march, just as you oh so cleverly intended. They have to be stopped before they leave, have to be stopped from leaving; in fact, they must never have a reason for leaving. And the only way to do that is prevent your Lady-damned Our City from being formed. Do you understand what that means, you piece of shit? They have been born but two days! Why should I unmake them for you? Eh? Answer me that? Why should I just not exterminate every one of you here and now? That would have the same result. They’ll never be born again, for sure as a genistar shits in the forest, that voyage won’t happen next time around because I can’t leave Makkathran before the stopover problem is solved. So they’ll never meet Marvane, and he’ll never be crowned Luckiest Man. Will he?”

  Vintico took a defiant step forward even though he didn’t understand what was being said to him. “You can never exterminate all of us. Together we are strong.” To prove it, the minds of those in the square began to combine their telekinesis, strengthening a broad shield to ward off whatever terror the Waterwalker would unleash.

  “Yeah,” Edeard barked. “Don’t I fucking know it.” With a final snarl of anguish he reached back for a memory—

  —to land on the ground at the foot of the Eyrie tower. The crowd exclaimed in admiration; several people applauded. More cheered at the resurgence of the Waterwalker.

  He stared around in a daze. It was as if the sights and sensations of the city were muted somehow, as if this time lacked the solidity of true life. I don’t take part in life anymore. I just respond to the old events as I believe I ought. What kind of existence is this?

  Kristabel scowled at the flamboyant display of his ability.

  “Daddy,” Marilee scolded.

  “That was so bad.”

  “Teach us how to do that.”

  He gave the twins a weary look. They had never looked happier than holding their babes barely a day ago in his own personal time. Now that is never to happen, not even if I engineer a meeting with Marvane for them. “The Skylord comes,” he told them dully, hoping that would be enough to silence them for a while. It always had before.

  Out across the Lyot Sea the massive shimmering bulk of the Skylord had risen above the horizon. Far above, on the tower platform, Finitan’s astonishment at the arrival was echoed by the whole city. Awe turned to trepidation as the size of the Skylord became apparent to everyone.

  So no voyage, he mused as the great creature flew effortlessly above the choppy sea. And Kristabel said I had become almost intolerable at this point. So now, instead of alleviating that with the voyage, I must do something about the mass of stopover visitors. Lady, please understand, I cannot take much more sacrifice in my life. Truly, I cannot.

  The Delivery Man spent the flight accessing what information the smartcore had on the Anomine. There wasn’t much. They were an advanced race who had traveled along the standard evolutionary development route for biological species, zipping from agricultural age to industrial age right up to a benign civilization with FTL starflight and a kind of cellular-based replicator technology that meshed with their own forms. That development allowed for a lot of diversification before their various blocs and genealogies eventually reunited and they elevated themselves to postphysical status. From the small snippets of true history the navy expeditions had uncovered, it seemed that the trigger factor for reunification was the threat posed by the Prime.

  Sitting in the antique styling of the Last Throw’s cabin with an uncommunicative Gore, the Delivery Man couldn’t help but wonder if the Anomine had found the Prime a little too much like looking into a mirror for comfort. Bodies that had merged into machinery? Albeit the Prime capability
was set at a more primitive level. There but for the grace of God go I, grace in this case being the Prime’s biogenetically embedded xenophobia. The Anomine were only too well aware of what would happen if the paranoid, aggressive, and heavily armed Prime ever escaped their home star system, as they were already attempting in slower-than-light starships. Their concerns were vindicated by their observation of the first Prime ships to reach the existing civilization of the closest star system, Dyson Beta. The peaceful aliens of that world never stood a chance.

  Within ten years of the genocidal invasion, the Anomine had thrown up force field barriers around the stars humans came to know as the Dyson Pair. Where the Dark Fortress generators had come from—indigenous construction or borrowed from the Raiel—was a point still much argued over by a small specialist section of human academia. But it was that effort which had brought the diverse Anomine back together. Barely a hundred fifty years after the barriers went up, the majority of the Anomine went postphysical.

  “There’s nothing about the elevation mechanism,” the Delivery Man said as the Last Throw streaked toward the Anomine star at fifty-five light-years an hour. They were fifteen minutes out, and the starship’s sensors were starting to obtain high-resolution scans of the system with all its planets.

  “Classified,” Gore replied smartly. “Some aspects of government never change no matter how benevolent and transparent they strive to be. Secrecy is like oxygen to politicians and defense forces; there’s always got to be some of it to keep them going.”

  “But you’ve got the files, right?”

  “I’ve accessed the summaries.”

  The Delivery Man gave Gore a suspicious look. “I thought you had this all planned out.”

  “I do, sonny, so stop with the panicking.”

  “Have you got those summaries?”

  “Not actually with us here today, no, but I remember most of the critical stuff.”

  “But … You do know how to get it working again, don’t you? You said that.”

  “I said that we think it’s intact.”

  “No!” The Delivery Man sat forward abruptly, almost ready to fly out of the chair and go nose to nose with Gore. “No, no, you said, and I quote, they went postphysical and left their elevation mechanism behind.”

  “Well, obviously they didn’t take the fucker with them.” Gore gave a chirpy grin. “If you’re postphysical, you can’t, because the mechanism is physical. We saw that with the Skoloskie; their mechanism was still there rusting away on their abandoned homeworld. Same goes for the Fallror. It’s what happens. Jeezus, relax, will you; you’re acting like a prom virgin who’s made it to the motel room.”

  “But. You. The. Oh, shit! Tell me the navy has seen the Anomine mechanism; tell me you know it’s on their homeworld.”

  “The navy exploration parties that did manage to get through communicated with the old-style Anomine left on the planet. They had legends of their ancestral cousins leaving. The legends are quite specific about that; they departed the homeworld itself. QED, that’s where the mechanism must be.”

  “You don’t know! I trusted you! Ozziedamnit. I could be making progress; I could have opened the Sol barrier by now.”

  “Son, Marius would have shredded you like a puppy stuffed into a food blender if I’d let you go off after him. You’re good at what you do, delivering stuff to my agents and the odd bit of observation work. That’s why I recruited you, because everyone knows you’re basically harmless, which puts you above suspicion. Face it, you’ve just not got the killer instinct.”

  “My family is trapped back there. I would do anything—”

  “Which has made you angry, yes, which is driving you on. But that’s bad for you. It would mean there comes a point where you hesitate or get a nasty dose of doubt and remorse and decency when you were sawing off Marius’s fingers and making him eat them.”

  The Delivery Man wrinkled his nose up in revulsion. “I wasn’t going to—”

  “Son, you just said you’d do anything. And that would be the least of it. These people don’t roll over because you ask them nice. You’d have to strap Marius down on the dungeon table and make him tell you how to take down the barrier. And I’ll lay you good odds the only person who can actually deactivate the barrier is Ilanthe, and she’s not available. No. The only way for you to achieve anything right now is by helping me. So will you please stop the fuck whining and let me work out how to find the mechanism.”

  “Crap!” The Delivery Man slumped back down, furious at being taken in again and even more furious that Gore was right. Somewhere in his mind was an image of himself threatening Marius, maybe firing a jelly gun close to his head, which would make anyone capitulate. Right? He shook his head, feeling foolish. Then he gave Gore a sharp look. “Wait a minute. You said the ones that got through.”

  “What?” Gore paid him little attention. His eyes were closed as he lounged back in his orange shell chair, analyzing the smartcore’s data.

  “The navy exploration ships that came here. You said some got through?” There was no reply. The Delivery Man requested the raw sensor data, building up a coherent image of what they were approaching. The star’s cometary halo seemed to have active stations of some kind drifting through it, large stations with force fields protecting them from a detailed scan.

  “Oh, yeah, them,” Gore said eventually. “The borderguards are a good security team. They’re left over from the last of the high-technology-era Anomine, and they don’t like anyone contaminating the old homeworld.”

  “The whats?” It didn’t sound good, not at all. But Gore never had time to answer him. That was when the Last Throw dropped out of ultradrive, and the smartcore was showing him an image of the borderguard not a kilometer away. It measured over five kilometers across, though most of it was empty space. The primary structure was of curving strands arranged in a broad ellipsoid, but they bent around sharply in the thick central section, forming three twisting cavities that intersected in the middle. Each strand appeared to be transparent, filled with a thick gas that hosted a multitude of dazzling green sparks. They swarmed along the strands as if there were a gale blowing inside. Floating in the heart of the cavities was a shape identical to the one formed by the green strands; this one was barely a tenth of the size, filled with a sapphire gas complete with swift sparks. At its center was a crimson shape; inside that was a yellow version that had a lavender speck nestled within. Passive sensors couldn’t make out if there was another miniature version contained by its haze, and a strong force field prevented any active examination.

  “Now what?” the Delivery Man whispered.

  “We talk very fucking quietly in case they’re listening in,” Gore snapped back.

  The Delivery Man actually cringed from the look of contempt Gore gave him. He cleared his throat. “All right. Is it going to shoot at us?”

  “I hope not.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We ask permission to go through.”

  “And if it says no?”

  “Pray it doesn’t. We’ll have to kill all seventeen thousand of them.”

  “Can this ship actually—” He broke off and kept silent. The smartcore shot a simple communication pulse at the borderguard. Sensors showed another five of the gigantic stations appearing out of odd spatial distortions a few thousand kilometers away.

  “Why are you here?” the borderguard asked.

  “We are representatives from the human race; two of us are on board.”

  “What type?”

  “Higher. You have dealt with us before and were favorable. I ask for that consideration to be shown again.”

  “Your species has withdrawn all information valid to you from those who stayed behind.”

  “I understand. We seek data on those who left. We are a subsect of our species which believes we should try to evolve as the final Anomine did. We seek information on their society.”

  “You carry weapons; they are of a sophisticated
nature. Those of your species who came before did not carry weapons.”

  “There is an active conflict among our species and the Ocisen Empire. Other species are emerging who are hostile. Interstellar travel is a dangerous endeavor right now. We reserve the right to protect ourselves.”

  “We have detected no conflict.”

  “It is coming. The Void underwent a small expansion recently. Species across the galaxy are becoming alarmed by its behavior.”

  “We detected the Void expansion.”

  “In which case we would ask that you grant us permission to try and emulate the ultimate success of your species.”

  “You may have access to those items left behind by the final Anomine. You may examine them with any means except physical alteration or destruction. You may not remove any item from our ancestral world. All items must be left in place when you leave.”

  “We thank you for the generosity you show us.”

  The Last Throw fell back into hyperspace and raced in for the Anomine homeworld. The Delivery Man observed its course display with some curiosity as they performed a wide arc around the G3 star. The starship started to drop the confluence nest satellites one at a time. They finished up spaced equidistantly in an orbit two hundred million kilometers out from the primary. Last Throw headed in for the Anomine homeworld.

  There was a lot of junk in high orbit out beyond the geosynchronous halo. All of it was ancient, inactive: vast spaceship docks and habitation stations that had slowly been battered by micrometeorites and larger particles, subjected to solar radiation for millennia coincident with thermal extremes. Consequently, they were no more than brittle tissue-thin hulls now, drifting into highly elliptical orbits as their atmosphere leaked out and tanks ruptured. Chunks had broken off, tumbling away into their own orbit, bashing into one another, fracturing again and again. Now millions of them formed a thick gritty gray toroid around the old world.

  The Last Throw darted gracefully through the astronautical graveyard and flew down to a standard thousand-kilometer parking orbit above the equator. From there, the starship’s optical sensors showed a planet similar to any H-congruous world, with deep blue oceans and continents graded with green and brown land, depending on the climate. Huge white cloud formations drifted through the clear air, their fat twisted peaks greater than any of the mountain ranges they blanketed.