The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Yes.”

  “But …” His farsight swept out again, desperate to find anyone else. “Where is everybody? If I succeeded the way you claim, what happened to the people I tried to help? Their grandchildren should still be here. Did they desert the city?”

  Inigo appeared embarrassed. “You created a society where it was possible for everyone to achieve fulfillment. Eventually, all the humans here accepted guidance. The last one left for the Heart several thousand years ago.”

  “Gone?” He couldn’t believe it. “All of them gone? There were millions of us living on Querencia.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you bring me back?” Edeard asked bitterly.

  “We need your help.”

  “Ha! Then Honious knows you picked the wrong man; Finitan is more worthy than me, or even Dinlay. And even if you had no choice, you should have brought back this future Edeard you spoke of, the one who is triumphant.”

  “I chose you very carefully. You are exactly the Edeard I need.”

  “Why?”

  “Determination,” Inigo said simply. “This is the you who resolved never to let anything beat him no matter what. You, the you of this day, are the best Waterwalker there ever was. This is the moment your triumph was built upon.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Edeard said weakly.

  “I’m truly sorry this was how we had to meet. But we really do need your help.”

  “How? How in the Lady’s name can I possibly help people who have the power to travel between universes?” He was watching Inigo gathering himself to reply, when the really strange one with the battered face and tormented thoughts stepped forward.

  “I am Aaron, and I have come here to ask you to take us to the Heart.”

  Edeard almost laughed at him, but the man was in so much suffering and so fired up with desperation, he was clearly speaking the truth. “Why?”

  “Because that has to be what controls the Void. I must speak with it, or Inigo must, or even you. Whichever of us it will listen to.”

  “What would you say to it?”

  “You’re killing us. Switch off.”

  Inigo’s arm went around Edeard’s shoulder again. “This is going to take a while to explain,” he said gently.

  The bright sun was well on its way to the western horizon, coating the edges of Eyrie’s towers in a familiar cerise haze. And yet not familiar, Edeard thought sadly. This Makkathran he found himself in was a sorrowful one indeed. The buildings were exactly as they should be—oh, but the rest of the districts and canals. It didn’t suffer decay—the fabulous city would never fall to that—but it had become shabby. Without its citizens, it was a poor specter of itself in its glory days. And there was so little left of the people who lived here, nothing more than blemished trinkets and stubborn dust. That they should have vanished with so little to show for their achievements was infinitely depressing. As was knowing he was forever separate from them all now. Though he supposed he could reset the Void once more, somehow he didn’t have the appetite to plunge back in to what had been. Besides, according to Corrie-Lyn, he had already won his life’s battle. And if he understood what his mind-brother Inigo was saying, he was responsible for unleashing devastation upon the true universe outside.

  “More ships are coming?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Inigo admitted. “My fault. I was besotted with your life.”

  They were sitting on the steps outside the Lady’s central church, each of the visitors doing what he or she could to help him comprehend Inigo’s story of what was happening in the galaxy outside and what the Void actually was. It had taken hours.

  “You showed people my life,” Edeard said, not quite accusing, but …

  “I did. You never told anyone of mine.”

  “They would have thought me mad, even Kristabel. Flying carriages. People who live forever. Hundreds of inhabited worlds. Machine servants instead of genistars. Cities where Makkathran would be naught but a small district. A civilization where justice was available to all. Aliens. More stars in the sky than it is possible to count. No, such marvels of my fevered imagination were best kept inside my skull. Except it wasn’t my imagination; it was all you.”

  “I hope I was of some help, some comfort.”

  “You were.” Edeard finally gathered the courage he’d so far lacked and asked the question: “This future I lived, the one where I finally achieved guidance to the Heart … was Burlal part of it?”

  “No. I’m sorry, Edeard. He was only ever here that one time.”

  “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

  “Waterwalker,” Aaron said. “Can you take us to the Heart, please.”

  The edge in his voice, the way his raging thoughts threatened to burst out of his head—it made Edeard nervous. “I understand the need for the Void to be contained. If I could do so, I would.”

  “There is a way to speak with it,” Aaron said through clenched teeth. “Once we get there, I know there is.”

  “How?”

  Aaron slammed his hands onto his face. Once, twice, three times. Blood trickled out of his nose where he’d hit it. “She won’t tell me!” he yelled furiously. “I can’t find it anymore.”

  Edeard’s third hand gripped Aaron’s arms, forcing them down.

  “This is my mission! I am the mission. I have an objective. I must be strong. She likes that. She loves me.”

  Tomansio stood next to the stricken agent. “Hey, it’s okay.” He reached out. “We have two starships and the Waterwalker. We can take—”

  Aaron’s muscles went slack, and Tomansio caught him as he pitched forward, unconscious.

  “How did you do that?” Edeard asked.

  “Very basic tranquilizer. Lucky our biononics are degraded here. Would have been quite a scrap otherwise.”

  “I see.” Which he didn’t quite. But these warriors from the outside universe were formidable. And they had honor. Somehow he was reminded of Colonel Larose from the Makkathran militia.

  “Now what?” Corrie-Lyn asked with a sigh. “Our pet psycho is going to go quantumbusting when he wakes up.”

  “I’d hate to try a neural infiltration in this environment,” Tomansio said. “The first glitch and we’d probably rip his brain apart. Besides, I think the way his mind was reconfigured implies it was resistant to that kind of inquisition. The information is hidden in the subconscious.”

  “We do have the two ships,” Oscar said. “And we know we have to fly to the Heart. Our problem is always going to be guidance.” He grinned at Edeard. “I guess that’s where you come in.”

  “It comes down to fulfillment,” Inigo said. “If the Skylord believes Edeard to be fulfilled, it will guide him.”

  “His soul,” Corrie-Lyn said sharply.

  “We don’t know that,” Inigo said. “Humans have never been able to fly around inside the Void before. Maybe it’ll show a living body the way.”

  “I’ll ask,” Araminta-two said.

  His thoughts were gifted in a fashion Edeard was unaccustomed to; the clarity he was given exceeded any he’d known before. It was hard to throw off the sensation that he was actually in Araminta-two’s body, breathing together, feeling together. And there was the shadow perception distracting him, standing in a giant room of metal and glass, watching the nebulae outside. A flock of Skylords guiding the incredible starships. That mind’s perception shimmered underneath the connection Araminta had with the Skylord leading the fleet and its awareness of the Void.

  “Do I have to abandon my body to be guided to the Heart?” she asked.

  “You have to be fulfilled,” the Skylord replied lovingly. “Then I will guide you. Soon, I feel. Your mind is strong; you believe you know your way. You understand yourself. You lack only surety.”

  “If I have that, if I gain what I need for fulfillment, would you take me, the living me, in this ship?”

  “I would do that.”

  Edeard shivered as the outlandish gifting
ended. It was as if a gust of winter air had squalled around the church. He gave Araminta-two a curious look. “You can longtalk across the Void?” Such strength of mind was incredible.

  “Not really. That was my other body. And as for the Skylord, we are joined as you and Inigo once were.”

  “I see,” he lied. My other body! He’d said it so casually. How he wished for Macsen at this time—Macsen, who would make light of such confusion with a quip and a laugh, and the world would be right again.

  “So now we find out if this Edeard is fulfilled,” Oscar said. “And if he is, you fly him to the Heart.”

  “It would seem that way,” Inigo agreed.

  “Not yet,” Justine said. She stood up. “This is too important for maybes. We need a very clear understanding of what we’re supposed to achieve here. Follow me.” And she walked up the steps toward the church’s open entrance.

  Edeard observed everyone producing puzzled looks behind the blonde girl. A few shrugs were exchanged, but they all trooped dutifully after her. Justine’s tone had been commanding.

  When they’d been introduced, Edeard had been dismissive of the sultry girl, weary, even. Because of her crude clothing and wild hair, she reminded him of the real bandits who lived in the wilds beyond Rulan province. But as the afternoon wore on, he’d revised his opinion. For a start, she was one of the Commonwealth eternals. She might look as if she was barely out of her teens, but he knew she was older than anyone who’d ever lived in Makkathran. And despite her lack of clothing, she had a dignity and poise that would’ve intimidated Mistress Florrel. He also strongly suspected she was tough enough to rip Ranalee to shreds in any kind of fight, fair or otherwise.

  The air inside the church was cooler than outside. Seeing the interior bare apart from the big statue of the Lady was odd, emphasizing how cut off and alone he was now. A mere day ago in his own time he’d been Mayor, and the city bent to his will. These people meant well, he knew, but he couldn’t help the resentment at the way they’d summoned him out of his true life. If it had been anyone but Inigo—but then, only Inigo could do such a thing.

  Stranger than the naked church was the golden man standing in the middle, waiting for them. He was visible only because of some strangely pervasive gifting from Justine that he couldn’t quite shield himself from, yet his farsight found nothing where the man stood, not at first. “A soul,” Edeard exclaimed when he intensified his perception.

  “A dream, actually. I’m Gore. Pleased to finally meet you, Waterwalker. You’re a very impressive man.”

  “Gore is the one who guided us all here,” Inigo explained lightly. “By various methods. Not all of them pleasant.”

  “Just making sure you don’t run out on your responsibilities, sonny.”

  “My father,” Justine said proudly.

  “You need to keep Aaron under,” Gore told Tomansio. “His neural reconditioning was never going to be strong enough to withstand an encounter with the Cat. I wasn’t expecting that. Goddamn Ilanthe.”

  “Lennox,” Tomansio said coldly. “His name is Lennox. One of our founders. As such, very important to all Knights Guardian. What have you done to him?”

  “Exactly what he asked,” Gore said. “Christ knows what kind of number the Cat worked on him, but he was a nearly total basket case when my people recovered him. We erased what we could of that old personality, but the damage had seeped down into his subconscious. That can normally be suppressed, providing it doesn’t receive too many associative triggers. But as for an out-and-out cure, forget it. I did what I could. I patched him back up and sent him out doing what he loved, what he was born to do. He runs every dirty covert mission the Conservative Faction needs to keep the good old Greater Commonwealth on the straight and narrow. I’m not his boss; I’m his partner, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Dad, the Heart?”

  “Yeah, right.” Gore glanced around at all of them. “It’s a simple enough plan. Like Aaron said, you go in and engage the damn thing, reason with it. It has to be made to understand it’s committing galactic genocide.”

  “That’s it?” Oscar asked.

  “You got anything better?”

  “Well … no.”

  “Then that’s it. One minor upgrade. I’m coming with you. I might have found something to persuade it.”

  “What?”

  “A new beginning. But we’re going to have to be quick. Fuck knows what Ilanthe’s up to in there.”

  “All right, Dad. The Skylord will guide Edeard’s body, assuming he’s fulfilled.”

  “That was the original idea.” Gore shot a meaningful glance at Inigo. “We do need someone we know is fulfilled.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll take the Waterwalker and Inigo in the Silverbird,” Justine said. “It’s in better shape than the Mellanie’s Redemption. I think it will launch again. If not, we can reset to a few days before I land here.”

  “No,” Gore said. “Take this ship. Its fully acclimatized to the Void now, so functionality shouldn’t be a problem anymore. And we’re probably going to need some serious badass firepower if we run into Ilanthe.”

  “This ship?”

  Gore gave her a pitying look. “What do you think you’re standing on?”

  Standing atop the sweeping steps of the Lady’s church with the others gathering around him, Edeard finally felt as if he was coming alive again. This whole time had seemed bizarre, like some kestric-fueled dream. There was nothing for him to grasp, nothing to assure him he was living. Even encountering Inigo was something he imagined might eventually befall him in the Heart, which contributed to the sense of unreality.

  But now …

  Raw excitement accelerated his heart, sending hot blood pounding through his body. He was smiling as he sent his farsight racing down below the streets, past the travel tunnels, winding through the strange conduits and glowing lines of energy that pervaded the structure all the way down and down—Makkathran’s mind slumbered on still, as unchanged as the buildings and canals, those giant thoughts pulsing in their slow somber beat.

  The Waterwalker’s thoughts lifted rapturously as he gifted his perception to his new friends, welcoming the sheer flamboyance, the audacity of the moment. How Kristabel and Macsen would have loved this, and as for the twins … “I know what you are now,” he told the great sleeper, pouring sincerity, sheer belief into what he was saying. Sharing himself utterly. “I know why you came to this universe. And you should know, others have followed you in. We think we can end this now. You can finish what you started.”

  The vast thoughts began to quicken, their wide strands of gentle musings coming together into a cohesive whole. Makkathran’s consciousness arose. “You? I remember you. I thought you had gone, along with the rest of your kind.”

  “I was brought back. I believe I am your way into the Heart.”

  “You have forgotten much. I am content to end here.”

  Edeard felt his soul brother grip his hand. Inigo’s confidence, his surety, was astounding.

  “We do not go there to submit to absorption,” Inigo told Makkathran unwaveringly. “We are here to finish this. The time you feared has arrived. Millions of my species are on their way to this world. They know its secret, and all of them are intent on resetting the Void to their own whim. The ensuing devourment phase will consume the galaxy.”

  “It cannot be stopped,” Makkathran said. “The Void is what it is.”

  “There is a chance. I believe we can still reason with it.”

  “The Void does not listen. We tried. I watched my kind die in the tens of thousands as they attempted to pass through the final barrier. It was all for nothing. The flames of their death outshone the nebulae that day.”

  “An entity has arrived in the Void who may make things worse. The devourment phase is beginning. And finally we have the smallest, most fragile opportunity to speak with the nucleus, the primary sentience. It will accept one of us if a Skylord guides him to the Heart. H
elp us. Please. Your species is still out there on the other side of the barrier, doing what they can. In all the eons since you came, they have never faltered. We owe them so much; we owe them this last attempt.”

  “My kind still live?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. I thought I heard one once, not so long ago. I called out, but it was your race who came instead.”

  “Please,” Edeard said. “I was guided to the Heart once before. Whatever sacrifice I have to make to be guided again, I will do so, I swear upon the Lady.”

  Makkathran’s thoughts fluctuated, dousing them all in a wave of ancient sorrow. Edeard was humbled by everything the city had endured, its terrible loss.

  “I did not expect change to befall me ever again,” it told them. “I did not expect to be shown hope, however small. I did not expect to do what I was born to do: to fly against the greatest enemy once more. You have brought this to me. For that I should show thanks. If the galaxy is to fall, then it is fitting that I should fall with it. I will take you.”

  “Thank you,” Edeard said.

  “Thank you,” the others chorused.

  They waited bunched together on the broad expanse outside the Lady’s church, farsight probing around, alert for the first change to manifest. They waited with the irrepressible excitement of schoolchildren knowing they were to witness something wholly spectacular.

  Justine caught it first. “There,” she cried, her mind urging the others. “There, look, the crystal wall.”

  All around the city, the high translucent gold wall that defined the edge was growing upward. It raced into the sky with astounding speed as the city put forth its will. Then they were tilting their heads back to gape in admiration as it curved overhead. Half an hour after the growth began, the last shrinking circle of clear sky vanished as the crystal melded together. The city was encased in a perfect dome.

  Makkathran exerted its wishes. A mind larger than mountains engaged the Void’s elementary mass location ability, demanding that matter move in the manner it wanted.

  Out beyond the sealed-off Port district, the Lyot Sea parted. Two vast tsunamis of water rushed apart, surging away from the shore, exposing the seabed for tens of miles. Water was the easy part. Makkathran continued its manipulation. The naked seabed cracked open with a howl of destruction that shredded any organic matter within fifty miles. Fissures deepened, slicing down through the ancient lava as they raced inland to splinter the Iguru plain.