Pandora's Star

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘But didn’t your actions increase the risk factor in this case? One check wouldn’t have endangered anybody on board. Didn’t you care about your crewmates?’

  ‘They screwed up,’ Oscar snapped back, angry at the allegation. He remembered only too well what it had been like on board at the time. Now this moron prima diva was questioning their decisions from the safety of time and distance. ‘Or at least Bose did. He wasn’t properly trained to join the exploratory team. Nobody wanted the old idiot on board in the first place.’

  This time the silence which opened up was even deeper. Then a thousand questions were shouted at once.

  Antonia’s arm came protectively round Oscar’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen,’ she bawled through the PA at full volume. ‘Drinks and canapés are now served in the lounge. Enjoy.’ She physically hauled Oscar off the stage in something approaching a wrestling lock. He got one glimpse of Baron’s diabolically victorious smile before they reached the wings.

  Vice President Bicklu’s white skin had turned puce. ‘Why didn’t anyone brief me this was hostile?’ he was shouting at aides. He caught sight of Oscar. ‘You! What the hell was that?’

  ‘Later,’ Antonia sang out cheerfully, still pushing Oscar along. They reached one of the hotel’s service corridors and came to a halt.

  Oscar put a hand on his forehead. It was hot and sweating. His headache was back again, big time. When he pulled his hand away, he half expected the dampness he’d felt to be blood. ‘OhmyGod, did I really say that?’

  ‘Yep,’ Antonia said, she sounded inordinately pleased. ‘And it was about time somebody did.’

  ‘Oh God. I think I just blew the Defender captaincy.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid. Come on. This is a hotel; there’s got to be a bar somewhere. I’ll buy you a hair of the dog, you need it.’

  *

  Dudley ignored everyone, the government officials, hotel staff, even the nurse from the clinic. As soon as he left the stage he ran, blundering through the maze of corridors until he came to a big deserted kitchen. Only then did he stop and draw a very shaky breath. He pressed his head on the side of a big refrigeration cabinet, enjoying the feel of the cool stainless steel surface against his skin. His heart was pounding and his hands shaking. It wasn’t entirely due to running.

  ‘I did it,’ he whispered, and smiled to himself. Told them what he thought in front of every reporter who counted in the Commonwealth – and the Vice President. Just the thought sent another tremble along his limbs.

  Somebody started clapping in a slow almost derisory fashion.

  Dudley straightened up. He almost expected it to be the Vice President’s bodyguards coming at him with ion pistols blazing.

  Instead, it was a beautiful young girl with wavy golden hair that came down over her shoulders. She was wearing a scoop-neck top of some rust-pink gauze with a silver leaf pattern, and a pair of clinging faded blue jeans that had a small silver M on one of the belt loops. There was a lopsided approving grin on her lips as she approached. She had very white teeth, Dudley noticed – that and the top was translucent. His face began to redden.

  ‘That took a lot of courage to say what you did,’ she said. ‘I respect that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It didn’t quite come out as a stutter. He knew he was staring, and just couldn’t help himself. She was more than attractive, her body had this healthiness about it that was intoxicating. His own body was getting uncontrollably hot. He hadn’t managed to have sex yet, not in this body. Just a whole load of lonely nights spent masturbating since he’d been physically able, which wasn’t long. Memories of women he’d been with kept flashing up through his mind, as well as all the ones he’d never had the guts to ask. His old self would never ask a girl like this for a date, he knew.

  ‘It must have been awful for you to realize what they did,’ she said. ‘Coming to terms with how they betrayed you.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it was.’

  ‘Without you none of this would be possible, none of the starships they’ve built. The important new positions your ex-shipmates have carved for themselves.’

  ‘I can’t believe they did it. They left us there to die.’ Even now, after all the months thinking about it, trying to come to terms with the flight, his bitterness and shock was as strong now as the day he’d found out. ‘They didn’t care about me, not one of them.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘A lot of us know.’ Her smile was enchanting. ‘I remember when you discovered the envelopment. I used to access reports of you when I was at school. I used to think I wanted to be an astronomer because of you.’

  He twitched his shoulders around awkwardly. Her closeness was dangerous. He could feel his erection growing because of that. He was frightened she’d see it. He wanted to see her naked. He wanted them to be screwing like demons on overdrive. ‘Did . . . did you? Are you one? An astronomer?’

  ‘No. I’m not the intellectual type, I’m afraid. I chose a sports curriculum in the end, I was in a swimming team.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘You know, I can hardly believe I’m talking to my old idol.’

  ‘I’m nobody’s idol. I’m not even sure I’m me.’ The base of his fist knocked against the refrigeration cabinet, again and again. Even talking to her couldn’t divert his thoughts for long. ‘You know the real Dudley Bose is still out there. Still looking at alien stars, but from a much closer viewpoint these days.’ His laugh was high-pitched, almost out of control.

  Her hand caught his fist, and held on, preventing him from moving it. ‘I’m Mellanie.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ All he could feel was her fingers gripping his wrist, her strength and warmth. She had dabbed on the faintest of perfumes. He breathed in deeply, knowing a scent that was so very different to the filtered conditioned air of the clinic, a human scent.

  ‘I have a rented car outside. And I also have a room in this hotel.’

  Dudley found it almost painful to say anything. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So. I can either drive you to the nearest Silent World. Or we can go upstairs. Now. Right now.’

  *

  The hotel room was as mass-produced and indistinguishable as any other Augusta product. A long L-shape with a balcony at one end, and the marbled bathroom at the other. The big double bed was on a raised level, with curtains that could close it off from the rest of the room.

  It was dark outside when Oscar finally opened the door and stumbled in. He’d spent two hours in the small fifth-floor residents-only cocktail lounge with Antonia before the reporters tracked them down. That had been the end of that party.

  He left the lights off and went over to the kitchen alcove. There was enough illumination coming in through the wide glass patio doors to see the beer bottles in the fridge. He chose one and popped the top. Antonia had been right, a hair of the dog always worked a lot better than a tifi hit. His hang-over had completely vanished now. The hotel menu was on the counter; he picked it up as he went out and stood on the narrow balcony. There had been a formal banquet planned for this evening to finish the whole welcome back event, which was why he had the room. But the meal had been cancelled. If he was going to get anything to eat it would have to be room service.

  Outside, New Costa gleamed brightly under the night sky, as if it were an amplifying mirror for the constellations above. Inland, to the north, the horizon was glowing a deep-hued amber where the steel smelters were stretched out amid the Colrey hills. A genuine false dawn. The corona was actually brighter than a world with an orange dwarf star he remembered exploring eight or nine years ago. Highways were slow-moving pyrotechnic rivers, winding through the sparkling grids in perpetual motion. Narrow strips of darkness cut across the city, rail tracks where long glimmering trains rolled endlessly between yards and stations and factories.

  Oscar smiled passively at the industrial megalopolis, over-whelmed as always by its sheer size and energy. The El Iopi wind was strong tonight, sending warm dry air
to scour the highways and avenues. He took a sip on the beer. Somewhere out there in the jewelled grid of lights were the factories where CST built its hyperdrives. There had been rumours around Base One of the latest variants, faster than the marque 4’s, a lot faster. Now that would be some starship.

  ‘That was quite a performance this afternoon.’

  Oscar jumped at the voice. ‘Shit.’ The beer bottle slipped out of his fingers, falling soundlessly down towards the dark parking lot fifteen storeys below. ‘Shit!’ When he lurched back into the room there was a man sitting on the sofa. Oscar had never seen him when he came in.

  ‘Some people never change,’ the man said. ‘You were always a little too fond of the old booze.’

  ‘Who? What?’

  There was a chuckle, and the man turned a table light on. Oscar peered at the intruder. He was quite old, probably early sixties – not rejuvenated. His face was comfortably round with reddish cheeks, a skin with a slightly rugged texture, the trait of someone who used too much cellular reprofiling. His body was larger than average, but not unfit, not for someone his age.

  ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’

  ‘Oh yes, Oscar, you know me.’

  Oscar walked over to the sofa and looked closely, trying to fit the face he saw into his own past. ‘I don’t . . .’

  ‘Don’t try and place me from memory. There’s nothing left of what I used to look like. I’ve been reprofiled a hundred times over the decades, staying a couple of steps ahead of the law all this time.’

  ‘Oh holy fuck.’ The strength went out of Oscar’s legs. He sat heavily at the other end of the sofa. ‘Adam? Adam, is that you?’

  ‘None other.’

  ‘Oh God. It’s been forty years.’

  ‘Thirty- nine.’

  Oscar looked at the man who had once been his friend and comrade with real dread. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Is that any way to greet an old comrade?’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what?’ Adam spat. ‘Don’t remind you what you once were? Don’t remind you that you used to have ideals? Principles? Don’t remind you what you did for the cause?’

  ‘I never fucking forgot!’ Oscar shouted. ‘Dear Christ. Nobody could forget. Not that. Not what we did.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Here I was thinking you’d gone to work for the biggest corporation the human race has ever known, helping them spread their oppression and corruption to new worlds.’

  ‘Forty years and you still haven’t come up with a new goddamn speech. Do you have any idea how tired that crap is? And don’t forget to use the word plutocrat. Big words like that always impress the poor ignorant saps you con into giving up their life for your cause. It makes them think you’re an intellectual, someone they can trust, someone who knows what they’re doing.’

  ‘It used to be your cause, Oscar. Have you given up on social justice? Is that the price of rejuvenation these days? Is that what the new young Oscar Monroe uses for currency?’

  ‘Oh spare me. I was only young once, and I was a fucking hothead buffoon, an easy target for bastards like Professor Grayva to exploit. Damnit, we were just fucking kids. Just kids, we didn’t know anything. You talk about being corrupted. You haven’t got to look far to see where it really happens.’

  ‘The party is right, and you know it. This society is not a just one.’

  ‘Go on, say it!’ Oscar leaned forward, his fingers contracting into fists. ‘Go on you miserable bastard. Say it! Say it for fuck’s sake. Say: the ends justify the means. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? That’s what you wanted one last time.’

  Adam turned away from the fury in his eyes. ‘Nothing justifies what we did,’ he said so quietly Oscar could barely hear it. ‘We both know that.’

  They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, not looking at each other. After a minute, Adam grunted dismissively. ‘How about this. We’re like an old married couple, always rowing.’

  ‘What are you here for, Adam? Come to bring me down in a blaze of glory?’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t get off that lightly.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’ His eyes narrowed as he took in his old friend. ‘Money? You must need rejuvenation pretty soon.’

  ‘I’m not sure I care to carry on living in this universe.’

  ‘Not even you are that stupid. You can’t die. That means you’ve wasted your whole life.’

  ‘It’s a life lived true to myself and my principles. Can you say that?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve helped find dozens of new worlds. I’ve given our species a whole load of fresh starts. Phase three space isn’t the same as one and two. There’s no revolution, not one with Molotovs and people beating the shit out of each other on the street, but there’s a difference.’

  ‘Humm.’ Adam nodded, as if some question had been answered correctly. ‘Same cause, different angle of attack, huh?’

  ‘Whatever. I’m not here to re-live old battles with you. They’ve all been fought and lost, by both of us. What the hell do you want, Adam?’

  ‘I was sent to ask you something you won’t like.’

  It was the way he said it which finally alarmed Oscar, it was almost as if he was ashamed. Except Adam Elvin was never ashamed of what he did. Not ever. That was his whole problem. The reason for them turning their backs on each other all those decades ago. A truly venomous parting. ‘I doubt this day could get any worse.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure. I want you to review the Second Chance flight data.’

  ‘Review the . . .’ Oscar almost started choking. ‘Wait. You said sent. Who sent you? What do you mean: sent?’

  ‘The man I work with on occasion believes there was an alien influence on board the Second Chance when you flew to the Dyson Pair. If the flight logs are given a professional analysis, they may show the evidence he needs to prove this.’

  Oscar stared at the old man from his terrible past, his thoughts examining what had been said one word at a time. ‘Bradley Johansson,’ he said at last. ‘You work with Bradley Johansson? You joined the Guardians of Selfhood? That bunch of nutters? Jesus fucking wept, Adam. Tell me you’re joking. This is a sick joke. It has to be. It fucking has to be.’

  ‘I have not joined the Guardians. I do know Johansson. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

  ‘You.’ Oscar pointed at him with a trembling finger. ‘OhmyGod, you attacked the Second Chance. It was you.’

  Adam smiled with faint pride. ‘None other.’

  ‘You crazy fucked-up psychopath!’ Oscar bunched up his fist, ready to pound, smash . . . ‘That terrorist attack nearly killed half of my friends. You ruined millions of dollars’ worth of equipment and facilities and delayed our launch date by months.’

  ‘I know. I think I’m slipping. In the old days I would have got the lot of you, and blown up the starship.’

  ‘You are crazy. People died, Adam.’

  ‘They were all re-lifed. Just like your friend Dr Bose.’

  ‘I’m calling Navy Intelligence.’

  ‘Ah, the universe’s greatest oxymoron. How long do you think they’ll give you in life suspension?’

  ‘I don’t care about myself. Not any more. You have to be stopped.’ Oscar almost did it, almost told his e-butler to make the call. He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. Any second now.

  ‘No, Oscar. It’s you and your navy who are in the wrong now, you who are the danger to humanity. Look where your precious Second Chance flight led us.’

  ‘What is wrong with you? You don’t believe that Guardians crap: President Doi is an alien agent. Come on! Not you.’ He studied the old man’s round face, hunting for some sign of guilt.

  ‘What I believe doesn’t matter, does it?’ Adam said. ‘It’s what I want from you which is important. We want the log data reviewed, and you’re the perfect choice. You have unrestricted access, and it’s your field of expertise.’

  ‘Oh, now I get it. If I study the data and don’t f
ind your evidence, then someone makes a call to Rafael Columbia. Right?’

  ‘No, Oscar, this is on the level. I want you to run a genuine, thorough search.’

  It was only the alcohol flowing sweetly through his head that prevented Oscar from laughing outright. ‘Dear God, I never thought you’d be reduced to this. I mean, I always had this image of you carrying on the party’s agenda. Every time one of those succession movements hit the unisphere I would think: I bet Adam’s there, working away behind the scenes, urging the troops on, giving their leaders advice whether they want it or not. Then you’d slip back into the Commonwealth before CST closed the gateway, and build up underground cell networks on every world; you’d have thousands of loyal activists ready for the day your word would come and the whole Commonwealth would be plunged into civil war and revolution. That you’d be some kind of Gandhi, or Mandela, or maybe just Napoleon. But certainly you’d be somebody. Not this though, God, look at you. Just another fat ageing rebel who lost sight of his cause decades ago. So desperate you joined up with the saddest bunch of losers this universe has to offer.

  ‘It’s not real, Adam, there is no alien. I was on board that starship for over a year. I never bumped into it in the showers, never caught it stealing a late-night snack from the canteen, there was no ghost on deck thirteen. This is where your conspiracy theory runs slap bang into the sold wall of reality. You and Johansson can sit at home pulling every rumour you want from the unisphere and build them into a tower of your fact. It’s all bullshit. There is no evidence to be found. So before you go just leave the little crystal memory on the table, and I’ll politely ignore it, then when you’re gone and I’m even more drunk I’ll access the file your friends have forged and decide if I’m going to splice it into the official log for you so that I can save myself from life suspension because I’m too much of a pitiful coward to take responsibility for what I did once.’

  ‘You need to get a shrink to take a good look at that self-loathing. It’s not healthy.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Oscar said. The pain he felt was close to physical now. ‘Just leave the memory crystal and go.’