The Evolutionary Void

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘I know. I suppose I was hoping that meeting Justine might make him change his mind. If he could just understand what it is we’re all facing.’

  ‘That’s the thing: he does understand. But that doesn’t mean he can change, not to the degree we need, and certainly not in the timeframe we have.’

  ‘I know. Are you really not going to tell me who the Lady is?’

  ‘It’s a complete irrelevance to this situation, besides it keeps you distracted.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ The Last Throw was now three hundred kilometres above the surface of the convection zone. Energy usage was growing as the drives fought to keep the ship stable against the monstrous tides of plasma streaking along the quivering flux lines. There was also the problem of the star’s own gravity. Five additional ingrav units had been included in the modification, whose sole purpose was to negate that awesome crushing force. They were operating right at their maximum loading. If one of them glitched for even a second he’d be squashed into a molecule-thick puddle of blood and flesh across the decking.

  ‘Here it comes.’ The Delivery Man braced himself as Last Throw approached the convection zone. There was no clean defining edge between the two. The photosphere simply grew hotter, with a corresponding shift in density.

  The Last Throw’s ultradrive came on as the temperature rose from the relative cool of the photosphere, shunting excess energy from the force fields away into hyperspace. A flow rate which was increasing at a near-exponential rate. The Stardiver project engineers had soon learned that combining the force-field energy-dissipation function with an exotic component was the only way to deal with such extraordinary temperature loading.

  ‘It’s holding,’ the Delivery Man said in surprise as the starship began to descend through the convection zone. Now the biggest danger lay with the bubble-like granulations that bloomed thousands of kilometres across almost without warning and raced for the photosphere. One of the primary mission objectives for Stardiver probes was to study the factors which contributed to their gestation. Even now, with centuries of research and observation, that prediction was a very inexact science.

  ‘Good man,’ Gore replied levelly. ‘Keep it coming.’

  ‘Right.’ The Delivery Man was shaking now. He wiped a hand across his forehead, dismayed to find out how much sweat was forming there; then ordered his biononics to initiate an adrenalin suppressor. He had to keep a clear head, and fear was degrading his ability to think straight. Yeah, as if staying sober and alert is going to help. One flaw in a system, one dodgy component, a single poorly written line of code, and it would be over in microseconds. At least I’ll never know. Until I get re-lifed. Except I won’t get re-lifed because according to Gore this is the galaxy’s last chance. Oh shit, I miss the kids.

  This time the moisture staining his cheeks wasn’t coming from his brow.

  ‘So when do you think Inigo is going to get to Makkathran?’ he asked to distract himself from death – which was surely going to hit any moment. He was still amazed at Paula Myo calling to tell Gore that Inigo, a weird duo-multiple Araminta and a team of her agents had somehow raced Troblum’s starship ahead of the Pilgrimage Fleet.

  ‘It really shouldn’t be long, son. You’ll be out of there and back with your girls before you know it.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ His one remaining satisfaction was knowing that he was doing something to help Lizzie and the girls. By contrast it would have been awful to be stuck inside the Sol barrier with them, not knowing what was happening outside, if there was any hope. Not much, but enough, he promised his family. Given the not-so-small miracle Gore had worked getting Inigo to help, he’d convinced himself there was a chance. A very small one, but it was real. All he had to do now was rendezvous with the siphon.

  It took another fifty minutes to manoeuvre through the macrosurges of the convection zone’s deathly environment before the fifty-kilometre circle of the siphon force field was directly underneath Last Throw. Hysradar showed the torrent of two-million-degree hydrogen streaming in through the rim. The Delivery Man guided the starship across the curving upper surface of the giant lens-shape then slowly down until it was nose-on to the edge.

  ‘That’s the weak part,’ Gore said. ‘Show me what you can do.’

  The Last Throw eased forward until its force field actually touched the protective shield around the siphon. That was when the Delivery Man finally got to feel some physical aspect of the flight. A low thrumming reverberated through the cabin as the starship was caught between the force field and the plasma hurtling past. He could feel the decking vibrate, and grinned weakly. Maybe tranquillity was preferable after all.

  Sensors could just manage to scan through the semi-permeable segment of the force field which it was pressed against. The smart-core began to probe what it could of the siphon’s quantum signature, tracing ghostly outlines of the gigantic generator sheltered inside the force field. The map of its structure built slowly. Eventually there was enough for the Delivery Man to begin the second stage.

  The Last Throw activated several TD channels, directed with impressive accuracy at the siphon’s control network. Low-level connections were created, and a software analysis initiated.

  ‘It’s not the same kind of semi-sentient that controls the elevation mechanism,’ the Delivery Man reported. ‘More like a distributed AI routine; although the parallels with Commonwealth genetic software are minimal.’

  ‘Can it be hacked?’

  ‘There are a lot of safeguards including an external override which will have to be neutralized; but the smartcore says we have several infiltrator packages which should work.’

  ‘Launch them.’

  *

  It’s Gore. That was the thought which Oscar awoke to. The medical capsule’s cover withdrew, showing a blurred figure peering down at him in the cargo hold’s dim green-tinged light. Gore is expecting someone to join Justine, and that’s what Aaron was committed to. Gore is Aaron’s controller.

  The face above him resolved into that of Araminta-two, whose mind was badly agitated.

  ‘It’s Gore,’ Oscar croaked. Suspension had left him with stiff muscles everywhere and an embarrassingly full bladder.

  ‘What is?’ Araminta-two asked.

  ‘The person behind Aaron, or at least one of them.’

  ‘Oh. You mean because he’s directing everyone to Makkathran? Yeah, I figured that one out a few months back. Even Aaron agreed.’

  ‘Ah. Right. Need to pee.’ Oscar levered himself upright on his elbows, and nearly banged his head on the ceiling of the forward cargo hold. There wasn’t much room between the bulky medical cabinets. He saw three of them were already empty.

  I thought I was supposed to be first out. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Just about,’ Araminta-two answered with a whole load of glumness. Oscar gave him a good look; the Dreamer was wearing a baggy blue T-shirt and grey-green trousers that had a lot of spare fabric. For a moment Oscar thought he was dressing in Troblum’s old clothes before acknowledging the style was deliberately feminine. ‘What’s up? Have we arrived?’

  ‘Our Skylord is decelerating us into Querencia orbit. Troblum has already detected the Silverbird’s beacon, so we know where Makkathran is. No need for observational orbits.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He really needed to pee.

  ‘It’s been touch and go with Aaron,’ Araminta-two blurted.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘His memories of the Cat are breaking through. He spends longer and longer asleep wrestling with his nightmares. Yesterday he was only awake for five hours. And his body’s having some kind of psychosomatic reaction; I think enhanced by his psychic ability.’

  ‘Oh crap.’ Oscar hunched down and made his way along the companionway to the main cabin. His u-shadow connected him to the smartcore, and an exoimage display showed him the planet ahead, expanding quite rapidly as they decelerated into orbit. ‘Seventy-three minutes out? And we spent three and a half months travelling. Not
bad.’ He made it into the cabin to find Inigo, Corrie-Lyn and Tomansio waiting for him. ‘Gotta go . . .’ He pointed urgently at the washroom cubicle. They all waved him on, offering sympathetic thoughts.

  He was just sealing his fly when the deluge of senses hit him hard, foreign thoughts slicing clean through his basic mental shield, bringing vertiginous light, sensation, sound, taste, along with a primeval fear that numbed his hands as he tumbled down into someone else’s life.

  It had been a fabulous holiday. When evening came they’d taken one of the hundreds of tourist boats that nosed around the piers of Tridelta City and headed up the Dongara River for a night of partying and native spectacle. The planet’s native bioluminescent vegetation didn’t disappoint, glowing vividly against the dark skies. And the lounges on the boat provided a lot of wild fun, impressing even the most jaded passenger.

  They disembarked at dawn, and went back to their hotel on the top of the old Kinoki Tower three kilometres above the muddy waters of the rivers that shimmied round the city groynes. Daytime was spent eating, sleeping, and having furious sex. The Cat had no inhibitions, which was yet another reason he loved her so. Provocative and daring, she exhausted him and still wanted more, telling him what she expected his poor old flesh to perform.

  ‘Let me have just one break,’ he laughed, reaching for some of the chilled wine. But the bottle was lying on its side where it’d been kicked. He gave it a depressed stare, and told his u-shadow to connect to—

  The Cat rolled him on to his back, and straddled him. A delightful victorious smile lit up her cute face. ‘Wrong answer,’ she said, grinning. Her hand closed round his wrist, and the skin burned beneath her fingers. He screamed as the charred flesh welded itself on to the mattress. She gripped the other hand, and seared that down too. ‘Nobody denies me,’ she told him.

  He screamed again as she began on his ankles, spreadeagling him so he was held immobile by the stringy remains of his own smouldering flesh. Then her hands stroked nimbly along his chest. She stiffened her fingers, and powered them down like a knife. Bones cracked, blood welled up in deep punctures. ‘With your body gone, I will take your mind and finally your soul,’ she promised. He screamed and screamed, and twisted with all his strength to escape, prising himself free—

  ‘Shit!’ Oscar juddered back, cracking the side of his head on the bulkhead of the tiny compartment. ‘Ow!’ He pressed his hand to the rising bruise as biononics hurried to ease the damaged flesh. That was when he saw the red markings round his wrist. He stared at them in shock. They were an identical shape to the injury Cat had inflicted on Aaron – in the dream. ‘Bloody hell.’ He stumbled out into the main cabin, holding up both arms incredulously to show his colleagues the sores.

  ‘Yeah!’ Tomansio said heartlessly. ‘You have to guard yourself against that. He got me half an hour ago. I just hope to Ozzie they’re not genuine memories.’

  A muffled scream sounded across the cabin. Everyone looked at the sealed door of the sleeping cubicle where Aaron was brawling with his own mind. ‘Can’t we wake him up?’ Oscar’s shield was as strong as he could make it, and he could still sense the nightmare flooding out of the sleeping man’s mind.

  ‘Troblum and I tried that once,’ Araminta-two said. ‘Won’t be doing that again. Thankfully my third hand is stronger than his.’ He gave a nervous smile. ‘Actually, Aaron was the one who’s been making me practise and develop my abilities.’

  ‘We’re losing him,’ Inigo said. ‘And if we lose him . . .’

  ‘No,’ Corrie-Lyn said. ‘We won’t lose him, not to her. Not before we reach Makkathran. He’s stronger than that. I know.’

  ‘Yeah but this?’ Tomansio gestured at the sleeping cubicle.

  ‘Less than two hours,’ Corrie-Lyn said. ‘And we’ll be walking though Makkathran’s streets. His subconscious knows that.’

  ‘His subconscious is the problem,’ Oscar muttered dourly. ‘Where’s Troblum?’

  ‘Where he’s been for most of the flight,’ Araminta-two said archly. ‘In his sleeping cubicle.’

  ‘Has he got problems, too?’ It came out before Oscar really thought about what he was asking.

  A mildly guilty flash of amusement shimmered across the cabin, a brief intimate connection shared by everyone equally.

  ‘Okay,’ Oscar said, desperate not to let any thoughts wander in the direction of the big man’s cubicle. ‘Why?’

  ‘Wouldn’t like to guess, but his solido projector is in there with him.’

  ‘Wow, this must have been a great trip for you.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Araminta-two admitted. ‘Being on the Lady’s Light was just about preferable.’

  ‘Did the Pilgrimage fleet make it through?’

  ‘Yes. About a week ago. I had a spot of trouble with Ethan afterwards, but that’s settled now.’

  Oscar was curious, but instinct made him hold back asking for details. ‘And Ilanthe?’

  ‘Oh yes, it’s here. It killed a Skylord, and consumed its abilities.’

  ‘Christ. So where is it now?’

  ‘The other Skylords say it’s on its way to the Heart.’

  Oscar almost wished they’d left him in suspension. ‘Let’s wake up the others,’ he said.

  Aaron emerged from his sleep cubicle just as Beckia was taken out of her medical cabinet. Oscar took one look at him, and drew in a sharp breath. Aaron was in a bad way. His face looked as if he’d had some kind of capsule smash, with scars and bruising contaminating his skin. Eyes bloodshot.

  ‘Good to see you,’ Oscar lied.

  Aaron gave him a sour glance. ‘Where’s Troblum?’ Without waiting for an answer he thumped his fist on Troblum’s door. Oscar saw each fingernail was black and bleeding.

  Troblum emerged, his mind spilling resentment into the cabin. He gave everyone a sullen glance, and dropped his gaze to the decking like a censured teenager.

  ‘Land us,’ Aaron said. ‘Come on, we don’t have time for your personal crap. You need to focus on this. Justine encountered some difficulties on the way down.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ Troblum replied sullenly.

  Acceleration couches rose up out of the floor.

  ‘Talking of personal crap,’ Tomansio said levelly. ‘Have you considered what you’ve been spilling into the Void?’

  ‘What?’ Aaron snapped.

  ‘Well let’s just hope your ex-girlfriend hasn’t been replicated like Kazimir was. I’d hate to bump into her down there.’

  Oscar gripped the sides of his couch. The first amber warnings flickered into his exovision. Several systems were glitching. He wished they’d left him in suspension until they were down and this particular hell was over.

  *

  It was late afternoon in the Anomine city, and the air was already starting to cool. Gore pulled on a black cashmere sweater as he moved along the intrusion systems lying like a giant spider web across the plaza. The strands were sticky, glistening black in the rose-gold sun. His field-function analysis of the individual strands was showing up few imperfections amid the long-chain molecules that were twined together round their active penetration filaments. Production quality had been high, which was impressive given the replicator had never been designed with anything quite like this in mind.

  He gave Tyzak an unobtrusive look. The big old Anomine was squatting on his hind legs on the other side of the plaza, close to Gore’s little camp. It still had no true idea of the web’s actual purpose.

  I guess mistrust and suspicion are greater in humans than Anomine. Shame, but there you go, it gives us an edge. And yet . . . they went post-physical. Though not this variety. It’s almost as if they bred two strains of themselves, the go-getters and the naive.

  A theory as good as any. Somehow he couldn’t imagine Tyzak and his kind achieving post-physical status.

  Maybe that’s true biological evolution. Achieve the pinnacle and decline back into peaceful extinction, irrelevant once your true achievement has elevated itself out of th
is universe. Perhaps space-time has no other purpose than to be an embryo for sentience.

  He tried to recall how many species the Navy Exploration ships had found who had backed away from the apex of science and intellect without achieving the leap to post-physical. The statistics eluded him, but he didn’t think there were many.

  Something ripped noisily through the clean air above the city, bringing a wave of joy and relief. Tyzak hadn’t heard it, therefore . . .

  Gore smiled contentedly to himself. He felt surprising calm for a mere meat body as his u-shadow opened a link to the Delivery Man. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Well, amazingly, I’m still alive. No change up here. The incursion package is loaded, I’m just waiting for you to say go to activate it.’

  ‘Go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Initiate the wormhole, and start the siphon power-up sequence. We’re going to need that energy soon.’

  ‘Oh crap. Okay, I’ll try.’

  ‘Thanks. For everything.’ Gore closed his eyes, opened his mind, and watched the sky.

  *

  The sonic boom crashed across Makkathran without warning, sending the local birds wheeling through the sky, their wings pumping in alarm. Panicked animals across the city started an ugly bawling. Justine looked up and smiled wide in utter relief. She wanted Dad to know this, a wish that surged out of her as strong as any Void-derived psychic ability. It took a moment, then she found the pure white contrail sketching a beautifully straight line high across the turquoise sky. The dark tip was already out across the Lyot Sea. It started to curve back round again.

  ‘Finally!’

  The starship vanished from sight behind the high wall surrounding the little courtyard garden at the back of the Sampalok mansion. Justine told the two ge-chimps to carry on raking the new section of the vegetable patch she was preparing. The funny little creatures swished the crude tools back and forth across the soil as she directed. Sculpting them had been one of the most satisfying moments she’d had in ages; even though the first had one arm longer than the other, and the second seemed to have a hearing difficulty.