Justine knelt beside him, though in truth her legs could barely hold her weight anymore. The wide puddle of his cold blood soaked into her expensive skirt. She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingers, fearful of what she would feel. Lifeless bodies she had seen countless times, including her brother’s. But Kazimir was a Guardian, he didn’t have a memorycell insert. This was genuine death, a life that had ended. She thought she’d left this barbarity behind centuries ago.
Later there would be anger. Fury. And a bitter, bitter remorse. For now she was just numb. Not understanding how this could have happened despite all her power and authority; all the orders and thinly veiled threats that nothing, nothing was to harm him. Now here he was, her beautiful young love: dead. Forever.
Justine heard a pair of heels clicking on the marble. Someone walking purposefully along the concourse toward her. No doubt who that would be. She smiled forlornly down at Kazimir one last time, then rose to her feet and turned around.
“Senator,” Paula Myo said. “My sympathies.”
Justine’s smile turned cruel as she glanced down at the dark blood staining her skirt. “I told them. I made it very clear to the navy. Kazimir was not to be hurt.”
“The navy didn’t do this.”
“You see, I always thought that I was right, that he was just a naive provincial lad with a head full of nonsense. I have to be right because I’m nearly four centuries old, and I live in mansions and penthouses and I have enough money to buy his world. I had to protect him from himself, from others who were using him.”
“You did everything you could.”
“Then why is he dead, Investigator?”
“There is a leak in the navy, probably more than one.”
“It is real, isn’t it,” she said with a kind of detached amusement. “Kazimir was right all along.”
“Yes, Senator, the Starflyer is real.”
....
Wind and current were acting in happy conjunction, pushing the Pathfinder along at a steady clip. In other circumstances, Ozzie would have been quite pleased about that. But not today.
“Isn’t there anything ahead?” Orion asked with a petulant whine.
Ozzie switched off his retinal insert’s zoom function, which he’d been using to scan that uncomfortably distant horizon. “No,” he said. Even he thought he sounded defensive.
Fifteen miles to starboard, and now slightly behind, the last island rose up out of the tranquil blue-gray water. The simple dark green cone was the fourth one they’d tried to reach. Once they’d left their original island behind, the sea’s current had picked up considerably. So much so that they had very little ability to steer. Even with Tochee angling the rudder hard over, they couldn’t vary their course by more than a few degrees.
They had missed the first island by over ten miles, standing on the raft’s creaking deck to watch despondently as it sank away behind them. It had been larger than the one they’d set sail from, with wide coves and extensive forests. Ozzie hadn’t seen any signs of habitation, even with his retinal inserts on full magnification, but it had looked very promising.
After the shock of missing landfall, they had swung around straightaway for the next island, thirty miles farther on. This time with near-constant rowing and the tiller jammed over, they’d got to within a couple of miles as the current swept them onward. Neither of the two exhausted humans had said anything, but they both knew that Tochee could have swum ashore if it wanted to. Their big alien companion had chosen to stay with them.
From then on there were fewer islands they could aim for, and the current strength had increased noticeably. And now, what might have been their last chance was receding at a respectable speed.
Ozzie sat down with his back to the mast, looking back trying not to appear too disappointed. The stiff square of sail was curved tautly as the breeze pushed against it. There wasn’t a lot of point having it up anymore. The surface of the sea was flowing as fast as a plains river. He couldn’t work out why it was doing that, either. Seas simply didn’t rush about, there was no hydrological mechanism he could think of that would produce such an effect. It was just one more anomaly that the planet had thrown at them. Ozzie worried that it might prove a fatal one.
“I might be able to tow us back over to the last island,” Tochee’s array translated.
Ozzie gave the big creature a dubious look. “You’re more likely to just wear yourself out. Let’s save acts like that until we get desperate.”
“And we’re not now?” Orion muttered.
“As long as we’re moving, we’re okay,” Ozzie said firmly. “There will be more islands over the horizon, or even the mainland. It’s when we stop moving that we’re in trouble.”
Orion’s expression was very skeptical, but he didn’t argue. Tochee pulled the rudder up, then simply shuffled around until it was facing forward.
So far they’d eaten about a third of their fresh supplies, Ozzie calculated. If they were a little more careful from now on, the fruit should last them another four or five days. Technically, food wasn’t a problem. Tochee could catch fish for them indefinitely, and the filter pump could produce fresh water. From that point of view they could sail over the entire ocean. However, he was under no illusion about how long the raft would last. The palm frond ropes were already showing signs of swelling and fraying where they bound the log bundles together. When they started to go, their future would be measurable in hours. There were no lifebelts on board. He was now wondering how useful the inflatable tent walls would be in an emergency.
Ozzie woke with Orion shaking his shoulder.
“Ozzie, I can hear something.” The boy’s voice was low, as if he was afraid.
“Okay.” Ozzie pushed his sunglasses up, blinking around. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. When he looked behind them, there was a small trail of bubbles emerging from the stern of the raft. “Jeeze, we’re leaving a wake. How fast are we going?”
“Don’t know.” Orion was still subdued.
Ozzie climbed to his feet, very conscious of the wind. The sail was straining hard, applying a lot of force to the mast. “Let’s get that down,” he said. He and Orion untied the ropes, and lowered the dry gray-brown square. It flapped away enthusiastically as it came down.
“Is there a cause for concern?” Tochee asked.
“Orion thought he heard something,” Ozzie said.
“Are air vibrations a danger?”
“Depends what’s making them,” Ozzie said. Even after all this time, with their expanded vocabulary and literally days devoted to explaining the topic, Tochee still had difficulty with the whole concept of noise.
“Can you hear it?” Orion asked.
Ozzie stood still. There was a distinct sound carrying over the water, just loud enough to be heard above the wavelets that lapped against the Pathfinder. A reverberant grumbling, like distant thunder.
When Ozzie looked forward trying to pinpoint the sound, he saw the horizon had become indistinct. A thin blanket of fog lay over the water. He zoomed in with his retinal inserts, which revealed nothing. The sound was gradually getting louder.
“I think we should tie ourselves on,” Ozzie said. “Just in case.”
“What is it?” Orion asked. “Please, Ozzie.”
“I dunno, man. Honestly. I’m just taking some precautions here. We’re a long way from land, and if this is a storm brewing up I don’t want anyone going overboard.”
They busied themselves with some lengths of rope, lashing the ends to the base of the mast. Tochee declined a rope, using its locomotion flesh ridges to anchor itself to the decking.
When they’d finished, the fog bank was a lot closer, and the noise had become a constant soft roar that continued to build.
Ozzie stood beside the mast, hooking one arm around the tall shaft of wood. “I don’t get it,” he complained. “I can’t see any storm clouds anywhere.” Above him in the clear sky, the water specks in the gas halo gleamed with their usual
intensity. The sea around them was becoming choppy, with waves rushing forward in unison, carrying the Pathfinder onward. They were starting to rock about from the speed they were traveling. The creaking of overstrained ropes was audible above the roaring.
Several new water specks rose above the horizon, like small constellations on the move. Ozzie stared at them in puzzlement. Something very weird was happening to his sense of perspective. It was as if the fog bank was shrinking, while the horizon rushed in toward him. Then in a moment of truly terrifying revelation he realized what he was seeing.
There was no fog bank. It was just a thin line of spray hanging above the waves. Spray thrown up by a waterfall. The sea was pouring over a cliff that extended out to the vanishing point on either side of the Pathfinder.
White water boiled up directly ahead of the raft, its vigorous spume drenching Ozzie. The raft tilted alarmingly as it juddered over the churning water, forcing him to cling to the mast as his feet slipped. Looking to starboard he could see the entire sea cascading down in a vast arc that thundered farther and farther toward … there was no bottom beneath them, only the empty void of the gas halo.
Ozzie lifted his head back to stare at the false stars above, his face a mask of incredulity and pure rage. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” he screamed at the sky.
The Pathfinder fell off the edge of the world.
THE END
of
Pandora’s Star
The Commonwealth Saga will be concluded in Judas Unchained.
Judas Unchained is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2006 by Peter F. Hamilton
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
A leather-bound first edition of this book was published by the Easton Press of Norwalk, Connecticut.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hamilton, Peter F.
Judas unchained / Peter F. Hamilton.
p. cm.
1. Life on other planets—Fiction. 2. Space colonies—Fiction.
3. Corporations—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6058.A5536J83 2005
823’.914—dc22 2005048440
www.delreybooks.com
eISBN: 978-0-345-49071-1
v3.0_r1
CONTENTS
Master - Table of Contents
Judas Unchained
Title Page
Copyright
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Dedication
Other Books by This Author
About the Author
NAVY
Captain Wilson Kime—Ex-NASA pilot. Admiral, navy chief
Rafael Columbia—Vice Admiral, planetary defense
Tarlo—Lieutenant, Navy Intelligence
Renne Kampasa—Lieutenant, Navy Intelligence
Morton—Convict, navy trooper
Oscar Monroe—Navy captain, Defender
McClain Gilbert—Navy captain
Anna Kime—Wilson’s wife, and Navy chief of staff
Tunde Sutton—Navy physicist
Alic Hogan—Lieutenant Commander, Navy Intelligence
Natasha Kersley—Seattle project chief
Rob Tanne—Convict, navy trooper
Catherine Stewart—aka the Cat, convict, navy trooper
Matthew Oldfield—Second Lieutenant, Paris office
Vic Russell—Second Lieutenant, Paris office
Gwyneth Russell—Second Lieutenant, Paris office
Jim Nwan—Second Lieutenant, Paris office
John King—Lieutenant, Paris office
DYNASTIES
Nigel Sheldon—Co-inventor of wormhole technology. Co-owner of Compression Space Transport
Ozzie Fernandez Isaac—Co-inventor of wormhole technology. Co-owner of CST
Daniel Alster—Chief executive aide to Nigel Sheldon
Campbell Sheldon—Direct great-grandson, high position in Sheldon Dynasty
Gerard Utreth—Braunt family rep, Democratic Republic New Germany
Isabella Halgarth—Starflyer agent
Victor Halgarth—Isabella’s father, Starflyer agent
Bernadette Halgarth—Isabella’s mother, Starflyer agent
Giselle Swinsol—Sheldon Dynasty starship project manager
Otis Sheldon—Pilot, Sheldon Dynasty starship
Nelson Sheldon—Sheldon Dynasty security chief
SENATE
Paula Myo—Investigator, Senate Security
Justine Burnelli—Earth Socialite–now Senator
Thompson Burnelli—Commonwealth Senator–undergoing re-life
Elaine Doi—President, Intersolar Commonwealth
Patricia Kantil—Chief aide to Elaine Doi
Ramon DB—Senator for Buta, leader of African caucus
Crispin Goldreich—Senator; Chair, budget commission
Toniea Gall—Chairwoman, Resident’s Association High Angel
GUARDIANS OF SELFHOOD
Bradley Johansson—Founder of Guardians of Selfhood
Kazimir McFoster—Clan member in the Guardians of Selfhood
Bruce McFoster—Ex-Guardian, Starflyer assassin
Stig McSobel—Guardian, leader of Armstrong City team
Samantha McFoster—Guardian, technician for planet’s revenge
Olwen McOnna—Guardian
Adam Elvin—Ex-radical, quartermaster for Guardians
ALIENS
Tochee—Alien of unknown origin
The High Angel—A sentient alien starship
MorningLightMountain—Prime alien from Dyson Alpha
Starflyer—Hostile alien of unknown origin
Qatux—A Raiel, living on the High Angel
The SI—Sentient intelligence, machine based, of human origin
OTHERS
Mellanie Rescorai—Unisphere personality, SI agent
Orion—Parentless teenage boy from Silvergalde
Dudley Bose—Astronomer at Gralmond University, re-lifed
Hoshe Finn—Detective, Darklake city police
Gore Burnelli—Head of the Burnelli Grand Family
Mark Vernon—Engineer
Liz Vernon—Biogenetic technician, Mark’s wife
Simon Rand—Founder of Randtown, leader of resistance
Alessandra Baron—News show presenter, Starflyer agent
Tiger Pansy—Actress in “adult” TSI dramas
Paul Cramley—Professional hacker
Kaspar Murdo—Head janitor at Saffron Clinic
The Agent—Underworld security personnel manager on Illuminatus
Niall Swalt—Junior employee, Grand Triad Adventures tour company
Edmund Li—Officer in Far Away freight inspectorate division, Boongate Station
Michelangelo—TSI news anchor
Right from the start, there was something about the investigation that made Lieutenant Renne Kampasa uneasy. The first little qualm came sliding up out of her subconscious when she saw the victim’s loft apartment. She’d been inside loft apartments just lik
e it a hundred times before. It was the kind of plush metropolitan pad that a group of funky TSI soap characters usually lived in: beautiful single people with well-paying jobs that gave them most of the day off so they could enjoy a floor space of around five hundred square meters as they lounged around in an extravagant décor provided by overpriced interior designers. The kind of scenario completely divorced from real life but full of dramatic or comic potential for the scriptwriters.
Yet here she was, a day after the Guardians’ shotgun message that denounced President Elaine Doi as a Starflyer agent, being shown into just such an apartment on the top floor of a refurbished factory block in Daroca, the capital city of Arevalo. The massive open-plan living room had a wide sunny balcony that looked out over the Caspe River, which flowed through the heart of the city. Like all the capitals of successful phase one space planets, Daroca was a rich montage of parks, elegant buildings, and broad streets stretching away to the horizon. Under the planet’s bronze-shaded morning sunlight it glimmered with a sharp coronal hue, adding to the panorama’s graceful appeal.
Renne shook her head in mild disbelief at the fabulous view. Even with the decent salary the navy paid her, she could never afford the rent on this. And it was currently being paid by three first-life girls, all under twenty-five.
One of them was showing Renne and Tarlo in: Catriona Saleeb, a small twenty-two-year-old, with long curly black hair, wearing a simple green dress with strong geometric lilac stripes—except Renne knew the dress was a Fon, which put its price tag over a thousand Earth dollars, and the girl was using it as a casual housedress. Renne’s e-butler printed up Saleeb’s file in her virtual vision; she was a junior member of the Morishi Grand Family, working at a bank in Daroca’s large financial district.
Her two friends were Trisha Marina Halgarth, who had a product placement job at Veccdale, a Halgarth subsidiary that designed chic domestic systems, and Isabella Halgarth, who’d taken a job at a contemporary art gallery in town. They fitted the whole profile: three bachelorettes sharing a place in the city, having fun together while they waited for their true careers to launch, or husbands of equal wealth and status to materialize and carry them off to a merged trust fund mansion to produce their contracted quota of children.
The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle Page 113
