Troblum knew he wouldn’t miss the Commonwealth, there was nobody he had any attachment to, and most of the colony worlds would have a decent level of civilization. If he did find the Brandt world, they would presumably be glad to accept his knowledge of biononics which had been developed long after their ships had departed. That just left the problem of what to do with his Starflyer War artefacts. He couldn’t bear to be parted with them, yet if he transported them to the hangar, Marius might notice. He began instructing the apartment net on shipping arrangements, then made a painful call to Stubsy Florae.
***
The Neumann cybernetics took thirty-two hours to produce a planet-shifting ftl engine. Troblum stood underneath the sparkling cylinder as the terminal extruder finished, marvelling at its elegance. His field functions reported a dense knot of energies and hyperstressed matter all in perfect balance. So much exotic activity was present, it almost qualified as a singularity in its own right.
If the colony doesn’t want biononics, they’ll surely want this.
He watched in perfect contentment as force fields manoeuvred the cylinder into Mellanie’s Redemption. The modified forward cargo hold closed, and Troblum sent the device into standby mode. Nobody would be able to break the command authority encryption, not even ANA he suspected. The device was his and his alone.
Once it was safe and shielded he went back into the office and restored Emily Aim’s glitches to the blueprint, then began adding some of his own, at a much deeper function level. Now the engine really was unique.
Marius called several hours later. “Have you finished your analysis yet?”
“Just about. I think I’m going to have to initiate a complete re-design of the exotic stress channels.”
“That sounds bad and I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s not good, no.”
“I’m sure our funds will cover it. But for now I need a small favour.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to take a colleague to our station.”
“A passenger?” Troblum asked in alarm. If there was someone else on board, he would never be able to fly free. With a growing sense of dismay he realized that was probably the whole idea. Had Marius detected something? He would have sworn nothing could get through his encryption, but then ultimately he was dealing with an ANA Faction.
“Problem? Your ship can accommodate more than one person, and it’s a relatively short flight. We’re still inside the Commonwealth, after all.”
There was a definite implication in that. “Not a problem. I’ll need to flight prep.”
“That shouldn’t take more than an hour. Bon voyage.”
There had been no polite enquiry as to whether he was ready, in fact it was more like an order. Annoyance warred with a slight curiosity. What do they need me for so urgently?
“Troblum?”
“Wha—?” Troblum twisted round as fast as his bulk would allow. There was a man standing in the office, a very tall man whose skeletal skull was frizzed by a stubble of ginger hair. He wore a simple grey suit that emphasized exceptionally long limbs. “Who the fuck are you?” Troblum’s biononics had instantly cloaked him in a defensive force field, now his one weapons enrichment was active and targeting the intruder.
“I’m Lucken. I believe you’re expecting me?”
“You’re…”
“Your passenger, yes. Is the ship ready?”
“How did you get in?”
Lucken’s face remained completely impassive. “Do you require assistance to prepare for flight?”
“Ah, no.”
“Then please begin.”
Troblum adjusted the front of his old toga suit in angry reaction to the arrogant imposition. “The umbilicals are already attached. We’ll leave as soon as the tanks are full. Do you want to go to your cabin?”
“Are you embarking now?”
“No. I have important work here to complete.”
“I will wait. I will accompany you on board.”
“As you wish.” Troblum settled back in his chair, and reactivated the solido projectors. Just to show how indifferent he was. Lucken didn’t move. His eyes never left Troblum. It was going to be a long flight.
***
The station was a real flight into nostalgia. It had been fifty years since Troblum saw it last, and he never thought he’d be back—in fact he was rather surprised it was still intact. Mellanie’s Redemption took three days to fly from Arevalo to the unnamed red dwarf star. There were no planets, solid or gas, orbiting the weak speck of ruddy light, just a large disc of mushy hydrocarbon asteroids. There were less now than there had been when he first came to work here. He smiled when he remembered that test sequence. It was the last time he’d been genuinely drunk, and hadn’t cared what a fool he was making of himself.
Mellanie’s Redemption dropped out of hyperspace ten AUs away from the star and eight thousand kilometres directly above their destination. Troblum accelerated in at seven gees, heading straight for the centre of the dark toroid that measured five kilometres in diameter. A squadron of defence cruisers shed their stealth effect and soared around the starship in fast tight turns. They were over a hundred metres long, like quicksilver droplets frozen in mid-distortion to produce bodies of warped ripples sprouting odd pseudopod crowns. Their flight was so elegant and smooth they resembled a shoal of aquatic creatures cavorting with a newcomer. However, there was nothing playful about the quantum level probes directed at the Mellanie’s Redemption. Troblum held his breath as he waited to see if the sophisticated shielding around the forward hold would deflect the scan. It did, but then he’d helped design the cruisers—seventy years ago now. He found it interesting that nothing new had been produced in the intervening decades. Human technology was edging ever closer to its plateau. Emily Aim was probably right about her time in the Navy; given their knowledge base there was nothing new in the universe, just innovative variants on that which already existed.
The cruisers escorted them in to the station. Mellanie’s Redemption fell below the rim of the toroid, and slid along the broad internal tube, which was almost as long as its diameter. Observing the structure through the starship’s modest sensor net Troblum could see that vast sections had been reactivated. The titanium-black fuselage was covered in long slender spikes as if a sharp frost had settled across the whole station. The majority of spikes were translucent blue-white; though in among them, seemingly at random, several of the smaller ones were glowing with a low crimson light, as if they’d caged a few of the photons from the nearby sun.
Troblum piloted Mellanie’s Redemption to the base of a red spike which measured nearly seven hundred metres long. A hangar door was open and waiting for them. When it closed, he couldn’t help but think of the door to an antique jail cell slamming shut.
“Thank you for flying Troblum Lines, and have a pleasant day,” he said cheerily.
Lucken opened the airlock and went outside. The man hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d embarked. Hadn’t slept, either, just sat in the central cabin the whole time. He’d vanished by the time Troblum activated a small case and pulled his emerald cloak on. Mellanie’s Redemption looked small and inadequate inside the giant shiny-white cavity. White tubes had wormed out of the floor to plug into her umbilical sockets. There was no sign of the external door or indeed a way into the station. As Troblum walked along the curving floor, gravity shifted to accommodate him so he was always standing vertical. The whole effect was quite disorientating on a visual level.
A woman was waiting for him under the starship’s nose. She was his height, completely hairless, with large perfectly round eyes that dominated her flat face. Her neck was long, over twenty centimetres, but invisible behind a sheath of slim gold rings, as if it was some kind of segmented metallic limb. All of her skin had the surface shimmer of a toga suit tuned to steel-grey. Troblum assumed her skin had actually been biononically modified, the effect was so tight around her. A lot of
Highers close to download chose to experiment with physiological modifications.
“Greetings,” she said in a pleasant, almost girlish voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Sadly I can’t return the compliment,” he said, reading off the protocol behaviour program showing in his exovision.
“I’m Neskia, I run the station. My predecessor was most favourable in his assessment of your abilities. Our Faction would like to thank you for returning.”
As if I had a choice. “All very well, but why exactly am I here? Is the swarm malfunctioning?”
“Not at all.” She gestured gracefully, her neck curving in a fluidly serpentine motion to keep her face aligned on him as she started walking. Troblum followed her along the curve, his case hovering just behind his head. Up above them, a circular door irised open. The station’s internal nature had certainly changed in seventy years.
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed,” she said and hesitated by the door.
Troblum wasn’t sure if the circle had flipped out of the curve to stand upright or if the local gravity manipulation was even weirder than his ordinary senses told him. He refused to verify with a field scan. Disorientation attempts were really very childish. “Not disappointed. I assume I’m here to inspect and validate the swarm, just in case the worst case Pilgrimage scenario proves true. There have been a few recent advances which could be used to upgrade.”
“The swarm has dispersed to its deployment point. It has been constantly upgraded. We don’t anticipate the Void’s expansion to pose any problem.”
“Really? So that’s why you kept this station going.”
“Among other things.” She stepped through the door and into a corridor that had the old simple grey-blue layout which Troblum recognized. They hadn’t changed everything.
“I’ve assigned you a suite in sector 7-B-5,” Neskia said. “You can have it modified to your own tastes, just tell the station smartcore what you want.”
“Thank you. And the reason I’m here?”
“We are building twelve ultradrive engines to power the Pilgrimage fleet. Your experience in the assembly techniques we are using is unmatched.”
Troblum stopped abruptly, his case almost banging into the back of his head. “Ultradrive?”
“Yes.”
“You mean it’s real? I always assumed it was just a rumour.”
“It isn’t. You’ll be working with a small team, fifty or so experts have been recruited. The Neumann cybernetics that built the swarm will handle the actual fabrication.”
“Fascinating.” His bleak mood at being blackmailed and bullied actually began to lift. “I’ll need to see the theory behind the drive.”
“Of course.” Her huge eyes blinked once. “We’ll brief you as soon as you’ve settled in.”
“I’m settled right now.”
***
Araminta waited in the flat until Shelly arrived to take full legal possession. She didn’t have to do it, Cressida’s firm was tackling the sale registration—which meant nothing had gone wrong. But supervising the handover in person added that little professional touch; and in business, reputation was a commodity which couldn’t be bought.
She watched from the balcony as Shelly’s capsule landed on the designated pad outside, followed by a larger cargo capsule which used the public pad. The flat seemed strangely unattractive now Araminta had moved the dressing furniture out, all carefully chosen pieces that emphasized how spacious and contemporary the property was.
“Is everything all right?” Shelly asked as Araminta opened the door.
“Yes. I just wanted to check you were happy.”
“Oh yes. I can’t wait to get in.” Shelly was already walking past her, smiling contentedly at the empty rooms. She was a tall, pretty girl who had her own salon business in the district. Araminta was slightly jealous about that, mainly because Shelly was a year younger than her and obviously successful. But then, she’s never made the Laril mistake.
Shelly caught sight of the big bouquet of flowers resting on the kitchen worktop. “Oh thank you, that’s so sweet.”
“My pleasure.” Araminta’s u-shadow transferred the flat’s activation codes over to Shelly. “Now if there are any problems, please call me.” She had to flatten herself against the wall as she made her way downstairs. A regrav lifter was hauling a big scarlet and black sofa up to the flat. It wasn’t quite what Araminta would have chosen, but… She shrugged and left the house.
Her old carry capsule flew her across Colwyn city to the Bodant district where it settled on a public parking pad. The morning was a dull one, with grubby-ginger clouds darkening towards rain as the wind blew in from the sea. Araminta climbed out and smiled up at the six-storey apartment block. It was a fairly standard layout, ribbed by white balconies that dripped with colourful vines and flowering creepers. The corners were black glass columns alive with purple and blue refraction stipples that swarmed up and down like rodent climbers. At night the effect was sharp and conspicuous, but under a dank daylight sky it lacked any kind of verve. There was a gold crystal dome on the roof, sheltering a communal pool and spa gym. A wide swathe of elegantly maintained gardens along the front were sitting on top of the private underground garage.
Cressida’s sleek purple capsule slipped down out of the low clouds to land beside Araminta. “Well darling, what a coup.” The lawyer was wrapped in a furry black and white coat that snuggled cosily round her with every move. She glanced up at the front of the building, eyes narrowing as she saw three balconies piled high with junked fittings. “I have the access codes and the owner certificates. So let’s go up, shall we?”
Araminta had bought the entire fourth floor, with all five apartments. The whole apartment block was undergoing redevelopment, presenting an opportunity she couldn’t resist when Ikor, one of the original developers, had pulled out. Cressida walked in to the first apartment and rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”
“Why not? It’s a perfect opportunity for me.” Araminta grinned at her cousin’s dismay and walked over to the balcony doors. The glass curtained wide for her and she stepped out. There was a faint sound of buzzing and drilling as the other developers prepared their floors for occupancy. “It’s ninety years old, it needs a makeover. And look at the view.”
Cressida pushed her sapphire-glossed lips together as she looked out across the Bodant district’s park to the Cairns beyond. There was a marina along the embankment directly opposite them, its curving deco buildings radiant white, as if they had just been forged in some fusion furnace. “You got the wrong side of the park, darling. Over there is where the action and the smart money is. Beside, here you’re only a few streets from the Helie district. Really!”
“Stop being such a grump. I’ve proved I can do this, and you know it.”
“I also know how much you paid for these hovels. Honestly darling, a hundred K each. Were you kidnapped and held ransom?”
“They have three bedrooms each. They need a lot less work than the flat. The two largest have this view. And I cleared a forty K profit on the flat.”
“I still can’t believe the bank gave you the money for this.”
“Standard commercial loan. They liked my business model,” Araminta said proudly.
“And Ozzie’s coming back to save us all. Go on, you can tell me. You slept with the entire staff of the local office, didn’t you?”
“It’s very simple economics.”
“Ha! That just proves you don’t know what you’re talking about. Economics is never simple.”
“I renovate one of them—this one probably—as the show apartment, and sell the rest off. Plan based on people seeing the quality of the finish. The deposits will pay off the mortgage while I refurbish them.”
“This is the best one? Oh help me.”
“Yes, this one. And Helie is an up and coming area. Don’t be so negative. It’s annoying.” Her tone was more prickly than she�
�d intended.
Cressida was instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry darling. But my life is without risk now. Honestly, I admire you for taking this gamble. But you have to admit, it is a gamble.”
“Of course it’s a gamble. You never get anywhere in life without taking a gamble.”
“Well well, whatever happened to the little farmgirl from Langham?”
“She died. Nobody came to the funeral.”
A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose in surprise. “What have I unleashed on the world?”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me move forward like this.”
“I am. Are you going to do all the work yourself, again?”
“Most of it, yes. I’ve got some new bots, and I know where to go for all my supplies and fittings now. This is going to be a prestige development, you’ll see, all the apartments will fetch a premium.”
“I’m sure they will. Did you know most of the hotels in town are fully booked?”
“Is that relevant?”
Cressida wiped the balcony rail with a hand then leant on it. “There’s a lot of Living Dream devotees flooding in. Rumour in the gaiafield is that the Second Dreamer is on Viotia.”
“Really, I didn’t know that, but then I haven’t accessed a news show in weeks. I’m a working gal these days.”
“Keep it quiet, but the government is worried about the pressure that’s going to put on housing, among other things, like public order.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Seriously. We’ve had over two million of the faithful arrive in the last seven weeks. Do you know how many have left again?”
“No.”
“None. And if they all apply for residency, that’s going to shift the political demographic.”
“So we’re receiving immigrants again. That’s how planets develop. There’s going to be a big demand for housing. I come out a winner.”
“All I’m saying is that in times of civil disturbance property values take a dive.”
The Dreaming Page 29
