Night Without Stars (Chronicle of the Fallers Book 2)

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Night Without Stars (Chronicle of the Fallers Book 2) Page 64

by Peter F. Hamilton


  ‘Is that it?’ an awed Kysandra asked. ‘A wormhole?’

  ‘No. What you’re seeing is Cherenkov radiation,’ Fergus said. ‘The start of a wormhole. This is a wormhole.’

  As he spoke, the eerie light vanished, draining back in a single disorientating lurch. Paula instinctively increased her grip on the gridwork, fighting the impression she was moving. The last sparkle of Cherenkov luminescence at the centre of the wormhole vanished and a ripple of blackness spread out.

  Ry turned to her, his face appealing silently.

  ‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘It’s a hole through space.’

  ‘We’re opening the terminus five hundred kilometres above Lukarticar,’ Demitri said. ‘Systems stable.’

  A bright white line slowly slipped across the open wormhole – the terminator, cutting Lukarticar in half. Long serpentine strands of the aurora undulated majestically across the nightside, vanishing into daylight.

  ‘You’re now looking down on yourself from a great height,’ Demitri said with a small smile. ‘And in case you think that’s seriously weird, if we had time to play I could open the terminus directly behind you. That way you can look at the back of your own head. Trust me, that really messes with human perception. Let you in on a secret: that’s what we did the very first time Ozzie and I fired up our machine. We didn’t actually extend the terminus to Mars until a couple of hours later, after we’d checked out our designation coordinate software. There’s a lot of factors to manipulate simultaneously. We had to hack time on the college super-computer to—’

  ‘Enough,’ Paula snapped. ‘Is it fully functional?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please shift the terminus to Macule.’

  *

  Florian could barely move off the skis. Both legs were an agony of cramps. An exovision map showed him the surviving seibears carrying the last bomb, their icon perilously close to his.

  The icequake and stormwave had changed the shape of the snowfield above the Viscount, so that he could have been anywhere. But five metres away, two pairs of skies identical to his had been stuck vertically into the puckered surface, and already fresh snow had accumulated low cones around them. He half-waddled to the hole in the snow they were standing sentry over. The shifting borealis light showed him the way. As he shuffled forwards, rumpled snow beneath his feet turned from emerald to rose-pink then shaded down to blue as deep as a twilight ocean. The hole remained a constant black, its sides crusted with ice.

  I’m supposed to clamber down that?

  Resentment was burning hot in his mind. Resentment that no one had come up to greet him, to help him. Surely Kysandra would have . . .

  ‘I’m here,’ he told them through the general link.

  ‘Get down here fast,’ Kysandra responded immediately.

  ‘How?’ He didn’t mean to ask. It was weak, he knew. But after everything he’d been through, would it have killed her to show just the tiniest degree of sympathy?

  ‘Just jump,’ Paula said. ‘Use your force field to cushion your landing.’

  Florian stood on the rim, rocking in the wind. The hole seemed to grow, its darkness intensifying. And he’d had enough of being in black spaces beneath the snow tonight. Another thirty minutes and it would be dawn.

  Like that’s going to help.

  ‘Hey,’ Kysandra said. ‘I’m waiting for you, Florian. The wormhole is working. Please. Take a leap of faith.’

  He jumped.

  The ride was awful; every ripple in the ice seemed to catch him, and the juddering never stopped. He couldn’t move his arms – they were pinned to his side – and the claustrophobia was vicious.

  He was terrified he was going to wind up jammed in the hole just like the Faller giant.

  Then his feet cleared the bottom of the shaft and the force field flared out. He landed hard, and his mistreated legs gave way.

  Arms closed round him, helping him to his feet – which was painful. Waves of red hair swished across his face. His e-m suit helmet retracted and the red hair was tickling his skin. Through the jumble of tresses, he saw a mouth open wide in a smile, then a kiss.

  ‘Welcome back,’ she murmured contentedly into his ear.

  Then he was stumbling through the plyplastic door into HGT54b. He stopped in shock, a half-smile of wonder on his face. He was looking into a circle of daylight that shone across the interior. It was advancing slowly down the compartment, and the cargo pods and crates were passing through it, then tumbling away to the side, landing in a jumbled pile on a grey desert that went on forever.

  ‘That’s not the farmhouse,’ he said numbly.

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘It’s definitely not. E-m suit hood back on, and your force field. Let’s go.’

  Then she took his hand, and led him into the light.

  *

  Anala came back over the south pole and stared down in mortification at the radiant mushroom cloud that was rising over Lukarticar. It straddled the terminator, casting a filthy orange radiance across the nightside.

  She hadn’t seen the first one go off a few hours back, but the angry storm it created was evidence enough – pitiless winds assaulting the massive curtain of thick warm cloud. A mighty atmospheric battle illuminated by the cold delicate light of the aurora, as if an iridescent sea was rushing across the bottom of the world.

  ‘Ry,’ she’d called into the microphone. ‘Come in, Ry.’ A dozen times she called, a hundred, repeated on each subsequent orbit.

  Now this new atrocity had darkened the aurora, and once more the ground was smothered with belligerent, agitated clouds.

  ‘Ry, are you there? Are you alive? Anyone? Can anyone down there hear me?’

  There was no answer. Not on that orbit, or any of the seven that followed.

  After that, she obediently followed flight com’s instructions and fired the main service module rockets, braking her speed below orbital velocity. The command module began its long re-entry plunge down through the atmosphere.

  ‘Ry?’

  BOOK SEVEN

  The Faller Apocalypse

  1

  The convoy of three Zikker limousines and their escort of Varlan Regiment troop carriers and PSR cars swept along Bryan-Anthony Boulevard. Stonal was in the first Zikker with the curtains drawn across the darkened windows, preventing anyone from looking in and seeing the prime minister was sitting in the back. The other two Zikkers also had their curtains shut, but they were empty. Having three identical limousines drive together was an elaborate extension of the shell game, played for real by the security detail in charge of Adolphus’s safety.

  ‘I’m going to have my office issue a press D-restriction covering the High Bird mission,’ Stonal said as they sped past the statue of Slvasta at the intersection with Victory Regiment Avenue. ‘There’s not a lot of contact between Cape Ingmar and the rest of our population, but an unscheduled spaceflight mission is extraordinary news, especially at this time. It could leak.’

  Adolphus nodded slowly. ‘People are smarter than we give them credit for.’

  ‘Very possibly, sir.’ Once again Stonal had to hold himself back from comment. This new Adolphus was an enigma. He made decisions that wouldn’t have been countenanced ten days ago, before stepping into the space machine for treatment. They were often the correct decisions, given the perilous times they now found themselves in, but Stonal was having trouble concealing his growing alarm at how much the prime minister had changed.

  ‘I’m considering if we shouldn’t just tell them the truth. In a few instances, of course.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘The Faller Apocalypse is about to begin. It might be hard for us to conceal that from them, don’t you think?’

  ‘The panic and mistrust would be overwhelming. It is imperative we retain complete control for this fight.’

  ‘Times they are a-changing, my friend. You acknowledged that yourself.’

  ‘Yes. They will change. And if we defeat the apocalypse, our political s
tructure will no doubt undergo profound realignment. But you would be frightening everybody if you tell them straight out that the Fallers have stolen our nuclear weapons and they’re already using them. A panicked people are not a people respectful of authority. We will need compliance from the entire population if we are to defeat the Fallers. Selfishness and individualism will not win the day. My dear father always said that was the Commonwealth’s greatest weakness, allowing their citizens such a loose society.’

  ‘Well, he’d know,’ Adolphus said.

  There was enough sharpness in the voice for Stonal to glance over in surprise. For a moment the old Adolphus had shown himself – trusting nothing, suspicious, sneering.

  What if I’m wrong? Stonal asked himself. Not that it mattered; his hand had been played. Everything was in motion. In a way, Adolphus was quite right: individualism in this context was irrelevant. Maintaining strong governance was all that counted.

  The convoy drove through the main gates to the palace. Stonal’s Zikker peeled away from the other vehicles and carried on through an archway into a courtyard, then turned and went into another, smaller courtyard and drew up underneath a stone portico.

  Adolphus climbed out, and stood on the bottom step as several of his office executive staff came out to greet him. He gazed round at the tall walls of the courtyard with their long arched windows as if he was puzzled by them.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Stonal asked. Even if Adolphus knew what was coming. There was nothing he could do. Not now.

  ‘Fine,’ the prime minister said.

  ‘The security cabinet is waiting, sir,’ his chief aide said. ‘Good. Then let’s go.’

  The cabinet room was a long ornate chamber on the second floor, with a huge window at one end providing a view out across the private gardens at the rear of the palace. The grounds were still maintained at the same level of excellence as they had been when the Captains ruled Bienvenido. Topiary bushes lined the walkways, fountains played in big ponds, dense hedges marked out smaller ornate flower gardens. An airy white-stone summer house was perched on a mound half a kilometre away, looking straight back at the palace. Bright scarlet vines with pristine white flower clusters swaddled its pillars and ventured up across the roof. With the morning sun highlighting the vivid colours of the flowers, it was all very beautiful and peaceful.

  A rectangular table of black marble ran the length of the cabinet room. There were twenty seats along both sides. The one with the highest back, right in the middle, was reserved for the prime minister. Today only eight seats were taken.

  Terese was sitting opposite the high-backed chair, dressed in a green and scarlet robe which wrapped round her body like a protective shell. Unlike the other ministers of the security cabinet, she didn’t smile a welcome as Adolphus came in.

  ‘I would like Director Stonal to remain with us,’ she said as Adolphus took his chair. ‘I think the security cabinet deserves a full briefing on the security situation. Don’t you, Comrade?’

  ‘Of course,’ Adolphus said.

  Stonal stood by the double doors as the aides closed them.

  ‘I have considerable news from Cape Ingmar—’ Adolphus began.

  ‘Excuse me, prime minister,’ Terese interrupted, ‘but I choose to exercise my right to ask my Comrades for an emergency vote.’

  ‘A vote?’ Adolphus asked in surprise. ‘On what?’

  ‘Confidence in the prime minister.’

  The big room was absolutely silent. Power struggles at this level were utterly terrifying; even Stonal was entranced by the play. The senior cabinet ministers were desperately trying to remain impassive, but he could see three of them sweating.

  Nobody asked for a vote like this unless they were completely certain of winning it. Promises had been given in backrooms, deals agreed. But discovering if everyone would keep their word didn’t happen until it was time for those supremely calculating hands to rise . . .

  ‘I should shoot the crudding lot of you for treason,’ Adolphus growled. He glanced over at Stonal, an eyebrow raised. ‘Any chance of you doing that for me?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You have been compromised, Comrade,’ Terese continued. ‘You were exposed to unknown Commonwealth technology.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s you I should shoot,’ Adolphus said, continuing to stare at Stonal. ‘This is my reward for supporting you all these years? Thanks.’ He turned back to Terese. ‘Whatever he told you is a pile of steaming crud. I’m cured, not contaminated.’

  ‘Your behaviour,’ Stonal said. ‘It’s wrong. It’s been wrong ever since you came out of that machine.’

  ‘What you actually mean is that I can think rationally now I’m not twisted up with worry and fear of dying? Name one thing I’ve done that’s detrimental to this planet. One!’

  ‘It’s not what you’ve done,’ Stonal said patiently. ‘It’s the way you did it.’

  ‘Is that a song lyric?’

  Stonal flinched, genuinely puzzled. ‘And you never used to say things like that.’

  ‘As I said: I can see clearly now. I assessed the situation and took the appropriate course of action. If we waited for glorious bureaucrat committees voting on everything, that Liberty would still be back on the launch pad waiting for a consensus.’

  ‘This is irrelevant,’ Terese said. ‘There is no question that the Pericato should have been sent after the Sziu and the Warrior Angel.’

  ‘What then?’ Adolphus demanded, his face flushed with anger. ‘What have I done wrong?’

  ‘You ordered Major Danny into action on the word of someone thought to be Ry Evine. Even if he hasn’t Fallen, we know him to be allied with the Warrior Angel.’

  ‘Pilot Major Em Yulei confirmed the Sziu’s location on her next pass. And everyone at this table is lining up to ally themselves with the Warrior Angel. I saw the greed in your face, Director Stonal, when you found out about Paula being able to evacuate us to Aqueous.’

  ‘You authorized the use of nuclear weapons with the flimsiest verification,’ Stonal said. ‘It resulted in the loss of the Pericato, and the death of everyone on board. Your judgement has become reckless at best.’

  ‘It was a crudding combat situation, you moron! You can’t lawyer up after the event. Decisions have to be made. You have to have the guts to make them.’

  ‘Enough!’ Terese snapped. ‘All those who have no confidence in the prime minister, please raise your hand.’

  ‘Don’t you crudding dare!’ Adolphus shouted. ‘I still control the Party. The membership will vote for my reinstatement by lunchtime. I will fling every one of you into the yellowcake mines! You’ll be glowing in the dark as you rot to death!’

  Terese stared at him impassively as she raised her hand, and Stonal couldn’t help the frisson of worry at the small pause which followed. Then, one by one, the other hands went up.

  ‘You have just killed Bienvenido,’ Adolphus said. ‘I am the only one who knows how to lead us through the Faller Apocalypse.’

  ‘Director Stonal,’ Terese said, ‘please escort Comrade Adolphus from the cabinet room. He is to be held in custody – incommunicado – until the security cabinet decides otherwise.’

  ‘I understand,’ Stonal said. ‘This way, please, sir.’

  ‘You can’t do this!’

  ‘Sir, if you do not comply, I will have to call for officers to remove you by force. And believe me, that option has been planned for.’

  Adolphus took a couple of heavy breaths. For a moment, Stonal thought he was going to launch himself across the table at Terese. Then he gripped the edge of the table and slowly rose. ‘Contact the Warrior Angel,’ he said forcefully. ‘Talk to Paula. Listen to her. She’s the only one who can save us now.’

  ‘If the Warrior Angel survived the atom bombs that were detonated as the result of your irresponsible actions, she is free to get in touch with us,’ Terese said brittlely. ‘And I will happily discuss the terms of her surrendering her Commonwealth weapons to o
ur regiments.’

  ‘Idiots, every crudding one of you,’ Adolphus jeered, and walked away from the table.

  As Stonal escorted him from the cabinet room, he heard Terese say: ‘Comrades, our first order of business must now be to appoint an interim prime minister.’

  Four Palace Guards were waiting outside, wearing their full ceremonial uniform and trying not to look nervous. Two of them were Section Seven operatives. Stonal wanted people he could trust in a situation as momentous like this.

  ‘Comrade Adolphus is to be taken to the holding cell as briefed,’ he told them. ‘You are not to use undue force unless he physically resists.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the detail sergeant said, and saluted.

  Adolphus took Stonal’s hand. ‘Be the smart one,’ he said urgently. ‘Keep the door open for Paula. Don’t dismiss opportunities for dogma’s sake.’

  ‘Why the emphasis on Paula?’ Stonal asked with intense curiosity. ‘She is an unknown factor.’

  ‘She’s pure Commonwealth. The Warrior Angel isn’t; she just has access to some of their technology.’

  ‘And this is what I find so troubling about you, Comrade,’ Stonal said sincerely, removing his hand from Adolphus’s hold. ‘These opinions. This flavour of rationalizing. What did the space machine do to you?’

  ‘Cured me.’

  ‘Somehow I doubt that. Not in any fashion I recognize as a cure.’

  When he got back into the cabinet room, the vote had been taken. Terese was the new (interim) prime minister. She’d even moved round the table to sit in the high-backed chair.

  ‘I’d like to thank you, Director Stonal,’ she said as she gestured for him to sit. ‘Without you drawing my attention to Adolphus’s collusion with the Commonwealth space machine, Bienvenido could have been led down a very dangerous path indeed.’

  Stonal raised an eyebrow at how Adolphus was now ‘colluding’, but that was politicians for you. Obviously Terese had to negate any possibility of Adolphus regaining power, and a denunciation including a litany of previous ‘crimes’ was a time-honoured approach to stamp down hard on a dethroned political enemy. ‘You’re welcome, madam prime minister.’

 

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