The Neutronium Alchemist

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Another package,” Endron said dryly. “Again, don’t touch it, please.”

  “Is it for my balance as well?”

  “No. That one is for your other condition. It will keep your blood chemistry stable, and if it detects any metabolic problem starting from free-fall exposure it’ll datavise a warning to me.”

  “Other condition?” she asked timidly.

  “You did know you were pregnant, didn’t you?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, too ashamed to look at him. A complete stranger knowing. How awful.

  “You should have told Furay,” he remonstrated gently. “Free fall exerts some strong physiological changes on a body, especially if you’re unaccustomed to it. And in your state, you really should have been prepared properly before the spaceplane took off.”

  A warm tear squeezed out from under her eyelids. “It’s all right, isn’t it? The baby. Oh, please, I didn’t know.”

  “Shush.” Endron’s hand stroked her forehead soothingly. “The baby is just fine. You’re a very healthy young girl. I’m sorry if I frightened you; like I said, we’re not used to passengers. I suppose it must be equally strange for you, too.”

  “It’s all right, really?”

  “Yes. And the nanonic will keep it that way.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”

  “Just doing my job. I’ll have to consult some files about your diet, though, and check what food stocks we’ve got on board. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

  Louise opened her eyes, only to find the cabin blurred by liquid stretching across her irises. A lot of blinking cleared it.

  “Let’s get you mobile again,” Endron said, and released the seal on the straps holding her down on the couch. “Though you’re not to whizz about like your sister, mind.”

  His tone was identical to Mrs Charlsworth’s. “I won’t.” The rest of the sentence died on her lips as she caught sight of him. Her first thought was that he was suffering some kind of terrible affliction.

  Endron’s head was ordinary enough. He was a man in his late fifties, she guessed, with a short crop of fading black, curly hair and cheeks which appeared almost bloated, eradicating wrinkles. However, his body … He had very broad shoulders atop an inflated rib cage, she could actually see the lines of individual ribs under his glossy green ship-suit. She’d seen holograms of terrestrial sparrows at school, and the anatomical arrangement put her in mind of that puffed-out bird. His chest was huge, and very frail-looking.

  “Not seen a Martian before, huh?” he asked kindly.

  Furious with herself for staring, Louise turned her head away. “I’m not sure. Do all Martians look like you?”

  “Yep. So you’d better get used to it. This is an SII line ship after all, the rest of the crew are the same as me. Except Furay of course; that’s why he’s on board. We couldn’t fly the spaceplane down to terracompatible planets. Can’t take the gravity.”

  “How …” She wasn’t sure if this was really a fit subject to discuss so casually. It was almost as though they were talking about a terminal illness. “Why are you like that?”

  “Geneering. It’s very deliberate, dates back a while. Even with terraforming we don’t have a standard atmosphere on Mars. Our ancestors decided to meet the problem halfway. As we’re a Communist society, naturally everyone got the modification to expand our lung capacity; and that was on top of the earlier adaptations we made to ourselves to survive in the Moon’s gravity field.”

  “The Moon?” Louise asked, trying to sort things out in her mind. “You lived on the Moon first?”

  “It was the Lunar nation which terraformed Mars. Didn’t they teach you that at school?”

  “Uh, no. At least, we haven’t got to it yet.” She decided not to question him on the communism bit. Given Daddy’s opinion on that topic, it would make life a little too complicated right now.

  He was smiling gently at her. “I think that’s enough history. It’s nearing midnight, Norwich time. Perhaps you’d better get some sleep, yes?”

  She gave him an eager nod.

  Endron coached her in the elementary movements necessary to get about in free fall. Speed was not a requirement, he insisted, arriving safely and accurately at your destination was. And you must be careful of inertia, it creates huge bruises.

  With his encouragement she made her way into the life support capsule they’d been allocated: a lounge five yards to a side, made from grubby pearl-grey composite walls which were inlaid with several instrument panels with tiny orange and green lights winking below their dark glass surfaces. Plastic doors which were like a kind of solidified liquid flowed apart to reveal three “cabins” for them to sleep in (the wardrobes she had in her Cricklade bedroom were larger). There was a bathroom in the upper deck at which Louise took one look and promptly recoiled, vowing not to go to the toilet again until they were safely back on a planet.

  Genevieve shot up to embrace her as soon as she glided through the ceiling hatch. Fletcher smiled a welcome.

  “Isn’t this truly wondrous!” the little girl proclaimed. She was floating with her toes six inches off the decking, spinning like a ballerina. Two ponytails stood out at right angles from her head. When she spread her arms wide her speed slowed. A neat toe kick, too quick to follow, and she soared up to the ceiling, clasping a grab hoop to kill her movement.

  Enchanted eyes smiled at Louise. “Bet you I can do seven somersaults before I reach the floor.”

  “You probably can,” Louise said wearily.

  “Oh.” Genevieve’s face was instantly contrite. She levitated back to the decking until she was level with Louise. “I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine now. And it’s time for bed.”

  “Oww, Louise!”

  “Now.”

  “All right.”

  Endron proffered the girl a squeeze bulb. “Here, it’s a chocolate drink. Try it, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

  Genevieve started sucking eagerly on the nozzle.

  “You are recovered, lady?” Fletcher asked.

  “Yes. Thank you, Fletcher.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment, unaware of Endron watching them.

  One of the instrument panels let out a quiet bleep.

  Endron scowled and drifted over to it, anchoring himself on a stikpad.

  “Shoddy components,” he muttered.

  Fletcher gave Louise an apologetic grimace, mildly embarrassed. “I can’t stop it,” he said in a whisper.

  “Not your fault,” she whispered back. “Don’t worry. The ship still works.”

  “Yes, lady.”

  “That was nice,” Genevieve announced. She held out the empty squeeze bulb and promptly burped.

  “Gen!”

  “Sorry.”

  With Endron showing her how the cabin fittings worked, Louise finally got Genevieve into bed; a heavily padded sleeping bag stuck to the decking.

  Louise tucked her sister’s hair into the hood and kissed her gently.

  Genevieve gave her a drowsy smile and immediately closed her eyes.

  “She’ll sleep for a good eight hours now she’s got that sedative in her,” Endron said, holding up the empty squeeze bulb. “And when she wakes up she won’t be anything like as hyper. Furay told me what she was like when you boarded the spaceplane. She was having a bounceback response to the hangar fire. In a way that kind of overreaction is as bad as depressive withdrawal.”

  “I see.” There didn’t seem anything to add. She glanced back at Genevieve before the funny door contracted. For one whole night there would be no possessed, no Roberto, and no Quinn Dexter.

  I’ve done what I promised, Louise thought. Thank you, Jesus.

  Despite how tired she was feeling, she managed a prideful smile. No longer the worthless, pampered landowner daughter Carmitha had such contempt for just scant days ago. I suppose I’ve grown up a bit.

  “You should rest now, lady,” Fletcher said.

  She yawned. “I think you’re right. Are you going to bed?”

  For once Fletcher’s sedate features showed a certain lightness. “I believe I will linger awhile longer.” He indicated a holoscreen which was displaying the image from an external camera. Cloud-splattered landscape was rolling past, pastel greens, browns, and blues illuminated by Duke’s radiance. “It is not often a mortal man is permitted to view a world over the shoulder of angels.”

  “Good night, Fletcher.”

  “Good night, lady. May the Lord guard your dreams from the darkness.”

  Louise didn’t have time to dream. A hand pressing her shoulder woke her soon enough.

  She winced at the light coming through the open door. When she tried to move, she couldn’t, the sleeping bag held her too tight.

  “What?” she groaned.

  Fletcher’s face was a few inches from hers, a gloomy frown spoiling his brow. “I apologise, lady, but the crew is in some confusion. I thought you should know.”

  “Are they on board?” she cried in dismay.

  “Who?”

  “The possessed.”

  “No, Lady Louise. Be assured, we are perfectly safe.”

  “What then?”

  “I think they are in another ship.”

  “All right, I’m coming.” Her hand fumbled around until she found the seal catch inside the bag; she twisted it ninety degrees and the spongy fabric split open along its length. After she dressed she wrapped her hair into a single artless ponytail, and swam out into the tiny lounge.

  Fletcher showed her the way to the bridge, wriggling along the tubular companionways which connected the life-support capsules, and through dimly lit decks which appeared even more cramped than their lounge.

  Louise’s first sight of the bridge reminded her of the Kavanagh family crypt beneath the manor’s chapel: a gloomy room with candlelike crystals sitting on top of instrument consoles, spilling out waves of blue and green light which crawled across the walls. Machinery, ribbed tubes, and plastic cables formed an untidy glyptic over most bulkheads. But most of all it came from the four crew members lying prone on their bulky acceleration couches; eyes closed, limbs immobile. A thin hexagonal web was stretched over them, holding them down on the cushioning.

  Furay and Endron she recognised, but this was the first time she’d seen Captain Layia and Tilia, the Far Realm’s node specialist. Endron had been right, the other Martians had exactly the same anatomical features as himself. In fact there was very little difference between genders; Louise wasn’t entirely sure the two women even had breasts. On top of that rib cage they would have been absurd.

  “Now what?” she asked Fletcher.

  “I am not sure, their repose refutes any disturbance.”

  “It’s not sleep, they’re datavising with the flight computer. Joshua told me that’s what happens on a starship bridge. Um, I’ll explain later.” Louise blushed faintly; Joshua had become such a fixture in her life it was hard to remember who he actually was. She used some grab hoops to move herself over to Furay’s couch, and tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. Somehow the thought of disturbing the others didn’t arise, a child-fear of how those strange figures would respond.

  Furay opened his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to know what was happening.”

  “Yeah, right. Hang on.” The webbing peeled back and curled up, vanishing into the edge of the couch’s cushioning. Furay pushed off, and slowly twisted his body around to the vertical, using a stikpad to anchor himself in front of Louise. “Nothing too good, I’m afraid. The navy squadron’s commanding admiral has put every ship on condition amber, which is one stage short of an actual combat alert.”

  “Why?”

  “The Tantu has dropped out of our communications net. They won’t respond to any signals. She’s worried that they might have been hijacked. Apparently there was some kind of garbled message a few minutes after the frigate’s spaceplane docked, then nothing.”

  Louise flashed a guilty glance at Fletcher, who remained unperturbed. The action did not go unnoticed by Furay. “The Tantu’s spaceplane left Bennett Field about ten minutes after us. Care to comment?”

  “The rebels were close behind us,” Louise said quickly. “Perhaps they stowed away on the other spaceplane.”

  “And took over an entire frigate?” Furay said sceptically.

  “They have energy weapons,” Louise said. “I’ve seen them.”

  “Try waving a laser rifle around on the bridge of a Confederation Navy starship and the marines would cut you into barbecue ribs.”

  “I have no other explanation,” she said earnestly.

  “Hummm.” His stare informed her he was having big second thoughts about bringing her on board.

  “What remedial action does the admiral propose?” Fletcher asked.

  “She hasn’t decided yet. The Serir has been sent to rendezvous. The situation will be reviewed when they report.”

  “She?” Fletcher asked in surprise. “Your admiral is a lady?”

  Furay pulled at his chin, trying to work out just what the hell he was dealing with.

  “Yes, Fletcher,” Louise hissed. “We don’t have many female estate managers on Norfolk,” she explained brightly to Furay. “We’re not used to ladies holding important positions. Do excuse our ignorance.”

  “You don’t strike me as unimportant, Louise,” Furay said.

  His tone was so muddled, silky, and scathing at the same time, she couldn’t decide if he was making what Mrs Charlsworth called an overture, or just being plain sarcastic.

  Furay suddenly stiffened. “It’s moving.”

  “What is?”

  “The Tantu. It’s under way, heading up out of orbit. Your rebels must have hijacked it, there’s no other reason.”

  “The ship is flying away?” Fletcher asked.

  “That’s what I just said!” Furay told him in irritation. “They must be heading up for a jump coordinate.”

  “What’s the admiral doing about it?” Louise asked.

  “I’m not sure. The Far Realm isn’t a combat craft, we don’t have access to the squadron’s strategic communications.”

  “We must follow it,” Fletcher announced.

  “Pardon me?”

  Louise glared at him with silent urgency.

  “This ship must follow the frigate. People must be warned of what it carries.”

  “And just what does it carry?” Furay asked mildly.

  “Rebels,” Louise said hurriedly. “People who’ve looted and murdered, and will do so again if they aren’t arrested. But I’m sure we can leave the administering of justice to the Confederation Navy, can’t we, Fletcher?”

  “Lady—”

  “Exactly what has got you so all-fired het up?” Captain Layia asked. Her couch webbing peeled back allowing her to glide over towards the three of them.

  Her face did have a few feminine qualities, Louise admitted, but not many; the shaven scalp was too unsettling—all ladies had long hair. The judgemental way Layia took in the scene betrayed her authority; that she was in command had never been in doubt from the moment she spoke, it had nothing to do with the silver star on her epaulette.

  “I am concerned that we should follow the frigate, ma’am,” Fletcher said. “The rebels on board cannot be allowed to spread their sedition any further.”

  “Nor will they be allowed to,” Layia said patiently. “I can assure you the admiral does not regard the hijacking of a navy frigate lightly. However, it is a navy matter, and we are just a supply ship. It is not our problem.”

  “But they must be stopped.”

  “How? If you use combat wasps you’ll kill everyone on board.”

  Fletcher appealed to Louise, who could only shrug, though the motion didn’t quite come off in free fall.

  “The admiral will send a ship to pursue them,” Captain Layia said. “When it arrives in a star system it will simply broadcast the situation to the authorities. The Tantu will be unable to dock at any port, and eventually their consumables will run out, forcing them to negotiate.”

  “Those on board will not be allowed to disembark?” Fletcher asked apprehensively.

  “Absolutely not,” the captain assured him.

  “Providing the pursuit ship manages to keep up with them through their ZTT jumps,” Furay said pessimistically. “If Tantu programs for a sequential jump sequence, then anyone following will be in trouble, unless it’s a voidhawk. Which it won’t be, because the squadron doesn’t have one.” He trailed off under the captain’s stare. “Sorry, but that’s the normal method to avoid tracking, and every navy ship can perform sequential jumps. You know that.”

  “Ma’am, please,” Fletcher entreated, “if there is any chance the rebels can escape, we have to fly after them.”

  “One, you’re a passenger. I believe Mr. Furay explained how we are obliged to stay in Norfolk orbit as long as the navy requires, and no amount of money can alter that. Two, if I broke orbit to chase the Tantu, then the admiral would have me brought back and relieved of my duty. Three, as you’ve been so helpfully informed, the Tantu can perform sequential jumps; if a top-line frigate can’t follow them through those manoeuvres, then we certainly can’t. And four, mister, if you don’t get off my bridge right now, I’ll sling you into a lifeboat and give you a one-way trip back down to the land you love so dearly. Have you got all that?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Louise said, feeling an inch small. “Sorry to bother you. We won’t do it again.”

  “Aw shit,” Endron called from his acceleration couch. “I’m getting multiple processor dropouts. Whatever this glitch is, it’s multiplying.”

  Layia looked at Louise, and jabbed a finger at the hatch.

  Louise grabbed Fletcher’s arm and pushed off with her feet, trying to propel them towards the hatchway. She didn’t like the expression of anguish on his face one bit. Her trajectory wasn’t terribly accurate, and Fletcher had to flip them aside from one of the consoles.

  “What are you trying to do?” Louise wailed when they were back in the lounge they’d been allocated. “Don’t you understand how dangerous it is to antagonize the captain?” She caught herself and clamped a hand over her mouth, distraught at the gaffe. “Oh, Fletcher, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

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