A Second Chance at Eden

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘We’ll need another boat to cope with the load,’ Lucius said after they’d filled the Anneka’s outrigger holds by the middle of the afternoon on the first day. ‘We normally only get three or four boatloads out of the whole week. I wish I’d brought a bigger team now, as well. You’ve done a good job improving things here, Eason.’

  Eason tipped back the straw hat which Althaea had woven for him, and smiled. ‘Thank you. Can you get hold of another boat?’

  ‘I’ll put in at the cathedral island this evening, ask the Bishop to assign us a second. It shouldn’t be a problem.’

  At night the picking team gathered on the lawn. Tiarella had set up a long open-range charcoal grill. They ate lobsters and thick slices of pork, washed down with juice and wine. After the meal they sang as a moon arched sedately across the sky, and the fountain sent a foaming white jet seven metres up into the air.

  Althaea was in her element as she moved between the groups with a tray, her face animated in a way Eason had never seen before. Still later, when they had stolen away to make love in the jungle beyond the restored grove, he lay back on his blanket and watched her undressing, skin stippled by moonlight filtering through the thick canopy of leaves, his resolve crystallized. Her body, a rewarding challenge, beautiful location, it didn’t get any better. He was going to stay.

  *

  Eason didn’t see them together until the third day. It was a lunch break, and he’d just walked back from the jetty to help himself to the sandwiches Tiarella had made in the kitchen. Through the window he could see most of the garden.

  Althaea was sitting in the shade of a eucalyptus tree with one of the parishioners, a lad in his teens. They were talking avidly, passing a chillflask to and fro. Her easiness with the lad irritated Eason. But he made a conscious effort to keep his feelings in check. The last thing he wanted was a scene which would draw attention and comment.

  When his retinal amp focused on the lad’s face, Eason could see a disturbing amount of adoration written there. Fair enough, she was divine after all. But there was something about his features which was familiar: he had a broad face, strong jaw, longish blond hair, clear blue eyes – a real charmer. Faces were Eason’s business, and he’d seen that face once before, recently. Yet offhand he couldn’t even point in the direction Oliviera lay.

  It was Althaea who introduced him to the lad. His name was Mullen, he was seventeen, polite and respectful, if slightly overeager. It was an engaging combination. Eason found himself warming to him.

  The three of them sat together for the meal that night, biting into broad slices of pineapple coated in a tart sauce, drinking a sweet white wine. Tiarella sat on the other side of the grill, her outline wavering in the heat shimmer given off by the glowing charcoal. Her gaze was locked on them.

  ‘So how many times have you come here to pick?’ Eason asked.

  Mullen tore his attention away from Althaea. ‘This is my first time. It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen a firedrake before.’

  ‘Where were you living before Oliviera?’

  ‘Nowhere. I’ve always lived there. This is the first time I’ve been anywhere except for other parish islands, and they’re pretty much the same.’

  ‘You mean you’ve never been on the mainland?’ he asked, surprised.

  ‘Not yet, no. I’m probably going to go next year, when I’m eighteen.’

  ‘You’ve got a real treat in store,’ Althaea said. ‘Kariwak’s a riot; but just make sure you count your fingers after you shake hands.’

  ‘Really?’ Mullen switched his entire attention back to her.

  Eason felt lonely, out of it. The truth was, their conversation had been incredibly boring all evening. They talked about nothing – the antics of the firedrakes, weather, which fish they liked best, how the picking was progressing. Every word was treated as though it had been spoken by some biblical prophet.

  He was also very aware of the way Mullen’s eyes roamed. Althaea was wearing just her turquoise shorts and a cotton halter top. It was distracting enough for him, so Heaven knew what it was doing to Mullen’s hormones – the other boys from the parish, too, for that matter. He ought to have a word with her about it.

  When he looked round the garden, Tiarella was still staring at him; her face sculpted, immobile. Maybe she was finally realizing her time was coming to an end. After eighteen years of stagnation and inertia it would be a jolt for any personality.

  He allowed Mullen and Althaea to babble on for another ten minutes, then plucked at her halter strap. ‘Come on.’

  She glanced at him, frowning as he rose to his feet, slapping sand and grass from his jeans. ‘Oh . . . not just yet.’

  ‘Yes. We need to get some sleep afterwards.’ He let an impish grin play over his lips, and picked up their blanket.

  Althaea blushed as she glanced at Mullen, lips twitching into an embarrassed smile.

  ‘Come on.’ Eason clicked his fingers impatiently.

  ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow,’ the lad mumbled.

  ‘Sure. Good night.’ He steered Althaea towards the black picket of trees. He liked Mullen, but the lad had to understand exactly who she belonged to.

  ‘That was very rude,’ Althaea whispered.

  His free arm went round her shoulder. ‘Not as rude as what I’m about to show you in a minute.’

  Althaea fought against a grin as he tickled her ribcage. Her finger poked him in retaliation. ‘Rude!’

  ‘Was not.’

  ‘Was too.’

  He looked back as he reached the trees. The glowing charcoal was spilling a pool of tangerine radiance over the lawn. It showed him Mullen covering his face with his hands, shoulder muscles knotted. And Tiarella, who hadn’t been staring at him after all, because her eyes had never moved when he and Althaea departed. She was watching Mullen.

  When the lad’s hands slipped back down to reveal a crestfallen expression, the corners of her mouth lifted into a serene smile.

  *

  Eason stood on the jetty, his arm around Althaea as they waved goodbye to the Anneka. The parishioners were leaning over the gunwale, waving back, shouting farewells which were scrambled by the wavelets lapping against the coral.

  Tiarella started walking back to the house. Eason turned to follow, and gave Althaea a reassuring hug, noting a certain wistfulness in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure your new boyfriend will be in touch. He’s madly in love with you, after all.’ He grinned broadly to show he understood.

  Althaea shot him a look of pure venom, then her face became the identical blank mask which defended Tiarella from the world.

  ‘Hey, listen—’ he began.

  But she shook herself free and ran off down the jetty. He stared after her in consternation.

  ‘What did I say?’

  Tiarella arched her eyebrow. ‘It’s not what you say, it’s what you are.’

  ‘You make me out as some kind of ogre,’ he snapped, suddenly exasperated with her, the unending stream of oblique remarks.

  ‘In medieval times that’s exactly what you would be.’

  ‘Name one thing I’ve done to hurt her.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare. We both know that.’

  ‘With or without your threats, I wouldn’t hurt her.’

  Her lips compressed as she studied him. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would. I never really thought about how you would be affected by your time here. I should have done.’

  ‘My time? You make it sound finite.’

  ‘It is. I told you that the day you came.’

  ‘Your fucking cards again!’ Crazy bitch!

  Tiarella shrugged and sauntered off down the path to the house.

  He slept alone that night, for the first time since the funeral. Guilt soaked his mind as he lay on the cot, yet he still didn’t know what it was he’d done.

  The next morning over breakfast Althaea gave him a timid smile, and he glossed over any awkwardness with an enthusiastic account of how he intended to clea
r all the island’s old service tracks with the mower tractor. Then they’d be able to start attending to the coffee bushes.

  That night he welcomed her back to his bed. It wasn’t the same; she had become reserved. Not physically, as always her body was defenceless against his skill and strength. But somewhere deep inside her thoughts she was holding herself back from him. No matter how exquisite their lovemaking was she no longer surrendered completely.

  *

  It took a certain amount of nerve to walk into the Kulu Embassy carrying three antimatter-confinement spheres. Eason was pleased to find himself perfectly calm as the glass doors of the reception area closed behind him. He asked the girl behind the desk for an interview with the military attaché, only to be told the Kingdom had no military ties with Tropicana.

  ‘What about a police or security liaison officer?’ he asked. ‘Surely you cooperate in tracking down criminals?’

  She agreed they did, and asked for his name.

  He handed over his passport, proving if nothing else that he was a bona fide citizen of Quissico. ‘And could you also say I’m a senior member of the Independence Party.’ He smiled warmly at her flustered expression.

  Three minutes later he was in a plain second-floor office with a window wall overlooking Kariwak’s eastern quarter. The man sitting on the other side of the marble desk introduced himself as Vaughan Tenvis, of indistinct age, but certainly under fifty. He wore a conservative green suit, but filled it out in a way that suggested he spent a lot of time away from the office performing more physical tasks than accessing files.

  ‘I need to speak to a representative of the Kingdom’s External Security Agency,’ Eason said. ‘And please, I don’t want the bullshit stalling routine.’

  ‘Sounds reasonable,’ Vaughan Tenvis said with a dry smile. ‘If you’re quite sure you want that much honesty. Suppose you tell me why I should allow a known terrorist organization’s quartermaster to walk out of here alive?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to be the quartermaster any more. And I’ve done you a favour.’

  ‘Ah. And there I was thinking you were going to threaten me with whatever it is you have in your case. Our sensors couldn’t quite get through the magnetic covering.’

  ‘No threats. I just want to do a deal.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The Kulu Corporation is one of the major investors in the Quissico Development Company, that makes it a target for my Party. I came to you because the ESA is more than capable of neutering the Party if it has sufficient reason.’

  ‘Very flattering. But contrary to rumour, we don’t go around terminating everyone who has a quarrel with the Kingdom. Bluntly, you’re too small and petty to warrant any effort. We monitor you, that’s all.’

  ‘Not very well. Our Party acquired some antimatter. The Kulu Corporation’s administrative centre on StAlbans is the first intended target.’

  ‘Antimatter . . .’ Vaughan Tenvis stared in shock at the case resting on Eason’s lap, his hands gripping the side of his chair. ‘Holy shit!’

  The risk of coming to the embassy was worth it, just to see the horror cracking the suave agent’s face.

  ‘As I said, I’ve done you a favour.’ Eason put the case on Vaughan Tenvis’s desk. ‘That’s all of it. I’m sure the Kingdom has the appropriate facilities to dispose of it.’

  ‘Holy shit.’

  ‘I would appreciate two things in return.’

  ‘Holy shit.’

  ‘One, your agency’s gratitude.’

  Vaughan Tenvis let out a long breath, and swallowed hard. ‘Gratitude?’

  ‘I expect to be left alone by you in future, Mr Tenvis.’

  ‘Sure. OK, I can swing that.’

  ‘I’d also like a reward. That antimatter cost the Party eight million fuseodollars. I’ll settle for one million. You can pay me in Kulu pounds if you like; and I’ll throw in the codes for the confinement systems. I’d hate you to have any accidents with them now we’re friends.’

  *

  Tenvis paid him in Kulu pounds. With the current conversion rate, he wound up with eight hundred thousand in his bank disk. Not bad for forty minutes’ work. Forty minutes to erase his life.

  Eason was back on board the Orphée an hour later, after a shopping expedition through the fancy shops of Kari-wak’s main boulevard. He picked Althaea up, and spun her around, kissing her exuberantly. Tiarella gave him a sour glance as she cast off. He even smiled at her.

  The department store’s big carrier bag was slapped down on the roof of the cabin with considerable panache. ‘I bought some essentials,’ he said as they were passing the ancient landing craft in the middle of the harbour. Althaea gasped in delight as he pulled out a couple of bottles of champagne, and three crystal glasses. Packs of honey-roast ham followed, then steaks, imported cheeses, exotic chocolates, ice-cream cartons cloaked in frost.

  ‘You’ll be sick if you eat all that lot,’ Tiarella grunted.

  He pulled a face at Althaea, who bit back on her giggles.

  ‘I got something for you, too,’ he said. ‘Actually, for us.’ He held out the flat red leather jewellery case.

  Althaea opened it cautiously. There were two platinum lockets resting on the black velvet inside.

  ‘It’s for hair,’ he told her. ‘You snip off a few strands of your hair for mine, and I do the same for you. If you want.’

  She nodded eagerly. ‘I do.’

  ‘Good.’ Finally, he produced a square box, and gave Tiarella a pointedly dubious look before he eased the lid off a fraction to show Althaea what was inside. Her eyes flashed as she saw the tiny white-silk negligee. She hugged him tightly, and licked his ear mischievously. Closer than she had been for a week.

  They sat together on the cabin roof, back to back, sipping champagne as Orphée cut through the water. He could feel the tension slipping away as the mainland fell behind.

  It wouldn’t be long, a month at most, before there was nothing left of the hardliners of the Quissico Independence Party. Vaughan Tenvis was right to say the ESA’s main activity was collecting information; but if it ever found a threat to the Kingdom it acted with terrifying efficiency to eliminate it. Nobody would come for him now.

  The just cause would go on, of course, led by whoever survived. Moderates and compromisers, those who lacked fire. And in another thirty-five years Quissico would be an independent state, just as the founding charter promised.

  One chapter of his life had closed irrevocably. He was free to embrace the new. Tiarella was now nothing more than an annoying irrelevance, one he could ignore with impunity. She was deranged, reading portents in the sky. Althaea belonged to him, and through her Charmaine. Fait accompli. If Tiarella continued to object . . . well, there had already been one boating accident in the family.

  It was for the best. He could do wonders with Charmaine; a smart tough new master with plenty of money to invest was exactly what it needed. In a few years the old place would be up and jumping.

  ‘More champagne?’ Althaea asked.

  He grinned and kissed her. ‘I think so.’

  *

  Tiarella sat behind the desk in her study, dealing from her pack of tarot cards. She was aligning them in the shape of a cross, each one pushed down firmly on the dark wooden surface with a distinct snick.

  ‘I’m going to live here permanently,’ Eason told her.

  Another card was dealt. ‘You wouldn’t enjoy it, not fulltime. Oh, granted you’re riding a crest with all these improvements you’re making right now. It’s all new and thrilling for you. But forty years of hard labour. I don’t think you’re quite cut out for that, now are you?’

  ‘I wasn’t proposing to do it all myself. I’m offering to buy in. I’ve cashed in my starship ticket, and liquidated some other investments. There’s enough money.’

  ‘A dowry. How quaint.’ The arms of the cross were laid down methodically, five cards on each side. ‘The man Althaea chooses won’t have to buy his way in. I�
��ll greet him with open arms. He will have Charmaine because she has Charmaine. It’s that simple, Eason. Have you asked her if she wants to share it with you?’

  ‘We’re virtually engaged. She’s mine, and you know it.’

  ‘Quite the opposite. She is not yours. She never will be. Her destiny is with another.’

  The sly attitude of superiority infuriated him. He leant over the desk and caught her wrist as the last card was slapped down.

  Tiarella didn’t flinch at the pressure he exerted.

  ‘Maybe you’re jealous,’ he said harshly.

  ‘Of you two being lovers? Good God, no! You can never replace Vanstone. I thought you knew that by now.’

  He bit back a furious retort.

  ‘Would you mind letting go of me now, please?’ she asked grimly.

  He released her, slouching back in his own chair. ‘The money would make an incredible difference,’ he said, refusing to give up. ‘We could buy some more tractors, clean out the rest of the groves, restore the coffee bushes, hire some labourers to prune the trees. Then there’s the house to fix up properly.’

  ‘That’s the short cut, Eason, the easy option. You want to be a manager, the grand plantation owner living in his mansion while others bring in the crop. That’s not the way to do it, not here. Life is about cycles; you can’t fight what nature has ordained. And now we’ve come round to the time when Charmaine is passed on to Althaea just as it was passed to me all those years ago. I haven’t done very well with it, but Althaea and her husband will. They’ll rebuild Charmaine slowly. Every day there will be some new accomplishment for them to rejoice about. Their whole life is going to be rich with genuine satisfaction, not this cheaply bought gratitude you offer.’