Great North Road

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Tilly Lewis was waiting for him when Sid came in, carrying her coat and fold-down pink umbrella which was still dripping on the worn carpet. He grinned at the damp tassels of hair she was squeezing. ‘Is it raining?’

  ‘Comedy master, huh?’

  ‘Come on through.’

  The seal on the door of his office turned blue.

  ‘So what have you got for me?’ Sid asked.

  There was a slightly awkward pause as she avoided eye contact. ‘Well, there was definitely a murder in apartment 576B.’

  ‘Aye, come on!’

  ‘Full report,’ she said as her e-i loaded the file into the office’s network. ‘I’m sorry, Sid, I know how critical this was for you. But, really, it was months ago, and that apartment has been cleaned twice a week ever since. That’s on top of the bleach job that was done on it by Reinert’s people.’

  ‘You’ve got to give me something.’

  Tilly nodded in discomfort. ‘It’s more or less a definite that the murder did happen there, that 576 wasn’t a staging post. There was a sizeable pool of 2North blood on the floor in the lounge. Bleach had ruined most of it, but we got a positive DNA match. Then we confirmed a small blood trail to the bathroom, where the body was put in the bath. That’s right?’

  ‘Aye. Blazczaka and the others confirmed that’s where the body was when they arrived.’

  ‘It was put there to bleed out. The heart was a mess, of course, there was no arterial spurt aside from the kill stab. But given the size of the wound, leakage would occur for a while afterwards. So moving him was done to reduce mess in the apartment. In my opinion.’

  ‘Whoever did it, didn’t want to hang around, and they didn’t want Tallulah to find out. Fair enough. But they were still thinking ahead, about the disposal.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And there’s nothing else you can tell me?’

  ‘We eliminated every fingerprint we found, every DNA trace. They’re all accounted for, either St James staff or Tallulah’s friends. There’s nothing there that’s going to help you. I ran every test we have, took more samples than we do normally.’

  ‘Aye, thanks, I appreciate that.’

  ‘Where does that leave you?’

  ‘Putting together a status report for O’Rouke. What happens after that ain’t up to me.’

  Tilly pressed her lips together. ‘All the things we can do these days, the avalanche of data available; I really thought every crime could be solved if you threw enough resources at it.’

  ‘Yes, this one is different, that’s for sure.’

  She stood and brushed straggly hair out of her eyes. ‘Sometimes you’ve just got to let go, Sid.’

  ‘So I’m learning.’

  *

  Sid had lunch in the canteen with Ian. Every table was full; all officers were still on alert, ready to respond to the GE Border Directorate in case the gateway was breached.

  ‘I can’t see it happening,’ Ian said as he ate his tomato salad. ‘Those GE troops are tough bastards, and they’ve got the full riot-suppression gear.’

  ‘This isn’t a riot,’ Sid said. ‘Highcastle is a city of smart, educated people who are terrified. It’s only going to take ten of them to get truly pissed off with the GE, and they’ll go back to their microfacture shops and return with real weapons. It’ll be Amsterdam in ’21 all over again.’

  ‘I heard they’ve got Legionnaire squads backing them up. Rocco over at Blakelaw Station said he saw them arrive at Last Mile. Blacked-out vans, and everything.’

  ‘There’s three million people on the other side. I don’t care what kind of Horatio shit the troops pull on the ramp up to the gateway, they’ll get through in the end.’

  ‘So turn the gateway off.’

  ‘And cut off the bioil? Not a chance.’

  ‘Well, I still don’t see what they expect us to do if they do come pouring through. It’ll be the HDA that’ll have to deal with it.’

  Ralph Stevens was suddenly standing by their table. ‘Did someone call for the cavalry?’

  ‘Hey.’ Sid grinned up. ‘Join us? We can find you a chair somewhere.’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’ Ralph handed over a Mikalljan store bag. ‘Here’s that shirt from Kolhapur you asked for. Try it out. If you like it my contact can get you some more. The fabric is syeel, it doesn’t grow anywhere else, something to do with soil enzymes.’

  Sid took the bag and placed it beside his feet. ‘Thanks.’

  Ralph gave a one-finger salute and walked off.

  ‘A shirt?’ Ian asked.

  ‘Aye, this syeel stuff is supposed to be the best cotton in the galaxy. Did you hear Aldred was here this morning?’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘They’ve lost track of Zebediah. He hasn’t been seen in the Independencies since the expedition began. None of his followers know where he is.’

  ‘Well that’s no surprise, not really.’

  ‘No.’ Sid stabbed a meatball from the centre of his spaghetti. ‘I suppose not.’

  Tuesday 26th March 2143

  The sun was bright enough that it actually made the security film on O’Rouke’s office windows glow a subdued saffron. The haze permeating the office somehow managed to emphasize the pock-marks on the Chief Constable’s face, darkening his skin tone. It didn’t help that he sat behind his desk in silence as Sid briefed him. His conclusion: the North was murdered as a result of some inter-company fight.

  ‘We can hold Ernie and his crew for another forty-eight hours without charge, but after that we’ll have to reapply. I have to show the judge that our files have been forwarded to the prosecution bureau for assessment. Once that happens and charges are brought, it’ll be public record there was no carjacking. A North was murdered.’

  O’Rouke remained silent, unmoving, which was unnerving. Sid was desperate for some kind of hint. Slow-burn anger, full screaming rant?

  ‘How is this possible?’ O’Rouke said quietly. ‘I mean, for fuck’s sake, two months and bloody millions! And we haven’t even got all the sodding agency and specialist invoices filed yet. Now you’re telling me we still don’t have anyone we can pin it on?’

  ‘We have Ernie Reinert.’

  ‘That shitbag? So fucking what?’

  ‘You can use what we know to deflect. Tell the reporters it was an outside hit. That it’s all down to money and bioil. That the kill order could have come from any company or bank or billionaire across the trans-stellar worlds.’

  ‘And what about his identity? I’m supposed to face the news filth and say we don’t even know who the dead arsehole is?’

  ‘That’s down to the North family. Their records aren’t good enough.’

  ‘Fucking brilliant. You want me to blame Augustine North now? Maybe I’ll just stab myself in the eye with a blunt stick, it’ll be less painful.’

  Sid resisted the impulse to smirk. ‘I told you this bloke was good. Unless we find out what corporate war is being waged, we’re never going to move this on.’

  ‘And you’re going to find that out, are you?’

  ‘No, sir. Look, we’ve done everything we were asked to by the HDA, we proved it wasn’t their stupid alien. Ask them to help. If Ralph agrees, he can probably fling Reinert and the others into some polar penal colony where they won’t come back from. He’s got the authority, and crap knows HDA aren’t afraid to use it. Have you seen the state they reduced Reinert to? They’re pretty ruthless, and we’ve done everything they asked.’

  ‘The devil has personally chosen me to crap on, Hurst, I swear it. You know I’m set to retire in another eighteen months? When this hits the transnet I’ll have about two minutes to clear my desk and get escorted out.’

  ‘Can’t imagine the force without you, sir.’

  ‘Stop brown-nosing you stupid dick, that’s Jenson’s job. You’re real police.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You reckon Stevens would go for this exile thing?’

  ‘At this point
, how can it hurt to ask? Maybe Jenson San could handle the question for you?’

  ‘Too bloody right he would. All right, leave it with me.’

  ‘And the investigation? What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You’re sure you can’t go any further?’

  ‘I don’t see how.’ Which was going out on a very long and very fragile limb. But if the new surveillance didn’t produce results, O’Rouke would never know.

  ‘Ah bollocks to it: close it down. Hand everyone their case-end certificate, deep-cache the network files. You and Lanagin can resume general rota duty. Send the evidence you’ve harvested on Reinert to the prosecutor, but not until tomorrow. I’ll get Jenson to talk to Stevens today.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll organize that.’

  ‘And, Hurst, make fucking sure everyone understands this is still classified.’

  ‘Got it.’

  *

  The conference room was one which any corporate CEO would be familiar with. Big oval table with democratically positioned leather chairs, perfectly neutral air-con atmosphere, holographic panes on the wall, neat consoles at every place. Expensive and efficient.

  Major Vermekia didn’t approve. He found it an indication of how far corporate culture had pervaded every aspect of human activity. It was blandification, rubbing everything down to a smooth managed expectation. Military life shouldn’t be like that. Officers should be constantly reminded their decisions held people’s lives in the balance. And for an HDA officer, that could well mean millions of lives.

  Despite his disapproval, he kept his expression neutral as he followed General Shaikh into the conference room. The General was certainly a man of honour. Rare enough in this day and age. Shaikh would do what had to be done, no matter his surroundings, of that Vermekia was confident.

  The Sirius science team Captain Toi had assembled were standing beside their chairs. Those big panes on the wall cast a faint pink light across the room. Instead of corporate accountancy data, each one carried a similar image of Sirius, its seething photosphere mottled by dark blemishes, plasma warts screwing up the flux lines. They accounted for over half the surface area now.

  Shaikh took the chair at the head of the table, and gestured everyone else to sit. ‘Captain Toi?’ he asked.

  She stood up. ‘Sir. We sent forty-eight satellites through the Cape Town war gateway. Thirty-one remain functional.’

  ‘What happened to the rest?’ Shaikh asked.

  ‘Solar radiation storms knocked them out. They were in the closest orbits. We now don’t orbit anything closer than twenty million kilometres of Sirius.’

  ‘The storms are that powerful?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I see. Proceed.’

  ‘Twenty-one satellites are in the twenty- to twenty-eight-million-kilometre orbit, scanning the star. They’re viewing the photosphere in visual spectra as well as scanning Sirius’s magnetic and gravitational fields and quantum signature. So far they have detected absolutely zero disturbance in the surrounding quantum fields. There are unusual fluctuations in the magnetic field, which correspond to the twists in the convection layer. But the astronomy team believe they originate within the star, and could be caused by deep current patterns within the core.’

  ‘Is this a known phenomenon?’ the General asked.

  ‘Sir, this is Dr Tavarez, our compressed-matter expert.’

  Dr Tavarez, a tall, slender academic with a balding scalp, nodded nervously as everyone turned to him. ‘General. We’ve not seen radiation-zone currents produce quite this kind of cycle before, but we are dealing with exceptionally large timeframes, especially in relation to historical astronomy.’

  ‘Doctor, I simply need to know if this is natural.’

  ‘I understand. Given the sheer size of Sirius, an asymmetric imbalance within the radiative zone, or even the neutron core itself, could conceivably operate on this kind of thousand-year timescale. Just because we haven’t encountered it before does not negate its possibility. We are constructing theoretical models which admittedly require a stretch of credulity, but will provide a framework to explain the observed effects. And although I personally regard the Red Controversy as dubious at best, the facts we witness today are undeniable.’ He waved a bony hand at the panes. ‘There is also the response of the St Libra plants. To have an automatic reaction to this event is the strongest indicator that it has happened before; frequently, in order for a plant to evolve a response. Something affects Sirius’s magnetic field on a regular basis. It has to be an inordinately powerful cyclic influence, which suggests that the core is responsible.’

  ‘So it is natural?’

  ‘I believe so. Certainly the remaining satellite data seems to support an absence of Zanth activity.’

  ‘Captain?’ the General said.

  One of the panes changed to show a 3D orbital schematic of the Sirius system, with nineteen solid planets, including St Libra, orbiting between the two stars, and three small rocky airless worlds chasing odd elliptical high-inclination orbits around Sirius B. The ten remaining sensor satellites shone as green triangles, covering a volume of space thirty AUs from Sirius A.

  ‘Not one of the satellites has detected any kind of fluctuation within the quantum fields. There is simply no evidence of any kind of Zanth activity as we understand it,’ Toi said. ‘Sirius space is completely clear.’

  Vermekia cleared his throat. ‘So if we disregard the sheer size of the event, there’s nothing to make us suspect it is of Zanth origin?’

  ‘There is its incongruity,’ Dr Tavarez said. ‘Although I am loath to rule out anything in a natural universe, this sunspot outbreak is completely unprecedented.’

  ‘But not artificial? Not generated by an external force?’ Shaikh persisted.

  ‘I don’t see how it could be,’ Tavarez said. ‘Whatever is happening within the star’s core is the key to this, for that is where the magnetic field is generated. It’s going to take decades of study to understand the core’s deep cycles.’

  The General looked round the table, making brief eye contact with each of the scientists. ‘I understand this is fascinating to you on an intellectual level, but equally you must understand the effect it is having across the trans-stellar worlds. I require a consensus. Are you agreed there is no evidence of the Zanth at Sirius?’

  ‘Sir,’ Toi said. ‘That is the conclusion of this committee.’

  ‘Thank you. Captain Toi, I am hereby officially cancelling the Zanthswarm stage two alert. Please notify the Situation Centre. Our forces are to stand down.’

  ‘General,’ Dr Tavarez asked, ‘may we retain the satellites to continue our observation?’

  ‘Major?’ Shaikh asked.

  ‘Impossible to bring them back through the war gateway,’ Vermekia said. ‘And if we did, they’re dangerously radioactive; I don’t see what we’d do with them. But retaining the war gateway opening just to maintain communication links with the satellites would be expensive.’

  ‘Can they be monitored from St Libra?’

  ‘I’m sure some kind of antenna can be put in place at our Highcastle office, yes.’

  ‘See to it. Does anyone have an estimate how long the sunspot outbreak will last?’

  ‘Several months at least,’ Captain Toi said. ‘That will simply be how long it takes for the current spots to dissipate. If more continue to erupt, then the timescale simply cannot be known. It must have lasted a reasonable length of time for it to be noticed by naked-eye astronomers.’

  ‘Years, then?’

  ‘We think that’s likely, yes.’

  ‘And the effect on St Libra?’

  ‘General,’ Professor Dendias, the climatologist, said. ‘I believe we’re looking at a major environmental shift. The sunspot activity hasn’t yet reached a peak, although it is slowing. The first spots to emerge remain substantial, and our estimate has them enduring for a couple of months. St Libra’s atmosphere is already reacting to the reduced solar infall; there have bee
n reports of rain becoming ice, and even unconfirmed reports of snow from the southernmost Independencies. This is just the start, there’s no telling what the ultimate effect may be. We might even see the inauguration of temperate bands in the north and south that will persist for years.’

  ‘I see. My thanks to all of you for the work you’ve done.’ The General stared at the panes while everyone except for Vermekia filed out. When the door closed and the blue seal light outlined it, he cocked his head at Vermekia. ‘You’ve remained in contact with Elston?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Wukang is hanging on in there.’

  ‘Are the warheads secure?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I receive daily confirmation of that. However, the e-Ray link is now somewhat tenuous.’

  ‘And the murders?’

  ‘The Newcastle police are convinced their body was the result of a corporate war. I have to admit the evidence they’ve amassed points to that. However, Stevens has briefed me there remains one semi-official lead the chief detective is following up with our assistance. I’ll wait and see how that plays out before passing judgement. The murder of Coombs at Wukang is more pressing. Elston is convinced an alien is picking off his people. There are some perplexing incidents building up out there. But Passam is looking at evacuation.’

  ‘No. Wukang and the others are to remain until we have proof of an alien or whoever murdered Coombs is exposed. Now the Zanthswarm alert is over, can we get the extra Legionnaires we promised out to him?’

  ‘The remaining Daedalus planes and the SuperRocs have been cleared for flight. But by all accounts flying over the Eclipse Mountains right now is going to be tough.’

  ‘A war gateway, then?’

  Vermekia sucked down a breath. ‘Can be done, of course. We could drop a Daedalus through at high altitude above Wukang. But we wouldn’t be able to recover by that method, of course. It’s the anchor problem, as always. If we want direct access to the middle of the Brogal continent you’re looking at constructing a new gateway. It would cost tens of billions.’