Great North Road

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Do we know what?’

  ‘The gateway technicians think it might be something equivalent to our EarthShield quantum-warp stations, sir.’

  General Shaikh gave Fendes a cool look. ‘How in Allah’s name did Constantine get hold of that technology?’

  ‘Industrial espionage, I would suggest,’ the major replied.

  ‘I disagree,’ Vermekia said. ‘Either Jupiter developed it on their own, like the reactionless space drive, or they’ve harvested it from an advanced sentient race.’

  ‘On St Libra?’

  Vermekia shrugged. ‘That would be the logical conclusion.’

  ‘Captain,’ Shaikh said. ‘How close to Jupiter can the gateway open?’

  ‘We think about seven million kilometres, sir.’

  ‘Very well, I suppose that will have to—’ He stopped in shock as his e-i sent him a grade one alert. Two of the Sol section wall panes were changing, bringing up emergency situation charts. Earth’s high-orbit sensor satellite armada was registering a change in spacetime fifty thousand kilometres above the Pacific Ocean.

  ‘Not a rift,’ Captain Toi barked. ‘Repeat, not a Zanth rift.’

  ‘What is it?’ Shaikh demanded.

  ‘Sir, it’s a trans-spacial connection. It’s holding remarkably stable – there’s barely an emergence jitter. And it’s approximately one metre in diameter.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think the mountain just came to Mohammed,’ Vermekia said quietly.

  ‘Sir,’ Captain Toi turned to the General, looking astonished. ‘It’s emitting a comm link, interfacing with our strategic communication satellite squadron. Incoming call, using Jupiter diplomatic encryption.’

  ‘Use my key,’ Shaikh told his e-i, ‘route the call to this station.’

  Everyone at the Sol station watched Constantine North’s youthful face materialize on the screen in front of General Shaikh.

  ‘General.’

  ‘Mr North.’

  ‘You wanted to talk to me?’

  ‘I certainly did. You seem to have developed some remarkable technology out there.’

  ‘Thank you. As have you. I’m a great admirer of EarthShield.’

  ‘I was referring to the spaceship drive.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Your agent took something from Newcastle.’

  ‘My son took an alien into custody, an alien that may well have been the one who killed my brother and my nephews.’

  ‘This isn’t the time to get personal, Constantine. That is the first sentient alien we have ever encountered. We need to establish a dialogue, not wreak vengeance. We cannot afford another interstellar enemy.’

  ‘I am sorry that you judge me in that fashion, General. The dead are dead, nothing can bring them back; I am concerned solely with protecting the living, all of the living, wherever and whoever they may be.’

  ‘As am I. The reason the Human Defence Alliance exists is to safeguard our species.’

  ‘General, please understand I have no quarrel with you. I simply believe I am better placed to manage this incursion. It is us Norths that have attracted its attention. We are what it wants.’

  ‘You have no right to monopolize this. We have to know what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘I have no intention of monopolizing whatever information this contact produces.’

  ‘Good. Can I send a team to Jupiter to verify the encounter?’

  ‘Regretfully, no.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The HDA does not enjoy my full trust.’

  ‘I find that insulting. My people are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect humans wherever they are, including Jupiter, if you were ever in need.’

  ‘Please, General. You knew the alien was real. You knew twenty years ago, yet you deliberately kept that information to yourselves. I’ve seen the recordings of poor Angela Tramelo’s rather brutal interrogation. I saw what you pulled from her memory. Yet you filed it in the deepest cache you have and conveniently forgot about it. Do not presume to lecture me on responsibility.’

  ‘Images from a disturbed girl’s mind do not constitute proof of anything. They could have been a zone drama she fixated on, a nightmare, a psychosis. We didn’t know. Coming out and officially claiming the monster existed would have caused panic and fear. Our protection is not just physical. Civilization requires order to continue functioning. That too must be maintained.’

  ‘Indeed. You are responsible to your political paymasters, and their eternal quest for the status quo. I am not. I will find out exactly what this creature is and where it comes from. I will also discover its intent. When that information is available, I will make it freely available to everyone. With or without your consent and approval. I believe we are approaching a time of profound change, both materially and philosophically. I hope you can adapt, General, I truly do, for I see you are an honourable man at heart, and such people are few and far between in these times.’

  ‘Constantine—’

  ‘I’ll contact you when we have some information. You have my word on that.’

  The link ended. Up on the big panes, the sensor satellites were reporting the trans-spacial connection had closed.

  ‘Now what?’ Captain Toi asked.

  ‘We wait,’ the General said. ‘And possibly pray.’

  *

  Constantine took the transit pod over to toroid three by himself. The rotating wheel was at the end of the habitat amalgamation next to the original hostel wheel, separated by a latticework spindle three hundred metres long. Constantine didn’t want to place the rest of the inhabitants in danger when the encounter finally occurred. The spindle even had explosive separation bolts. Just in case.

  Toroid three had been built over eight years ago out of a superstrength carbon–titanium compound developed at Jupiter. That shell remained fixed, but its internal systems were in a permanent state of rebuild, ensuring the most advanced technology was always available in anticipation of this moment.

  Constantine made his way to the reception chamber’s supervision centre, a simple circular room with a single simple black leather office chair in the centre. He didn’t need the paraphernalia of consoles and screens and zones embraced by the rest of the human race, not with his resequenced brain’s multitude of connections and visualization routines. He sat down in the old chair he’d brought all the way from Earth fifty-five years ago, and waited. On the other side of the metamolecule wall, the main reception facility was a hemispherical chamber ten metres in diameter. The surface of both the floor and walls was currently configured to be soft, like a layer of sponge. Its only solid artefacts were a cot bed, a basin, and a toilet. A ring near the ceiling apex glowed with a blue-white spectrum matching Sirius under more normal conditions.

  Satellites swirling around the constellation fed their senses into Constantine’s brain, showing him the lightwave ship’s arrival. It docked at toroid three’s spindle port.

  Constantine opened a link to Clayton. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘This is definitely the way to travel,’ Clayton replied. ‘Good job I don’t get vertigo, you could actually see the sun shrinking behind us.’

  ‘And your guest?’ It was a courtesy question, as more than half his augmented receptors were linked with the scanners that encaged the alien.

  ‘It’s been a good boy. Are you seeing that internal structure?’

  ‘Yes. Most interesting.’

  ‘Can I come down with it?’

  ‘You know the answer. This is where I get to come out and play.’

  ‘Father.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Be careful.’

  ‘I don’t believe this situation will be settled by violence. But, yes, I will be careful.’

  ‘We’ll have the medics and space marines standing by anyway.’

  ‘Aye, space marines! Hopefully the time of such nonsense is coming to an end. I said much the same to General Shaikh.’

  ‘How did h
e take it?’

  Constantine smiled wryly. ‘I don’t think he was best pleased.’

  ‘No kidding? Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, send it down, please. And good job, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  A minute later the centre of the reception chamber ceiling distended, a translucent blue bulb surged down until its base touched the floor. The alien was inside, standing perfectly still as it was gripped by the smartfluid. It remained standing as the blue substance poured back up into the ceiling like an inverted raindrop splash.

  Constantine waited for a few moments, but it still didn’t move. There was no hint that it was anything other than a statue of leathery rock. He zoomed his vision in, examining the creature’s eyes. That was the giveaway, the human orbs flicked round, searching the chamber.

  ‘My name is Constantine North.’ His voice filled the reception chamber. ‘And I must say, from a quantum dynamics point of view, you have a remarkable composition.’ In case the creature wasn’t auditory capable, the words also flowed along the curving wall in fifty-centimetre-high purple lettering. Constantine generously displayed what he was perceiving, projecting a hologram image into the air next to his visitor. A humanoid form, with shadows of internal structure.

  ‘Your molecules have an odd quantum signature, they’re not quite in phase with spacetime. But they mimic our physiological layout, as if they’re embryonic, ready to become one of us, or maybe the opposite.’

  The alien turned its head. Constantine studied the shift of the molecules’ quantum state which allowed the solid skin to become fluidic. It was an extraordinarily complex fluctuation pattern. One that would presumably allow the solid blade fingers to flex, to shred a human heart.

  ‘I don’t know what additional abilities you have, but we will do our utmost to contain you. Should you manage to break your bonds, well, there are weapons of last resort that will be used against you. I did not have you brought here out of hostility. I simply wish to converse with you. If you are not capable of breaking out of this reception chamber, then you will remain here until you choose to initiate communication. That is really all I have to say.’

  He sat back in the chair, swinging slightly from side to side, waiting . . .

  The alien’s quantum signature abruptly altered again. Molecules flipped to a normal state, interfacing perfectly with space-time. Becoming real. The visual manifestation of the change was impressive. Its tough hide gained colour and texture in less than a second, materializing into a smart blue-grey business suit, worn with a white and grey striped shirt and a natty purple tie. The face shivered into human skin, with dark-brown hair cut in an expensive neat style.

  An adult North took a slow breath, and gazed round at the chamber with a mildly disdainful expression.

  ‘Ah,’ Constantine said in delight. ‘Nephew Aldred, I presume?’

  *

  Wide arcs of snow sluiced away from both sides of MTJ-1’s plough blade as Angela kept the power on to the axle-hub motors. Wipers swept the windscreen vigorously, clearing the constant impact splatter of the crystalline slush. She concentrated hard on the open ribbon of flat snow ahead, making sure there were no boulders in her path. The patchy radar image on the windscreen wasn’t a lot of help; huge conglomerations of ice were clinging to the radar’s housing. That focus helped her to ignore the stink in the MTJ’s cab. Omar was in the passenger seat, jaw clamped tight against nausea and distress, trying to show an interest in the river that unrolled ahead of them. It was three days since they started driving along the tributary, and the rest of the convoy personnel were only just starting to shake off the illness. Elston and Garrick were on the passenger seats behind her, both of them wrapped in blankets and toughing out the discomfort as their bodies slowly recovered from the toxin.

  It hadn’t taken Camm Montoto long to isolate and identify the poison. Microscopic narsberry spores had been injected into the composition gel. Even Angela had been worried when that was announced. Narsberry was notoriously toxic. The spores were microscopic and airborne; poorly washed food resulted in dozens of hospitalizations each year. And this dosage level was a lot stronger than anything a dusty lettuce could impart; even her kidneys might not fully recover. Whoever it was, they’d come perilously close to murdering everyone in the convoy.

  So now, Angela was gunning the MTJ hard, chasing down the tributary as fast as she dared. As if that would take her away from danger, from the would-be serial killer and the monster in the trees. But Leif had been right, the river was a road through this difficult land, flat and level, in some places a couple of hundred metres wide. She’d learned to be more cautious in the wide areas, the river was shallower there, which meant there were boulders buried in the ice and snow the big vehicle was cruising over. There’d been a few strikes when she was taking point and hadn’t read the radar quite right. Not really watching out, not seeing the abnormal lumps until too late. Then came the frightening screech as the bottom of the blade shaved the rock, and the MTJ gave a lurch before settling back down again. But the MTJ could take it. She relished powering on with the brute of a machine – it was like taking revenge on the planet and everything it had thrown at her. She was leading them away from danger, from the past.

  Red icons slid up into her iris smartcell grid, and she gritted her teeth. ‘Son of a bitch.’ Still scouting the peachy-coloured snow for hidden snags she started reducing power to the motors. ‘Braking,’ she told the other drivers on their ringlink.

  Elston grunted out of his doze. ‘What’s happen – oh.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But we knew he wasn’t going to last.’ The red icons were from Luther’s bodymesh. The severe sickness brought on by the narsberry spores had been too much for his organs, already weakened and strained by the accident. In one way, Angela had been impressed by how long he’d held on for; but it had cost him dearly in suffering. Not any more. The red icons were turning white – neutral. The same as Mohammed’s had turned ten hours previously.

  ‘We need to refuel anyway,’ Elston said.

  Angela brought the MTJ to a halt, and turned the wheel. The convoy vehicles slowly arranged themselves in a circle, sensors and remote guns pointing out across St Libra’s icy wilderness. It wouldn’t be night for another couple of hours, but they switched the headlights on anyway, sending the beams out to scour the low cliff of crystalline tree trunks which marked the riverbanks. Their radars swept about, scanning the surrounding environment as best they could. Nothing could sneak up on them now, and Antrinell’s orders were that no one stepped beyond the circle.

  Angela took several minutes to get dressed for the outside. There was no wind, but the temperature had dropped alarmingly over the last couple of days. People were exhausted. Those who had avoided the poisoning had been doing all the driving, and most of the refuelling. Mistakes came easy. Leif had taken his gloves off to deal with a tricky coupling at the last refuelling. His skin had touched the hose’s metal nozzle. The cold numbed it instantly so he didn’t realize; then when he did try to snatch his hand away he tore off a long strip of flesh.

  ‘Take care out there,’ Elston said weakly.

  ‘You know me.’ The lightness was forced, she’d seen how he still shook under the blanket. And she’d been keeping track of how much all the invalids in her MTJ had been eating. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  She stepped out onto the frozen river, and made her way back along the MTJ to the inner circle. The glow of red tail lights added to Red Sirius’s salmon glimmer, casting the world into a dapple of vermilion. There were nine of them standing in the dark light, the lucky ones, depending on your point of view: those who’d escaped the poisoning – Lorelei, Lulu, Leora, Antrinell, Karizma, and Leif – and those who had recovered enough to help drive and take care of the sick – herself, Madeleine, and Josh.

  ‘This is a major logistics point for us,’ Antrinell said to them. ‘I’ve been reviewing our fuel situation, and I want to dump truck-2. We can offload all
its remaining bioil into the tanker and the bladders in truck-1. One less set of fuel cells will extend our range considerably.’

  Angela glanced over to Karizma, but the woman’s face was hidden behind bands of cloth and her goggles. She didn’t make any protest.

  ‘Okay then,’ Antrinell said. He’d clearly been bracing himself for an argument. ‘Josh, you and I will carry Luther to the sledge and put him with the others.’

  ‘Why bother?’ Josh asked.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘What’s the point? Why exactly are we burning bioil we can’t afford lugging a whole bunch of corpses round the countryside? We should leave them here. Pick them up when all those Daedalus flights show up and save us. After all, it’s not like the jungle is full of wild animals – they’re not going to be eaten.’

  Angela had to admit she admired the logic, even though the notion was intrinsically wrong somehow.

  ‘For the record,’ Leif said. ‘If the monster gets me, you can leave me behind, too. I don’t want to be responsible for holding the survivors back.’

  ‘They are our comrades,’ Antrinell said in a rasping tone. ‘We should show them the respect they deserve for their sacrifice.’

  ‘They sacrificed shit,’ Karizma said. ‘They were murdered. And if they slow us down, we’ll be next.’

  Now Angela understood, it was another challenge to the legitimacy of the convoy, another corrosive gnawing away at the leadership. Introducing doubts, encouraging the undecided to question the goal. Elston would have faced them down; Antrinell was different, a good second-in-command, but lacking his own authority.

  ‘What’s it doing to them?’ Angela asked quietly. ‘To Mark Chitty, and the others? After all, they were carried away for a reason. Anybody want to guess what it is? No? Well for the record I don’t want to be left behind for it to vivisect or use in its version of a satanic ritual, dead or alive. And while we’re still running that record, our fuel isn’t that critical, not yet. Their weight on a sledge won’t make any difference.’ Which was bullshit. She knew it would be touch and go if they made it to Sarvar on what was left now. Her own private hope was that they could get close enough so the camp’s skeleton crew could drive a tanker out to them, or even better, a Berlin helicopter.