A Night Without Stars

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Joey blinked and looked down at his new body that lay naked under a sheet on a bed. He tugged the sheet aside and saw he wasn’t some spindly bag of bones covered in tight skin that was all protruding veins. This body belonged to a fit, healthy adolescent, ready to conquer the universe.

  Cool! Re-life clones have really come on while I was away.

  Now he was awake and thinking, his u-shadow brought up a host of initialization icons into his exovision.

  I’m back in the Commonwealth. Fuck me, we actually made it!

  He chuckled. The clinic room was pleasant enough for an institution, all pearl-white plyplastic walls occluding the medical systems. A wide window looking out over a leafy suburb with a broad lake in the distance, triangular sails of big yachts sailing around. Mountains cluttering the far horizon. Another bed next to his, with a bemused youth looking at him.

  ‘Bollocks,’ a startled Joey blurted, and tugged the sheet back. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Is that any way to greet your fellow jailbird?’ Roxwolf asked.

  *

  Earth’s T-sphere deposited Paula in front of the neoclassical Capitole de Toulouse at the centre of the city. With a quarter of an hour to go until dawn, the splendid building was illuminated by strategic floodlights, which imbued the region’s famous pink bricks with a warm glow. The vast Place du Capitole where she’d materialized was deserted apart from a formation of bots slowly clearing the night’s snowfall from the ancient stone slabs.

  Chaing stood beside her, his body rocking back and forth from the impact of the teleport. ‘That’s impressive,’ he said, staring at the Capitole. ‘A bit like the Captain’s Palace.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Not as big.’ Chaing turned a complete circle. ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Earth has a very small population these days,’ she told him. ‘It was already heavily weighted to the old and wealthy back when ANA was built. Not decadent, just . . . staid. Younger people were leaving for the newer worlds, so the ones who stayed got older and more conservative. Then they started downloading themselves into ANA. So the physical population declined further. It’s holding steady at about sixty million these days.’ She waved her hand round the centre of the city. ‘ANA preserves our cultural heritage; the buildings mostly have stabilizer fields, and armies of ANAdroids perform caretaker maintenance on the infrastructure.’

  ‘ANAdroids? You mean like Demitri?’

  She gave him a small smile. ‘Not quite.’

  A compact ellipsoid-shaped regrav capsule slipped down out of the grey sky, its chrome-yellow fuselage reflecting the city buildings in weird contortions. A doorway opened in its midsection.

  ‘Come on,’ Paula said.

  There were only two seats in the cabin. She settled in one and waited for Chaing to sit beside her before ordering her u-shadow to turn the fuselage to full transparency. He gripped the seat as they rose up, and headed towards the north-east.

  ‘So these houses, they’re all empty?’ he asked in faint bemusement as they passed over the rooftops.

  ‘Lucky for you and your people,’ she said. ‘I remember after the Starflyer War, when we had to build entire cities on the new planets to house the population of the Lost23 worlds. It effectively bankrupted the Commonwealth for a decade. And that was very basic housing. You’ve got some of the greatest houses on Earth to choose from.’

  ‘I’m not ungrateful,’ he assured her. ‘I just don’t believe anyone wants me as a neighbour.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ she told him as they passed the city boundary. The landscape below them was dark, revealing little. Not that there was much to reveal, she acknowledged. Earth’s rural areas had been encouraged to revert to their naturalistic prefarming state. Towns and villages decayed and fell to the encroaching vegetation, with only ‘historically significant’ structures and a scattering of private homes remaining. With woodlands finally reclaiming their original vast domains, wildlife also prospered; even previously extinct species had been re-introduced thanks to modern retro-DNA sequencing. Effectively, Earth became a park planet, with all the ecological damage that centuries of rampant industrialization and agriculture had wrought slowly healing.

  ‘This person we’re visiting,’ Chaing said. ‘Did you tell him everything about me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he still agreed to help?’

  ‘You’re not quite as unique as you think, captain.’

  ‘Don’t call me that. The PSR doesn’t exist any more.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘What kind of person is he?’

  ‘Someone who had it a lot rougher adapting to the Commonwealth than you. He’ll tell you all about it, I’m sure.’

  ‘That’s part of my problem. So many of your citizens have volunteered to counsel us. Millions, almost one for each of us, and from every Commonwealth world. That level of kindness is . . . I’m not used to it.’

  ‘I know. Culture shock can be overwhelming. Just trust me, and meet him.’

  ‘Of course. But . . . I am curious why we don’t just teleport to this place. I thought you could teleport anywhere on Earth.’

  ‘Almost anywhere. People are entitled to seclusion if they want it. There are many reasons: political, personal. ANA doesn’t discriminate, but it does enable.’

  Five minutes later, the regrav capsule was approaching a modest valley, barely a couple of kilometres wide, and meandering to the west with a small river churning away along the centre. Thick forests coated the slopes, the denuded deciduous trees and pines glinting pale gold as the rising sun caught the ice and snow clinging to their branches. Several ancient houses were dispersed between the trees and the water, their frost coating making them difficult to distinguish as dawn light seeped across the land. It was the long trails of woodsmoke rising from their chimneys which gave them away.

  Paula brought the capsule down in a broad clearing, whose tall trees isolated it from the houses. She quickly buttoned up her fur-lined winter coat as she stepped out onto the thick grass. Her breath was white in the still air; it was several degrees colder here than it had been in Toulouse. A narrow path led from the clearing, down the slope to the homes.

  ‘This way,’ she told Chaing, and set off. After a moment, he followed.

  An old moulin stood on a small rise beside the river. Its thick stone walls didn’t need any stabilizer field to maintain them, though they’d clearly been renovated at some time in the last century.

  Paula walked up to the big wooden door and knocked loudly. It took a while – there was plenty of noise from inside: voices, clattering kitchenware – then the iron latch was lifted and the door opened.

  Edeard stood on the worn step, wearing a burgundy-coloured dressing gown, framed by a wan yellow light. He grinned in welcome. ‘Investigator Myo, it’s been a while.’

  ‘It has. How are you doing?’

  ‘Pretty good, actually. And you must be Chaing?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you for agreeing to see me.’

  ‘No problem. Come in. We’re about to have breakfast.’

  Downstairs was mainly one large room, furnished with old-fashioned chairs and settees and tables and chests. There was no plyplastic or malmetal anywhere, although she did see a holographic projector on top of a dresser; it took a moment to recognize, it was such an old system. A galley kitchen at the far end boasted a big old iron range cooker, with coal glowing pleasantly behind its grill door. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the whole place.

  Paula breathed in deeply. It was a smell that took her all the way back to her own childhood, when her mother had prepared most of the food by hand.

  Salrana was standing behind the kitchen counter, filling a copper kettle with water at the white porcelain sink. She gave Paula a quick smile. ‘Investigator. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please. Milk, no sugar.’

  ‘Chaing?’

  ‘Uh, the same, thanks.’

  Salrana put the kettle down on the ra
nge’s hotplate.

  ‘How’s Burlal?’ Paula asked as she, Chaing, and Edeard sat at the long table in the middle of the room.

  ‘Practising,’ Edeard said with a martyred tone, and pointed his finger at the ceiling.

  ‘Practising?’

  ‘He’ll be a teenager in eight months. He’s asleep.’

  ‘Ah, right. Well, it is only just dawn.’

  ‘Everyone in the community gets up at dawn, especially in winter time,’ Salrana said. ‘We make the most of the daylight.’

  ‘Of course. And how’s Inigo?’

  ‘He and Corrie-Lyn are fine,’ Edeard said. ‘They live next door if you want me to get them.’

  ‘Maybe next time.’

  The kettle started to whistle. Salrana took it off the hotplate and poured the boiling water into a teapot. Then she came round the counter.

  Paula raised an eyebrow. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Salrana said, putting a hand on her bump. ‘Only two and a half months to go now. She’ll be a spring baby.’

  ‘That’s lovely.’

  ‘This is a sweet place for children to grow up,’ Salrana said firmly. ‘When they’re older they can make their choice about which culture they want to be a part of. Until then they have peace and a gentle community to nurture them. Those are the best values a person can start their life with.’

  ‘Like Ashwell?’ Paula enquired.

  ‘Yes,’ Salrana agreed. ‘Just like Ashwell. Or as close as we can get in the Commonwealth. Plus, nobody bothers us here. I’m not having our children grow up as freaks for the benefit of the unisphere and gaiafield. Nobody is going to dream their life.’

  ‘That’s over,’ Edeard said. ‘Especially now.’ He gave Chaing a long look. ‘There are a couple of disused cottages further down the river; a bit dilapidated but . . . You can stay with us until we make one ready. Projects like that always fire people up around here. It shouldn’t take too long.’

  ‘The wonders of Commonwealth technology,’ Chaing said sarcastically. ‘Makes it all worthwhile.’

  ‘One step at a time,’ Edeard said. ‘You can run away into the Commonwealth if you like. It’s easy enough to alter your features. Nobody would ever know who you are. Except yourself, of course. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is that what you’re offering, to help me forget?’

  ‘No. That’s another Commonwealth perk. Any memory can be ripped out. But I don’t think that’s what you need.’

  Chaing shrugged. ‘I don’t know what I need. I used to be certain about everything. The Second Great Transition took that away. I look around at where we are, and I don’t see how I can fit in. I’m wrong for the Commonwealth.’

  ‘I know a bit about having people judging you for the things you had to do.’

  ‘Do you?’ Chaing asked sceptically.

  ‘Oh, yes. I did things that were necessary at the time – terrible things – and nobody ever forgets. I believe this little valley might be able to help you come to terms with your past. We live a life without the complications of the Commonwealth mainstream here. Time and understanding are our healers. One day even I might be able to consider leaving.’

  ‘I killed someone,’ Chaing said bluntly. ‘Someone I knew, someone I . . . liked. She was very similar to me – just opposite. She’s what I see when I look into a mirror. There might have been another way, but I just couldn’t let her win. Bienvenido would have Fallen if she had. So I did what I had to. It’s not what I am. And that sets me apart from everyone.’

  Edeard smiled in sympathy. ‘I learned a long time ago that sometimes, to do what’s right, you have to do what’s wrong. Perhaps I can teach you that.’

  *

  Ry and Anala had to take a commercial starship to Orakum; the External world was a long way outside the network of wormholes which linked the Inner worlds of the Intersolar Commonwealth. It took three hours to fly the forty-six lightyears from Balandan, the closest planet with a wormhole. Three hours in a small cubicle together, with no viewport. However, the gravity was variable, from one point seven Earth standard (the heaviest H-congruous world ever settled) to zero. They set it to zero.

  A regrav capsule took them from the starport out across the continent that was still mostly pristine hills and plains, devoid of human settlements. Finally, it dived down through the spindly clouds. The house was easy to see – a plain white circle with glass edges, standing on a central pillar that was also glass-walled. The gardens extended around it for acres in every direction, looking strangely unkempt and boasting several small stone ruins. They landed in the shade of some giant rancata trees, whose reddish-brown leaves cast a gentle dapple.

  ‘Do you think they’ll take us?’ Anala said nervously, as they emerged from the capsule, holding hands tightly.

  ‘Sure they will,’ Ry said, with a lot more confidence than he felt. ‘We’re exactly what they want.’ He had to put sunglasses on, the light was so bright.

  She puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. ‘Okay.’

  A couple came out of the house to greet them – a beautiful young woman with the most carefree smile Ry had ever seen, accompanying a huge rotund man whose scowl was a classic counterpoint. He was wearing a shabby old toga suit, while she had a gauzy white cotton summer dress that seemed to glow in the intense blue-white sunlight.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, her smile growing even wider. ‘I’m Catriona. We’ve been expecting you. Come on in.’

  The lounge on the house’s lower level was lined with a rich honey-brown wood, giving the impression it was a cavern carved out of some mighty trunk. Windows overlooked the lakes at the far end of the garden, where a small waterfall ran down the stony ridge between them.

  Ry was intrigued by the man waiting for them by the balcony door. Unusually for the Commonwealth, whose every citizen seemed obsessed with maintaining a physiological age of about twenty-five, he had allowed signs of ageing to contaminate his body, with wrinkles on his face, and receding hair just starting to frost above his sideburns.

  ‘Oscar Monroe?’ a nervous Ry asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He shook hands and waved them onto a long settee. ‘I have to tell you, this is a bit unorthodox, even for us.’

  ‘I know,’ Ry said. ‘But thank you for agreeing to see us. We’d love you to consider us for your company.’

  Oscar smiled softly. ‘Well, you do both have a very unusual résumé. You flew into space on a chemical rocket? Seriously?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That must have been pretty . . . intense.’

  ‘It was glorious,’ Anala told him. She and Ry pressed together a little tighter.

  ‘We’re astronauts,’ Ry explained. ‘That’s all we’ve been and all we want to be. To get out there and explore the other side of the sky.’

  ‘My company doesn’t do a lot of outright pioneering; we tend to do follow-up science missions for the Navy Exploration Division.’ Oscar mock-grimaced. ‘Plus a few off-the-file excursions.’

  ‘Sounds fabulous,’ Ry said.

  ‘Yes, well. Your technical knowledge and skillset are a little behind what we need. If we do take you on, you’ll have a headache for a year with the amount of information we’ll have to cram in to bring you up to Commonwealth standard. That’s not a metaphor; it will hurt.’

  ‘If it means we fly actual starships at the end, it’ll be worth it.’

  ‘Great Ozzie,’ Oscar muttered, blinking in surprise. ‘And you got married yesterday? Shouldn’t you be on honeymoon?’

  ‘This is our honeymoon,’ Ry explained earnestly. ‘What could be greater than an interview for this kind of job?’

  ‘Wow. Okay; ordinarily I’d hold off a decision for a while, but you have Paula as your sponsor, so I guess: welcome aboard.’

  Ry and Anala whooped and hugged exuberantly.

  ‘Do you know Paula, then?’ Ry asked.

  ‘Our paths have crossed.’

  ‘Thank you so much for this,’ Anala sa
id. ‘We won’t let you down.’

  Oscar grinned wryly and sat back. ‘I know. Hell, you flew a genuine rocketship to fight enemy aliens attacking your planet. I don’t know anyone else with so much Right Stuff.’

  *

  Only a few years ago, Florian would have been utterly terrified of the grand Welcome Ceremony thrown by the president of the Commonwealth in his official residence – a mansion that could’ve given the Captain’s Palace in Varlan a run for its money when it came to scale and opulence. There were four hundred planetary Senators in the ballroom, along with representatives from every major Dynasty and Grand Family, with the Brandts taking centre stage. Plus alien ambassadors, from the downright scary-looking to the bizarre. Then there’d been a swarm of media representatives, celebrities who’d managed to snag an invitation, officials, friends of friends . . .

  President Timothy Baker had made a long speech about how the human race was now a complete family once more. Prime Minister Terese had made a bland response about the wonders of the Commonwealth. A bit rich, Florian had thought, coming from a politician who had spent her life suppressing anyone on Bienvenido who even mentioned trying to find the Commonwealth.

  But her title was honorary only now, and in a couple of weeks no one would remember her. The Golakkoth had delivered Bienvenido’s citizens to Earth, where there were so many empty homes waiting for them. Apparently there were only about sixty million people living on Earth these days. Only sixty million! Those were the kind of concepts Florian was struggling with even though it had been years since the space machine had given him the Commonwealth files. Their epic flight back to the galaxy had given him time to prepare himself. For the rest of Bienvenido, snatched to salvation without warning only to materialize in the New York reception centre with a mere second of personal time-lapse, it was a shocking revelation. Everybody, Eliter or not, was struggling to adapt to the Second Great Transition.