The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle (241 page)

“Did you find anything?” Wilson asked.

“No. The software checks out. I’ve loaded some additional monitors in case anything was submerged, but they didn’t really have the time to plant anything sophisticated. There’s no thermal trace of anyone here before us. My opinion for what it’s worth: this is clean.” He climbed out of the chair and unsealed his helmet.

Wilson studied the young face that was exposed. Short hair framing slim features, alert eyes; eager, dedicated, efficient.
Me, three hundred forty years ago. God!
“When I was in the air force, I learned to always trust my engineering crew. I don’t suppose anything’s really changed.”

Kieran broke into a genuine grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Okay, let’s see if I actually remember how to fly.” He started to take his armor suit off.

“Admiral. I’m glad you’re here.”

The term surprised Wilson. Thirty hours ago, the navy that he was in charge of had been hunting down the Guardians as if they were a pandemic virus. It made the young man’s faith all the more touching. “I’ll do whatever I can,” he promised.

Oscar and Anna arrived in the cockpit as Wilson was pulling his feet out of the armor’s boots. He was only wearing a white T-shirt and shorts, and the cockpit’s air was almost freezing.

“Here you go,” Oscar said, and dropped a small bag at Wilson’s feet. “Our CST-issue executive travel pack. Essential for survival in hotels and conferences the Commonwealth over.”

“Don’t mock,” Wilson growled as he unzipped the bag. He found a fleece with a CST logo on the chest, and pulled it on quickly before sitting in the luxurious pilot’s seat. “Yow, this leather’s cold.” He put his hands over the console’s i-pads, and reviewed the menus rolling into his virtual vision as the interface was established. The first thing he did was locate the plane’s environmental circuits and switch the heating on full.

“Everybody in and secure,” Adam reported.

Anna was out of her armor suit, puffing against the cold as she pulled on some clothes from her CST pack.

“You want to take the copilot’s seat?” Wilson asked.

“Sure.” She gave him a quick intimate smile.

“We actually need to be in the air before you two can join the mile-high club,” Oscar told them dryly.

Wilson grinned. “This is the bit I’ve always wanted to say,” he confessed to them as the avionics confirmed the micropiles were ready. “Atomic turbines to power!”

Anna and Oscar exchanged a look. Oscar shrugged.

The turbines spun up, and Wilson released the wheel brakes. The Carbon Goose rolled out of its hangar and down toward the icy sea.

“Oh, brother,” Ozzie grunted. He was accessing files from his asteroid, seeing the refugees from Randtown come stumbling through the wormhole. “There goes the neighborhood.” Two hours into his review of everything that had happened, and he was beginning to wish he’d headed off in the other direction after leaving Island Two.

The last home file showed him Nigel wandering around the bungalow. Ozzie’s own recorded projection played out, and Nigel swore at the end of it. Back in the cozy warmth of the Ledbetter penthouse suite, sprawled on his circular, emperor-sized jellmattress, Ozzie grinned at his old friend’s dismayed expression. Poor old Nige had always disapproved of his lifestyle, the decisions and choices. It was their contrary opinions that made them such a good team.

He drained his tumbler of bourbon and told the maidbot to refill it, then moved on to examine records from the latest invasion. “Oh, brother.” The damage that the flare bombs and quantumbusters inflicted on the stars was terrifying. Then something terminated Hell’s Gateway, something that the Sheldon Dynasty had done independently from the navy, something greater than a quantumbuster. Half of the unisphere now comprised speculation and gossip about Nigel using that ultra-weapon against Dyson Alpha, winning the war in a single strike.

The other half of the unisphere was busy discussing the Second47’s evacuation into the future. Ozzie took another swig as the War Cabinet made their announcement. “Son of a bitch, don’t bring me into this,” he shouted at Nigel’s image. His so-called friend’s face loomed hugely over the bed, as projected by the portal on the opposite wall. It was badly focused now. Ozzie tried to do some math to see if Nigel knew what the fuck he was talking about, but the equations were impossible to form. He looked at his tumbler, which was empty again. “Just bring the bottle,” he told the maidbot.

Virtual hands wobbled through virtual vision, and he knocked politely on the SI’s icon.

The War Cabinet vanished to be replaced by tangerine and turquoise lines weaving through and around each other. “Hello, Ozzie. Welcome back.”

“Good to be back. I mean it. You’ve no idea how wonderful toilet paper is until it’s taken away from you by an unfeeling universe. I think it’s a defining characteristic of human civilization, the ability to manufacture something decent to wipe your ass on. Believe me, forest leaves just don’t cut it. Well, actually,” he sniggered, “they do, and that’s the problem. And you can make that my epitaph if you want.”

“Duly noted.”

“Hey hey, don’t you smartass me. You’ve got some bigtime explaining to do, man.” The maidbot rolled up to the side of the bed, and held out the bourbon bottle. Ozzie took it, and winked at the little machine.

“You are referring to the emergency Randtown evacuation,” the SI said.

“Nail on the fucking head, dude.”

“We took the liberty of saving thousands of human lives. We assumed that given the circumstances, you wouldn’t object.”

“Yeah yeah, trillions of dollars spent building the ultimate in private housing, and it’s all blown. All gone.” The room rotated around him, leaving him spread-eagle on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He took another drink of bourbon to compensate. “I’ll have to dream up something else now. Maybe go back to the Ice Citadel. No! Fuck, what am I saying? It was cold there. I am, like, not a cold-weather person. I learned that about myself.”

“So your venture was successful, then?”

“Oh, brother, was it ever. I found out everything; who put the barriers up, why they did it, why they won’t help us. And I’ll tell you something else, I was right about the Silfen, too.”

“Do they evolve into an adult state?”

“Ah ha.” Ozzie wagged a finger at the slow wavestorm of glowing lines. “I thought you’d want to know that. Man, you should have seen where they live. The gas halo is like totally groovy. Maybe I should try and build one. I’d just love to see Nigel’s face when I tell him that.”

“Who built the barriers?”

“Clouddancer said it was some race called the Anomines. But that was in a dream. I think. Anyway, they’re not around anymore. Actually, no, cancel that; they are but they’re not the same. I think they out-evolved the Silfen, some of them anyway. The others all went back home and joined Greenpeace.” Ozzie smiled lazily. The bed was wonderfully soft, and he was very tired now. He closed his eyes. “They’re not going to help us, you know. You’d dig that. You haven’t been majorly helpful here, have you? Apart from scooping up that Mellanie chick. Damn, she’s hot. Do you know if she’s dating anyone?” He yawned. Waited for the answer. “Oh, come on, man, you’re not pissed at me, are you? Just a few home truths among friends. You’ve got to grow thicker skin.”

There was still no reply. The light in the room changed.

“Mr. Isaac.”

“Huh?” That wasn’t the SI. Ozzie opened his eyes. The tangerine and turquoise lines had vanished. He swung around toward the sound of the new voice, or tried to; the bed kept getting in the way. A man’s head slid into view. Upside down, and frowning. “Hey!” Ozzie exclaimed happily. “Nelson. Been too long, man. How’s it hanging?”

“I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

“Never better.”

“Quite. Nigel would like a word.”

“Bring him on in.”

“It’s easier if we take you to him.”

“Sure thing. Let me find my shoes.” Ozzie finally managed to move, and slithered off the end of the bed to land in a heap on the floor. Something hurt. It probably belonged to him. “Can you see them?” he asked Nelson earnestly.

Nelson smiled blankly, and beckoned. Ozzie was lifted to his feet by two powerful young men in gray business suits. They had identical red and green OCtattoos on their cheeks, a stack of centimeter-long lines that looked like neon sideburns.

“Hi, guys. Good to meet you.”

They carried him out of the bedroom. Orion was in the lounge outside, still wearing his fancy white and scarlet jacket. The boy looked very scared. There were a lot of people in the lounge with him, just like the ones carrying Ozzie: polite well-built men and women without any sense of humor.

“Ozzie?” Orion said; he bit his lip, looking fearfully at Nelson.

“Hang tight there, little dude, everything’s perfectly under control. Where’s Tochee?”

“I am here, friend Ozzie.”

“Do as they say.” Being vertical wasn’t good. Ozzie’s stomach didn’t like it. He threw up.

They carried him into the service elevator. There was a convoy of big dark cars outside the hotel. He was bundled into the first one. The short drive ended with him being carried onto a hypersonic aircraft, just big enough to accommodate Tochee at the back where a dozen seats had been removed.

Nelson sat down opposite Ozzie and produced a large red tablet. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“Something to help.”

“I’m not ill.”

Fingers pinched his nose shut, and he opened his mouth in reflex. The tablet was shoved in, followed by water. Ozzie half swallowed, half gagged. “Oh, brother.”

Nelson leaned back. “Strap him in. He’s going to need it.”

The flight was truly horrible. Ozzie shivered violently in his seat, his skin feverish. He desperately wanted to be sick again, but it was as if his stomach had grown an extra membrane to prevent it. The acidic heartburn down his gullet spread right through his gut. His headache seemed to be sweating its way through his skull.

An hour later his teeth had stopped chattering. The aches and discomfort were fading away, leaving his clothes soaked in cold sweat. “I fucking hate sober-ups,” Ozzie growled at Nelson. “They’re not natural. Son of a bitch, look at my clothes.” He plucked at his wet T-shirt in disgust.

“We brought your bags,” Nelson said. “You can freshen up on the train. “We’ll be landing in five minutes.”

“Landing where?”

“The planetary station.”

“Great. I’ve got to pee.”

Nelson gestured down the aisle.

Ozzie slowly slipped his straps off, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Orion was sitting in the chair behind. “You okay there, dude?”

The boy nodded. “I think Tochee was worried, but I told him we’d be all right. He doesn’t understand how important you are.”

“I’ll try and explain to it later.”

“Ozzie,” the boy said quietly. “She’s really nice. We talked a lot. She’s called Lauren. She was really interested in the Silfen paths and where we’ve been.”

Ozzie glanced around at the security team member Orion was surreptitiously indicating. “Uh, okay; again, she’s polite in that serial-killer fashion because that’s her job. Don’t ask her to marry you or anything.”

“All right, Ozzie.” The boy pouted.

The hypersonic came down on a landing pad behind the station’s cluster of administration buildings. There was no one around to see them disembark and hurry over to the sleek private maglev express with its two carriages.

“Just us?” Ozzie asked when he looked down the deserted front carriage. There were big spherical chairs set along the length of the carriage, with a bar at the far end.

“Just you,” Nelson confirmed.

Ozzie took one of his new cases into the washroom to change. His attempt to interface with the unisphere was completely unsuccessful. His inserts reported the train was efficiently screened.

Back out in the carriage, Ozzie raided the bar for some sandwiches, then went to sit near to Tochee and Orion. He acted as tour guide as the express hurtled along, pointing out the worlds they passed through. The Big15 planet Shayoni first, which led to Beijing, followed by a fast trip around the trans-Earth loop to New York, and finally Augusta.

“Your transport is so much more efficient that the Silfen method,” Tochee said. “And your worlds so ordered. Do you disapprove of disarray?”

“Don’t judge us on what you’ve seen so far,” Ozzie told it.

At New Costa station their train peeled away from the main area of the yard to slide through a lone gateway.

“And this has to be Cresset,” Ozzie said. “I haven’t been here for a while.”

“Seventy-three years,” Nelson said as the maglev glided in to Illanum station. More dark cars were waiting for them.

“Where now?” Ozzie asked.

“One of Nigel’s residences just outside the town.”

“All of us?”

“Yes, all of you. We have suitable rooms prepared.”

“Okay then.” Ozzie was giving the station’s cargo handling sector a suspicious look. Its capacity had jumped up by an order of magnitude since he’d last visited.

The “residence” was a big mansion of pale stone modeled on the stately homes of eighteenth-century Europe. It was several kilometers out of town, and surrounded by towering trees that were oppressively dark in the deepening twilight.