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Authors: Peter F. Hamilton

BOOK: The Temporal Void
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The only reply that came down the link was a burst of white noise.

‘Okay, I’m getting you into a medical chamber. My ship has the best in the Commonwealth. You’ll be fine.’ She picked him up and flew straight into the airlock, ordering the smartcore to initiate level one decontamination procedures. She
really
didn’t like the look of the grey fungal stuff.

‘Hang on in there, Florac, you’ll be okay. You stay with me, understand?’

It only took her a few seconds to get to the cabin, but he was convulsing by the time she lowered him into the coffin-sized medical chamber. The steel-sheen malmetal top closed fluidly over him.

A scan revealed that the grey substance had invaded his entire body, consuming and corrupting every organ. It had twined itself round his nerves, not damaging them, but embracing them. Paula watched the read-outs in disgust and dismay as the intruder fed a continuous stream of impulses into every nerve fibre in Florac’s body. Fronds inside his brain stimulated selected neural pathways to ensure his consciousness remained intact.

There wasn’t enough of his original flesh left for the medical chamber to sustain. As Paula watched, Florac died in as much agony as it was possible for a human nervous system to conduct.

‘Extract his memorycell,’ she ordered the medical chamber. But even that wasn’t possible, the grey fronds had gnawed away at the memorycell, breaking it apart. She reviewed the read-outs with growing alarm. The grey stuff seemed to be some kind of biononic viral, capable of breaking down both organic and inorganic compounds. It was already seeping into the instruments and manipulators interfaced with Florac’s body, transforming them into more of itself, an effect inching into the casing of the medical chamber.

‘Hell!’ she grunted. The
Alexis Denken
shot out of the atmosphere to an altitude of five thousand kilometres, then ejected the entire medical chamber. It tumbled away from the starship, sunlight glinting off its bright metal and plastic surfaces. Paula swept a powerful gamma-ray laser through it several times, making sure every molecule of the viral was disassociated, then finished it off with a single disruptor pulse. The now white-hot slag of the medical chamber burst apart in a sparkling swarm of effervescence.

Several ground-based sensor systems locked on to the
Alexis Denken
. The smartcore received identification demands from every city on the planet. Paula simply ignored them, and flew back down to the villa again.

The combatbots were circling overhead as the monsoon continued to soak the rubble. Long rivulets gurgled along the cracked paving, thick with scum and powdery mud. Paula’s armour boots splashed through them as she made her way cautiously to the crater. The torn earth walls were mildly radioactive. Spybots swooped down to scan the remnants of the underground chamber. The first thing they detected amidst all the charred plastic and warped metal was the burned body. It appeared to be another of Florac’s bodyguards. Then they picked up the signature of the grey substance. There was a patch clinging to a chunk of fractured rock. Its edges rippled as it sought to grow.

‘Damnit,’ Paula swore. There was nothing for it. She called two of the combatbots down, and began a systematic sterilization of the site using gamma-lasers. That was when she called ANA. ‘Things are getting a little crazy out here,’ she confessed.

‘The Accelerators must be desperate to keep Troblum silenced.’

‘No. That’s not what happened here.’ Paula was standing in the remnants of the lounge, using her field scan on the broken fragments of the exotic matter generator. There wasn’t much left, and she was fairly certain her own firepower hadn’t been wholly responsible. It had self-destructed at some point during the fight. ‘Whoever was here could have eliminated him the second he turned up. They didn’t. They wanted to use him as bait for me. This exotic matter system was intended to capture me. It’s an extremely elaborate trap. Someone went to a lot of trouble. I got lucky Troblum’s ship arrived when it did, another second and I would have been engulfed.’

‘You have acquired a great many enemies over the years.’

‘Yes, but this one has the backing of a Faction. They had an ultradrive ship effectively equal to the
Alexis Denken
, they had this revolting viral, and they knew I was coming to meet with Troblum. Logically, they must be allied with the Accelerators, yet they didn’t eliminate Troblum. Who would the Accelerators possibly turn to at this point, who then wouldn’t do what they needed most and silence Troblum? It’s not logical. This person certainly doesn’t seem to have any moral qualms about killing anyone. And I was obviously intended for the torture chamber, or some variant.’ Even as she said it, a really bad feeling was growing in her mind. She remembered that ridiculous wiggle which the glowing white figure had performed as it ascended into the starship. There was certainly one person who would fit the bill – but that wasn’t possible.
She
was very definitely in suspension, and had been for over nine hundred years. Of course, if anyone had the ability to break her out, it would be a Faction . . . ‘They wouldn’t dare,’ she whispered. But the Accelerators were becoming increasingly arrogant. And they had been planning their moves for decades.

‘What do you intend next?’ ANA asked.

Paula stared round at the rain-sodden area as the lightning flickered again. ‘I need a full forensic examination here. It’s a long shot, but if there’s anything that will tell us where the exotic matter cage was built and by whom, I need to know.’

‘I will dispatch a team immediately.’

‘Thank you. I’m going to investigate Troblum a little closer. I need to work out where he’s gone. There’s nothing else I can do until Oscar snags the Second Dreamer for us.’

‘As you wish.’

Paula looked up into the wild clouds, wishing she could see the stars. ‘Any change on the devourment phase?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Will you be able to survive it?’

‘I don’t know. What will you do?’

‘Ultimately? If it can’t be stopped. I’m not sure. The
High Angel
will take me to another galaxy if I want. But right now we need to prevent our dear species from making things any worse.’

*

 

Araminta didn’t sleep the whole night long. How could she?

No
, she’d said.

No to the Skylord. No to the entity that was offering to guide a goodly portion of humanity to what they regarded as their nirvana.

No. Said because:
I’m the Second Dreamer
.

It’s me. Me!

Oh, Ozzie, please help me. This simply cannot be
.

Me
, she kept turning that over and over.
How could it be me?
Because of some distant ancestor she’d never even heard of until the other day, this Mellanie and her friendship with the Silfen. All that, all those unknowns from centuries ago had come pressing down on her, had taken away her destiny, her self-determination. Fate had chosen her.

Me!

And now the millions, the billions, of Living Dream followers would look to her to help them join with the Skylord. And she’d said no.

The Skylord had been surprised. Shocked, even. She’d felt that wounded astonishment linger as she withdrew her mind from contact. That wasn’t an answer which fitted its reality. She might just as well have said no to gravity for all the sense it made.

What she’d done terrified her. But it was instinctive. She didn’t want to be the Second Dreamer. Just hours before the contact she’d decided her future after days of soul-searching and self-discovery. She was going to be Mrs Bovey(s). She was going to get herself more bodies and become multiple. And they’d live here in this grand house, or a new one she’d build, equally delightful. And half of their bodies would be in bed together the whole time. She would make him as happy as he made her. And the future would be bright and lovely and full of promise. There might be children. What kind of children did multiples have? Did he want them? They’d never talked about any of this yet. So much was waiting for her out there in the years to come, so many discoveries. So much joy.

Of course she’d said no. What else could she say?

I will not be a part of that. That is not me
.

Billions wanted it to be. They were going to insist.

But they will never know who I am. I will never talk to the Skylord again
.

That was the decision she’d made when dawn came to the sky outside the bedroom. She was wretchedly tired, and shaking. There were dried tears on her cheeks from the quiet sobbing in the lonely hours as gentle rain had pattered against the window. But she knew her mind now. She would stand firm.

On the big bed beside her the blond teenage Mr Bovey lay on his back with a slight frown, mouth twitching as he dealt with a sour dream.

Nothing as bad as mine
, she told him silently. He too would never know, she decided, the burden would be too much.
This will end. Eventually. I will endure and ride it out
.

Araminta bent over and kissed the youthful body. Gently at first. On his brow. His cheek. His mouth.

He stirred. The frown eased away. She smiled at that, and kissed his throat. Her hands caressed the supple muscle on his chest as the melange program rose out of her lacunas. Her raging thoughts stilled as she breathed slowly and carefully, following her own deep rhythms to achieve the composure she sought. Now she could concentrate fully on the body beside her.

For the full hour which followed there were no distractions, no external thoughts and doubts. It was so good to forget Skylords and Second Dreamers and Living Dream, replacing them with good dirty human sex.

‘Forgive me, especially after this morning, but you don’t look so good,’ Mr Bovey said.

Araminta nodded grudgingly as she finally climbed out of the big bath. It was such a luxury just lounging in oiled, scented water rather than snatching a quick minute in a spore shower. One her poor body deserved. ‘Your fault,’ she teased. She couldn’t quite put the right emphasis behind it. Her thoughts were drifting back to the revelations of last night with the surety of a tide.

It was the young Celtic one who handed her a huge towel. ‘Are you all right? You’re not having second thoughts?’

‘Ozzie, no! This is the only truly good decision I’ve made. Probably ever.’

He smiled proudly, but couldn’t completely hide his worry. ‘You seem . . . troubled. I’m concerned.’

She started to rub the water off her legs. ‘It’s been a big week. I’m all right, just didn’t sleep well, that’s all. I’ll take some kind of pep infuser when I get home.’

‘Home?’ he frowned.

‘I’ve still got to get the apartments finished. We both know I need the money.’

‘Right.’ He scratched at his hair, looking perplexed. Araminta wasn’t used to that. Whenever they had serious conversations Mr Bovey always preferred to use his middle-aged black-skinned body, the one she’d had their very first date with, who almost qualified as the father figure. She never had worked out if that was deliberate on his part.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I hate to be the one with the bad news, but you clearly haven’t accessed the unisphere this morning.’

Just the way he said it made her heart sink. She had told her u-shadow to suspend any unisphere contact before they went to bed last night; now it reconnected her and began pulling out priority news items. ‘Oh, great Ozzie,’ she gasped. It was all there. The invasion by Ellezelin forces down by the docks. Paramilitary troops moving across the city. Large capsules patrolling the skies, halting any civilian traffic.

When she rushed over to the window she could make out several of the capsules floating passively above the River Cairns, insidious dark ovoids set against the dusky dawn-lit clouds. Colwyn’s weather-protection force field was on, covering the entire city. It wasn’t any storm the invaders were interested in, they were preventing any capsules from leaving.

And worse, much much worse, the message from Director Trachtenberg at Centurion Station about the Void starting to expand. A devourment phase all the commentators were calling it. And they were equally clear that it was the fault of the Second Dreamer for rejecting the Skylord. No such thing as coincidence was the phrase that kept reverberating round her head. Everyone was using it.

‘I can’t stay here,’ Araminta moaned.

‘You’re not serious? It’s dangerous out there. They’re restricting the reports, but our fellow citizens are not taking this lightly. There’s been several clashes already, and it’s not even breakfast time yet.’

They’re here for me
, she realized.
A whole world invaded, violated because of me. Ozzie, forgive me
.

‘I’ll just go straight home,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I have to get to the apartments. They’re all I’ve got, you can see that, can’t you?’ She felt shabby saying that, it was emotional bullying, but all she wanted to do was get away from him. It was completely wrong, this was the person she was planning to marry, hes should be trusted. She just couldn’t risk trusting him with something of this magnitude. He’d agreed to marry a girl struggling to make it as a property developer, not some walking galactic catastrophe.

‘I do understand,’ he said, so very reluctantly. ‘But they’ve shut down all the capsule traffic. Half of mes are stuck all across town.’

Araminta started to pull her clothes on. There was a whole closet in the bathroom which was hers, so at least she could dress practically with dark jeans and a blue sweater. ‘My trike pod is in the garage. I left it here a couple of weeks back.’ Her u-shadow was hurriedly checking travel restrictions in Colwyn City. The traffic management net carried a full proscription on non-official air vehicles, backed by the certificate of the Mayor’s office and the Viotia Federal Transport Agency. However, ground vehicles were still permitted to operate in the city precincts, with an advisory caution that citizens should only use them for essential trips. There were a great many links to official Viotia government bulletins about their inclusion in the Free Trade Zone at core planet level, and how after a brief transition period everything would return to normal and a strong economic growth phase would begin, bringing a major upswing to everyone’s lifestyle. Just for an instant she recalled Liken and his grand plans for the Free Trade Zone, but she dismissed those thoughts at once.

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