The Naked God

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Jay squealed excitedly, and rushed forward to throw her arms around her friend’s neck. “Where’ve you been? I missed you.” There was plenty of hurt in the voice.

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  “Like what?”

  A tractamorphic arm curled round Jay’s waist. <>

  “What things?”

  <> Haile’s tone was slightly awed.

  Jay rubbed the top of the baby Kiint’s head. “Oh that. Everyone here’s really annoyed with it.”

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  “It won’t help humans with possession, not big help like we need, anyway. Don’t worry, Tracy’s going to lodge an appeal. Everything will be all right eventually.”

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  “Yeah?” She patted Haile’s front leg, and the Kiint obediently bent her knee. Jay scrambled up quickly to sit astride Haile’s neck. “Does it know any good sandcastle designs?”

  Haile lumbered off the ebony circle. <> Jay grinned smugly.

  “Now you two be good,” Tracy said sternly. “You can swim, but you’re not to go out of your depth in the water. I know the providers will help if you get into trouble, but that’s not the point. You have to learn to take responsibility for yourselves. Understood?”

  “Yes, Tracy.”

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  “All right, go on then, have fun. And Jay, you’re not to stuff yourself with sweets. I’m cooking supper for us tonight, and I shall be very cross if you don’t eat anything.”

  “Yes, Tracy.” She squeezed her knees into Haile’s flanks, and the Kiint started moving forwards, taking them quickly away from the old woman.

  “Did you get into lots of trouble for rescuing me?” Jay asked anxiously after they’d left Tracy behind.

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  “Oh good.”

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  Jay scratched her friend’s shoulders fondly as they hurried down towards the water. “Hey, you’re getting lots better at walking.”

  The rest of the afternoon was a delight. Like old times back in Tranquillity’s cove. They swam, and the attendant universal provider extruded a sponge and a brush so Haile could be scrubbed, they built some sandcastles, though this fine loose sand wasn’t terribly good for it, Jay risked asking for a couple of chocolate almond ice creams—was pretty sure the provider would tell Tracy if she had any more—they swatted an inflated beach ball to and fro, and once they’d tired themselves out they talked about the Kiint home system. Haile didn’t know much more than Tracy had already explained, but whatever new question Jay asked, the Kiint just consulted Corpus for an answer.

  The information was rather intriguing. For a start, the cluster of retirement chalets were one of three such human establishments on an otherwise uninhabited island fifty kilometres across. It was called The Village.

  “The island’s called The Village?” Jay asked in puzzlement.

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  “Cultural difference,” Jay said loftily.

  The Village was one of a vast archipelago of islands, home to the observers of eight hundred different sentient xenoc races. Jay looked longingly at the yacht anchored offshore. How fabulous it would be to sail this sea, where every port would be home to a new species.

  “Are there any Tyrathca here?”

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  Haile told her of the world she was living on now, called Riynine. Nang and Lieria had selected a home in one of the big cities, a parkland continent studded with domes and towers and other colossi. There were hundreds of millions of Kiint living there, and Haile had met lots of youngsters her own age.

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  “That’s nice.” She tried not to feel jealous.

  Riynine was invisible from The Village; it was a long way around the Arc, almost behind the dazzling sun. One of the capital planets, where flocks of xenoc starships arrived from worlds clear across the galaxy, forming a spiralling silver nebula above the atmosphere.

  “Take me there,” Jay pleaded. She ached to see such a wonder. “I want to meet your new friends and see the city.”

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  “Oh please, please. I’ll simply die if I don’t. It’s so unfair to come all this way and not see the best bit. Please, Haile, ask Corpus for me. Please!”

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  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She jumped up and danced around Haile, who snaked out slender tractamorphic arms to try and catch her.

  “Hey there,” a voice called. “Looks like the two of you’re having a good time.”

  Jay stopped, breathless and flushed. She squinted at the figure walking across the glaring sand. “Richard?”

  He smiled. “I came to say goodbye.”

  “Oh.” She let out a heavy breath. Everything in her life was so temporary these days. People, places … She tilted her head. “You look different.”

  He was wearing a deep-blue uniform, clean and creased; with shining black boots. A peaked cap was tucked under his arm. And the ponytail was gone; his hair trimmed down to a centimetre high crop. “Senior Lieutenant, Keaton, Confederation Navy, reporting for duty, ma’am.” He saluted.

  Jay giggled. “This is my friend, Haile.”

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  Richard tugged at his jacket, shifting his shoulders. “So what do you think? How do I look?”

  “It’s very smart.”

  “Ah, I knew it. It’s true. All the girls love a uniform.”

  “Do you really have to go?”

  “Yep. Got drafted by our friend Tracy. I’m off to Trafalgar to save the universe from the wicked Doctor Gilmore. Not that he knows he’s being wicked. That’s part of the problem, I’m afraid. Ignorance is a tragic part of life.”

  “How long for?” She hadn’t quite realized things would move so fast.

  Tracy had only talked about the insertion a few hours ago. And now here it was, about to happen.

  “Not sure. That’s why I wanted to make sure I saw you before I left. Tell you not to worry. Tracy and all her cronies mean well, but they get panicked too easily. I want you to know the human race is a lot smarter and resilient than those wonderful old coots think we are. They’ve seen too much of us at the wrong end of history. I know what we are now. And this is the time that counts. We stand a damn good chance, Jay. I promise you that.”

  She put her arms round him. “I’ll look after Prince Dell for you.”

  “Thanks.” He looked about with theatrical slyness, and lowered his voice.

  “When you get the chance … ask the provider for a surfboard and a jetski. And that was your idea. Okay?”

  She nodded extravagantly. “Okay.”

  This refit hadn’t been on quite the scale as the last two she’d undergone; but there was no doubt about it, the Lady Macbeth was an honoured source of income to the service and engineering companies that operated in Tranquillity’s counter-rotating spaceport. Several of her life support capsule fittings had collapsed under the incredible acceleration of the antimatter drive. Then there were the additional reaction mass tanks to install in the cargo bays. A whole new specialist sensor suite wired in for Kempster Getchell, as well as loading a fleet of small survey satellites. Hull plates had been removed to allow the replacement energy patterning node to be installed.

  When Ione floated into the docking bay’s control centre, the nullfoam spray nozzles were fol
ding back against the sides of the bay. Lady Mac glistened a pristine silver-grey under the ring of lights at the top of the steep metal crater.

  Joshua was talking to some of the staff operating the consoles in front of the windows, discussing colour and style for the name and registration. A spindly waldo arm was already sliding out under the direction of one operator, its ion-jet painter head rotating into position.

  “You’re supposed to be launching in twenty-eight minutes,” Ione said.

  Joshua glanced across and smiled. He left the control centre staff, and glided over to her. They kissed. “Plenty of time. And you can’t fly without a name on the fuselage. Besides, the C.A.B. inspectors have already cleared us for flight.”

  “Did Dahybi sort out the new node?”

  “Yeah. Eventually. We had to get him some help. A voidhawk actually went and collected two of the manufacturer’s software team from the Halo for us. They solved the synchronization glitch. Jesus, I love ultra priority projects.”

  “Good.”

  “We just have to load the combat wasps, and Ashly’s flying our new MSV over from the Dassault service bay. Your science team is already on board. We got Kempster and Renato along with Mzu and the agents. Parker Higgens insisted on travelling in the Oenone with Oski Katsura and her assistants.”

  “Don’t be offended,” Ione said. “Poor Parker gets dreadfully spacesick.”

  Joshua gave her a blank look, as if she’d come out with a non sequitur.

  “And we’ve got the serjeants in zero-tau as well. Lady Mac’s hauling a much bigger load than Oenone.”

  “It’s not a contest, Joshua.”

  He grinned lopsidedly and pulled her close. “I know.”

  Liol erupted through the hatchway. “Josh! There you are. Look, we can’t—oh.”

  “Hello, Liol,” Ione said sweetly. “So have you been enjoying yourself in Tranquillity?”

  “Er, yeah. It’s great. Thanks.”

  “You made a big impression on Dominique. She can’t stop talking about you.”

  Liol grimaced, appealing silently to Joshua.

  “I don’t think you’ve said goodbye to her yet, have you?” Ione asked.

  Liol’s blush was beyond the ability of any neural nanonic override to control. “I’ve been very busy helping Josh. Er, hey, perhaps you could do it for me?”

  “Yes, Liol.” She struggled against a laugh. “I’ll let her know you’ve gone.”

  “Thanks, Ione, I owe you one. Er, Josh, we really need you on board now.”

  Ione and Joshua both started chuckling after he vanished back out of the hatch. “You take care,” she told him after a while.

  “Always do.”

  The ride back to her apartment took a long time. Or perhaps it was because she suddenly felt so lonely.

  <> Tranquillity said.

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  <> She closed her eyes on the empty tube carriage, and watched the docking cradle slide Lady Mac up out of the bay. The starship’s thermo-dump panels unfolded, and the umbilicals jacked into sockets around her lower hull section disengaged.

  A cloud of gas and silver dust blew away. Bright blue ion flames burned around the starship’s equator, and she lifted smoothly.

  Ten thousand kilometres away, Meredith Saldana’s squadron was coming together in formation. The Oenone lifted cleanly from its pedestal, and swept out to join Lady Mac. The two very different starships matched velocities, and headed towards the squadron.

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  Ione smiled. <>

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  Luca Comar reined in his horse at the end of the drive, and dismounted to wait. It was near to midday, and people were drifting in from the fields to take a break. He didn’t begrudge them that, the sticky heat was quite something. Bloody unnatural for Norfolk.

  But it was the community’s choice. Every day’s weather was a constant summer optimum, with bright light and warm breezes; while the nightly rains doused the land. Such a combination produced a vicious humidity. He was worried it might start to affect the aboriginal plants; late summer was normally a period of gradually increasing rain and reducing heat.

  There was also the qu
estion of how they’d react to missing Duchess’s crimson light. So far there was no visible malaise, but he felt uneasy about it. But these conditions seemed to be doing wonders for the new cereal crops.

  He’d never seen them so advanced. It was going to be a great harvest.

  Things are getting back to normal.

  You could tell the world was at rights just from the general mood. There was a heartiness that’d been missing before. Individual homes were being taken care of, kept properly clean and tidy, not just wished presentable.

  People paid attention to their clothes and general appearance.

  And there’d been no sign of Bruce Spanton and his motley crew for awhile now. Though Luca had heard from other community leaders he was down at the southern end of Kesteven, giving decent folk a hard time. Apart from the odd problem like that, this was becoming a good life, gentle and unhurried. Satisfying.

  Oh really, you’ll live it for a quintillion years, will you?

  Luca shook his head, clearing it to open his perception wide. He’d sensed her approaching early this morning. A solitary figure making her way across the wolds, a knot in the uniformity of thought enveloping the county. Unhurried, untroubled. Not a threat like Spanton. But certainly a curiosity. Something about her was slightly out of kilter. He didn’t have a clue what.

  So just before Cricklade’s lunch bell was rung, Luca had told Johan he would go and investigate the stranger. They still had newcomers drift in.

  Anyone prepared to work was given a place in the community.

  The stranger was half a mile away now, dawdling along the main road in some kind of vehicle. Luca frowned. That’s a Romany caravan. The sight was a pleasing one, bringing up the old memories. Young girls pleased with his attentions, the coquettish and blatant. Their bodies yielding willingly, in fields of tall corn, secluded glades, darkened caravans.

  Year after year I proved my sexuality with them.

  I?

  He wrapped his horse’s reins around one of the spikes on the huge wrought iron gate, feet shuffling impatiently. The caravan’s driver must have been aware of his mood, yet her horse’s plodding gait never altered. It was a big sturdy horse, Luca saw while it was on the last couple of hundred yards, its piebald coat muddied and a wild mane in long tangles.