The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  The whole forensic team had fallen into awed silence, staring at the woman.

  Halran stepped forward, hoping he was concealing his nerves. She wore a conservative cream-colored toga suit over a figure that was as ideal as any created by St. Mary’s specialists. When he attempted to scan her using the most subtle probes his enrichments could produce, they were deflected perfectly. It was as if nothing were there; the only empirical proof he had that she existed was his own eyesight.

  “Ma’am, I’m Investigator Halran, in charge of this case. I, er, that is, we are very flattered you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” said Paula Myo.

  “Can I ask what your interest is?”

  “It’s not my interest; I am only ANA: Governance’s representative.”

  “In this universe,” Darval whispered to Angelo.

  Paula gave him a sweet smile. “The old jokes are always the best ones. And they don’t come much older.”

  Darvel’s expression turned sickly.

  “Okay,” Halran said. “So what’s ANA: Governance’s interest?”

  “Mr. Telfer.”

  “Is he Higher?”

  “What do you think?”

  “His weapons biononics are the most sophisticated we’ve ever seen on Anagaska. The vault guards were hired purely on the basis of their enrichments, and he took them both out in less than a minute. So if he’s not Higher, he has access to the best the Central worlds have to offer.”

  “Very good,” Paula complimented him. “So?”

  “He’s probably working for one of your factions.”

  “Excellent rationale, Investigator. That’s exactly why I’m here: to see if that particular conclusion is correct. Now, I’d like first access to all your forensic results, please.”

  “Er, I’ll see you get copies, of course.”

  “Your planetary government has granted ANA: Governance full cooperation on this case. I’m sure you appreciate the politics involved. Please feel free to check with your Commissioner and even the city’s Mayor, but that’s not copies. I require first and unrestricted access to the raw data, thank you.”

  Halran knew when he had lost a battle. “Yes, ma’am. First access. I’ll set that up right away.”

  “Thank you. Now, who’s analyzing the registry?”

  “That’s me,” Darval said awkwardly.

  “Who do you think Telfer was after?”

  Darval glanced at Halran, who gave a tiny nod. “Easy, actually. One of the secure stores belonged to Inigo.”

  “Ah.” Paula smiled. She closed her eyes and drew a long breath through her nose. “When was the last update?”

  “The year 3320.”

  “The year he left on his Centurion Station mission,” she said. “And he didn’t return to Anagaska until 3415, correct?”

  “Yes,” Halran said. “Living Dream’s central fane on Anagaska was built in Kuhmo; he was here to dedicate it.”

  “Interesting,” Paula mused.

  “You think someone’s going to full-clone him?”

  “Why else would you steal his mind?” Paula said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Investigator. And I’d still like those results as they come in.” She turned and started to walk out of the vault.

  “That’s it?” Halran asked.

  Paula halted, tipping her head to fix the investigator with a level stare. “Unless you have something else to add.”

  “What about Telfer?”

  “Good luck hunting him down.”

  “Are you going to help us?”

  “I won’t put any obstacles in your way, political or otherwise.” She left the vault, leaving Halran staring at his team in confusion and indignation.

  Paula walked out of the administration block and glanced at the forest. The air blasts had produced superficial damage. Most of the clinic’s buildings were still intact, and while the larger trees had been toppled, there were still enough younger ones to maintain the forest once the dead trunks had been cleared away. A police cordon extended for several hundred yards, with uniformed officers reinforcing the patrolbots. Members of the clinic ground staff were working with contractors and forestrybots to clear the worst of the damage. Little curls of smoke were drifting upward from the blackened ground where fires had burned for a couple of hours during the night before being extinguished.

  She did not pause as her field effect scanned the area, but two of the contractor crew were red-tagged by her u-shadow. Both of them were shielded, utilizing sophisticated deflection techniques available only to high-grade biononics. Hers, of course, were even more advanced. They were keeping their distance from the cordon, but her eyes managed to zoom in and snatch a facial image. Her u-shadow produced a cross-reference for both of them in less than a second. Once upon a time, about a thousand years earlier, Paula would have confronted them there and then. These days she liked to think she had mellowed somewhat, although in truth it was more advantageous to let them think she had not spotted them.

  Paula had been born on Huxley’s Haven, a unique world funded by the Human Structure Foundation, which genetically modified all citizens so that they would fit into a simple social structure framed within a low-technology civilization. To the horror and dismay of the rest of the Commonwealth, what they condemned as genetic slavery actually worked, producing a population that was mostly happy with their predetermined lot. The few malcontents were kept in order by police officers who received specific psychoneural profiling. Among other traits was a variant on obsessive-compulsive disorder to ensure that they never gave up the chase. The Foundation had created Paula to be one of them, but she had been stolen from a birthing ward by a group of Radical Liberals intent on liberating the poor slaves. She had grown up in the Commonwealth at large, first becoming an investigator in the Serious Crimes Directorate and then, for the last seven hundred years, acting as an agent for ANA: Governance.

  Huxley’s Haven still existed, its society chugging quietly along on its ordained course without changing or evolving. The Greater Commonwealth had very little contact with it these days; Paula herself had not been back for over three hundred years, and that essentially had been nostalgia tourism. There was no need to keep an eye on it; ANA: Governance was very protective of non-Higher cultures. It was a policy that ironically gave Paula very little opportunity to return; her designated task of preventing the ANA factions from pursuing their illegal interference among the External Worlds kept her incredibly busy.

  Her u-shadow established an ultrasecure link to Justine Burnelli. “I’m at the Anagaska clinic,” she said.

  “And?”

  “We were right; the raid was organized by a faction.”

  “Any clues which one?”

  “Well, Marius and the Delivery Man are hanging around outside, which implies they are as interested as we are.”

  “Ergo, they didn’t do it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I’ve never known the Accelerators and the Conservatives to be so blatant before. More likely, one of them did it and the other is trying to expose or counter him. You know what they’re like.”

  “Whose memorycell were they after?”

  “Now that’s where it gets interesting: Inigo’s.”

  “Oh, my. Really?” said Justine. “I’m surprised Inigo left himself open to that level of exposure.”

  “To be exact, Inigo pre–Living Dream. This is an old store.”

  “How does that help anyone?”

  “I’m not sure. The Conservatives will benefit if he returns and stops the Cleric Conservator’s Pilgrimage project. But there’s no way of telling if he will. He might just applaud and join the Pilgrimage himself.”

  “If one of the factions full-cloned him, they’d be in possession of a puppet messiah. Very useful for endorsing your own agenda.”

  “Except this won’t be a full clone,” Paula said. “This is an early version.”

  “I have a theory that might fit.”

  “Go.”

  �
�A full-clone early version would presumably be able to receive dreams from the Void just like the original, which would give its controllers a considerable advantage over their opposition.”

  “You mean they’d be able to reach the supposed Last Dream?”

  “More likely the new Skylord Dreams. Ethan still hasn’t found the Second Dreamer despite a phenomenal amount of effort. Did you know Living Dream is modifying every gaiafield confluence nest it sponsors? And that’s about eighty percent of the Greater Commonwealth. They’re getting desperate; the new dreams are increasing. They’re not just fragments anymore. Whole sequences are seeping into the gaiafield.”

  “I don’t think Living Dream is behind the raid.”

  “They’d benefit enormously,” Justine said.

  “Yes, but my u-shadow has identified the woman assisting Mr. Telfer. It’s Living Dream’s ex-Councillor, Corrie-Lyn, now persona non grata to Living Dream and wanted for several bodyloss charges on Ellezelin. The Commonwealth warrants are quite extensive. They also list an accomplice called Aaron, who shares the facial features of Mr. Telfer.”

  “Now that is interesting. Any idea about Aaron alias Mr. Telfer?”

  “No. But the pair of them transferred to a starship immediately after the clinic raid. There’s only one starship unaccounted for on Anagaska right now, the Artful Dodger.”

  “What’s the history?”

  “Standard private yacht, registered on Sholapur.”

  “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. Sholapur. So in other words, we don’t know who it belongs to.”

  “Indeed. There’s no real background available; however, the Artful Dodger was on Ellezelin until just after the ruckus at the Riasi fane.”

  “Corrie-Lyn used to be Inigo’s lover. Could she be pining for him? A full clone would be one way of getting him back.”

  “No. She’s a pawn. Telfer is using her to get to Inigo.”

  “How does an out-of-date memorycell help them get closer to him? Enough people have tried to find him. He’s probably left the Commonwealth entirely. Either he set off to get into the Void by himself or he’s gone and joined Ozzie.”

  “He hasn’t joined Ozzie. I checked that fifteen years ago.”

  “I was always envious of the life you lead,” Justine said. “All that glamorous danger and travel; there’s something intoxicating about it to a sheltered little rich girl like me. How was Ozzie?”

  “Like me, essentially unchanged.”

  “Who do you think this Aaron character is working for?”

  “As you say, there are a lot of factions and organizations that would benefit by finding Inigo. This raid simply tells us how urgent their pursuit is becoming. Nobody has been careless enough to show their hand until now.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  “This raid is only one aspect of a much larger process of political events. I think it’s important to find the Second Dreamer before Living Dream does. That person will obviously play a huge part in determining the outcome of the Pilgrimage.”

  “Wow. You still think big, don’t you?”

  “I always believed that solving a case is a holistic process. It’s one of the few things I have remained true to in the last thousand years.”

  “And what about Aaron and Corrie-Lyn?”

  “That’s the aspect I’ll stay visible on. It won’t take Investigator Halran long to identify Corrie-Lyn, and things will become quite public after that. If I start inquiring after the Second Dreamer, it will create too much interest amid the factions.”

  “Would you like me to start looking for the Second Dreamer?”

  “No. You’re highly visible to the factions. Almost as much as myself. I think it would be best if you could keep an eye on the Delivery Man and Marius.”

  “I’ll do that. Who gets to track down the Second Dreamer, then?”

  Paula smiled broadly, knowing how the faction agents out in the forest would focus on that and wonder. “The last person anyone would suspect, of course.”

  The condition of the utility feed pipes in the third apartment was a lot worse than Araminta had expected. She had spent three unscheduled hours that morning tracing them through the walls and floor, supervising the bots as they ripped out the corroded tubes. It all made a great deal of mess, which meant more cleanup, which meant more time not spent preparing the wall frames for the new fittings, which pushed completion back just that little bit further.

  Her u-shadow told her when it was eleven o’clock; that barely gave her enough time for a spore shower in the fourth apartment, where she was living. Two of the old shower’s five nozzles were not working, and one of the remaining jets smelled funny. She just had time to apply some freshener and dress in smart trousers and jacket before the clients were due. The perfumed spray damping her skin gave her an unexpected flashback to the day she had found out that Laril had left Viotia and her liberal use of travel-clean back in those days. All of that gave her a guilty prod that she had not been back to Niks in ages.

  She gritted her teeth against stupid sentiment and went into the vestibule as the elevator brought her new clients up from the lobby. Danal and Mareble were dressed strangely. She wore a long skirt of wide-weave ginger cotton topped by a suede waistcoat with brass buttons that was worn over a plain white blouse. Sturdy brown boots were just visible below her swirling hem. Her thick raven hair was brushed back, its waves bound in simple elastic cloth bands. He wore leather trousers and boots similar to hers. A yellow jacket was almost hidden beneath a brown overcoat made of an oiled fabric.

  Despite their historical appearance, Araminta could not help smiling as the elevator doors opened. There was something irrepressibly enthusiastic about them: youthful grins and the eager way they glanced around, the way they held hands the whole time.

  “Welcome,” she said. The golden wood door to the showcase apartment swung open.

  She had dressed the apartment with a simple two-tone color scheme in each room and had kept the furniture minimalist. The floor of the open-plan living room was an expensive ebony parquet. Artfully positioned tables and the chairs and settee were all reproduction Herfal style with sharp curves and metal-moiré legs, a popular fad three centuries earlier. The balcony was open, and it was a warm clear day outside, showing the park off to great effect.

  Mareble drew a breath as they walked in. “It’s fabulous,” she exclaimed. “Just what we’re looking for.”

  Danal chortled. “Forgive my wife; she obviously doesn’t believe in showing our hand before negotiations.”

  “I did the same thing with the original vendor,” Araminta confessed. “It’s easy to become devoted to these apartments very quickly. I’m actually thinking about keeping one for myself.”

  Mareble stood in front of the balcony door. “Would the one we’re considering have the same view?”

  “Apartment three is on the corner.” Araminta gestured along the balcony. “You get one aspect facing the park as well as a view westward across the city. The suspension bridge is visible that way.”

  “How lovely.”

  “Can we see it?” Danal asked.

  “Not just yet. City health and safety codes won’t let me take people into an accredited construction site.” And it’s a complete shambles, which might put you off.

  “Construction site? Are there structural problems?”

  “Absolutely not. The structure is perfectly sound. An independent deep scan survey file is registered at City Hall if you’d like to verify it. I’m just refurbishing and remodeling. Unfortunately, the city chooses to class that as construction because I’m replacing the electrics and utility feeds. It’s just more filework for me, that’s all.”

  Danal gave a sympathetic sigh. “That sounds just like Ellezelin. Dear Lady, the Waterwalker never had to put in requests to the Orchard Palace if he wanted to get things done. Try telling that to our government.”

  “Now, darling.” Mareble squeezed his hand more tightly. “He has a thing
about bureaucrats,” she explained.

  “We all do,” Araminta assured them.

  “Thank you,” Danal said.

  “So are you moving here from Ellezelin?” Araminta asked.

  “Oh, yes,” they chorused happily.

  “I’m a confluence nest technician,” Danal said. “There’s a lot of work going on upgrading the whole gaiafield right now. It’s especially important on Viotia.”

  “Why is that?” Araminta asked.

  “The Second Dreamer is here,” Mareble said. “We’re sure of it. The last few dreams were so much more vivid than those first fragments. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t have gaiamotes,” Araminta said, keeping it light, as if it were some minor fault in an appliance she was going to get corrected, praying it would not make any difference to the deal. She needed their deposit on apartment three; they had not been as easy to sell as she had envisaged, and her suppliers were submitting payment demands.

  Mareble and Danal both wore the same compassionate expression, as if they felt sorry for her, a concord that instantly reminded her of Mr. Bovey.