The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “I never knew that. So where is it now?”

  “Still on Hanko.”

  “Interesting. If you’re Aaron and you’ve got yourself a lifeboat, why wait around on a planet that’s about to implode?”

  “To find what you originally came for.”

  “Exactly. Keep me updated.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you going to send another ship?”

  “The Yangtze is already on its way; I doubt it will get there in time.”

  “A River-class no less? You are taking this seriously now. Let us hope it has better luck than the Yenisey.”

  “And the Lindau.”

  It was raining outside Colwyn City, turbid clouds drizzling the fields and hills with a slick of cold water. It was a morose day whose lack of wind condemned it to suffer under mist that stifled the land and obscured the upper skies with their pink cirrostratus clouds. Inside the force fields, however, it was dry and sunny as the gloom was diverted around the curving protective barriers.

  The woman was making the most of the artificial climate, walking in a leisurely way up Daryad Avenue’s pronounced slope to window-shop. Almost half the stores along the avenue were open, though most of the bars and restaurants were shut. Supply deliveries were nonexistent in Colwyn now that the invaders had shut down all capsule flights.

  Most people in the city center that morning were heading down the slope toward the river. It was the day the Senate delegation was due to arrive. The residents wanted to give them a welcome they couldn’t ignore as their starship touched down at the docks. Already the crowds were swelling around the sealed-up perimeter.

  The woman either didn’t care or didn’t know. She was young and attractive, wearing a fashionable gray-blue dress whose skirt showed off long legs. Men making their way down the slope cast admiring glances and pinged her. She smiled loftily, ignoring the attention. She also somehow managed to ignore the Ellezelin paramilitary capsules racing low overhead, sirens screeching and lasers strobing the pavement.

  She was ignoring them to a degree that made her unaware of three larger capsules prowling the sky above the avenue’s rooftops, even as they suddenly stopped their circling to power-dive. She was still unaware right up to the moment when their seven-gee deceleration smacked them down beside her with such force that their pressure waves burst the glass window she was looking through. She screamed as she was shoved painfully to her knees amid the glittering shards, her arms folded around her head to protect her. The big capsules halted, floating ten centimeters above the concrete. Their malmetal doors opened fast, and Major Honilar jumped out, leading his welcome team into a surround and secure formation, putting the woman at the center of a circle produced by the nozzles of fifteen high-caliber energy weapons. She was screaming incoherently as they encircled her, blood running from a hundred tiny glass nicks, her dress all but shredded.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Major Honilar bellowed at her.

  All the people on the outside of the three capsules who had flung themselves flat lifted their heads to see what in Ozzie’s name was going on. They saw an armor-suited figure grab the woman’s hair and lift her brutally to her feet. Saw the agony on her mutilated face, the horrific amount of blood saturating her clothes, dripping liberally onto the pavement. Several of the more astute ones delivered what they were seeing directly to unisphere news stations.

  “Araminta, you are now in the protective custody of the Intermediate Ellezelin Forces.” The suited figure pushed her toward the nearest capsule.

  “Hey!” someone on the street protested.

  One of the welcome team fired a small enhanced explosive projectile over their heads. The detonation forced everyone to cower on the floor again.

  “If anyone attempts to interfere with our operation, they will be shot,” Major Honilar announced loudly. He pushed the bloody, sobbing woman into his capsule, which lifted immediately, its malmetal door still closing as it reached rooftop height. The remainder of the welcome team retreated back into their capsules, covering the prone bystanders in a classic hostile withdrawal protocol.

  Sitting and drinking their morning tea on the balcony of the café opposite the drama, Oscar and his team watched the last capsule lift hurriedly into the city’s artificially clear sky.

  “Good deployment,” Beckia said with grudging admiration.

  “As subtle as a kick in the balls,” Tomansio retorted dismissively. “Look at them.” He waved a hand toward the stunned citizens who were slowly picking themselves up. There was a lot of anger on their faces.

  Oscar watched several of them shaking their fists at the sky, shouting obscenities. He was glad he was wearing civilian clothes. It wasn’t going to be pleasant for any of the Ellezelin troops caught alone after today.

  “I think Major Honilar is getting somewhat aggrieved,” Beckia said. “What’s that, the fifth Araminta the recognition programs have found for him this morning?”

  “Liatris is doing well,” Tomansio said.

  “I doubt the latest victim thinks that,” Oscar said. He couldn’t drink his cinnamon-flavored espresso now. The callousness he’d just witnessed was triggering a lot of guilt. The poor woman was perfectly innocent, her only crime to have roughly the same dimensions and features as the real Araminta. That way the whole incident could be blamed on the recognition software that had plucked her image from one of the streetwatch sensors along Daryad Avenue, alerting the welcome team to her location.

  “This is your operation, Oscar,” Tomansio rebuked. “You knew what would have to be done. Don’t go soft on us now.”

  “Of all the people in the galaxy, I am the one who really understands the concept of collateral damage best of all,” Oscar announced.

  “So you are. Then you know she was a necessary casualty.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “Oscar, Ellezelin invading Viotia isn’t right. Hunting Araminta isn’t right, but we’re all doing it because we all know she has to be found.”

  “What was her name?” Oscar asked, staring down on the broad avenue. More people were heading down the slope now, marching to the docks to make their demands heard by the Senate delegation. It was all futile, he knew. Living Dream didn’t care about their opinion or that of the Senate. The delegation and the talks with Phelim and the Prime Minister were just buying the welcome team more time to find their target.

  “Does it matter?” Beckia asked.

  “Yes, actually, it does,” Oscar said. “We used her.”

  “I’ll have Liatris check it out when he has a moment,” Tomansio said.

  “Thank you.”

  Tomansio and Beckia finished their drinks. Oscar still couldn’t bring himself to touch what was left of his. People were getting hurt, and he was the cause. He knew it was stupid, but he really hadn’t considered that aspect of the operation when he had agreed to help Paula. Dushiku’s unisphere interface code hung in his exovision, so very, very tempting. Talking things through with his calm, rational partner would make things feel so much better. It was also a sign of weakness that the Knights Guardian wouldn’t take to kindly. He sighed when Tomansio and Beckia rose from the table and gave him an inquiring glance.

  “Coming,” he said.

  They took a public cab from outside the café. It rode quickly and smoothly along the metro track that ran down the middle of Daryad Avenue, taking them up the slope into the grid of taller modern buildings. Ten minutes later it dropped them off in the Palliser precinct, where they walked into a bar that was several social levels below the café they’d just left, wedged in between a trike repair garage and a wholesale packaging store.

  Oscar glanced down to the far end of the street, where Colwyn City’s big confluence nest building stood at the intersection, squat and aloof, looking fortresslike compared to the shabbiness of the structures around it.

  Inside, the bar was little better, with the windows obscured by ancient hologram adverts and fading overhead lighting strip
s adding little to the illumination. Tables were scattered about on the ancient wood floor, interspaced with pool tables and tri-gamer stations. Only the counter had decent lighting, with suspended white globes projecting a monochrome glow across the beer pumps.

  There were fewer than ten customers in total: two hard-core barflies up on stools lining up shot glasses and aerosols, one loner sitting at a tri-game feeding it with his cash coin, and the others huddled around tables. They all ignored the newcomers.

  Tomansio gave the bartender an order for four beers, and they claimed a corner table. A servicebot trundled over with their glasses. Two minutes later Cheriton sauntered in. He did draw some glances, with a big gray coat buttoned up tight so that he didn’t show off his “native” Ellezelin clothes. There was nothing he could do to disguise the hat, though, which he held in one hand.

  “So?” Tomansio asked as Cheriton sat down.

  The gaiafield expert raised his glass as they used their biononics to establish a screening field. “Paranoia reigns supreme. They’ve got the building net scanning and logging all calls. If I’d encrypted anything I sent, they would have dropped a cage over me.”

  “Are they suspicious?”

  “Not of us, but they know someone is messing with the welcome team’s search. We’re not the only covert team here.”

  “Liatris has spotted at least two other infiltrations,” Beckia said.

  “Well, between us we’re certainly stirring up a yarsnapper nest of distrust. The Third Dreamer hasn’t helped.”

  “I would have thought they’d enjoy that,” Tomansio said. “A nearly real-time connection into the Void that shows that we can get inside and that we have psychic powers when we do get there.”

  “Living Dream certainly welcomes that, but it does raise questions about why our dear Cleric Conservator hasn’t been chosen for any communing, or the rest of the Cleric Council, for that matter.”

  “Are they chasing after the Third Dreamer now as well?” Oscar asked.

  “No. Best guess is that it’s someone with a strong natural connection to Justine.”

  “What do you mean, natural connection?”

  “It was always assumed that Inigo was related to Edeard somehow, some distant family connection. As we don’t know which colony ship wound up inside the Void, the link could never be proved. So Living Dream is assuming the same for Justine.”

  “There can’t be many left,” Oscar said thoughtfully. “She’s been inside ANA for centuries. All her contemporaries are in there, too; that or they’re real dead.”

  “Apart from Admiral Kazimir,” Cheriton said.

  “No!”

  “Probably not,” Cheriton admitted. “But we’ll never be able to trace it, anyway. Justine’s dream emanated from the Central worlds’ gaiafield, where the confluence nests are all built and maintained by Highers. Living Dream can’t touch them.”

  “Thank Ozzie for that,” Beckia said.

  “Hang on,” Oscar said. “Araminta can hardly have a family connection to a Starflyer.”

  Cheriton grinned. “It’s not exactly a perfect theory.”

  “So Living Dream’s emphasis is still on the Second Dreamer?” Tomansio asked.

  “Very much so.” Cheriton took another drink of the beer. “You need to get Liatris into my building’s net and subvert their monitors to establish a secure channel for me. If he doesn’t, I’ll have to go aggressive to get out if I send you a warning again.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “What progress are you making with Danal and Mareble?” Oscar asked.

  “Some, though I’m not sure it’s going to help much. Danal was given a memory read.”

  Everyone around the table winced.

  “Yeah,” Cheriton said. “As were all the others they rounded up at the apartment raid. I took Mareble down to their headquarters in the docks. She got to see him, but he’s still in custody, and she had a restriction order placed on her. As far as Major Honilar is now concerned, just knowing Araminta is a crime.”

  “So they’re no use, then?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

  Beckia gave Cheriton a knowing glance. “You didn’t?”

  “What could I do? The whole merry widow syndrome really kicked into overdrive for a while there. Mareble was very upset when I got her back to her hotel room.”

  “Dear Ozzie.” Oscar chuckled into his beer.

  “It establishes me as a genuine supportive friend,” Cheriton said a shade too defensively. “That could be useful. A lot of followers are having their faith shaken by the way Phelim is acting. This wasn’t what they signed up for.”

  “Okay, good work,” Tomansio said.

  Cheriton put his beer back on the table. “Have you got any idea where Araminta might be?”

  “Not one. Liatris is running a hundred analysis routines, trying to figure out where she could have taken refuge. Honilar won’t be far behind him; even he is eventually going to work out that he’s being deliberately distracted.”

  “Great. Then the paranoia will really kick in.”

  “They’ll go for her family next,” Oscar said miserably. “Make a big splash of arresting them to flush her out.”

  “Do you want to warn them?” Tomansio asked.

  “If they believe us, and it’s a big if, that might make it harder for Honilar to round them up. Worst-case scenario, it’ll take him an extra half hour. You keep telling me every minute is precious.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll start calling them.”

  “I’d better get back,” Cheriton said. He stood up and slipped through the privacy screen.

  “Nothing from the monitors we’ve got on Cressida,” Beckia said as they waited for Tomansio to complete his anonymous calls to Araminta’s family. “We’ll go to Nik’s next, see if any of her old colleagues can give us a hint where she might be.”

  “Sure,” he said. His u-shadow told him Paula was calling on a secure channel.

  “Any progress?” she asked.

  “The Second Dreamer is Araminta, a Viotia native. So far she’s managed to give everyone the slip. We’re chasing what leads we’ve got, but we’re not the only ones here.”

  “You’re sure it’s Araminta?”

  “Oh, yes.” Oscar smiled fondly as he recalled their second visit to the apartments. He’d actually laughed out loud when he saw the top of the water tank lying on the bathroom floor. And from what they could determine, she’d stopped for a cup of tea and some cookies before scooting out of there. That was real class— or total insanity. Either way, he was rather looking forward to the time when he finally got to meet her. “Living Dream knows it, too.”

  “Can you get her first?”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “I have something to tell you,” Paula said.

  “This doesn’t sound good.”

  “There is a faction agent in a very powerful starship, equivalent to yours. They just fired a black hole weapon into Hanko. The planet is currently imploding.”

  Oscar’s skin turned chilly. He stared at the bar’s colorful hologram adverts without seeing them. “Hanko?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Oscar.”

  “But I captained the Dublin there during the Prime attack,” he protested weakly. “We went through hell protecting Hanko.”

  “I know. This is a new and very dangerous type of weapon. No one expected it to be used like this. I’m telling you so you understand that the factions are becoming desperate. Be very careful acquiring this Araminta. It is not a game.”

  “I understand. Why was Hanko so important to them?”

  “Inigo may have been on it.”

  “Wow. I see. Did he escape?”

  “We don’t know. There’s no communication link to the planet anymore.”

  “Shit.”

  “Oscar. There’s something else. I’m telling you in case I vanish. I suspect there’s a good chance the agent was the Cat.”

  “Oh, no. No,
no, no. Not her. She’s in suspension. You put her there, for fuck’s sake. That was the one thing I made very sure of after they re-lifed me.”

  “I don’t know for certain yet. And it’ll only be a clone if it is her.”

  “Only a clone? Oh, Jesus. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. But if she turns up on Viotia, your Knights Guardian might be tempted to jump ship.”

  “Oh, fuck!” he said out loud, very loud. Beckia and Tomansio gave him a curious glance.

  “Now you know,” Paula said. “You can take precautions.”

  “Precautions? Against the Cat, in an ultradrive ship, with a superweapon? What kind of deranged moron let her have these things in the first place?”

  “As I said, the factions are getting desperate.”

  “Wait. Why would you vanish?”

  “She, or someone like her, tried to kill me. She’ll probably try again. You know what she’s like.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “And you will. Not long now.”

  “Damn, I hate you.”

  “Hate is good. It helps keep you focused.”

  “It’s not good,” he protested irritably. “It makes you irrational.”

  “Which makes you unpredictable. Which gives your enemies a difficult time determining your actions. It will be harder for her to set a trap for you.”

  “I didn’t have any goddamn enemies before you dragged me into this.”

  “If you genuinely need backup, I will come to Viotia. I simply prefer not to unless there is no alternative. Do you want me there?”

  Oscar took a long breath and glared up at the ceiling. “No. I have everything perfectly under control.” He told his u-shadow to end the call.

  “Everything all right?” Tomansio asked.

  “Blissfully wonderful. Come on, let’s get over to Nik’s.” While Viotia’s still here.

  The winds on Hanko had always presented a problem to aircraft whether they used ingrav or regrav. At high altitude it didn’t really matter; precision wasn’t necessary above the cloud level. But close to the ground squalls and microbursts could shove a ship down unexpectedly, bringing it perilously close to a crash. As a consequence, craft did not fly below eight hundred meters unless they were landing at Jajaani. That was in ordinary conditions.