The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Corrie-Lyn gave Inigo a broken look. She could see how scared he was; it was an expression she’d never seen on his face before. Not Inigo, not the man who was going to lead them all to a chance at a beautiful life.

  “What job?” Inigo asked with considerable dignity.

  A small muscle flexed in Aaron’s jaw. “I apologize. I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure!”

  Aaron gave Corrie-Lyn a modest shrug. “You know how it is.”

  “He’s not a man,” she growled out. “He’s a biological killing machine. And he’s so pitiful, he doesn’t even know why.”

  “So there you have it,” Aaron said. He looked over at the medical cabinet, which had rolled out of the wall. It did have a scorch mark on its silver casing, but the malmetal lid split open, and the management system reported full functionality even if some systems were running on backup.

  “I’m not getting in that,” Corrie-Lyn yelped.

  “You are,” Aaron said. “One way or another. Of course Inigo’s u-shadow will have complete control of your treatment. But I need you intact and healthy. As well as your physical injuries, you picked up a bad dose of radiation back there.”

  She glanced at Inigo, who shrugged.

  “You need her healthy?” Inigo said. “Why?”

  “She’s my leverage,” Aaron said bluntly. “She guarantees your good behavior.”

  “Shoot me,” Corrie-Lyn implored Inigo. “Use your biononics like a weapon again. Please. He can’t be allowed to succeed.”

  Inigo stared at her for a long moment. He bowed his head.

  “Now we have that out of the way, please get in,” Aaron said with a polite gesture at the medical cabinet.

  Corrie-Lyn limped over to it and sat on the edge. Inigo helped her to remove her clothes, then eased her back. The lid slid over her. She was sobbing as she lost consciousness.

  According to Corrie-Lyn’s secondary thought routines, the medical cabinet took four hours to reset and bind her arm in a toughened dermal layer, destress the bad sprain around her ankle, and decontaminate her skin and blood. Inigo also had gotten it to issue some kind of antidepressant sedative. She lay there in the warm dry darkness for several minutes after she awoke, reluctant to get out and see how much worse their lives had become. Eventually, she sighed and told her u-shadow to open the lid.

  Inigo was there, leaning over with his face showing gentle concern.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Like the Waterwalker on top of the mountain after Salrana’s death.”

  Inigo stroked her hair tenderly. “Nothing we face is ever going to be that bad.”

  “Ha,” she said indignantly. “That bastard’s not human, although he’s got the psychopath trait nailed pretty good.” She sat up to see Aaron on the other side of the cabin, smiling modestly. “Are your dreams still punishing you?” she growled at him as she crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “Hope so. One day you’ll drown in all that shit sloshing around in your head.”

  “Well, well, it is true.” Aaron grinned. “You can take the girl out of Sampalok, but you can’t take Sampalok out of the girl.”

  “What the crap do you know about the Waterwalker’s life, you subsentient biobot fuckhead?”

  “Welcome back, Corrie-Lyn. This party just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Inigo handed her a robe that was several sizes too big. Corrie-Lyn wrapped herself in it with angry motions, then swung her feet out of the cabinet. She drew back abruptly, remembering what had been on the floor as she had gone in.

  The blood was gone. She gave the cabin a careful examination. Apart from the bent equipment and misshapen furniture, it was relatively clean.

  “Some of the servicebots still work,” Inigo said. “I’ve had them cleaning things up.”

  “Huh,” she grunted, and climbed out. “So, going to start threatening me?”

  Aaron scratched behind his ear. “No.”

  “Why not? I thought you said I was your leverage. Go ahead; get your kicks slicing bits off. I won’t disappoint. I promise I’ll scream lots.” The bravado was making her legs shake.

  “Damn, and you think my brain’s damaged.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Aaron gave Inigo a genuinely curious look. “Whatever did you two have back in the day?”

  “Love.” Inigo’s arm went around her shoulder. “I doubt that’s in your memories.”

  “No. I have to admit it ain’t dinging any bells. But I understand the principles. And who knows, if I eat my greens and stay out of trouble, maybe I’ll find a nice girl who’ll like me for what I am. Just like this one does you.”

  Corrie-Lyn took a step forward, her hand bunching into a fist. Inigo pulled her back. “Will you two behave yourselves? And you, this is hardly professional.”

  “I know,” Aaron said. “Truce?”

  “If I ever get the chance to slit your throat while you’re sleeping, I promise I’ll cut long and deep.”

  Even Inigo gave her a strange look at that. She remained unrepentant.

  “I did save your lives back there,” Aaron said in a mildly injured tone.

  “We were only in that much trouble because of you.”

  “Really? Think on this. The people following us to find Inigo wanted him dead, very badly dead. They would have found him eventually. Thanks to you and me teaming up, we got here first.”

  “And who is left alive on Hanko to thank you for that?”

  “All right, enough,” Inigo said, squeezing her arm. “We are still alive, for which I acknowledge our debt. But you have to admit, having you come for me as part of some faction’s ideological wish fulfillment isn’t great for me.”

  “I don’t know what’s in store for you,” Aaron said. “But how bad can it be?”

  Inigo said nothing. Corrie-Lyn was disconcerted by the way his gaiamotes had closed off again, isolating his emotions. She was so used to sharing her every feeling with him. Seventy years ago.

  “So who are you taking me to?” Inigo asked.

  Aaron had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  “He doesn’t know,” Corrie-Lyn said.

  “Can I at least ask where we’re going?”

  “Well,” Aaron drawled. “I have to admit I’m not too sure anymore.”

  “What?”

  “You said you always know what to do next,” Corrie-Lyn protested. “Your brain is like an old flow chart. Finish one task and the next flips up. Well, now you’ve got the Dreamer, you have to know where to take him.”

  “It’s kinda like this: Under ordinary circumstances I’d know exactly what to do next.”

  “Ordinary circumstances?”

  “We’re on a navy ship. A, uh, borrowed navy ship.”

  “And you’ve broken it,” Inigo said laconically.

  “Broken it?” she asked in alarm. The prospect of the rest of her life, however long or short, condemned to the confines of this ship with the ultimate nut job Aaron wasn’t a comforting thought.

  “I had to fly some rather extreme maneuvers to locate you,” Aaron explained. “Let’s just say I kinda screwed the warranty. On the plus side, there’s a lot of redundancy and a big inventory of spare parts. The smartcore has drawn up a repair schedule, and the bots are hard at it.”

  “Wait,” Corrie-Lyn said. “Where are we now?” She’d assumed that after four hours they’d be far outside the Hanko system.

  “A million kilometers from Hanko,” Aaron said. “And waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “Here’s the deal. This is a navy ship, so they build them tough; we can go FTL in our current state, but I haven’t got me a huge urge to do that right now. The bots need some time to get us back up to a minimum function level. Now, the way my instinct’s pushing it, I don’t mind waiting. When we are back up to a halfway decent degree of flight readiness, I’ll know what to do.”

  Inigo blinked in astonishment. “Is it always like this?”

  Cor
rie-Lyn sighed. “Yes. ’Fraid so.”

  There was food on board. The crew members had had their own little stores of specialty items they just couldn’t live without. Corrie-Lyn and Inigo got to open packets of hot orange chocolate drink made on Luranda with marshmallows from Epual. The packets were self-heating, which was just as well; the culinary unit was one of the casualties the bots were working on, and half of their basic nutrient liquid had squirted out of a ruptured tank.

  The cabin furniture was a long way down the priority list for repairs, so they wriggled themselves into the strange lumpy curves as comfortably as possible and sipped from metal mugs. Aaron was with them some of the time. He often left to inspect what was being done in various parts of the ship.

  After another argument, Corrie-Lyn got him to open up the ship’s net with some heavy access restrictions in place. At least she and Inigo were allowed to review the sensor images.

  Hanko was a silver crescent set against an unusually barren starfield. The Lindau’s remaining sensors overlaid the visual image with a host of gravitational data. They could actually watch the mass distribution altering as the Hawking m-sink ate the world from within. Great looping gravity waves expanded and contracted around the planet, juddering with the rhythm of a dying heart. Their motions became more erratic as the process began to accelerate toward its terrible ending. The magma core was being absorbed at a phenomenal rate by the inflating event horizon. Tectonic plates shifted and shattered as the mantle adjusted to internal pressures that changed by the minute. The ice that had grasped every ocean for the last thousand years broke apart into vast crumbling sea-size bergs that started to skid across the buckling land and collapsing mountain ranges.

  Aaron returned to the cabin. “It’s about to go critical,” he announced solemnly.

  As he spoke, the brilliant white storm clouds began to glow with a tangerine hue, filling the crescent out to a perfect sphere of amber light. Its intensity rose swiftly, and the atmosphere started to expand. Massive hurricanes geysered up above the ionosphere, twirling off into space as the gases burned with nuclear heat.

  “Wish it well, wish it gone,” Aaron sang in a low whisper.

  Below the shredded atmosphere, the mantle detonated. Continent-size rock segments punched outward amid tattered oceans of superheated lava.

  “The splendor of death, once known, loved beyond reason. Evolution’s eternal shore, free at last to wash up what you will.”

  Untied from the constraints of the semisolid shell, the true light of the runaway m-sink implosion shone out far brighter than the nearby star. Its spectrum chased through a delicate pink to pure white, then accelerated into blue-white as its radiation efflux poured out vast quantities of gamma waves. The event horizon consumed the last of the planet’s core. Only the light remained, growing ever brighter as its heart shrank faster and faster.

  “Out of twinkling stardust all came; into dark matter all will fall. Death mocks us as we laugh defiance at entropy, yet ignorance-birthed mortals sail forth upon time’s cruel sea.”

  The Lindau began to accelerate at an easy two gees, keeping far ahead of the rock fragments and darkening seas of magma that spewed out from the dazzling implosion nucleus.

  “I don’t recognize the verse,” Inigo said.

  Aaron shook himself out of a mild daze to frown at him. “What verse?”

  Corrie-Lyn rolled her eyes and poured a shot of hundred-year-old rum into the remains of her hot chocolate. She’d found the bottle of St. Lisamne’s finest in one of the crew cabins and immediately appropriated it. “Never mind. Has your crappy brain come up with anything yet?”

  “I’m considering options. I’m most worried that the navy knew we were here.”

  “How do you know that?” Inigo asked.

  “The information was in the captain’s brain. Admiral Kazimir himself told him about you and me.”

  Corrie-Lyn shuddered and poured some more rum. The chocolate was all gone now. “In his brain! So they’ll come looking when this ship doesn’t report in.”

  “I suspect they’re already on their way, and given that the captain reported the use of an m-sink, it will be considerably more than a simple scout ship that pops out of hyperspace.”

  “So will you suicide or surrender?”

  “Neither. We have about three more hours until primary systems repairs reach an adequate level. The rest can be performed while we’re under way, but the drive and power systems must be made reliable first.”

  “That sounds like you know where we’re going.”

  “I’m considering options that are opening up.”

  “Opening up,” an intrigued Inigo said. “Do you mean logically, or are these possibilities inside your own head that are being revealed by your employer?”

  Aaron scratched behind his ear, clearly uncomfortable about the whole process. “The options, I guess, are implanted information. Which one I choose is up to me, based on the situation on the ground. After all, it’s that kind of expertise which brought me the job.”

  “Do any of these options tell you what is to become of me?”

  “It’s not like that. You’re not relevant to me personally; you’re just the package I’m assigned to deliver.”

  “You know, as well as my day job as the Dreamer, I am an accomplished analyst. If you were to open yourself fully to the gaiafield, I might be able to uncover the pathways of these foreign memories.”

  “Why would I want you to do that?”

  “So that you know who you are. Where the real you begins and the artificial motivations end.”

  “Suppose they’re not artificial motivations? Suppose this is what I am, what I’ve always been?”

  “You suffer too much for that to be true. Your dreams trouble you. I knew that even before Corrie-Lyn told me.”

  “And yet I’m alive, and you’re in my custody. I think we’ll settle for that level of functionality for now.”

  “As you wish. Can you at least tell us about the options that have been revealed?”

  “I don’t know much in advance. That way, if I’m captured, I can’t reveal anything to my opponents.”

  “You just said we were in your custody.”

  “I have to consider the infinitely small probability you might escape. I can’t have you knowing what I know; that would give you a mighty large tactical advantage, my friend.”

  “Oh, dear Lady.” Corrie-Lyn groaned and took a swig straight from the bottle. She ordered her u-shadow to resume the feed from the external sensors.

  The new intense star that had been Hanko began to diminish within an hour of its inception. It was an insatiable consumer of mass, quick to devour the remnants of the planet that hadn’t reached escape velocity during the implosion rupture. Solid splinters were quick to fall prey to its incredible gravity, flashing to ruin as they passed through the event horizon. Then its gravity reached out farther to the solidifying torrents of magma, pulling them back. After that there were only the thick streamers of gas and dust that were splayed out. Their tides began to turn, grasping at the loose irradiated particles and hauling them down the steepening gravity gradient to extinction.

  A mere three hours after it had shone brighter than its primary, Hanko was reduced to a tiny glowing ember surrounded by whirlpool veils of lavender fog that were slowly constricting.

  “It consumes everything around it in order to burn,” Aaron said. “Yet in the end, entropy will always emerge victorious, snuffing out the very last glimmer of heat and light. After that there is only darkness. When that state is reached, even eternity will cease to exist, for one moment will be like every other, and nothingness will claim the universe.” He turned to Inigo. “Sound familiar?”

  “Nothingness is a long way off,” Inigo said. “Not even the post-physicals will be around to witness that. It certainly doesn’t worry me.”

  “And yet it’s your Void which will accelerate the process. Without the mass of this galaxy, the universe moves noticeably
closer to the end of time and space.”

  “Your employers want me to stop the Pilgrimage.”

  Aaron gave a bemused shrug. “I have no idea what they want. I’m just observing the symbology here.”

  Corrie-Lyn stirred herself. After the St. Lisamne rum, she’d polished off a couple of bottles of wine hoarded by another crew man. Then there was the JK raspberry vodka. It annoyed her that there wasn’t a working fridge; the JK should have been drunk chilled to arctic levels. “You care, though,” she slurred. “That’s a start. Your conditioning is beginning to unravel. Maybe we’ll get to meet the real Aaron sooner than your boss would like.”

  “You’re already looking at him. Sorry.” Aaron sent an order to the smartcore, and the Lindau went FTL.

  “So what have you decided?” Inigo asked.

  “The navy knows that I was hunting you, and if they don’t know I survived Hanko, they’ll find out soon enough. We’re both being hunted by whoever flew the ship that fired the Hawking m-sink. I was supposed to be in the Artful Dodger, which should have given me a big edge, but that’s gone. However, there’s an emergency replacement ship waiting for me on Pulap. The bad news is that if we turn up anywhere in the Lindau, everybody and their mother will know about it. I can’t risk that; I can’t expose you to the possibility of capture or termination.”

  “You’re stuffed, then,” Corrie-Lyn sniggered. “Shame about that.”

  “Not quite. There is something that took a long time to emerge, a real last resort.”

  “Which is?” Inigo asked.

  “I’m taking you to the Spike.”

  “The alien macrohabitat? That’s seven thousand light-years away. It’ll take weeks. What in Honious is there?”

  Aaron wrinkled his brow as if listening to some distant voice. Even he seemed surprised by what it was saying: “Ozzie. Ozzie lives in the Spike.”

  Paula watched the padded plyplastic fold protectively around her piano with a mild sense of regret. There was just no point trying to play. After the conference with Kazimir and ANA she just couldn’t lose herself in music the way she normally did. Kazimir’s doubt about the Accelerators’ motivation was troubling her. Logically, the outline she’d proposed was flawless. The Accelerators needed the deterrent fleet weapons to blast the Raiel out of the way.