The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

“I’m sorry, Admiral, but the only other possibility is if Inigo is alive and on the Lindau.”

  “How does that help us? He started this Ozziedamned nonsense in the first place.”

  “Exactly. He may be able to stop it. He certainly had a large enough change of heart to dump Living Dream. Several powerful people believed that warranted expending considerable effort and energy to finding him.”

  “What do you suggest? Intercepting the Lindau?”

  “Not a good option. Not yet. This Aaron character is single-minded in his mission and has already killed countless people in his pursuit. If he is threatened, he may well have instructions to eliminate Inigo.”

  “Or he may not.”

  “Granted. But if Inigo is our last remaining chance and he’s on board that scout ship, we can’t risk it. That’s a small ship: Aaron has no fallback, nowhere to run. Prudence would suggest waiting until it reaches the Spike. That opens up our options from a tactical point of view.”

  “All right, Paula, but it’s a loose end I don’t want to ignore. We need every glimmer of hope we can muster.”

  “I won’t let it slip, I assure you. I have a ship which can reach the Spike quickly when the need arises.”

  Once again he ran across the vast hall with its crystalline arches high above. People scattered before him, frightened people. Children. Children with tears streaming down their sweet little faces.

  Of all his uncertainty and confusion, he knew that should not be so. A thought he held steadfast. A lone conviction in a world gone terribly wrong. Human society existed to protect its children. That was bedrock he could rest easy upon. Not that such assurance meant anything to the physical reality he was surrounded by.

  Weapons fire burst all around him, elegant colored lines of energy forming complex crisscross patterns in the air. Force fields added a mauve haze to the image. Then came the cacophony of screaming.

  He ran, flinging himself across a cluster of wailing children. It was no good. The darkness followed him, flowing across the huge room like an incoming tide. It curled around him. And he felt her hand on his shoulder amid a clash of sparkling colors. The pain began, searing in through his flesh, seeking out his heart.

  “You don’t leave me,” she whispered silkily into his ear.

  He struggled, writhing frantically against her grip as the pain was slowly replaced by an even more frightening cold. “Nobody leaves me,” she said.

  “I do!” he yelled with a raw throat. “I don’t want this.” Away along the fringe of darkness, more garish colored lights exploded. He heaved against her iron grip—

  —and fell out of the cot to land painfully on the cabin floor. A weird ebony fog occluded his vision as he tried to focus on the Lindau’s bulkhead. It pulsed in a heartbeat rhythm with strange distensions bulging out, as if something were attempting to break out of his nightmare. He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to banish the creepy intrusion. The pain was real still, throbbing behind his temple like the Devil’s own migraine. Then he remembered a crown of slim silver needles contracting around his head, puncturing the skin, slipping effortlessly through the bone to penetrate his brain, and terrible red light shone into his thoughts, exposing every miserable segment of himself. “Do it,” he yelled into the nothingness. “Just do it now.” Sharp merciless claws reached in and started to rip out the most vital segments. And now his screams were silent, going on and on and on as his mind was shredded until finally, thankfully, there was nothing left. No thought remained, so he ceased to think—

  —Aaron woke up with his cheek squashed uncomfortably on the deck, his neck at a bad angle. It was as if he were regaining consciousness from a knockout blow. His skin was cold; he shivered as much from shock as anything. “Oh, crap, this has just got to stop,” he moaned as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position.

  The captain’s cabin was still a mess. He hadn’t bothered to organize a servicebot to clean up yet. Personal environment wasn’t a priority for him, unlike the other two, who seemed quite fastidious about their small shared cabin. He ordered a fast biononic field scan to check on his captives and relaxed fractionally when exovision displays showed them in the main cabin. Now that their status was confirmed, he followed it up with a review of the Lindau’s systems. Plenty of components were operating on the edge of their safety margins thanks to the damage they’d received back on Hanko. But they were still functioning, still in hyperspace and on course for the Spike.

  Aaron took a moment to wipe himself down with a towel soaked in travel-clean before pulling on some clothes he’d found in the cabin’s locker. The Lindau’s captain had been almost the same size as he, so the bots needed to make only a few adjustments before he could wear the conservatively styled shirts and trousers. Dressed in fawn-colored two-thirds-length shorts and a mauve sleeveless sweatshirt, he joined the other two for breakfast.

  Corrie-Lyn gave him a sullen glance as he entered the main cabin, then returned to her bowl of yogurt and cereal. Aaron didn’t need to run any kind of scan to know she was hungover. He’d given up trying to stop the one remaining culinary unit from producing alcohol for her; its electronics were in a bad way, and the last thing it needed was a software war raging inside its circuitry.

  “Good morning,” he said politely to Inigo. At least the ex-Dreamer gave him a brief acknowledgment, glancing up from his plate of toast and marmalade. Aaron ordered up a toasted bagel with poached egg on smoked salmon, orange juice, and a pot of tea.

  “Why do you smell of bleach?” Corrie-Lyn asked.

  “Do I?”

  “You’ve used travel-fresh,” she accused. “There is a working shower, you know.”

  The culinary unit pinged, and Aaron opened its stainless-steel door. His breakfast was inside. He hesitated at the slightly odd smell before transferring it all to a tray. The remaining chair at the table had broken as it was trying to retract, leaving a gray lump protruding from the floor with an upper hollow that wasn’t quite wide or deep enough for sitting in. Aaron squirmed his way down into it. “The shower is in your room,” he pointed out.

  “And you rate our privacy above your hygiene? Since when?”

  Inigo stopped chewing and glanced silently up at the ceiling.

  “Corrie-Lyn, we’re going to be on board together for a while,” Aaron said. “As you may have noticed, this ship is on the wrong side of tiny, and there ain’t a whole lot of it working too good. Now, I don’t expect you to be gushing with mighty gratitude, but it’s my belief that basic civility will get us all through this without me ripping too many of your fucking limbs off. You clear on this?”

  “Fascist bastard.”

  “Is it true Ethan kept you on the Cleric Council because you were his private whore?”

  “Fuck you!” Corrie-Lyn stood up fast, glaring at Aaron.

  “See?” Aaron said mildly. “It’s a two-way street. And you can’t rip my limbs off.”

  She stomped out of the main cabin. Inigo watched her go, then carried on eating his toast. Aaron took a drink of his orange juice, then cut into the egg. It tasted like rotten fish. “What the hell …”

  “My toast tastes like cold lamb,” Inigo admitted. “The fatty bits. I used biononics to change my taste receptor impulses. It helps a bit.”

  “Good idea.” Aaron’s u-shadow was interrogating the culinary unit to try to identify the problem. The result wasn’t promising. “The texture memory files are corrupted, and it doesn’t look like there are any backups left on board; a whole batch of kubes got physically smashed up. It’ll be producing this kind of crud all the way to the Spike.”

  “Corrie-Lyn doesn’t have biononics. She can’t make it taste better.”

  “That’ll make her a bucketful of fun for sure. We’ll have to inventory the prepacked supplies, see if there’s enough to last her.”

  “Or you could simply connect to the unisphere with a TD channel and download some new files.”

  Aaron looked at him over the
rim of the orange juice, which tasted okay. “Not going to happen. I can’t risk an infiltration. The smartcore’s in the same condition as the rest of the ship.”

  “That was a bad dream you had last night,” Inigo said quietly. “You need to watch out for aspects leaking into your genuine personality.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “My genuine personality?”

  “All right, then, the one that keeps you up and functional. I’m getting concerned about the Mr. Paranoia who won’t risk downloading a food synthesis file.”

  “Okay, for future reference, this very same personality has kept me alive through all my missions and helped me snatch you. And that barely took a couple of weeks after I’d been assigned to you, whereas everyone else in the Commonwealth had spent seventy years on the hunt for you. So you might want to rethink your poor estimation of my operational capabilities.”

  Inigo’s hands fluttered in a modest gesture of acquiescence. “As you wish. But you have to understand I am curious about your composition. I’ve never encountered a mind quite like yours before. You have absences, and I don’t just mean memory. Whole emotional fibers seem to have been suppressed. That’s not good for you. The emotions you have permitted yourself are abnormally large; you’re out of balance as a result.”

  “So Corrie-Lyn keeps telling me.” He tasted his egg again. His biononics had changed his taste receptors. This time the yoke had a mushroom flavor. It was weird, but he could live with it, he decided.

  “You’ve been unkind to her,” Inigo said accusingly. “Small wonder she hates you.”

  “I found you for her. She’s just ungrateful, that’s all. That or she doesn’t want to admit to herself how willing she was to pay the price.”

  “What price is that?”

  “Betrayal. That’s what it took to trace you.”

  “Hmm. Interesting analysis. All of which brings us back to our current situation. So you’re taking me to the Spike to see Ozzie. What then?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Your unknown employer must have given you some hint, some rough outline. To be an effective field agent you have to constantly reevaluate your alternatives. What if the Lindau was knocked out by the opposition, whoever they are? What if I’m taken away?”

  Aaron smiled. “Then I kill you.”

  The cabin Corrie-Lyn and Inigo were sharing was small. It was meant for five crew members but in theory the navy duty rota they followed should mean that only two would ever be using it at the same time, with changeovers every few hours. Inigo reckoned they’d all have to be very intimate with one another. The bunks were both fully extended, locked at a ten-degree angle with the edges curling up as if they were heat-damaged. All of which left little space to edge along between them. And they were useless for sleeping in. Instead, Inigo had just piled all the quilts onto the floor to make a cozy nest.

  When he came back in after breakfast, Corrie-Lyn was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the crumpled fabric, drinking a mug of black coffee. An empty ready-pak was on the floor beside her.

  “Taste good?” he asked.

  She held up the foil ready-pak. “The deSavoel estate’s finest mountain bean. It doesn’t come much better.”

  “That should help the hangover.” He perched awkwardly on the edge of a bunk, feeling it give slightly beneath him. It shouldn’t have done that.

  “It does,” she grunted.

  “I wonder if we can find a bean to help with the attitude.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “What in Honious happened to you?”

  Corrie-Lyn’s dainty freckled face abruptly turned livid. “Somebody left. Not just me; they left the whole fucking movement. They got up and walked out without a hint of why they were going. Everything I loved, everything I believed in, was gone, ripped away from me. I’d given decades of my life to you and the dream you promised us. And as if that wasn’t enough, I didn’t know! I didn’t know why you’d left. Ladyfuckit, I didn’t even know if you were alive. I didn’t know if you’d given up on us, if it was all wrong, if you’d lost hope. I. Didn’t. Know! Nothing, that’s what you left me with. From everything—a fabulous life with hope and happiness and love—to nothing in a single second. Do you have any idea what that’s like? You don’t, clearly you don’t, because you wouldn’t be sitting there asking the stupidest question in the universe if you did. What happened? Bastard. You can go straight to Honious for all I care.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, crestfallen. “It’s … that final dream I had. It was too much. We weren’t leading anyone to salvation. Makkathran, Edeard; that whole civilization was a fluke, a glorious one-off that I caught at just the right time. It can never be repeated, not now, not now that we know the Void’s ability. The Raiel were right; the Void is a monster. It should be destroyed.”

  “Why?” she implored. “What is that Last Dream?”

  “Nothing,” he whispered. “It showed that even dreams all turn to dust in the end.”

  “Then why didn’t—”

  “I tell you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Because something that big, that powerful as Living Dream can’t be finished overnight. There were over ten billion followers when I left. Ten billion! I can’t just turn around to them and say: Oops, sorry, I was wrong. Go home and get on with your lives, forget all about the Waterwalker and Querencia.”

  “The Inigo I knew would have done that,” she said through gritted teeth. “The Inigo I knew had courage and integrity.”

  “I let it die, or so I thought. It was the kindest thing. Ethan was the finest example of that, a politician, not a follower. After him would have come dozens of similar leaders, all of them concerned with position and maintaining the ancient blind dogma. Living Dream would have turned into an old-style religion, always preaching the promise of salvation yet never producing the realization. Not without me. I was the one who might have been able to pass through the barrier. You know I was going to try, really I was. Go out there in a fast starship and see if I could make it, just like the original old ship did. That was before we knew about the warrior Raiel, of course. But once I had that dream, I knew the ideal was over. Ethan and all the others who should have come after him would have killed off Living Dream in a couple of centuries.”

  “Then along came the Second Dreamer,” she said.

  “Yeah. I guess I should have realized the Void would never let us alone. It feeds off minds like ours. Once it had that first taste, it was bound to find another way of pulling us in.”

  “You mean it’s evil?” she asked in surprise.

  “No. That kind of term doesn’t apply. It has purpose, that’s all. Unfortunately, that purpose will bring untold damage to the galaxy.”

  “Then”—she glanced at the closed door—“what are we going to do about it?”

  “We?”

  She nodded modestly. “I believe in you; I always have. If you say we have to stop the Void, then I’ll follow you into Honious itself to bring that off.”

  Inigo smiled as he looked down at her. She was wearing a crewman’s shirt several sizes too large, which made it kind of sexy as it shifted around, tracing the shape of her body. He’d watched her yesterday with considerable physical interest, the simple sight of her teasing out a great many pleasurable memories of the time they had spent as lovers. But she’d been drunk and spitting venom about Aaron and their situation and who was to blame for the state of the universe. Now, though, as he slipped off the bunk to kneel beside her, there was a look of hope kindled in her eyes. “Really?” he asked uncertainly. “After all I’ve put you through?”

  “It would be a start to your penance,” she replied.

  “True.”

  “But …” She waved a hand at the door. “What about him? We don’t know if his masters want you to help the Pilgrimage or ruin it.”

  “First off, he’s undoubtedly listening to every word we’re saying.”

  “Oh.”

  “Second, the cl
ue is in who we’re going to see.”

  “Ozzie?”

  “Yes, which is why I haven’t tried anything like the glacier again.” Inigo grinned up at the ceiling. “Yet.”

  “I thought you didn’t like Ozzie.”

  “No. Ozzie doesn’t like me. He was completely opposed to Living Dream, so I can only conclude that Aaron’s masters are also among those who don’t want the Pilgrimage to go ahead.”

  Corrie-Lyn shrugged and pushed some of her thick red hair away from her eyes. Intent and interested now, she fixed him with a curious look. “Why didn’t Ozzie like you?”

  “He gave humanity the gaiafield so that we could share our emotions, which he felt was a way of letting everyone communicate on a much higher level. If we could look into the hearts of people we feared or disliked, we should be able to see that deep down they were human, too—according to his theory. Such knowledge would bring us closer together as a species. Damn, it was almost worth building a faction around the notion, but the idea was too subtle for that. Ozzie wanted us to become accustomed to it, to use it openly and honestly, and only when we’d incorporated it into our lives would we realize the effect it’d had on our society.”

  “It has.”

  “Not really. You see, I perverted the whole gaiafield to build a religion on. That wasn’t supposed to happen. As he told me, and I quote. ‘The gaiafield was to help people understand and appreciate life, the universe, and everything so they don’t get fooled by idiot messiahs and corrupt politicians.’ So I’d gone and wrecked his dream by spreading Edeard’s dreams. Quite ironic, really, from my point of view. Ozzie didn’t see that. Turns out he doesn’t have half the sense of humor everyone says he has. He went off to the Spike in a huge sulk to build a ‘galactic dream’ as a counter to my disgraceful subversion.”

  “So he hasn’t succeeded, then?”

  “Not that we know of.”

  “Then how can he help?”

  “I haven’t got a clue. But don’t forget, he is an absolute genius, which is a term applied far too liberally in history. In his case it’s real. I suspect that whatever plan is loaded into Aaron’s subconscious expects Ozzie and me to team up to defeat the Void.”