Pandora's Star

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Mark! Hi, son, you look like shit, come and have a beer.’ Marty pulled a bottle out of the cooler sheath. His voice was high and excitable.

  ‘Dad!’ Barry, aged five, was waving frantically from the pool. ‘Dad, I can reach the bottom now. Watch!’ He sucked in a huge breath, and ducked his head under the surface, paddling desperately. Mark waved back at his son’s splashing feet. Liz dumped little Sandy into his arms. A wet smile beamed out from the thick folds of fabric. He smiled back, and kissed her. Tiny hands wiggled about happily. ‘Has she had her bottle?’

  ‘Twenty minutes ago,’ Liz assured him.

  ‘Oh.’ He rather liked that chore. They’d collected Sandy from the clinic seven months ago, and that was after the stress-hell that was raising hyperactive Barry. The kids had the best genes they could afford, with Liz paying considerably more of the modification mortgage than he did. It always surprised him how much of a comfort the kids were, and how much stability they brought to his life. Liz just said, ‘I told you so,’ every time he mentioned it. Having a family was a huge strain on their finances, especially renting the womb tank for nine months. But although she’d gone through the whole traditional wedding ceremony with him, Liz flatly refused to have a pregnancy. ‘I did enough of that last time round,’ she insisted. So the womb tank it was.

  Mark sat on the spare sunlounger, with Sandy cradled carefully in one arm. He took the beer bottle in his free hand. Barry broke surface with a victorious yell and a lot of splashing.

  ‘Well done, kid,’ Marty shouted. ‘Here, go fetch this.’ He chucked a dollar coin into the pool. Barry whooped, and dived down after it.

  ‘I don’t want him worn out,’ Liz admonished. ‘He’ll get all tempered up when he needs to go to bed.’

  ‘Give the kid a break,’ Marty complained. ‘He’s having a ball. And your pool’s only – what? – a metre deep. That’s not going to tire him out.’

  ‘One point five.’ Mark gulped down some of the beer. It was an imported brand he didn’t recognize. He sighed and settled back into the sunlounger. That was when he noticed the girl sitting in the chair behind Marty. She was wearing a bikini top and some tight shorts, showing off a trim, tanned teenage body. ‘Hi, I’m Amanda.’

  ‘Oh, hi.’ Mark couldn’t help the glance he gave his father.

  ‘My new girl,’ Marty crowed loudly. His arm went round her, and she giggled.

  ‘Great,’ Mark said. ‘So how long have you two, er . . .’

  ‘Ten days,’ Marty said gleefully. ‘But mostly ten nights.’

  Amanda giggled again.

  Mark’s smile was fixed. He knew what was coming now.

  ‘We met up in the Silent World down at New Frisco Bay. Turns out we had a lot of things in common, and . . . hey!’

  One thing in common, Mark corrected silently and sullenly. He couldn’t believe his father had done this. Silent World was a Commonwealth-wide franchise. It was the club which all the newly rejuvenated visited. Frequently, in the first few months after leaving the clinic. They went for just one thing: sex. It didn’t matter with who, just someone equally horny from their beautiful, youthful new body’s deluge of hormones. There was only one rule, whatever happened inside, stayed inside. You could fuck your worst enemy, or your ex, or your ex’s younger sibling or parent, or the most glamorous unisphere celeb. It didn’t matter, because it didn’t count back outside the doors, it didn’t get mentioned, it simply never happened. And Marty had gone and brought her to a family evening.

  David turned up ten minutes later, Liz’s forty-five-year-old son, an accountant working in AEC’s export credit division. Then there was Kyle, Mark’s older brother (by a hundred and fifteen years), and Antonio, his boyfriend; Joanne, one of Liz’s mother’s great-granddaughters. Finally, Carys Panther arrived, Marty’s older sister, driving up in a Merc coupé and wearing a thousand-dollar ‘casual’ dress from Jacvins. Mark was glad she had found the time to come, Carys was the one multi-lifer (apart from Liz) who always made him feel comfortable. She was also the most glamorous person he knew. When she did work, Carys designed dramas that were occasionally made into TSIs by various media conglomerates. They tended to be pretty raunchy.

  As Regulus fell towards the horizon, they ordered Barry out of the pool and fired up the barbecue grill. Carys accepted a glass of white wine from the maidbot and fussed over Barry, helping him dry himself. Barry responded with true puppy-love devotion, showing her his new collection of dead nipbugs; he really adored his Aunt Carys.

  Mark stood beside the barbecue, turning the burgers and sausages himself. The gardenbot had an attachment for it, but he never did trust an array’s judgement when it came to cooking.

  ‘You should cut some of these damn eucalyptus trees back,’ Marty told him, standing at his shoulder. ‘That solarbrick isn’t getting enough sun on it during the day, look. It should be a lot hotter than that.’

  Mark looked down at the thick slab below the barbecue’s grill, which was glowing a weak cherry-pink. Little flames flared briefly as the meat dripped juices down through the grille. ‘Looks fine to me, and it’s hot enough.’

  ‘It won’t last, I’ve got experience with these things.’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  ‘Marty,’ Kyle called out. ‘Sit down and leave the kid alone, for Christ’s sake.’

  Every time his relatives came round the same thing happened. A lot of the time, Mark felt like he was a child allowed to listen to adult conversation, laughing when the others did and not understanding why.

  ‘Just trying to help,’ Marty grumbled as he backed off.

  ‘Next family evening is round at my place,’ David announced. ‘I thought we could have it on the eighteenth, that’s when we play our next Cup round.’

  ‘I’m on for that,’ Marty said. ‘You know I nearly had a trial once, when I was first-life eighteen. Newby City.’

  ‘Wrong,’ Carys said. ‘You are a trial, Marty, not you had a trial.’

  Marty made a gesture, to which she laughingly covered Barry’s eyes.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ve got this far,’ Kyle said. ‘We only need, what? A win and a draw to go through to the second round.’

  ‘We’ll get the win against Sterling, no problem,’ David said. ‘But we’ll be struggling to get a draw against Teleba, they’re football mad.’

  Antonio groaned theatrically, and put his hand to his head. ‘How long does this go on for?’

  ‘Another seven and a half months,’ Kyle told him cheerfully. ‘And I’m going to the stadium on Tampico to see our last group one game.’

  ‘By yourself,’ Antonio muttered.

  ‘Twenty-five per cent of us called in sick when the last game was on,’ Joanne said. ‘The Cup has really taken off this time round; you couldn’t get in to a bar anywhere in New Costa they were so crowded. I don’t remember everyone getting so excited last time.’

  ‘Wonder if the new aliens will want to play,’ Liz said.

  ‘And what a goddamn waste of time and money that is,’ Marty complained.

  ‘Hardly,’ David said. ‘We need to know what’s going on out there.’

  ‘Went on out there,’ Marty said. ‘It all happened thousands of years ago.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean it isn’t relevant now,’ Carys said. ‘The envelopment barrier is still in place around both Dyson stars.’

  ‘You’re sounding like that Guardian shotgun,’ David said.

  ‘Don’t tell me you watched it, Marty?’ Carys taunted. ‘Didn’t you realize what it was?’

  ‘Course I goddamn well realized,’ Marty shot back. ‘Only an asshole wouldn’t recognize a shotgun. I saw the highlights on Alessandra Baron’s show, is all.’

  Mark turned the sausages, keeping quiet. He hadn’t realized the message from April Halgarth was a shotgun propaganda blast until he opened it; and even then he’d let it play. The Guardians had made a great deal of sense. Why hadn’t there been a vote in the Senate?

  ‘So if it comes fr
om Alessandra, it’s acceptable is it?’ Carys asked.

  ‘Who cares who says it?’ Marty said. ‘They’re both right. It doesn’t affect us, and it’s certainly something beyond us at the moment. We should take our time and reach the Dyson Pair as we expand naturally, not pull off this crazy Apollo stunt.’

  Mark flipped the burgers again. Regulus had finally sunk below the horizon, allowing the stars to come out. Brightest among them were the Leo twins, a single glowing orange dot in the eastern sky. He could see them through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees as they swayed quietly. Some nights he’d sit out on the decking with a drink, just staring up at the canopy of stars twinkling above the megacity. They were the physical proof that people did live elsewhere, and live differently. Seeing that, made life on Augusta that fraction more bearable. ‘They put my promotion off again,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Mark, I’m sorry,’ Carys said. ‘I know you wanted that.’

  ‘Tough break, son,’ Marty said. ‘But you’ve got to serve aces the whole time to get by on this planet. And don’t try and change the subject that quickly. The goddamn starship is a waste of money.’

  ‘The point, Dad, is that I didn’t get promoted because the company’s market isn’t growing the way economists predicted. The new factory’s on hold, investment is minimal right now, and not just with us. Phase three space isn’t growing anything like phase two did at the start. We’re not expanding like we used to, the Commonwealth is too stable these days. Population growth is down even with womb tanks, it’s certainly not enough to provide a base population for a couple of new planets every year like we have been doing. We’re too civilized and measured. At this rate we’ll never reach the Dyson Pair if all we do is wait around for CST to open wormholes to phase twenty space, or whatever.’

  ‘Mark’s right,’ David said. ‘My office has been working some long-range forecasts, we’re in a slowdown right now. They used to call periods like this “golden ages”. Things tick over nicely and there are no upsets.’

  ‘I thought they were recessions,’ Carys muttered.

  ‘No, there’s a difference.’

  ‘It’s all a bunch of crap,’ Marty said. ‘My board isn’t making any cutback plans. Our market’s bullish.’

  ‘Nobody’s talking cutbacks,’ David said. ‘The menu is all about reduced growth rates. If anything, Sheldon is playing smart with the starship project. There’s nothing like a sudden deluge of government cash to accelerate growth rates. And the majority of spending is here on Augusta.’

  ‘That’s not the case, actually.’

  Everybody turned to look at Amanda as she snuggled up close to Marty. She smiled back coolly, completely unintimidated. ‘My family has a board seat on the First-Quad bank. I get to see Intersolar finance tables before they’re massaged. The amount of money spent on the starship is irrelevant in macro-economic terms. Twenty billion Earth dollars is barely a couple of minutes’ worth of exports from this planet.’

  ‘We’re doing well from it,’ Liz said. ‘Bitor-UU won the contract to develop bioscreening kits for the starship.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Joanne said. ‘Congratulations. Are you working on them yourself ?’

  ‘Some concepts, yes.’

  ‘One kit, for a super specialist market,’ Amanda said. ‘There can be no spin-off from it. I rest my case.’

  ‘My girl.’ Marty leaned over, and they kissed quite lavishly.

  ‘Why do you think there’s only going to be one starship?’ Kyle said. ‘If you ask me, this is just the beginning. People have really taken to this Dyson Alpha mission, it’s going to be bigger than the Commonwealth Cup by the time it’s ready to fly. If you ask me, it’s a perfect antidote to how moribund phase three space has gotten. Everyone with an ounce of poetry in their soul will leap at the chance of taking off for the wild blue yonder, and settling somewhere that CST will never ensnare with their sticky fingers.’

  ‘Crap,’ Marty said. ‘If that were true, all these poets of yours would go live on Far Away.’

  ‘I meant we could find clean fresh worlds, not some violent anarchist hell.’

  ‘Not going to happen,’ Marty insisted. ‘We’ve had breakaways before. I bet all those worlds that severed ties with the Commonwealth to be “free” are all medieval nightmares now. Isolation never works. Look what a mess Earth was in before Sheldon and Ozzie invested in wormholes.’

  ‘Interesting model,’ Carys said.

  ‘One world, cut off from the galaxy,’ Marty said. ‘I rest my case.’

  David refused to be baited, he just smiled at Mark and rolled his eyes.

  ‘Did you hear, they’ve chosen Wilson Kime to captain the mission?’ Carys said. ‘That must really be choking Nigel Sheldon.’

  ‘Is that a story for you?’ Antonio asked.

  ‘Could be. Old enemies have to set aside their rivalries for the greater good of the Commonwealth.’

  ‘Sounds dull if you put it like that.’

  Mark started slipping the sausages onto the serving platter. ‘Food’s up!’

  *

  Liz took a while in their bathroom getting ready for bed. She had a shower, and used some of the smaller, more expensive bottles of scent, dabbing the chilly drops on her skin and massaging them in until the flesh seemed to glow. Then she took out the special cream silk lingerie which she knew Mark really liked. Her jet-black hair was combed out until it hung loosely down below her shoulders. Then she put on her gold gown, carefully arranging it so it was almost falling open at the front. She took a contented look in the mirror, reassured once again she’d made the right choice not undergoing pregnancy for him; her belly was still as firm and flat as the day she came out of rejuve ten years ago, and there wasn’t any hint of cellulite on her thighs yet.

  Back then her friends had laughed at her dating a first-lifer, claiming it was a way of saving on Silent World bills. She had to admit, when they’d first met at a party thrown by a production company Carys had been writing for, there was something of the puppy dog about him. He looked so uncomfortable and lost amid all the z-list celebrities and wannabe production people that rescuing him was the only decent thing to do. They’d dated a few more times, and she’d enjoyed herself because he was enthusiastic about life and the Commonwealth, and didn’t have the kind of guarded falseness that people her own age had. There was no game playing with him, he was too honest for that. She found that inordinately reassuring. So maybe it really was a case of subconsciously hoping his genuine youth would rub off on her; even though the age difference had never been an issue for him. Then completely out of the blue he’d asked her to marry him, carried away by some mad romantic notion of them being soul mates.

  She’d been so close to saying no, a hard fast put-down that would hurt him for a month until he met some equally wild, inexperienced girl his own age, and they went off into the sunset together. Except . . . Why should she actually do that? So what if he was sweet in a puppy dog way? Men who were thoughtful and considerate were rare no matter what their age. She was going to live for ever anyway, or a damn good portion of it at least, so why not be happy with a good man for twenty years – and to hell with her jealous friends and their catty remarks.

  Since then there hadn’t been a single day when she’d regretted the decision. They fought – what married couple didn’t? – but never over anything serious. He was a wonderful father, too. She’d never planned on having more than one kid with him, but just being together with him over the years made her give in and agree to Sandy.

  And her friends had been right, healthy first-lifers his age took a lot of satisfying in bed. Which made her the lucky one.

  There was only one bedside light on when she stepped out of the bathroom, casting a warm yellow glow on Mark’s half of the bed. He was sitting up studying data on a paperscreen. The window was open and the air conditioning off; dying gusts of El Iopi warmed the room. ‘Hi baby. Is there room there for Mummy?’

  Mark looked up. A nervous
smile flickered across his face as he saw what she was wearing. He dropped the paperscreen as she clambered onto the bed, and slowly crawled towards him.

  ‘That Amanda looked quite something,’ she murmured as she nuzzled his ear.

  ‘Pha. She does nothing for me, not like you.’ He slid one hand inside the gold gown, fingers stroking the hot ebony skin beneath the fabric.

  Liz slowly moved round until she was straddling him. She planted light, tickling kisses on his cheek and down his throat. Her head waved from side to side, allowing her hair to brush across his chest. His hand slipped under the bra. She smiled at the pleasurable sensation his fingers conjured and brought her head up to kiss him properly. Then she saw his face, and sighed heavily.

  ‘What’s the matter, baby?’ She rolled off him, dismayed and concerned. ‘This isn’t like you.’

  Mark stared up at the ceiling, unable to meet her gaze. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Wrong. Believe me, I know. I am your wife, and a lot more besides.’ She deliberately paused as she re-tied the robe tighter.

  His smile was regretful. ‘I know. It’s just that tonight wasn’t what I was hoping for. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I think this is a little deeper than your father turning up with his latest lady friend, however tactless it was.’

  ‘Damn it.’ He turned on his side to face her. ‘That’s exactly it, don’t you see?’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘You, Dad, the others, you’ve all got this wealth of experience. And I don’t. And . . . it gets a little overpowering at times.’

  ‘And you didn’t get the promotion.’

  ‘Jesus H. Christ, you just did it again. Do you have any idea how small that makes me feel.’

  Liz was quiet for quite a while as she gathered her troubled thoughts together. ‘I didn’t realize the effect was this upsetting. It’s never been an issue before.’

  ‘I know.’ He grinned lamely. ‘Maybe it’s a cumulative thing.’

  ‘Okay, baby, then I’ll say one more thing that I think about you.’

  ‘What?’