Pandora's Star

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Humm. I’ll accept that for now, but you can tell Mr Sheldon directly from me, I am extremely displeased by the decision. The next time his proxies need support for a close vote in the Senate, he need not come looking for it here.’

  ‘I will let him know,’ Oscar said meekly.

  ‘So what are you here for?’

  ‘We would like to ask the High Angel what it knows about the Dyson Pair. Any information, however small, would benefit our mission.’

  ‘We are connected to the unisphere, you know.’

  Oscar managed to avoid her piercing stare. ‘My immediate boss favours a very hands-on personal approach for something as critical as this, and the Residents’ Association has a permanent open link to the High Angel’s controlling intelligence.’

  ‘It doesn’t know anything about the Dyson Pair.’

  ‘We’d like to confirm that.’

  Her lips pressed together in a thin smile. ‘The horse’s mouth, eh, gentlemen. Very well.’ She gestured at the vaulting window behind her. ‘Did you see all the domes on your approach?’

  ‘Most of them, yes.’

  ‘The Raiel live in one. We know that because they consented to contact with humans. As to the other eight original domes, nobody knows who or what they house. Three of them contain cities or structures of some kind; they light up at night but nothing has ever been seen moving in them. One dome seems to be filled with mist; people claim they’ve glimpsed lights and shadows in there, but there’s no proof. One is permanently dark, though it does emit heavily in the infrared spectrum, indicating an internal temperature higher than an H-congruous world. One is permanently opaque and illuminated. And the last two have a thirty-seven-hour day-night cycle, but also remain opaque. So you see, gentlemen, after two centuries living here we don’t even know who our neighbours are. The High Angel prizes privacy above all else. Now you’re here to ask it about a species that has deliberately locked itself away from the rest of the galaxy.’

  ‘It is a long shot, I admit,’ Oscar said. ‘But we have to ask it, you can understand that.’

  ‘I understand your motives, but I don’t approve. We have to safeguard our own position, a priority which I place at the top of my list. However, you are welcome to use the Associ-ation’s open channel to our host.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  They retreated from her office, following a couple of paces behind Soolina Depfor as her heels clicked loudly on the polished floor. Oscar could feel the Chairwoman’s eyes staring into his back the whole way out. As soon as the tall doors closed, they exchanged a glance. Mac puffed his cheeks out. ‘Jeeze, what a ballbreaker,’ he muttered.

  At which point Soolina Depfor turned around, raising an eyebrow. Mac’s face turned a heated red.

  ‘Our official channel is through here,’ Soolina Depfor said. She showed them into a windowless conference room off the reception hall. It was built on a considerably less grand scale than the Chairwoman’s office, with a slim oval table in the middle that had six high-back leather chairs around it. ‘Just talk,’ she told them. ‘The High Angel can hear you.’ The door closed behind her.

  ‘Make that two ballbreakers,’ Mac said as they sat at one end of the table.

  Oscar gave him a warning glance. ‘Hello?’

  The featureless wall at the far end of the room glowed blue, then cleared to show a mirror image of the conference room. A man was sitting at the table on a chair halfway down. He wore a black v-neck sweater and dark trousers, his broad face had a couple of days’ stubble, and the hair above his forehead was receding. It was an image aimed at reassurance, the kind of senior executive you could trust. ‘Hello.’

  ‘You’re the High Angel?’ Mac asked.

  The man shrugged. ‘I find this representation helps your species. Just showing an image of my hull and habitation section seems a bit pretentious, somehow.’

  ‘Thank you for the consideration,’ Oscar said.

  ‘After meeting with our dear Chairwoman, making life easy is the least I could do for you. You were right, Mac, she is a complete ballbreaker. I guess that’s why you people keep voting for her – who’d dare vote against? Of course, she does do a good job as well.’

  ‘You heard what we said in there?’

  ‘I hear what I want to inside myself. As I did explain to your Commonwealth leaders right at the start, I’m here to learn about different species, you can only do that through observation.’

  ‘I know this isn’t quite on topic, but why are you collecting information?’

  ‘Why does your species spend so much time obsessing about sex, politics, and religion? We are what we are, no matter what our appearance, nature, and size. My priority is gathering information on alien species, I’m an explorer and social anthropologist. I can’t imagine doing anything else.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mac said amicably. ‘Who are you collecting it for?’

  ‘I’m not even sure any more, I’ve been doing it so long now. Then again, that might be a lie and I’m actually feeding information on this galaxy and its defence capabilities to a fleet of warships that are thundering in from Andromeda. One day, my kind will regroup at the centre of the collapsing universe, and carry the seeds of a new evolution into the next universe to be born, a mix of the best of what’s gone before. I watch the planetborn for entertainment here in my Olympian orbit. Pick your reason, gentlemen, your species has forwarded all those and more.’

  ‘Why are aliens all intent on being enigmatic?’

  ‘You’re not classing me in there with the Silfen, are you? It’s really very simple. As I said, this is what I do. I gain, I suppose, satisfaction, from meeting you and learning from you. I regret I teach very little in return, but that too is my nature. Maybe one day I will decide to do something with all the knowledge I have acquired, and transform or even transcend; but for the moment I haven’t reached anything like a data saturation point. I remain curious about the universe.’

  ‘Did that curiosity ever take you to the Dyson Pair?’ Oscar asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Our Chairwoman was being truthful with you. I have no information on either star.’

  ‘Aren’t you curious, though? Surely a species which can erect a barrier around a star would be worth studying?’

  The High Angel grinned broadly. ‘If they’ve put up a barrier, how would I study them? No, you’re right, they would make a most interesting addition to my little menagerie. But I’ve only just encountered you.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Mac said. ‘But aren’t you interested in the reason why the barriers went up?’

  ‘Of course I am. But again, I can’t help you. I don’t know the reason, I’ve never visited that sector of space.’

  ‘What about observation? Did you ever sense any kind of conflict going on out there before the barriers went up?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. That whole section of space is unremarkable as far as I know. Certainly there have been no unnatural alterations made on a stellar level, no stars extinguished or turning nova; nor am I aware of any planets physically annihilated.’

  ‘What about in general? Even you admit you’ve been around for a long time, have you ever encountered anything that would require a barrier like this to defend a star? Are there species out there that would attack a star or obliterate an inhabited planet?’

  ‘Intent and capability are not the same thing. There are many humans throughout your history who have shown no compunction about unleashing death and disaster on a massive scale; if they had possessed a device capable of exterminating a star they might well have used it. And in the past I have observed species who make your most evil tyrants appear saints by comparison. However, as a general rule, in order to reach the kind of technology level where destroying a sun is achievable, a society must be relatively stable.’

  ‘Some of our biggest leaps have been made during wartime,’ Mac said.

  ‘I agree that humans are most adept at innovating when placed under pressure or threat,’ t
he High Angel said. ‘But there is a difference between building new weapons and the fundamental theories upon which such technical advances are based. Genuine scientific progress is a slow climb, which requires a stable society to support thinkers and theorists over many generations. Evolution usually means that the species which break out of their planetary environment have some inbuilt social or biological mechanism for restraining their pre-history savagery. Of course there are many exceptions, with determined individuals circumventing such strictures. And it could well be that a less developed culture obtains the relics and knowledge left behind by a more advanced race. But to extrapolate that to a race or entity which poses a physical threat to a star is almost beyond probability.’

  ‘Then why the barrier?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ the High Angel said. ‘But from my experience and observation I’m ninety-nine per cent certain that it was not to ward off aggression.’

  ‘It’s the one per cent that kills you,’ Oscar mused.

  ‘Inevitably. But I am not aware of any species within thousands, if not tens of thousands, of light-years which is capable of aggression on this scale. I may be wrong, for I don’t claim to be infallible. It could even be argued that the mega-flare which eliminated most of the life on Far Away was an example of such belligerence. It certainly falls beyond the ethics of most civilizations and species. However, as you are aware, I do maintain a comprehensive observation of space over a great many parsecs. If such a threat is out there, then it has the ability to elude my senses. A worrying development, I concede.’

  ‘Or so big a threat it’s actually not worth worrying about,’ Mac said.

  ‘That’s a very human viewpoint,’ the High Angel said. ‘I don’t subscribe to it myself. But then by your standards I’m something of a coward.’

  ‘Is that why you haven’t visited the Dyson Pair?’

  ‘Let’s just say, this is a comfortable distance to watch from. I am curious, which is why in this instant I am keen to help you beyond my normal capacity.’

  Oscar ran his hand back through his hair. ‘Thank you for that. If you do observe anything relevant . . .’

  ‘I will inform you of course. And please feel free to call me again should you have any further inquiries. In future, I will accept a direct link from either of you through the unisphere.’

  *

  Both Paula and Hoshe spent the express train journey to Kerensk sitting quietly in their first-class seats, running through information from the case. Diagrams, text summaries, financial graphs, they all swarmed through their virtual vision. Even Paula’s attention wavered occasionally under the relent-less flow.

  However, they both abandoned the case data for the shuttle trip over to the High Angel. Hoshe was fascinated by what he could see outside the windows, requesting a stream of descriptive information from his e-butler. Once they’d docked at the base of the New Glasgow stalk, Paula instructed her e-butler to query the High Angel’s internal information net for directions as the other passengers drifted past on their way to the lift. A subsidiary net program directed her down the curving corridor to a door that opened into a smaller lift capsule.

  ‘Did you find anything relevant in the case files?’ she asked as the doors closed and they started to accelerate.

  Hoshe glanced round the lift suspiciously. ‘Can we talk in here?’

  ‘Yes. The High Angel is aware of everything inside itself. And I’ve already briefed it about the case.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Well the Tampico National Tax Office was helpful. After the flotation, the shares from Tara’s half of the company were deposited into the Tampico First State Bank by Broher Associates, her divorce lawyers. Eight months later, those were then exchanged for Gansu Construction shares when Morton agreed to the buy-out. All very standard. Then they just sat there until she was re-lifed, at which point she transferred them back to her accountant on Oaktier.’

  ‘What about the dividends?’

  ‘Gansu was an excellent deal. They’ve paid dividends every four months, and the share price has gone up twelve times their original price in that time – Morton is a good director. The money went straight into the bank’s long-term investment account, which also did reasonably well over seventeen years, although the percentage was lower than most managed funds. No money was ever taken out; it stayed there and grew for her. The bank paid local tax on it every year. Nobody questioned the timescale. Apparently, there are a lot of accounts left untouched like that, some of them for centuries.’

  ‘Did she have a current account with First State?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And there’s no record of Wyobie Cotal having any kind of account off Oaktier? If they had lived there on Tampico, they had to have some kind of funds. They’d be traceable.’

  ‘All credit transfers from Tara’s Oaktier bank dried up after the final balance was paid, that was three weeks after she supposedly left for Tampico. The last item on the account was a payment to Broher Associates for handling the divorce case; that was a week prior to the final balance payment. That all checks out. Broher Associates served Morton the divorce file a fortnight after she left. The bank changed her account status from current to sleeper three years later; that’s standard procedure when it’s been inactive for that length of time, it prevents any less-than-honest bank employee from spotting she’s not using it and siphoning the money out themselves. To open it up again after her re-life she had to go in with a court order confirming her identity.’

  ‘What’s listed on her credit account in the two weeks before paying her lawyers?’

  ‘Not a damn thing. The second-to-last payment is for her lunch with Caroline Turner. There is nothing in the period between that and the divorce lawyers.’

  ‘Do we know where she was when the payment to the lawyers was made?’

  ‘No. Just somewhere within the unisphere.’

  ‘No live sighting or confirmation then,’ Paula mused. The banks would swear in court that anyone with an account had to be alive for the pattern code to work. It was a complete lie, of course; banks right across the Commonwealth lost billions to credit hackers every year. The only really secure credit account was with the SI bank; and she’d seen classified reports on the ultra-grade hackers who had even managed to forge those transfers, though it involved a lot of cellular reprofiling and assuming the victim’s life. A pattern code, however detailed and complex, could always be copied and duplicated given enough time and resources.

  ‘What about Wyobie Cotal, did he spend any money on Tampico?’

  ‘No. I checked his account. Same story as Tara. No pur-chases after the day they disappeared together. His bank changed the account from current to sleeper two years later.’

  ‘Who paid for the tickets to Tampico?’

  ‘Cash transaction the morning they went missing. But they were registered in Tara’s name.’

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any way of knowing if they were actually used?’

  ‘No. CST don’t keep that kind of information.’

  ‘They have sensors and cameras in every planetary station.’

  ‘But the data isn’t archived for four decades, it would cost a fortune. They keep it for a couple of years at most, and that varies between stations.’

  ‘What about cash? Did either of them make any large withdrawals before they supposedly left Oaktier?’

  ‘No, neither of them ever made any large cash withdrawals from their Oaktier accounts, period. So unless one of them had a secret numbered account somewhere it’s hard to believe they were alive, even for that first fortnight.’

  ‘Humm.’ Paula reached out and used her cuff fuseto on the wall, steadying herself as the lift capsule changed direction. She knew they were travelling along the inside of the giant starship’s hull now, heading for the Raiel habitation dome. ‘I suppose it’s possible she could have sold some jewellery and lived off that money. But why would she? The whole case that they went to Tampico is getting worse the clo
ser we look at it.’

  ‘I haven’t believed it for some time.’

  ‘Me neither. But we must always be sure, Hoshe.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘My Directorate has been unable to find any secure memory store facility opened by Tara. I think that just about makes it official. She was killed, and presumably Cotal as well. We now need to find a motive, which is the really puzzling part of all this. It certainly isn’t financial.’

  ‘Could it have been Morton or Philippa Yoi?’

  ‘A crime of passion? We have to consider it, I suppose.’

  ‘But . . .?’

  ‘But I’m inclined to think Shaheef and Cotal walked in on some criminal activity; the payment to the lawyers two weeks later would tend to support that because someone was clearly busy building up the alibi that they were still alive. If so, there will be very little evidence for us to find.’

  ‘Then why are we here?’

  ‘Process of elimination. I want to lock down Shaheef’s personal life. All of it.’ Her hands gripped the small bag she was carrying. She could tell Hoshe was deeply uncertain about the whole concept, but like a good policeman he wasn’t criticizing his boss. Not yet.

  The lift rose up the stalk to the Raiel dome, and the gravity field asserted itself, reaching eighty per cent Earth standard. Hoshe took a moment to steady himself; he’d never seen an alien in the flesh before – though his wife was always talking about visiting the Silfen. But then this break in everyday life was all part of working with Paula Myo. He’d pulled in every favour, real or imagined, with the division’s captain to stay assigned to the case when it became known she was taking it on. Success by association was always welcome, but he genuinely wanted to see her working her magic. There was also the remote possibility she might endorse an application to the Serious Crimes Directorate. Hoshe hadn’t actually mentioned that piece of career planning to anyone, but the idea was firmly lodged at the back of his mind now.

  When the door opened it was a slight anticlimax; rather than some exotic alien metropolis he was looking out on a gloomy alleyway with smooth matt black metal walls thirty metres high. Above him, the dome’s crystal was transparent, permitting Icalanise’s wan amber light to shine through. Small red lights were embedded along the foot of the alley walls, glimmering like candle-lit jewels. He found the silence imposing, a complete absence of even the faintest sound.