Judas Unchained

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Mellanie?”

  “Morty! Hi, oh God, darling, are you okay?”

  “Sure. Fine. How about you?”

  “Good. We don’t have much time. This wormhole can take you off, all of you. Where are you?”

  “Mellanie, what was the name of your stylist when we were living together?”

  “What? Oh, I see, very paranoid. Sasha used to doll me up for you. Okay?”

  “Okay. So what’s going to happen? Are we clear with the navy? My colleagues don’t exactly fancy going on the run after we get back.”

  “You’re clear. I have some allies now, the best, you’ll see. Please hurry.”

  “All right, this is the location.” He sent a file with their coordinates.

  “Give us thirty seconds.” The signal cut off.

  Morton stood up, and clapped his hands loudly. “Okay, people, we’re out of here. Let’s move! We don’t have long.”

  The four survivors stirred as the lights were switched up to full brightness, blinking sleepily.

  “Rob, get outside,” Morton said. “See if you can locate the wormhole. It’ll open any second now.”

  “Right.”

  “Dudley. You’re going to have to walk to it.”

  “I can manage that, thank you,” the Bose motile replied through its array.

  “I’ll just stay by your side when we go through,” the Cat purred smoothly. She was already standing at Morton’s shoulder, holding her helmet in one hand, a pack slung over her shoulder.

  “Highlight of my day,” Morton retorted. He gave Simon and Georgia a hand lifting up David’s stretcher, and put his own helmet beside the injured man’s legs. The Cat simply walked alongside without volunteering any help as they picked their way over the slippery rock.

  “Fuck me,” Rob said. “It’s here!”

  “What’s on the other side?” the Cat asked sharply.

  “Some kind of big room. Hey! I can see Mellanie. There are some troop types in there with her.”

  Morton smiled to himself. He resisted the urge to say: Told you so.

  It was sleeting heavily outside. Morton screwed his face up against the bitter cold striking his skin as he emerged from the cave’s narrow entrance; he wished he’d put the helmet on. The wormhole had opened a few meters beyond the cave entrance, a silver gossamer circle poised above the dirty slush, resembling a full moon. Dark shapes were just visible inside. Rob was standing directly in front of it, a tall black figure striding forward purposefully. Then the silver glow splashed around him and he was through on the other side.

  “So Mellanie has pulled it off again,” Simon said. “You have yourself quite a lady there, Morton.”

  “Yeah,” he drawled, suddenly very eager to see her again.

  He picked his way over the awkward surface, paying more attention to his feet than to the glowing silver circle ahead of him. The cold was bitter, stinging his ears and cheeks. Then the air tingled around him, and he was through the force field. He blinked against the bright light. Warm air immediately started to melt the ice that had settled on his hair and suit.

  They were in a CST exploratory division environment confinement chamber. He’d accessed news reports of their missions enough times to recognize one instantly: a spherical chamber fifty meters in diameter with black, absorptive walls. Yellow and red striped lines marked out airlocks and instrument recesses, while broad windows halfway up allowed the Operations Center staff a direct view of what was going on. A ring of lights shone down on him and the reception party. Morton didn’t even notice the rest of them. Mellanie stood out in front, wearing an agreeably short white skirt, and a blue denim shirt open virtually to her navel. Her hands were on her hips, and she was staring right at him, eyes shining and mouth smiling wide.

  “Morty!” She ran forward.

  He almost dropped David Dunbavand as her arms hugged him. Someone took the stretcher pole from his grip, and he hugged her back. Then they were kissing passionately, and he was ready to tear that shirt off and have sex with her on the floor of the chamber right there and then.

  She pushed back, tossing her head. Golden hair floated about. Her tongue was caught coyly between her teeth. “Missed me again, huh?”

  “Oh, Christ, yes.”

  Mellanie laughed. It was close to mockery, certainly triumphant.

  People were moving past him. Medics clustering around David Dunbavand. Security personnel with activated force fields carrying stumpy carbines helped Rob out of his armor, were taking the Cat’s bag and helmet from her, led the other survivors away from the wormhole. Three of them stood around the Bose motile, while another pulled off the sheets of cloth it had draped over its body. Mandy was crying, comforted by a medic.

  The wormhole closed silently behind them.

  “Please remove your suit, sir,” one of the security team said.

  Morton did as he was told. The Cat stripped off her own armor, deliberately taking her time.

  “All clear,” the security team chief finally announced.

  An airlock door split open. Dudley Bose stepped into the chamber. It was the first time Morton had seen the re-lifed astronomer. He wasn’t impressed. Bose was a harried youth with a nuclear furnace of nervous energy that made his movements jerky, anxiety and incredulity pulling at his face like a heavyworld gravity field.

  Morton braced himself for a small scene. After all, he was still smooching up against Mellanie. But Dudley ignored everyone else in the chamber to race over to the Bose motile. His speed almost tripped him; perfect coordination was still definitely lacking. He came to a shaky halt a meter in front of the tall alien. Two of its sensor stalks bent around to keep the man in view.

  “GIVE ME MY MEMORIES BACK,” Dudley screamed at the motile. “Make me ME again.” His fists rose uncertainly.

  “Of course,” the Bose motile said from its array. “What did you think I was going to do with them? We are one, Dudley, more than brothers.”

  “I…I…” Spittle was shooting out of Dudley’s mouth. “I have to know. What happened? What did they do to me?”

  “They killed us, Dudley. Shot us in cold blood. Our original human body died at Dyson Alpha.”

  Dudley swayed about, on the verge of apoplexy.

  “You didn’t tell him?” Morton asked her.

  Mellanie shook her head. “I’d better calm him down,” she murmured; she sounded exasperated, a parent running after a particularly troublesome child.

  Morton looked from her to Dudley. What in Christ’s name does she see in him?

  “Come on, Dudley,” Mellanie said, holding him by the hand. “We can sort all this out later.”

  “No!” He yanked his hand free, leaving her startled. She winced at the strength he’d used. Morton took a pace toward them. Rob and the Cat suddenly appeared on either side of him. The Cat’s hand rested on his shoulder. “No,” she purred.

  “Just fuck off,” Dudley bellowed. “Fuck off and leave me alone with myself, you stupid little tart. I’m here, do you understand? I’m here, all of me. I can be me again. Don’t try and stop that, don’t interfere. Nobody interfere.”

  Mellanie’s face hardened. “As you wish, Mr. Bose.”

  “They…they have somewhere we can use,” Dudley said, looking up at the alien’s sensor stalks, his face pleading. “A medical facility. We can start right away.”

  “Very well,” the Bose motile said.

  Dudley’s head moved around in short jerks as if it were robotic. He focused on one of the medical team in the hugely attentive audience. “You. You said there was a treatment room.”

  “Yes.” The woman walked over, and tipped her head up to gaze at the alien’s sensor stalks with an awed expression on her face. She took in the electronic module merged with its flesh, the optical cable linking that to the array. “I don’t know if this will work.”

  “Trust me,” the Bose motile said. “This body is built around the concept of memory transfer. It’s just a question of modifying the
interface.”

  “Okay, then. This way.” She led the human and motile Bose toward one of the airlock doors. Five of the security personnel fell in around them, carbines not quite pointing at the motile as it waddled along, but close. Just before it reached the door, the Bose motile bent a sensor stalk around toward Mellanie. “Pleased to meet you, by the way. I can see I’m a lucky man, if somewhat ungrateful at this moment. I would enjoy talking to you later.”

  Mellanie gave the alien a pleasant smile. “I’ll look forward to it, Dudley.”

  “What do you mean, ungrateful?” Dudley’s whiny voice asked as they went through the door. “And what business is it of yours?”

  “Never a dull moment with Mellanie,” a voice said cheerfully in Morton’s ear.

  Morton turned, and did a fast double take. Nigel Sheldon was standing beside him.

  “She said she had allies,” Morton said sardonically.

  “She wasn’t joking.” Nigel gave the closed wormhole a nostalgic glance. “You might want to go back when she’s finished explaining what’s going on.”

  “I doubt it. Where are we, exactly?”

  “Augusta.” He gave Simon a short bow. “Mr. Rand, I’ve heard good things about you. I’m sorry for your loss. Randtown was a lovely concept.”

  “Mr. Sheldon,” Simon replied gravely. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Thank Mellanie. Now, we have baths, food, and answers waiting for you. Take them in any order you want.”

  “All at once,” Morton said. He went over to where Mellanie was staring at the open airlock, and put his arm around her. She grinned distantly, then glanced over at Nigel with an expression that was as confused as it was worried.

  “Give me an answer when you’re ready,” Nigel said to her. There was a slight edge to his voice.

  Rob turned to the Cat as everyone started to move out of the big chamber. “I don’t get it,” he complained. “She’s got Morton wrapped around her little finger. That looked like Sheldon has the hots for her, too. They say Michelangelo beds every assistant on his show, male or female. So what the fuck does she see in Bose?”

  ***

  Alic Hogan had stopped wincing and sighing each time he squirmed in his seat. Every part of his body was in some kind of pain; movement created innumerable additional twinges. He couldn’t take too many drugs if he wanted to retain his mental acuity. Healskin wasn’t nearly the soft cushion its manufacturers claimed.

  Just being alive was awful.

  Nobody in the Paris office paid any attention to his misery. Half of them had suffered worse injuries than he on Illuminatus. Except Vic, of course. Vic was in a very different kind of pain. The big man sat at his desk for hour after hour, ripping through data like a metavirus. All of them were back reviewing Tarlo’s files, hunting for any clues that might lead them to him. A forensic team was going through his apartment, analyzing everything from his toothgell to the DNA in hair; just something—anything—that would tell them how he had been taken over by the Starflyer.

  Jim Nwan handed cups of coffee around to the people working at the nest of desks they’d shoved together in the middle of the room. Alic took his without looking up from the results of the DRNG bonds; Tarlo had been quite diligent about tracing them, working up files on the buyers. None of which had been shown to Alic. But I bet the Starflyer got them all.

  His coffee was just right, no sugar and a dash of cream. Acceptance was the one decent result to come out of Illuminatus; he was one of the Paris team now. Strange how much that meant to him. Strange the way loyalties shifted. Alic accepted the Starflyer’s existence now. So much of what had happened made sense once the alien’s influence was factored in. Not that he’d told the Admiral yet. The way Wilson Kime had been fired by the War Cabinet had sent a real shock wave through the navy. Even the Paris office that had always been under Columbia’s command thought the way in which Kime had been turned into a scapegoat was despicably shabby. Though the only real subject they talked about was the time travel project.

  “I can’t find a damn thing on the Baron observation,” John King complained. “He must have wiped them.”

  Alic glanced over at the big wall-mounted portal that was playing the Michelangelo show. Senator Goldreich was the guest, explaining how the fresh worlds would be prepared for the refugees. His e-butler changed the access to Alessandra Baron. Her guest was a pale man called Dimitri Leopoldovich, who was discussing what tactics the navy should use to engage the thousands of Prime warships remaining in the Commonwealth.

  “Call the observation team direct,” Alic told John. “Get them to send copies of their reports.”

  He gave the portal an evil look. God alone knew what harm Baron was causing in the long run. Now that he listened to her, really listened, he was sure he could hear nothing but contempt and mockery for everything the navy had done. She was hacking away at people’s confidence, undermining authority. All under the disguise of tough interviewing.

  His e-butler told him a secure call was coming into the office for Renne. A file ran down his virtual vision, giving him Edmund Li’s record. The fact that he was from Boongate was enough to interest Alic. “Give it to me,” he told his e-butler.

  “I was trying to reach Renne,” Edmund Li said.

  “She’s not available,” Alic told him. Morale in the office hadn’t been helped when they all found out that there wasn’t a clinic place anywhere in the Commonwealth to re-life her; the most optimistic estimate was seven years before a slot became open. Everyone was backlogged with bodyloss victims from the Lost23; and that was before the new invasion. “I’m her commanding officer. What’s the problem?”

  “Tarlo’s here.”

  Alic snapped his fingers for everyone’s attention as he opened the call to a general link around his team. “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s up in my office right now.”

  “Where are you? What’s your office?”

  “I’m at the Boongate planetary station, in the Far Away section. Right now I’m holed up in the Carbon Goose flight office in the administration block, ground floor. Tarlo is in the security office on the third floor. I managed to get a shadow scrutineer program loaded so I can follow what he’s doing.”

  “How many people have you got with you?” Alic asked.

  “None.”

  “What?”

  “There’s nobody else here. Just me and him. As far as I know, we’re the only people in the whole Far Away section.”

  “Christ!” Alic could see his own dismay mirrored in the faces of the team around him. “What’s he doing?”

  “Taking over the security systems which guard the perimeter. There are a lot of weapons here; they were installed in case anything hostile ever got through from Far Away. Old-fashioned stuff, but it still packs a punch. And he’s established complete control over the force field; there’s no way in and no way out. I’ve disabled a couple of the sensors in the room I’m using so he can’t see me; but if I move from here the building’s internal sensors will pinpoint me instantly.”

  “I thought you said you’d got a shadow program loaded in the security arrays?”

  “I have.”

  “Then you must have copies of his codes. You can take command of the section’s network, shut it all down.”

  “Not a chance. Now he’s in the network, he’s installing his own management routines. The shadow program is gradually being locked out.”

  “Shit!” Alic thumped his fist down on the desk, wincing at the burst of pain from his burns. “All right, Edmund, are you armed?”

  “Yeah, an ion pistol, Colt8000, eighty percent charge. I don’t think it’ll be much use against him. I accessed the warrant you issued. That wetwiring he’s got is heavy duty.”

  “Listen, we’re coming to get you.”

  “Ha! The wormhole to Boongate is closed. CST isn’t going to open it now; people would get back into the Commonwealth, Sheldon and Doi want to force everyone into the futu
re. The only way you’re going to get to me is in twenty years’ time.”

  “Unacceptable,” Vic said. The finality in the big man’s voice was intimidating.

  “We’ll get you out of there, I promise,” Alic told Edmund, “even if we have to take a starship to Boongate. Now listen, I want you to keep this link open permanently. Transfer through all the data your shadow program has captured. Then I’m going to connect you up with someone in our technical department; they’ll see if there’s any way you can use your ion pistol to physically disable the force field generator.”

  “You’re kidding. It’s in a building about three hundred meters from this one.”

  “Okay, what about armor and force field suits? The security department must have some?”

  “Sure. Up there where he is.”

  “Then we’ll bring in a tactical expert to analyze your situation. Stay calm, we will get you through this.”

  “If you say so. But I’d like to download my memories into a secure store if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, we’ll set one up right now.” He clicked his fingers at Matthew Oldfield, who gave a hurried nod.

  “Do you know why Tarlo’s here?” Edmund asked.

  “No, we don’t.”

  “You can tell me, you know. It’s not like I’m going to be leaking classified information to anyone right now.”

  “We genuinely don’t know, but it must be connected to Far Away somehow.”

  “Yeah. I figured he’s here to help the Starflyer get home.”

  “What do you know about the Starflyer?” Alic asked in surprise. Am I the only one who didn’t know it was real?

  “Nothing much, really. There’s been some weird things happening on Far Away lately. It would make sense, that’s all.”

  “You’re probably right. Listen, I’m going to leave you with my team now, okay? I’ll start working on a way to get to Boongate.”

  “How?” Vic asked.

  Alic stood up. “The Admiral. He’s got the clout to get us through.”

  “Ha! He’s not going to accept this.”

  “If he doesn’t accept this, then I quit.” He looked around at their startled faces, the faint smiles of approval. “It’s not much of a threat, I know. But it’s the only one I’ve got.”