The Temporal Void

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Araminta bent over and kissed the youthful body. Gently at first. On his brow. His cheek. His mouth.

  He stirred. The frown eased away. She smiled at that, and kissed his throat. Her hands caressed the supple muscle on his chest as the melange program rose out of her lacunas. Her raging thoughts stilled as she breathed slowly and carefully, following her own deep rhythms to achieve the composure she sought. Now she could concentrate fully on the body beside her.

  For the full hour which followed there were no distractions, no external thoughts and doubts. It was so good to forget Skylords and Second Dreamers and Living Dream, replacing them with good dirty human sex.

  ‘Forgive me, especially after this morning, but you don’t look so good,’ Mr Bovey said.

  Araminta nodded grudgingly as she finally climbed out of the big bath. It was such a luxury just lounging in oiled, scented water rather than snatching a quick minute in a spore shower. One her poor body deserved. ‘Your fault,’ she teased. She couldn’t quite put the right emphasis behind it. Her thoughts were drifting back to the revelations of last night with the surety of a tide.

  It was the young Celtic one who handed her a huge towel. ‘Are you all right? You’re not having second thoughts?’

  ‘Ozzie, no! This is the only truly good decision I’ve made. Probably ever.’

  He smiled proudly, but couldn’t completely hide his worry. ‘You seem . . . troubled. I’m concerned.’

  She started to rub the water off her legs. ‘It’s been a big week. I’m all right, just didn’t sleep well, that’s all. I’ll take some kind of pep infuser when I get home.’

  ‘Home?’ he frowned.

  ‘I’ve still got to get the apartments finished. We both know I need the money.’

  ‘Right.’ He scratched at his hair, looking perplexed. Araminta wasn’t used to that. Whenever they had serious conversations Mr Bovey always preferred to use his middle-aged black-skinned body, the one she’d had their very first date with, who almost qualified as the father figure. She never had worked out if that was deliberate on his part.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I hate to be the one with the bad news, but you clearly haven’t accessed the unisphere this morning.’

  Just the way he said it made her heart sink. She had told her u-shadow to suspend any unisphere contact before they went to bed last night; now it reconnected her and began pulling out priority news items. ‘Oh, great Ozzie,’ she gasped. It was all there. The invasion by Ellezelin forces down by the docks. Paramilitary troops moving across the city. Large capsules patrolling the skies, halting any civilian traffic.

  When she rushed over to the window she could make out several of the capsules floating passively above the River Cairns, insidious dark ovoids set against the dusky dawn-lit clouds. Colwyn’s weather-protection force field was on, covering the entire city. It wasn’t any storm the invaders were interested in, they were preventing any capsules from leaving.

  And worse, much much worse, the message from Director Trachtenberg at Centurion Station about the Void starting to expand. A devourment phase all the commentators were calling it. And they were equally clear that it was the fault of the Second Dreamer for rejecting the Skylord. No such thing as coincidence was the phrase that kept reverberating round her head. Everyone was using it.

  ‘I can’t stay here,’ Araminta moaned.

  ‘You’re not serious? It’s dangerous out there. They’re restricting the reports, but our fellow citizens are not taking this lightly. There’s been several clashes already, and it’s not even breakfast time yet.’

  They’re here for me, she realized. A whole world invaded, violated because of me. Ozzie, forgive me.

  ‘I’ll just go straight home,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I have to get to the apartments. They’re all I’ve got, you can see that, can’t you?’ She felt shabby saying that, it was emotional bullying, but all she wanted to do was get away from him. It was completely wrong, this was the person she was planning to marry, hes should be trusted. She just couldn’t risk trusting him with something of this magnitude. He’d agreed to marry a girl struggling to make it as a property developer, not some walking galactic catastrophe.

  ‘I do understand,’ he said, so very reluctantly. ‘But they’ve shut down all the capsule traffic. Half of mes are stuck all across town.’

  Araminta started to pull her clothes on. There was a whole closet in the bathroom which was hers, so at least she could dress practically with dark jeans and a blue sweater. ‘My trike pod is in the garage. I left it here a couple of weeks back.’ Her u-shadow was hurriedly checking travel restrictions in Colwyn City. The traffic management net carried a full proscription on non-official air vehicles, backed by the certificate of the Mayor’s office and the Viotia Federal Transport Agency. However, ground vehicles were still permitted to operate in the city precincts, with an advisory caution that citizens should only use them for essential trips. There were a great many links to official Viotia government bulletins about their inclusion in the Free Trade Zone at core planet level, and how after a brief transition period everything would return to normal and a strong economic growth phase would begin, bringing a major upswing to everyone’s lifestyle. Just for an instant she recalled Liken and his grand plans for the Free Trade Zone, but she dismissed those thoughts at once.

  ‘Let some of mes go,’ Mr Bovey said. ‘I can check the place over for you.’

  ‘I am not going to start our life together by being dependent on you,’ she said, hating herself now.

  He looked even more unhappy. ‘All right. Ozzie, but you’re obdurate.’

  ‘Think of it as tenacious, and how that works in your favour in bed.’

  ‘Ozzie help the paramilitaries if they get in your way.’ But his sympathetic smile wasn’t exactly wholehearted. ‘I don’t suppose one of mes can come with you?’

  ‘Have you got a ground vehicle?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re really sweet. Still want to marry me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Even when there’s going to be many mes?’

  ‘Just take care.’

  There was a whole team of hims assembled to wave goodbye to her when she clambered on to the trike pod. She was mildly surprised to find the power cell still had half a charge left. All his familiar faces wore the same mournful expression as she waved airily. Then she set off down the narrow gravel track which cut through the grounds to the road outside. There was a point when she’d just passed the last of hims when she thought her resolution might buckle and send her rushing back, confessing everything. It was coupled with a horror that she’d never see him again, that no matter her determination this was all too big for her to cope with.

  If that’s so, then I can’t drag him down into it.

  So she kept the trike steady and true, riding across the garden that retained its light coating of glistening moisture from last night’s rain. The old iron gate at the end of the track creaked as its actuators swung it open for her. Then she was out on the empty road lined with tall lackfol trees whose reddish-green leaves were chittering in the gentle breeze that stirred under the city’s force field dome.

  The worst part of the trip was riding over the big single-arch bridge to the northern bank. She felt horribly exposed to the big capsules that slid through the air on either side of the bridge. It was so strange seeing the city without its normal capsule traffic zipping about, as if the metropolis was injured somehow. People on the bridge seemed to share the feeling. Many citizens had decided to walk to work, showing their defiance through an obstinate insistence on pursuing their normal day as best they could. Public cabs still hummed along the central rails, packed tight with commuters. And she’d never known so many people actually had trike pods; a great many of them clearly hadn’t been outside their garages for years.

  As she cleared the apex of the long bridge, Araminta allowed herself to dip into the local gaiafield, receiving the strident emotions of her fellow resid
ents, the determination and anger they radiated and supported each other with. It was a buoyant kinship; though she didn’t dare allow any of her own feelings to trickle out. She was all too conscious of people like Danal delving into the confluence nests, trying to locate any hint of her thoughts, her location, her identity. And how was that for irony, one of her hunters buying an apartment from her, actually living next door to his prey, neither of them knowing. She wondered if he’d be able to scent the guilt on her.

  Ahead of her she could see three capsules hovering over the far end of the bridge. Dozens of the suited paramilitaries were clustered there, examining everyone coming over. She almost turned around there and then, but that would draw attention to her. And they’d be watching the whole bridge for such a reaction, she was sure of that. So she pressed on, wondering what that ancestor Mellanie would do: she who’d bequeathed so much trouble into Araminta’s easy life. Was she some kind of tough government agent, a War hero; why was she a Silfen friend? Araminta promised herself that when she got back to the apartments the first thing she’d do was look up the woman whose fault this all was.

  The paramilitaries were simply standing waiting in intimidating ranks, holding long rifles across their chests as everyone from the bridge walked or drove past them. The unisphere nodes at the end of the bridge were querying u-shadows. Araminta sent her identity certificate, looking nervously at the bulky figures, wondering what their faces looked like. They were sharing nothing with the gaiafield, which was strange for anyone affiliated with Living Dream must surely have gaiamotes. Were they nervous? They must know an entire planet hated them.

  Whatever smartcore the Living Dream forces were using to try and identify the Second Dreamer didn’t seem unduly interested in Araminta. None of the paramilitaries showed any interest in her as the trike trundled past them. Just on the other side, a group of local youths was gathering. Shouts echoed through the damp air, directed at the paramilitaries. Several marques of construction site bot waddled and rolled towards the dark ranks, waving power tools threateningly and leaking miscreant programs that blocked and distorted the cybersphere nodes.

  By the time she was a hundred metres along Gathano Avenue past the bridge, the paramilitary squad commander finally took action against the taunts and belligerent bots. The shouting increased in volume and anger, interspaced with the unpleasant high-pitched humm of energy weapons directed at the bots. Araminta increased her speed as a pair of capsules swept overhead to reinforce their colleagues. The last thing she could afford now was to be taken into custody.

  By the time she reached her apartments in the Bodant district forty minutes later, the number of people milling round in the park outside was disturbing. She knew she was being prejudiced, but most of them looked like the kind of gang members which the unisphere news always claimed had a stranglehold on the neighbouring Helie district. When she allowed their gaiafield emissions to register, she found an atmosphere of dark resentment swirling across the park, more frightening than the anger of the commuters. There was purpose here. Violence wasn’t far away.

  She steered the trike down into the underground garage, thankful for the dual gate security, then took the lift up. When the doors opened on the fourth floor Araminta prayed that Danal and Mareble were either out or wouldn’t hear her crossing the vestibule – how good had she made the sound proofing? The Living Dream followers had only moved in two days ago, declaring they could no longer wait until the official completion date, which left her with a load of work to finish for them before the full price was deposited in her account. Not today!

  The door of the apartment she was using closed behind her and she pressed her back up against it, as if reinforcing the charming old-fashioned brass lock. Breath hissed out of her in a sorrowful gasp, and she slowly slid down onto the parquet floor.

  I can just stay here. I don’t need to go out. I can get nutrient fluid for the culinary unit pumped in. I can work on getting the last two apartments finished. By the time that’s done all this will have blown over.

  Except for the Void expansion phase. But the Raiel will fight that, that’s what the unisphere shows say.

  It was a pitiful delusion, she knew.

  Maybe thirty minutes later Cressida called. Just seeing her icon appear cheered Araminta up no end. If anyone knew what to do it would be Cressida. And maybe, just maybe, she could tell her cousin about being the Second Dreamer.

  ‘Darling, how are you? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m okay, thanks, I’m at the apartments.’

  ‘Oh. I thought you were with Mr Bovey.’

  ‘I was. I came home this morning.’

  ‘You crossed the city yourself?’

  ‘Yes. It wasn’t any trouble. I used my trike pod.’

  ‘Dear Ozzie, that was stupid, darling. You’re not to do anything like that again, do you understand. I mean it. Life is about to get very ugly here. I’ve been talking with my contacts in City Hall and the state government house. These Living Dream bastards are not going to go home. Viotia has been royally screwed by our crap-for-brains Prime Minister.’

  ‘Yes. I know,’ she said weakly.

  ‘And the worst place for anyone to be right now is Colwyn City. They think that dickhead the Second Dreamer is living here. And there’s no way he’ll escape. They’ve broken just about every single article of the Commonwealth constitution by invading us, they’re not going to stop now. Do you know who’ve they’ve sent to oversee the search?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well don’t tell anyone, but Cleric Phelim himself has come through the wormhole to take charge.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Oh, darling, keep up! He’s Ethan’s chief of staff, the enforcer himself. A greater turd you will not meet, and I include your old chum Likan in that list.’

  ‘Oh, great Ozzie.’ Araminta drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs tight.

  ‘Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to worry you excessively. We’ll be all right, of course. Which is actually why I’m calling. There’s a way out, if you’re interested.’

  ‘What way out? The weather dome is on, no one can get out.’

  ‘Ha, that just deters capsules. After all the damn thing is only there to protect us from clouds and wind, not ward off Ocisen Empire warships or the Void boundary. There’s actually a big gap, well twenty metres anyway, between the lower edge of the dome and the ground to allow normal air flow. We’d all suffocate in a week without that.’

  ‘So we can get through?’

  ‘We can just walk out until they seal that up with their troops, yes. Even then there are various tunnels available if you know the right people. My u-shadow will send the files over for you. Anyway, the point is: some friends and I are chartering a star-ship. We’re leaving completely, not just Colwyn but Viotia itself. There’s a seat on it for you if you want, I’m holding it as part of our family’s block booking.’

  ‘Um . . . but Mr Bovey?’

  ‘Darling, you’d need five starships to get all of hims off. Be realistic. And be sensible. In times like this you have to think about your own arse.’

  ‘But they’re not letting anyone out of the city, let alone offplanet.’

  ‘You leave that to us. Anybody who believes Living Dream is some kind of irresistible force has clearly forgotten about lawyers. We’re chartering a foreign-owned starship with full diplomatic status. If Phelim tries restricting that he’ll find himself staring down a Commonwealth Navy warship disruptor cannon. Let’s see who blinks first then.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘So are you in or out?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘There’s one thing, darling, which I’m going to have to bring up. It won’t be cheap. Where do you stand on selling the apartments?’

  ‘Oh. Not good. I still don’t have deposits on the last two, and I haven’t completed any of the others. Nobody’s going to buy anything now.’

  ‘Yes, that is a problem. You didn’
t find that offload sucker like I told you then? Never mind. You should never underestimate the market when it comes to making things happen for a profit. Give it a day and there’ll be venture groups on half the External worlds offering Viotia citizens cash for their business and properties; it’ll be way below yesterday’s market rate, but they’ll be thinking long term. Once Living Dream grabs the Second Dreamer things will start to stabilize. Give it twenty years and everything will be back to normal, and those properties will be five times the value.’

  ‘If it’s going to be normal again, why are you leaving?’

  ‘Normal for a Free Trade Zone hagiocracy planet, darling. Which I have no intention of spending the rest of my lives on, thank you very much. I want a nice liberal market-based democracy with all the opportunities for misunderstanding and conflict that entails. Wherever there’s an argument you’ll find us lawyers offering to help. And help equals lots of money. On which subject; I’ve already transferred my cash accounts offworld.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘Certainly, darling; the banks were keen to welcome me. And I wasn’t exactly the first. There’s enough money flying offplanet right now to leave our beloved Prime Minister a magnificent economic nightmare by lunchtime, never mind tomorrow. The only thing she has left to worry about is how painful her bodyloss is going to be when her previously loyal voters get their hands on her. So – do you want me to see if I can offload your apartments for you? I have some finance seeker semisentients I can assign the problem to.’

  ‘Um, yes. Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Great, so I’ll reserve that ticket for you.’

  ‘Yes. Do that.’ Araminta just said it without thinking. She didn’t want to leave, but Cressida had to be placated somehow, and anything else might be suspicious. Ozzie, it didn’t take me long to become a paranoid schemer, did it?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Cressida said. ‘Ten days from now we’ll be sipping cocktails on the pool terrace of La Cinal on Etinna. It’ll be fun, a new beginning.’

  The call ended, and Araminta stared at the semi-decorated open-plan living room in a mild daze. She couldn’t believe that even Cressida could abandon her whole life with such casual ease. But then that was Cressida for you, thinking faster and smarter than anyone else. She’d probably run through the whole shock, anger, assessment, calculation, and action stages in the first hour; while Araminta was still firmly mired in the shock segment. Certainly she’d never thought what life on Viotia would be like after things settled down; and of course Cressida was right, they would be part of the Free Trade Zone for ever now. Unless the Senate and Navy intervened, or Viotia’s residents organized a rebellion.