The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  The big portal at the far end of Wilson’s study fizzed with multicolored static. It cleared to show Director James Timothy Halgarth sitting behind his desk, a fourth-generation member of the family that founded EdenBurg, which gave him a reasonable level of seniority within the dynasty.

  He wore a simple pale blue suit of semiorganic fabric that stretched and contracted around his limbs whenever he moved, giving him unrestricted movement. His apparent age was mid-thirty, though he was completely bald, an unusual style in the Commonwealth. Small OCtattoos shimmered platinum and emerald on his cheeks.

  “Captain Kime, finally,” the Director said with obvious enthusiasm. “I apologize for the delay in enabling this conference. The Guardians of Selfhood are annoyingly tenacious in their attacks on our landline. The current repairs were only completed three hours ago. No doubt we shall suffer our next cut within a few days.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Wilson said. “Wouldn’t you be better off with a satellite relay?”

  “We used to have one. The Guardians shot it down, and its three replacements. It’s actually more cost-effective to have a landline and keep a repair crew permanently on the payroll. Fiber-optic cable is very cheap.”

  “I didn’t realize the civil situation was quite so bad on Far Away.”

  “It’s not. We’re the only ones suffering from assaults by the Guardians. They are deplorably xenophobic, not to mention violent.”

  “I’m not too well briefed on their objectives; I never did pay much attention to conspiracy theories before. They think you’re helping an alien survivor from the arkship, don’t they?”

  “Actually, they believe we transported the Starflyer into the Commonwealth, but that’s the general thrust of their argument, yes.”

  “I see. They have been releasing a great deal of propaganda about how the Starflyer arranged for the whole Second Chance mission. What I really need to know, from the horse’s mouth as it were, is if it is in any way possible the Marie Celeste did come from the Dyson Pair. Does it have that kind of flight range?”

  “In theory, yes. Once the ship accelerates to its flight velocity of point seven two lightspeed, its range is limited only by the amount of fuel it carries to power the force field generators, and indeed the lifetime of the generators themselves. However, our research determined that the actual flight time was five hundred and twenty years. The arkship didn’t come from, or even pass by, the Dyson Pair. It came from somewhere closer.”

  “That could be a planet which didn’t have the kind of protective barrier the Dyson Pair possessed,” Oscar said. “They couldn’t defend themselves against whatever was threatening the Dyson aliens, so they left?”

  “We can speculate on the reason for the flight as much as you like,” the Director said. “As we don’t yet know which star the arkship came from, we can hardly determine anything for certain. It could have originated from inside Commonwealth space for all we know.”

  “What about if the Marie Celeste species was the reason for the enclosure?” Wilson asked.

  “I’m sorry,” the Director said. “I don’t follow your reasoning.”

  “If more than one arkship set off from its origin star, the civilization at the Dyson Pair could be defending themselves from the arkship aliens. After all, look what the Marie Celeste did to Far Away’s star when they arrived there.”

  “Ah, the mega-flare. Yes, I suppose that’s a valid argument, although I don’t see why the barriers would remain on for such a long time. But we do believe that the sterilization of Far Away was an unfortunate side effect. The flare was only triggered to act as the power source for the message.”

  “That’s one hell of a side effect.”

  “You have to take the alien viewpoint. They triggered the flare to communicate across the entire galaxy. Whatever machine manipulated the star into flaring then went on to modify the emission into a coherent radio signal powerful enough to be detected as far away as the Magellanic Clouds. We humans certainly picked it up easily enough, you barely needed a dish when the signal reached Damaran, let alone the SETI scanners they were using back then.”

  “But nobody knows what they were saying,” Wilson observed. “We’ve had a hundred and eighty years to decode the signal, and I’m not aware of any breakthrough yet. They must have been broadcasting back to their own home planet.”

  “That’s certainly one theory proposed by the Institute, Captain. We have a hundred more if you have the time to listen. All we can do is work through the wreckage and try to put together as many pieces of the puzzle as possible. One day we shall have our answers. Regrettably, it won’t be in the near future.”

  “You must have some idea where they came from,” Oscar said. “If they traveled at point seven lightspeed for five hundred years that gives you an origin point roughly three hundred and fifty light-years from Far Away. Surely you can match a star to the light spectrum in the ship’s life-support section?”

  “That would be difficult, Mr. Monroe, the tanks had a multispectrum illumination source. They weren’t trying to match their home star’s emission.”

  “Tanks?”

  The Director’s face displayed mild disappointment. “There was no planetary surface environment replicated inside the Marie Celeste. The starship carried tanks. As far as we can tell from the residue, they were filled with water and a type of monocellular algae.”

  “It was an aquatic species?” Wilson was fascinated. He’d never done any research into the arkship. Far Away had been on his list of worlds he wanted to visit in his sabbatical life.

  “Again, that is one theory,” James Halgarth said. “There were no remnants of advanced creatures in the tanks, and we have never identified any such species in Far Away’s ocean. Another theory is that the Marie Celeste is actually an automated seedship. It was programmed to sterilize whatever habitable world it found, and seed it with genetic samples from its own world ready for its builders to colonize once the alienforming was complete.”

  “Another good reason to throw up a barrier,” Wilson said.

  “I doubt it, Captain. Firstly, if you have the technology to erect the kind of barrier found at the Dyson Pair, then you certainly have the capability to deactivate a robot ship before it begins its in-system mission. Secondly, it is a dreadfully flawed method of interstellar colonization. The resources spent on constructing such a ship are enormous. And it didn’t work. The flare killed off most but not all of Far Away’s native life, yet no trace has been found of any nonnative life. And if the Marie Celeste is one of a fleet, then where are all the other flares presumably set off by the rest of the ships? Thirdly, if you are a space-faring civilization intent on spreading out of your own solar system, then you will be constantly improving your technology. Whether you will develop faster-than-light travel is questionable. But certainly better ships than the Marie Celeste can be built, and the second wave would overtake the first and travel farther. Why haven’t we seen any other ships from the species which launched the Marie Celeste? I’m afraid, gentlemen, that we are presented with a unique puzzle with Far Away. It is as the saying goes: a mystery wrapped in an enigma. But I must conclude, it has nothing to do with the Dyson Pair.”

  “I’m sure this is in your reports,” Oscar said. “But what about the onboard electronics? You must have salvaged some programs, surely?”

  “No. The processors left installed are fairly standard, using a basic gate principle like ours, though some of the chemistry involved is different from anything we employ. However the core control array is missing, salvaged or removed.”

  “Before or after the crash landing?”

  “After. It wasn’t so much a crash landing as a heavy landing. The arkship’s systems were working at the time otherwise it would have been a true crash and all we’d have to examine would be a very deep crater. The official Institute history is that the flare was successful in calling another ship and a rescue mission picked up the survivors. That certainly fits all the known
facts. Anything else is pure conspiracy theory.”

  “You mentioned technology levels,” Wilson said. “Is the Marie Celeste a product of a technology more advanced than ours?”

  “By definition, we are more advanced because we have wormhole generators. However that is now. By our best estimate, the Marie Celeste was launched around AD 1300, and at that time we had barely begun the Renaissance.”

  “I see what you mean. Even if they only had half of our technological progression rate, they should have the same kind of pathways the Silfen use by now.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What about now, though? Is what we have now equivalent to the Marie Celeste?”

  “The easiest answer is equivalent but different. We could undoubtedly build a more sophisticated slower-than-light starship. Obviously they didn’t have our wormhole capability, but then we don’t know how they flared the star.”

  Wilson remembered several meetings he’d had with Commonwealth security chiefs so senior the general public didn’t even know their Directorates existed. They’d been very eager to examine the possibility of the Marie Celeste’s “flare bomb.” Farndale’s military researchers thought it might be some kind of unstable quantum field effect that disrupted the star’s surface, like dropping a depth charge into the ocean. Aside from theoretical studies, nothing had ever been done, certainly not at a hardware level. Of course, he didn’t know what other companies might have developed. It might be worth a quiet word with Nigel Sheldon. “Aren’t you even looking into it?”

  “There’s nothing to look into, Captain. We have classified every single component onboard the arkship and identified their use. Whatever triggered the flare is not here. Presumably if there was more than one, the others were evacuated along with the crew and the control array. After all, it’s not the kind of thing a responsible species would leave lying around.”

  “Good point. What I was trying to determine through the flare technology is if the Marie Celeste builders had the ability to throw up the Dyson barrier.”

  “No, they didn’t have that ability. The Dyson Pair barriers predate the arkship. We are dealing with yet another unidentified alien species, perhaps two if the wilder ideas about the barrier’s defensive nature are true. I wish you luck in your encounter.”

  “Thank you.”

  “While we are in contact, I’d be very glad to offer sabbatical leave to any of the Institute’s researchers who you’d care to have on your crew. The experts we have here are quite formidable, both in terms of expertise and capability, many of them are advanced, like myself.”

  “That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Director. We’re about to issue our requirements for the Second Chance, and I’m sure your personnel will match up.”

  “Very well then.” His hand was raised in a small wave as the image disappeared from the portal.

  Oscar pulled a face. “So that takes the Marie Celeste aliens out of the equation.”

  “Looks like it, not that I ever believed the Guardians, but it’s useful ammunition for the next media interview.”

  ....

  Even though it was officially summer, the winds from the west had been bringing in rain clouds from the ocean for over three weeks. Leonida City suffered thunderstorms and flash floods in most of the parks. Even today, the sky was blocked by lusterless gray clouds whose constant drizzle was falling on the lightweight plastic awning that had been set up over the podium. As he looked out across the audience sitting on the lawn of the university’s botanical garden, Dudley Bose didn’t even see the dull glimmer of moisture clinging to their suits and fanciful summer hats. He was too wrapped up in his own sense of awe and delight to pay attention to anything as mundane as the weather.

  The dean also seemed immune to the suffering before him as his speech rambled on and on. Sitting just behind him, Gralmond’s Vice President was trying to keep a civil expression on her face. Eventually, the dean finished complimenting the university under his own leadership, and gestured to Dudley Bose.

  Making his way to the lectern, Dudley had a sudden bout of nerves as the event hit home. He caught sight of Wendy, his wife, sitting tall in the front row, applauding loudly. Ranged beside her were his students; one of them let out a piercing whistle, while the other two were laughing as though this were the biggest joke in the world. Typical, he thought. But the sight of them allowed him to carry on with renewed conviction.

  Dudley stepped up to the dean, who solemnly handed over the scroll of parchment that signified his appointment to full professorship. The applause peaked, and Dudley smiled down happily at his damp audience, and absolutely did not scratch the OCtattoo on his ear—Wendy had been very specific about that. He said his standard, trite “thank yous” and added how privileged he was to be a part of an academic institution as grand as this university, made one little point about how government should always support pure science (a thoughtful nod of agreement from the Vice President behind him), and finished up by saying: “I now hope to build upon the discovery which Gralmond has made possible by representing this planet as a crew member on the Second Chance. By contributing our planet’s expertise and unique experience we may finally unravel the mystery which has haunted our species for the last two hundred years. All I can say is that I will do my best not to let you down. Thank you very much.”

  The applause that greeted the end of the speech was warmer and louder than he’d been expecting. As he turned the Vice President rose and shook him by the hand. “I’ll certainly do what I can to get you on that ship,” she murmured.

  Dudley sat down and smiled oafishly through her speech about the long-term grant her administration was utterly delighted to be awarding the university’s newly enlarged astronomy department. He’d been agitating for a berth on the Second Chance from the moment he’d heard of the mission. In every unisphere interview, and there were many, he’d told the reporters how he deserved to be on it, how his contribution couldn’t possibly be overlooked, how his exclusive knowledge on the subject made him indispensable. He’d done the same to every politician he’d met, every industrialist, every high-society member he’d encountered at the hundred cocktail parties and dinners he’d received invitations for since the discovery. His lobbying had been relentless. The envelopment observation had given him a security he’d never known before, with the awarding of his professorship and sudden rush of money into his department. Success, he’d found, had a delectable taste. He wanted more, and the starship was the way to get it. There would be no limit to what he could achieve when he returned triumphant from the distant Dyson Pair.

  As soon as the Vice President finished her announcement the audience broke for the reception in the main hall where canapés and wine were being served. Several local companies had helped fund the day, which allowed the bursar to bring in outside caterers, elevating the usual standard of university parties.

  Wendy Bose snagged a glass of rosé from one of the young waiters and looked around to see where Dudley had got to. It was a day of conflicting emotions for her. The relief she felt at seeing him finally get his professorship was profound; it secured both their futures. Already, at the city planning office where she worked, her own promotion had finally gone through; her R&R pension was safe and sound, in another eleven years she could go for a rejuvenation. A decent one this time, she thought. Over the last few years she’d been very conscious of her hips getting heavy again—just at the wrong time. Dudley was clocking up a lot of inquiries from companies, there had even been mention of nonexecutive directorships. Gossip around the university common room said he was now a contender for the dean’s job in a few years’ time. She needed to look good, fit the part of capable supportive wife. When she’d married him, she hadn’t expected anything like this level of professional and personal success, just a quiet life spent pleasantly on the fringe of the capital’s social and governmental circles. Now, Dudley’s fame was changing all that. So far they’d faced it together, but she was only too aware of the streng
th of their marriage. It was another of those perfectly amicable unions that was intended to last maybe a couple of decades, a standard anodyne to the loneliness of mediocre achievers right across the Commonwealth. As such it could trundle along contentedly so long as nothing too momentous affected it. And here he was, the most famous astronomer in the Commonwealth, right in the middle of a campus of beautiful young girls, and being courted by companies with serious money.

  “Mrs. Bose?”

  Wendy turned to find a very tall man smiling inquisitively at her. His apparent age was late thirties, though she knew he was a lot older than that, several lifetimes at least. She’d rarely seen someone so self-confident. He had blond hair that verged on silver, and eyes that were so dark it was hard to see where the iris began. Combined with a small nose and delicate prominent cheeks he was striking rather than handsome, certainly memorable.

  “That’s me.” She smiled, slightly edgy, knowing people like this didn’t usually single her out—for whatever reason.

  “I’m with Earle News.” He held up a small card with golden wings in the middle. “I was wondering if I could have a few moments with you, please.”

  “Oh, of course.” Wendy automatically slipped into good corporate wife mode—she’d had enough practice recently. “It’s a very proud day for me, Dudley’s achievement means so much, not just to the university but to Gralmond itself.”

  “Absolutely. It’s certainly put you on the map. I had to look up which section of space Gralmond was in, and I’ve been to a lot of worlds. My brief is a roving one.”

  “Really, that must be very interesting, Mr.…”

  “Oh, that’s Brad, please.”

  “Okay, Brad.” She smiled at him over the rim of her drink.

  “One thing I was curious about when I researched the university, it has just about the smallest astronomy department anywhere. Was it your husband who started it?”