The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  For a moment MorningLightMountain had no way of knowing what was happening to Hanko’s star. When it reopened the wormhole five million kilometers away and cautiously extended sensors through, it saw the photosphere crater wall collapsing, sending a circular wave racing out across the star’s surface. The plasma sphere had separated from the corona, racing into space at near-relativistic speed and expanding fast. MorningLightMountain could no longer detect the flare amid the conflagration raging within the corona. Nor was their any indication of the quantum effect that its machine produced.

  MorningLightMountain was shocked by the scale of the event. It had no idea that humans had such a powerful weapon available. They were far more dangerous than it had ever suspected. For the first time since the barrier came down, it began to question the advisability of its actions.

  “It works,” Tunde said, a cautious grin on his face. “The flare’s been wiped out.”

  “Lost under a much greater radiation discharge,” Rafael said.

  Everyone in the office was riveted on the sensor imagery provided by the Dublin, which was now standing off ten million kilometers from Hanko’s star. Wilson watched sluggish waves spreading out across the corona from the quantumbuster detonation, then the size registered, and he realized they weren’t sluggish at all. The star’s prominences were writhing wildly as the magnetic field oscillated. Two million kilometers above the dissipating depression, the sphere of plasma had now reached the same diameter as Saturn, and was cooling rapidly. Its cohesion was breaking down, allowing it to spew off ephemeral rivers of waning ions as bright as a comet’s tail. The hard radiation emission from the center of the explosion was also reducing. Even at ten million kilometers, the Dublin’s force field had been badly strained to maintain cohesion under the impact.

  “But a shorter one,” Tunde countered immediately. “And the inverse square law works to our advantage here. Hanko is an AU away, after all.”

  “There was no alternative,” Natasha said. “This way the planets get a chance at overall biological survival.”

  “I know,” Rafael said grimly. “I’m sorry, I wanted a solution that was less damaging for us.”

  “But it is a solution,” Wilson said. “And the only one we’ve got. Anna, I want the starships to launch quantumbusters at every flare. Snuff them out.”

  “Yes, sir. There are nine star systems out of the forty-eight which don’t have starship coverage.” She sounded upset at having to remind him.

  “Damnit. Send ships in from wherever you can.”

  “Fleet Command is working out the quickest flight patterns now.”

  The office tactical display showed starships going FTL to leave their planetary orbits. Wilson allowed himself to believe they would all be in time, that the flare radiation damage would be minimal. He knew that even if it was, even if the majority of the biosphere on each world survived, the inhabitants would want to leave. People would be terrified. Quite rightly. There would be a flood of refugees to the other side of the Commonwealth. Planetary governments would be unable to cope. There were still huge problems housing and supporting the existing refugees from the Lost23.

  “Can we shut down the CST network?” he asked the President. Nigel Sheldon still hadn’t returned. His stationary image lurked in the office like a ghost at the proceedings. Wilson was starting to wonder if the Dynasty chief was running for his lifeboat.

  “Excuse me?” Doi asked.

  “We have to block any kind of mass panic escape from the worlds under attack. The rest of the Commonwealth won’t be able to deal with the population of forty-eight planets on the move. I doubt even CST can transport that many people.”

  “If they stay they’ll suffer radiation sickness. You can’t make them endure that, and I’m certainly not going to enforce it.”

  “Nobody inside a force field will come to any harm.”

  “And what about people outside?”

  “We’re getting reports that the CST stations have closed on most of the worlds under attack,” Rafael said.

  “What?”

  “It looks like Wessex has cut off all its links to phase two space.”

  Both Wilson and Doi turned to Nigel Sheldon’s image. Wilson tried to send a message to the Dynasty chief’s unisphere level two private address, which was rejected. “Damn you. What are you doing?”

  “Using CST wormholes to interfere with the Prime ones, I expect,” Rafael said.

  “Have we got any information on that?” Wilson asked Anna.

  “Admiral,” Dimitri said, “with respect, this is not relevant right now. You have to focus on Hell’s Gateway and how it can be disabled. While the Primes retain the ability to open wormholes into Commonwealth space, they can drop flare bomb after flare bomb into any of our stars. We have just shown them we possess doomsday weapons; and we have enough evidence that they are conducting a pogrom against us. Their retaliatory strike will be swift and utterly lethal. You must stop them. The next hour will decide whether there will even be a Commonwealth for people to move through.”

  Wilson nodded slowly as he began his feedback breathing exercise. He could feel his hands shaking in the unnatural silence. The refugees had been a classic displacement diversion. Truth was, he didn’t want to make the next round of decisions. This is too much to ask one person. I’m not ready. A little self-derisive guffaw slipped out of his lips, bringing him strange looks. Exactly how long does it take to prepare? I’ve had three hundred years, goddamnit.

  “Anna, tell the Cairo and the Baghdad to fly directly to Hell’s Gateway. They are to use quantumbusters against the Prime facilities they find there. I want those force fields broken, and the gateway generators destroyed.”

  “Yes, sir.” She began to relay instructions to Fleet Command.

  He studied the tactical display. Now he’d gone and done it, committed himself to accepting the responsibility, the decisions and orders were actually quite logical and easy. His heart was beating away normally inside his chest again.

  “How long?” Doi asked.

  “It’ll take them three days to get there, which might be too long, but then again it might not. And if they can’t get close to Hell’s Gateway they can kick the shit out of that star with quantumbusters. That should cause some damage to the Primes stationed there.”

  “I understand,” Doi said. She sounded defeated, as if it were all over.

  Wilson didn’t want to look at her. If the Primes started firing flare bombs at other stars, then the Commonwealth was as good as dead already. They had three days to implement such an action. I’ve given them three days.

  The tactical display was showing him quantumbusters detonating to extinguish the flare bombs already active. The flares and the explosions combined were sending lethal torrents of radiation toward the hapless Commonwealth planets.

  “Warn the planetary authorities,” Wilson said. “Tell people to get under cover.”

  “They’re already doing that,” Rafael said. “Wilson, I’m sorry, but this has to be done.”

  “Yes.” He took a deep breath, reviewing the tactical display as it showed him the radiation gushing out from the quantumbuster explosions that would ultimately result in the deaths of millions of people. On his order.

  “Bad day,” Nigel Sheldon murmured. “And getting worse.”

  His expanded mentality slipped into the arrays governing CST wormhole generators on Wessex. Traffic in and out of the station had already shut down on his earlier order, leaving the wormholes empty. He disconnected eight of them from their remote gateways, and pulled their exits back into the Wessex system. Sensors above the Big15 world located the Prime wormholes for him. Over three thousand ships had already come through. The Primes had also fired a flare bomb into the local star. Tokyo had launched a quantumbuster to knock it out.

  “We’re going to lose the planet’s entire bloody harvest,” Alan Hutchinson groaned. “The force fields will protect Narrabri, but the continents are completely exposed.”


  “I know.”

  The quantumbuster detonated.

  “Jesus fucking wept.” Alan Hutchinson spat. Sensors revealed the full damage that Prime and human weapons inflicted on the tormented star. “That’s more than quadrupled the radiation emission. All they have to do is keep on firing flare bombs at us. The cure is as bad as the problem.”

  “Hang on, Alan. I might be able to stop this.” Nigel was tracking the Charybdis through a directional TD channel created by the ship’s drive. The frigate was closing fast on one of the Prime wormholes, and there was no sign of it on any hysradar in the system. So let’s hope the Primes can’t see it, either. “Are you ready?” he asked Otis.

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Here we go.” Nigel issued a stream of instructions into the wormhole generators he commanded. This time he didn’t need help from the SI. CST had upgraded the Wessex RIs to manipulate the open-ended wormholes in an aggressive mode.

  MorningLightMountain watched the human starships launch their superbombs into the stars where it had planted corona-rupture machines. In every case, the massive explosion eliminated its machines. It had not expected such retaliation. If they had such weapons, why hadn’t they used them against the staging post or its own homeworld? Surely their ethics wouldn’t prevent them?

  One of its wormholes in the Wessex system was abruptly subjected to exotic interference as eight human wormholes transected it. MorningLightMountain was expecting that; it diverted power from reserve magflux extractors to help stabilize its wormhole. After analyzing the nature of the attack humans had used last time, it believed it could now counter them effectively. Certainly, it had modified its generator mechanisms to make them less susceptible to the instability overloads. Thousands of immotile clusters focused their attention on the wormhole, ready to counter whatever interference pattern was inflicted on the exotic fabric.

  There was none. This was different. The human wormholes were somehow merging with its own, their energy input helping to maintain the fissure through spacetime. For a moment, MorningLightMountain didn’t understand at all. Then it realized it was now unable to close the wormhole. The humans were injecting so much energy into it they were stabilizing the fabric; they were also locking the exit in place within the Wessex system. There was a hole open directly into its staging post that it didn’t control.

  MorningLightMountain tried to introduce instabilities, inducing resonances, modifying power frequency. The humans countered it all with ease. Sensors located a relativistic missile racing for the wormhole exit. MorningLightMountain strengthened the force field that covered the exit, and started pulling back the ships that had just gone through, clustering them in a defensive formation. Force fields inside the staging post area were strengthened. It had prepared for a relativistic explosion like last time in case the humans managed to engineer a strike. The damage should be minimal.

  A starship materialized inside the force field covering the wormhole exit. It was difficult to detect: the hull was completely black, absorbing all electromagnetic radiation. MorningLightMountain knew it was there only because it partially eclipsed the drive contrails of its own ships outside. There had been no warning of its existence, no detectable superluminal quantum distortion waves that were the signature of human ships and missiles. They had built something new.

  The ship moved swiftly into the wormhole exit. MorningLightMountain switched every available power source it had into the generator in one last frantic attempt to destabilize the wormhole. Nothing happened; the wormhole fabric remained perfectly constant as the humans countered every power surge. MorningLightMountain gathered its own ships around the generator, ready to fire. Sensors were also aligned in an attempt to learn something about the nature of the new drive.

  The human ship emerged from the wormhole. MorningLightMountain’s ships fired every beam weapon they had at the intruder. It vanished.

  “Second batch of flare bombs coming through,” Anna reported.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Wilson exclaimed. The display showed him over thirty new devices had emerged, accelerating at a hundred gees toward their target stars. “Natasha?”

  “If you can’t intercept the devices with Douvoir missiles, hit them with quantumbusters.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Wilson nodded at Anna. “All right, authorize that; divert every Douvoir we have in proximity. Some of them must be able to hit a flare bomb.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One of us will run out of superweapons before the other,” Dimitri said. “That will decide who wins today.”

  “That decides who wins, period,” Rafael said.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Nigel’s image flickered back into life. “I’ve done what I can,” he said. “We should see a result in the next quarter of an hour.”

  Wilson quickly checked the Wessex section of the tactical display. One of the Prime wormholes had vanished. One? “What did you do?”

  “Sent a ship through to Hell’s Gateway.”

  Wilson looked at Anna and then Rafael, both of whom looked equally perplexed.

  “What sort of ship?” a fascinated Dimitri asked.

  “Warship,” Nigel said. “Heavily armed.”

  “With what?” Natasha asked.

  “Advanced quantumbuster.”

  “Advanced?”

  “You’ll see.” He paused. “If it works.”

  MorningLightMountain could not detect the human ship anywhere within the staging post system. Most of its sensors had recorded nothing as it emerged from the wormhole. The visual images were strongest, and most informative, showing a black ovoid sucking in light. There was no quantum signature, nothing on the mass detector. Most puzzling and alarming, there was no detectable wormhole. Whatever the human scientist class had come up with, it was radically different from anything they employed before.

  Now MorningLightMountain was left wondering what the ship would do. Some kind of attack was surely imminent. It couldn’t understand why the humans hadn’t simply set off a superbomb as soon as the ship was through. What could be more damaging than that? Certainly a large proportion of the equipment and ships at the staging post would have been destroyed. Even the interstellar wormhole would have been threatened.

  Why did it never truly understand humans?

  Sensors on several of the star-orbiting missile platforms spotted a strong magnetic source emerging from nowhere a hundred thousand kilometers above the corona. MorningLightMountain had placed four thousand such platforms around the star to protect its magflux extractors. Without them, it couldn’t power the wormhole generators into the Commonwealth. But this missile wasn’t fired at any of the magflux extractors, it was heading straight down into the star, and its position had already put it beyond any feasible interception. Given its location and course, there were only two possibilities: either humans had developed corona-rupture devices, or it was one of their superbombs. There was no way to tell until the impact.

  MorningLightMountain calculated what damage a flare would inflict on the magflux extractors as they passed above it. With adequate warning, it should be able to use the attitude thrusters to alter their orbital inclination, and steer them clear of the radiation stream. Surely humans would know that. A superbomb would do a lot more damage, though even an explosion of that magnitude could only destroy a small percentage of its magflux extractors. Perhaps the ship was going to launch a series of superbombs. That would seriously degrade its immediate ability to continue expanding into Commonwealth space. Considering this from a tactical angle, MorningLightMountain launched another batch of its own corona-rupture devices at the forty-eight systems it was invading. It also began reviewing the location of the remaining Commonwealth stars. A gradual, measured absorption of human planets was preferable, weakening them and utilizing their discarded industrial infrastructure, but they were now forcing its responses.

  The tens of thousands of group clusters managing the staging post wormhole generators began to compute
new exit coordinates. Towers loaded with corona-rupture devices were prepared; immotile group clusters analyzed and prepared guidance electronics on all the remaining devices. MorningLightMountain didn’t have as many as it would like. They were extremely difficult to build, even with its technological ability and resources.

  Sensors in the star-orbiting missile platforms closest to the human missile caught a sudden burst of quantum field activity just as it reached the chromosphere. Then their communications links ended. Power from all the magflux extractors around the impact zone failed simultaneously, forcing MorningLightMountain to switch to emergency power reserves to maintain over a hundred fifty wormholes into the Commonwealth. Platforms farther away showed the distinctive blast crater of a superbomb starting to form within the corona. Then something else happened. Quantum signature detectors recorded activity leaping off their scale. The star’s magnetic field multiplied in strength by orders of magnitude, producing a pulse effect strong enough to shove a fifth of MorningLightMountain’s magflux extractors and missile platforms out of their orbital track. As they tumbled away with every electronic system burnt out, MorningLightMountain switched to platforms still farther away from the missile impact point to try to understand what was happening. Around the crater zone, a solid plane of brightness was swelling up and out across the chromosphere. Ultra-hard radiation poured away from it, a wavefront powerful enough to slice through the strongest force field.

  More missile platforms and magflux extractors failed. MorningLightMountain didn’t have anything left that could scan the impact zone directly; its only remaining platforms were on the other side of the star. Sensors at the staging post still showed the star as it was six minutes ago, passively normal. Power reserves were now insufficient to provide an alternative supply for all the magflux extractors it had lost. It concentrated on maintaining two wormholes to each of its captured Commonwealth planets.