The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m at the office. What about you?”

  “We’re safe here, aren’t we, Hoshe?”

  “Safest place in the Commonwealth, I promise. Shall I come home?”

  “No. You stay there. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

  “I don’t worry. I love you. I’m leaving now.”

  “No, Hoshe. I’ve got the news summary in my virtual vision. The attacks aren’t anywhere near Earth. You stay at work.”

  “I want to be with you, in case.” In case of what, he didn’t know. If Earth fell, it would all be over. And not even Paula could get them places on a Dynasty lifeboat.

  “Should you travel now?” she asked.

  “Of course. If anything gets through that force field it won’t matter where you are. I’ll get a taxi.”

  “I don’t want to be trouble.”

  “You’re not.”

  Hoshe grabbed his coat from the hook on the back of the door. A red priority icon flashed up into his virtual vision; it was Captain Kumancho, who was leading the Senate Security detail following Victor Halgarth. “Damn!” Hoshe touched the icon with his turquoise virtual finger.

  “We’ve just arrived on Boongate,” Kumancho said. “Victor went to one of the warehouses out in the station marshaling yard. It belongs to a company called Sunforge, local transport and courier outfit. We’re datamining it now.”

  “Okay. Are you emplaced?”

  “As best we can. Hoshe, it’s chaos here. There’s half the planet’s population camped outside the station. CST has just closed the wormhole. We must have been on the last train in. My people are worried we won’t be able to get back.”

  “Shit. Right, leave it with me. Is the Halgarth team with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, that’s good. I’ll get in touch with Warren Halgarth; we’ll coordinate our approach and put a process in place to extract you as soon as CST reopens the wormhole. I’ll try and get information on that as well.”

  “Thanks, Hoshe.”

  “Do you know what’s in the Sunforge warehouse?”

  “Not yet. We’re going to start running an infiltration operation once we’re properly established.”

  “Do you need help from the locals? I can run the request from this office. It’ll carry more clout.”

  “I think we’re on our own, Hoshe. Government here has just about collapsed. CST’s station security teams and the city police force are still hanging together, almost, but they’re not going to be assed about a bunch of spooks asking for cooperation. Don’t worry, we can handle Victor and the warehouse.”

  “Okay, keep me updated on an hourly basis. I’ll be in the office.” Hoshe stood perfectly still for a moment as he cursed every god he knew about, then hung his coat back on the hook. His turquoise finger touched Inima’s icon. “Darling, I’m sorry. Something’s come up.”

  “Don’t worry,” Anna said. Her small mouth tightened into a smile as she straightened the shoulders on Wilson’s dress uniform, brushing away creases. “You know and I know that you did everything you could. There were no alternatives, no smartass answers. You told it to them as it was, and they gave you the budget they wanted to.”

  Several people were looking at them as they stood nose to nose outside the Senate Hall’s underground chamber, aides to the other War Cabinet members who were in session, and had been for thirty minutes. It was as if Wilson and Anna were radioactive; nobody said hello, nobody swapped idle chat, not even Daniel Alster and Patricia Kantil. For Wilson not to be in a War Cabinet meeting was a clear indication of what was being discussed inside. There wasn’t any informed, measured debate going on in there; it was an open power struggle.

  “Damn Nigel for not telling us what he’d got,” Wilson muttered. His voice carried just far enough to provoke some glances from the nearest aides. “Damn him for not sharing.”

  “They only just got their ship operational in time,” Anna said, patting his arm.

  “So he claims,” he hissed. “Hell, listen to me. Nobody trusts anyone else anymore.”

  “How can we?” Anna looked around, and pulled him farther away from the immaculately dressed, polite, obedient aides. “We don’t know who is working for the Starflyer.”

  “This isn’t just because of the Starflyer. Look at them all.” He tilted his head at the aides. “All the Dynasties and Grand Families see here is an opportunity to put one over on the rest. They’re concentrating on internal politics while the human race is faced with extinction.”

  “That’s not quite fair.”

  “Yeah yeah.” Tension and dismay were giving him the shakes. Being made to wait outside like a schoolkid hauled up before the principal; it’s not right. I did a good job. “Damn, I feel sorry for myself.” His virtual vision was showing a tactical display from Pentagon II, where the navy was keeping watch for any further sign of Prime activity. It was only seven hours since the wormholes into Commonwealth space had shut down. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. They had to organize the navy’s response immediately. That’s if he was going to be organizing it.

  “Hey, stop it.” She nuzzled his face. “They’re probably just deciding which medal to give you.”

  He gave her a tired look. “Thanks.”

  “You know I’ll stay with you, don’t you?”

  He kissed her. “Couldn’t have got this far without you.”

  “It’ll be nice to have a real life together. I’ve never had a rich husband before. I still haven’t seen your home on York5.”

  “You’ll love it. We’ve got an area the size of Oregon which I’ve been shaping and planting. And the Chateau needs refurbishing.”

  “Sounds good. Me, an unlimited credit tattoo, and every interior designer on that side of the Commonwealth.”

  He held her tight. “It will be good. It will.”

  The doors to the conference room opened. Rafael Columbia strode out. He was also wearing his full dress uniform; immaculately tailored, it made him the perfect authority figure. Even the aides straightened up as he appeared.

  Wilson hadn’t known Rafael was in the War Cabinet. It could only mean one thing. “Shit.” At least he didn’t have to wait anymore; he knew for sure now. I don’t even have to go through with this humiliation, not really.

  “Wilson.” Rafael put on a suitably sober expression of greeting. He extended his hand.

  I could just tell him to shove it.

  Anna made a small sound at the back of her throat.

  Wilson shook hands. Like a proper officer would, with dignity. They’d be proud of me back at the academy—if it still existed.

  “I’m sorry,” Rafael said. “They called me in after they asked for you.”

  “It’s okay.” As Caesar said to Brutus. “I don’t think either of us is in an enviable position.”

  Rafael nodded sympathetically. “They’re ready for you.”

  “Sure.”

  Anna squeezed his hand. He walked with Rafael into the conference room to face the War Cabinet. Surprisingly, it was only President Doi who met his eye as he stood at the head of the table. Heather Antonia Halgarth simply looked bored, while Nigel Sheldon had a thunderous expression on his face. It was a hugely telling sight, that the man whose family warship and private weapons project had just saved the entire Commonwealth could suffer a political defeat directly afterward.

  Rafael came to stand just behind Wilson.

  “Admiral,” President Doi said, “we have reviewed the performance of the navy and yourself before and during this latest disastrous invasion. To say that we find it lacking would be the understatement of this century. In view of the catastrophic loss of life, we require your immediate resignation.”

  Argue. Tell her to fuck off. Nobody could have done better. “As you wish,” he said coolly.

  Rafael came up to him. “Admiral, your navy authorization codes have now been revoked. You will be placed on our inactive list, effectiv
e immediately.”

  Wilson clenched his teeth. “Right.”

  “Thank you for what you did, Wilson. The navy staff appreciate it,” Rafael said with emphasis.

  Wilson turned to face the navy’s new chief admiral-in-waiting. “I want you and everyone else in here to know something.”

  “If you have anything to say, please place it in your debrief report,” Doi said formally.

  He smiled at her, enjoying the way she wanted him out of the room with a minimum of fuss. She didn’t yet have the confidence to try to snap an order at him. “The Starflyer is real.” He made sure he was looking directly at Rafael, seeing the small start of surprise in the man’s otherwise composed features. “It’s been manipulating us for a long while.”

  “Enough! Mr. Kime,” Doi said.

  “Its agents were on board the Second Chance. They switched off the barrier generator.”

  Rafael was looking embarrassed now. Wilson glanced around the table. The only person who held his attention was Justine Burnelli. She appeared guilty rather than surprised. Interesting.

  He shrugged at the War Cabinet, as if he wasn’t bothered anymore. “Check it out,” he told Rafael as he turned to leave.

  Nigel watched Wilson’s back as he left the committee room. The man’s outburst was fascinating. He was amused by the reaction of the others around the table. Doi, predictably, was mortified at Wilson’s claim. Heather seemed bemused, Rafael concerned, while Justine was doing the same as him, checking around. He met her gaze and gave her a smile. She deliberately returned a blank expression.

  He could hardly forget Campbell’s urgent call less than twenty-four hours ago, asking on her behalf what the Dynasty policy was toward Myo. After the Prime attack, Campbell had also told him the Senator and the Investigator were requesting an urgent personal meeting. He wasn’t sure what it was about, but given what Nelson’s observation team had told him about Mellanie’s activities on Illuminatus, it wasn’t a request he was about to refuse. Only now was he starting to wonder what sort of connections Justine had with Wilson. One thing was for sure, that meeting was going to be a lot more interesting than this one.

  “I think we can move forward now,” Doi said once the doors were shut and the screening back around the conference room. “I would like to propose Admiral Columbia to assume overall command of the navy, effective immediately.”

  “I second that,” Toniea Gall said.

  You would, Nigel thought. He caught Heather’s smile of approval.

  “All in favor?” Doi asked.

  Nigel languidly raised his arm along with everyone else. Alan Hutchinson gave him a fierce, sympathetic grin, which he ignored. If Heather was surprised, she didn’t show it. The argument that the Dynasties had engaged in three hours ago via ultra-secure links had been ferocious. Only a small part of the bad feeling had spilled into the first part of the War Cabinet meeting. Even the intensity of that had mildly scandalized the likes of Crispin Goldreich and Toniea Gall. But then, behind strong seals, Heather always did swear like a construction worker.

  “I would like to thank you for your confidence,” Rafael said. He sounded most sincere. “I want to assure you that I am determined to end the Prime threat once and for all. Mr. Sheldon, you said you will make your weapon available.”

  They all turned to Nigel. Even now, he thought wearily. For a moment he felt like storming out, catching up with Wilson, putting his arm around the man’s shoulder and the two of them heading off to a bar together.

  The Commonwealth he’d created and led for so long now wanted his weapons. That’s not how it was supposed to be. The day he’d stepped out on Mars to laugh at Wilson and the other astronauts was the day he broke the old system: he and Ozzie had set everyone free. And now, I’ve helped build the most revolting weapon anyone has ever dreamed up. I wanted us to live among the stars themselves, not snuff them out. “Yeah,” he said contemptuously. How very like the old military officers Rafael was, audacious in their smart uniforms, sounding positive as they gave their briefings on precision attacks and minimal collateral damage. “Unless the Primes agree to negotiate a cessation of hostilities, I will use our weapon against their homeworld.”

  “Will that guarantee their eradication?” Hans Braunt inquired.

  “The weapon when fired into a star releases a nova-level energy burst, and destroys the star in the process. Such an event will envelop the entire Dyson Alpha civilization. As they have undoubtedly spread beyond their original star by now, my Dynasty tacticians have proposed a firewall strategy. We will run scout missions centered around Dyson Alpha, and nova every star where we detect their presence. It will, of course, sterilize all life on neighboring star systems.”

  There was complete silence around the table.

  “You wanted to win,” Nigel told them uncompromisingly.

  “We have been reticent about genocide in the past, and rightly so,” Rafael said. “For that is what makes us human. But we can no longer indulge ourselves in this case. If the Primes are allowed to survive, they will forever be a threat to our existence. They have flare bombs, and no reluctance to use them. They have wormholes, and from that will be able to develop FTL ships. If that happens, they will spread through this galaxy like a virus, and endanger even more species than ourselves. We cannot allow that to happen. It boils down to a very simple equation: them or us.”

  “Very well,” Doi said. “It is the recommendation of this War Cabinet that every means possible is used to rid ourselves of the Prime threat, up to and including their complete extermination. I propose this motion.”

  “Seconded,” Rafael said.

  “Please vote, ladies and gentlemen,” Doi said.

  It was unanimous.

  “Thank you,” Rafael said.

  “How are you going to deal with the Primes left in Commonwealth space?” Crispin asked.

  “The Lost23 will be the easiest,” Rafael said. “They have very few ships in those systems. We will simply pull our insurgency troops out, and use a quantumbuster against each planet. They will not survive that. The New48 are more problematical.”

  “You reckon?” Alan Hutchinson snapped. “For a start, you’re not classing Wessex along with the rest of the invasion. Drop a quantumbuster on my world, and I’ll fucking nuke your Dynasty back into the stone age.”

  “Nobody’s going to wipe out Wessex,” Heather said. “Calm down, Alan. It’s a Big15, it can recover from the flare radiation. Narrabri is protected under force fields, and the farmland can be replanted easily enough. The rest of it, the land you’ve left uncultivated, doesn’t count; it has no economic value, and no one living there.”

  “You still need a functioning biosphere,” Justine said.

  “Half of the land mass will be completely unaffected,” Hans said. “The flare activity lasted for less than an hour in total. And the impact the radiation will have on the ocean is completely minimal. The biosphere remains essentially intact on Wessex as it does on the other New48.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Justine said. “The particle swarm will spread around the planet. You’ll get fallout everywhere.”

  “By far the worst impact is the hemisphere facing the star during flare time. The rest is manageable. Look at Far Away; the flare lasted for weeks there, and we managed to regenerate the continents. That whole planet is alive again. You’re not going to have people running out of oxygen. The time it’ll take to restore the carbon cycle is insignificant on a planetary scale.”

  “I’ve actually been to Far Away,” Justine said. “It is minimally habitable, and that’s after over a century and a half of grueling effort. It’s a huge mistake to class it among normal H-congruous worlds. These New48 will not be habitable; we have to get the populations off. I don’t know about Wessex, that’s exceptional, but the rest must be evacuated.”

  “I am not proposing abandoning Wessex,” Rafael said. “However, there are now four and a half thousand fully armed Prime ships in the Wessex system. We
don’t have four and a half thousand Douvoir missiles in our inventory, let alone the hundred seventy thousand we’ll need to eliminate Prime ships throughout the New48.”

  “Did they really send that many through?” Toniea Gall asked.

  “Yes,” Rafael said. “Which means we will have to evacuate the majority of these systems. The navy cannot deal with forty-eight armadas.”

  “How many can you deal with?” Doi asked.

  “Assuming the Moscow-class production continues unabated, we estimate we can clear five star systems before we face a loss of containment. We don’t yet know what kind of threat the ships pose. They have two options, both of which present unique difficulties for us. Firstly, they can head in to the H-congruous planets, and breach our defenses through sheer numbers, then land and establish an armed colony. It does of course mean that we can use quantumbusters against them when they are down and concentrated.”

  “And the second option?” Crispin asked.

  “They make a break for it. With an average of three and a half thousand ships in each system, they’ll possess enough equipment and manufacturing capability between them to put together an FTL drive eventually. Again, they will have to rendezvous to begin a manufacturing process, which will leave them vulnerable to a Douvoir missile.”

  “How long will it take to manufacture a hundred and seventy thousand Douvoir missiles?” Toniea Gall asked.

  “We could probably get them completed within nine months, providing we authorize a super crash-priority project. I’m not sure we have that kind of time available. If they are still planning on colonizing the New48, they could be in orbit around each of them within a week.”

  “You’re talking about evacuation regardless of the Primes,” Justine said.

  “Yes. That is our preferred option. Let them all land and take them out with a quantumbuster.”

  “We’ve already got a monstrous refugee problem from the Lost23, and most of them were low-population worlds. How many people live on the New48?”

  “Not including Wessex,” Nigel said, “about thirty-two billion people.” This time the silence was even more profound.