The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  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 Leopoldvich, 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 future. 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 departmen
t; 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.”

  “Then you tell him we quit with you,” John King said. The rest of them said, “Hell yes” and “Me, too.”

  Vic put his hand on Alic’s shoulder. “Good luck. And thanks, Boss.”

  When the door to Alic’s office shut, he had to sit down quickly and blow out a long breath. There was only so far impetuosity could carry you. The team was looking in at him through the glass. It actually felt very good indeed.

  Oh, what the hell. That bastard Tarlo tried to kill me. That makes it personal.

  His virtual finger touched the Admiral’s icon. No hesitation, he was pleased to see. The Admiral’s e-butler told Alic that his access level had been reduced to grade seven. “I’ll wait,” he told the program.

  It took two and a half hours before Rafael Columbia responded. “I can give you five minutes,” he told Alic.

  “We’ve located Tarlo.”

  “Then arrest him.”

  “He’s on Boongate.”

  “Screw. It’ll have to wait, Hogan. We’ll grab him when he comes out wherever Sheldon sends him.”

  “We need him now, sir. He’s a Starflyer agent.” Alic closed his eyes, half expecting a lightning bolt to slam down out of the sky and roast him behind his desk.

  “Christ, not you, too? I thought you were reliable.”

  “I am reliable, sir; that’s why I’m telling you this. Think about it. Tarlo’s a traitor, a double agent, that’s beyond question; I was one of the people he was shooting at on Illuminatus. Who is he working for, sir? If not the Starflyer, who is trying to destroy the Commonwealth? Tell me. Give me another name, and I’ll chase them for as long as it takes.”

  There was a long pause. “You can’t get to Boongate,” the Admiral said. “This is classified, but the wormholes to the Second48 will not be reopened. The War Cabinet decided we cannot risk a stampede back into the Commonwealth. Those populations must go into the future.”

  “You have the authority, sir. You can get CST to open the Boongate wormhole for us. My team and I will stay on Boongate afterward and go into the future with the rest of the population. But we must get there before the evacuation. We must establish the Starflyer’s intent. The navy needs to know. Surely you must see that?”

  “You really believe it, don’t you?”

  “We all do, sir.”

  “Very well, Hogan, if this is to happen it doesn’t get put in the files until there’s a successful conclusion. Nonnegotiable.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Put your arrest team together and get over to Wessex. I’ll see what I can do at this end.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And, Hogan, if you’re wrong, stay on Boongate. There will be no future for you, not anywhere at any time. Understand?”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Mellanie walked down the mansion’s broad corridor with her black lacy robe flowing out behind her. The sculpted swan wall lights were turned down to a rouge glimmer, deepening the shadows between the arches. It was two o’clock in the morning, and no one else was about.

  Guilt at what she was doing only made it more exciting. Morton hadn’t stirred when she left their room. Randtown had left him more tired than he was willing to admit.

  The door opened before she even tapped on it. Nigel was standing there, dressed in a loosely tied emerald bathrobe. The greedy smile on his face was one she’d seen on men countless times before—she’d thought it might be different with him. He took her hand, and hurriedly pulled her into the bedroom.

  “What—” she began.

  “I wouldn’t want my wives to get jealous,” he murmured as he gave the corridor a theatrical check before closing the door.

  “They’re not, so don’t pretend they are.”

  “Okay.” He was pressed up against her, hands removing her gown. His mouth moved to hers.

  Mellanie planted a hand on his chest and pushed them apart. “Are you going to say hello, first?”

  “Don’t play the Victorian bride. You came to me.” He grinned, and walked over to the huge bed. “Now come here.” He patted the furry mattress, which rippled sluggishly.

  “What is this, your main orgy room?” she asked archly.

  “It would be your room.”

  She gave the classic white and purple decor an appreciative glance as she went over to sit beside him. “Nice, I guess.”

  “Course, we’d have orgies in it. Seriously.”

  She had to laugh, he was so outrageous, and honest. “Yes, I know. I met Aurelie earlier. Talk about making a girl feel inferior. And she didn’t even need reprofiling to look like that.”

  “You see, you even like my other wives. What more of an incentive do you need?” His hand slipped off one of her negligee’s shoulder straps and moved down to the exposed breast.

  “This is very flattering, Nigel.”

  “I want it to be pleasurable, not flattering.”

  Mellanie moaned hungrily. He’d got her other shoulder strap off; the negligee crumpled around her waist. His hands knew exactly how to move over her skin, the way she had to spend forever teaching other men. “It already is,” she confessed.

  “So say yes.”

  “No. Ahha.” She actually felt her body shake from the gentle pressure his fingers applied. It wasn’t a response she could control.

  Nigel lowered her down on the mattress, then unfastened his toweling gown.

  Mellanie giggled. “Nigel!”

  “What did you expect?” he asked modestly. “I am the ruler of the galaxy, after all.”

  “God, a man who altered his cock to match his ego.”

  He grinned. “What makes you think I had it altered?”

  Mellanie’s giggles returned big time. “I take it back, your ego is bigger.”

  “Turn over.”

  “Why?”

  “Massage. To start with.”

  “Oh.” She rolled onto her front. Oil that was body-warm was dripped onto her spine. He began to rub it in. “How did you know about the Cypress Island?” she asked.

  “If I told you that you’ll just be cross with me. I want to have sex with you too much for that.”

 
; “I won’t be cross.”

  “You will. Why won’t you marry me?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone. I like this, this is fun. And I’d even enjoy joining in with your other wives. But as a permanent thing … That’s not me. Sorry.”

  “Hey, I love it. Jealousy.”

  “I’m not jealous.” Mellanie tried to twist around to protest, but his hands reached her buttocks. She had to clamp her teeth to stop squealing.

  “What does the SI get out of your arrangement?” Nigel asked.

  “God, is there anything you don’t know?”

  “I don’t know that for a start.”

  “It says it just wants to know what’s going on, that’s all. I can get into places where there’s no unisphere coverage.”

  “Figures. So it knew about the nature of the Primes?”

  “It found out at Randtown. It hacked into their communications through my inserts.”

  “Goddamn thing never told us. Bastard.” Nigel moved down to her thighs.

  “Do you think it’s hostile as well?”

  “I think it’s a snob. I think it looks down on us as the lower-class neighbors bringing down the tone of the galaxy. It’s not actively belligerent, but like all snobs it has a fascination for what it’s not. Hence you, and others like you. It also has sentiment, which is why it helps us out on rare occasions. Yet it will always rationalize that as something else entirely: charity or consideration born of superiority. The trouble is, I don’t know if it would help us in the face of genocide. It probably doesn’t know either. I suspect it will play its waiting game until the end. And that’s going to be too late for us.”

  “Is that why you decided to nova MorningLightMountain?”

  “It’s among the reasons. Nobody else is going to help us out. Does it bother you, that decision?”