The Naked God - Flight nd-5

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Joshua searched round for the anger that had blazed so bright just a moment ago. But it had gone. There was mostly numbness, and a little shame. I ought to fight her, make her see I’m necessary. “I hate you for being right.”

  “I wish I wasn’t,” she said tenderly. “I just hope you can forgive me for being so selfish. I suppose that’s my heritage; Saldanas always get their way, and to hell with the human fall out.”

  “Do you want me to come back?”

  Her shoulders slumped wearily. “Joshua, I’m going to drag you back. I’m not forbidding you anything, I’m not saying you can’t be a father. And if you want to stay in Tranquillity and make a go of it, then nobody will help and support that decision more than me. But I don’t believe it will work, I’m sorry, but I really don’t. It might for years, but eventually you’d look round and see how much you’d lost. And that would creep into our lives, and our child would grow up in an emotional war zone. I couldn’t stand that. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? You’re going to be the joy of your child’s life, he’s going to ache for when you visit and bring presents and stories. The times you’ll spend together will be magical. It’s you and I that cannot be inseparable, one of history’s great love affairs. That’s the convention of fatherhood you’ll be missing, nothing more.”

  “Life never used to be this complicated.”

  The sympathy she felt for him was close to a physical suffering. “I don’t suppose it was before I came along. Fate’s a real bitch, isn’t she.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cheer up. You get joy without responsibility. The male dream.”

  “Don’t.” He held up a warning finger. “Don’t make a joke of this. You’ve altered my life. Fair enough, encounters always result in some kind of change. That’s what makes life so wonderful, especially mine with the opportunities I have. You’re quite right about my wanderlust. But encounters are chance, natural. You did this quite deliberately. So just don’t try and make light of it.”

  They sat with their backs resting on the dune for some time, saying nothing. Even Tranquillity was silent, sensing Ione’s reluctance to discuss what had been said.

  Eventually they wound up leaning against each other. Joshua put his arm around her shoulder, and she started crying again. A sharing, if not of sorrow for what had been done, then reluctant acceptance. “Don’t leave me alone tonight,” Ione said.

  “I will never understand you.”

  Preparing to go to bed took on the quality of a religious ceremony. The bedroom’s window overlooking the underwater vista was opaqued, and the lights reduced to the smallest glimmer. All they could see was each other. They undressed and walked slowly down the steps into the deep spar hand in hand. Bathing was accomplished with scented sponges, graduating into erotic massage. Their lovemaking which followed was deliberately extreme, ranging from aching tenderness to a passion that bordered brutality. Each body responding perfectly to the demands of the other, an exploitation that only their complete familiarity with one another could achieve.

  The one aspect they could never recapture was the emotional connection they’d experienced in the previous few days. This sex was a reversion to their very first time, fun, physically enjoyable, but essentially meaningless. Because they didn’t mean the same to each other. The attraction was almost as strong as before, but of the devotion there was little evidence. Joshua finally conceded she was right. They’d come full circle.

  He wound up lying across the bed, cushions in disarray around him, and Ione sprawled over his chest. Her cheek stroked his pectoral muscles, rejoicing in the touch.

  “I thought the Lords of Ruin sent their children off to be Adamists,” he said.

  “Father’s and grandfather’s children became Adamists, yes. I’ve decided mine won’t. Not unless that’s what they decide they want to become, anyway. I want to bring them up properly, whatever that is.”

  “How about that; a revolution from the top.”

  “Every other part of our lives is changing. This particular little ripple won’t be noticed amid the storm. But having a family in whatever form will move me closer to my human heritage. The Lords of Ruin have been terribly isolated figures before.”

  “Will you marry, then?”

  “That really is stuck in your brain, isn’t it? I have no idea. If I meet someone special, and we both want to, and we’re in a position to, then of course I will. But I am going to have a great many lovers, and I’ll have even more friends; and the children will have their friends to play with in the parkland. Maybe even Haile will come back and join in the fun.”

  “That sounds like the kind of neverland I’d want to grow up in. Question is now, will it ever happen? We have to survive this crisis first.”

  “We will. There’s a solution out there somewhere. You said, and I agree.”

  He ran his fingers along her spine, enjoying the happy sighs it incited. “Yeah. Well let’s see if this Tyrathcan God can offer any hints.”

  “You’re really looking forward to the flight, aren’t you? I told you, this is what you are.” She snuggled up closer, one hand stroking his thigh. “What about you? Will you marry? I’m sure Sarha would be interested.”

  “No!”

  “Okay, strike Sarha. Oh, of course, there’s always that farm girl on Norfolk, you know . . . oh what’s her name, now?”

  Joshua laughed, and rolled her over, pinning her arms above her head. “Her name, as you very well know, is Louise. And you’re still jealous, aren’t you?”

  Ione stuck her tongue out at him. “No.”

  “If I can’t hack it as a consort for you, I hardly think a life tilling the fields is going to enthral me.”

  “True.” She lifted her head, and gave him a fast jocose kiss. He still didn’t let go of her arms. “Joshua?”

  He groaned in dismay, and collapsed back onto the mattress beside her; which sent out slow waves to flip the cushions. “I hate that tone. I always hear it right before I wind up in deep shit.”

  “I was only going to ask, what did happen to your father that last flight? Lady Mac got back here with a lot of fuselage heat damage and two jump nodes fused. That couldn’t be pirates, or a secret mission for the Emperor of Oshanko, or rescuing a lost ship from the Meridian fleet that was caught in a neutron star’s gravity well, or any of the other explanations you’ve come up with over the years.”

  “Ye of little faith.”

  She rolled onto her side, and propped her head on one hand. “So what was it?”

  “Okay, if you must know. Dad found a xenoc shipwreck with technology inside that was worth a fortune; they had gravity generators, a direct mass energy converter, industrial scale molecular synthesis extruders. Amazing stuff, centuries in advance of Confederation science. He was rich, Ione. He and the crew could have altered the entire Confederation economy with those gadgets.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “The people who’d hired Lady Mac to prospect for gold asteroids turned out to be terrorists, and he had to escape down a timewarp in the centre of the xenoc wreck.”

  Ione stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. Her hand slapped his shoulder. “God, you’re impossible.”

  Joshua shifted round to give her a hurt look. “What?”

  She put her arms round him and moulded her body contentedly to his, closing her eyes. “Don’t forget to tell that one to the children.”

  Tranquillity observed Joshua’s expression sink to mild exasperation. Elaborate thought routines operating within the vast neural strata briefly examined the possibility that he was telling the truth, but in the end decided against.

  Harkey’s Bar was having a modest resurgence in fortune. Relative to the absolute downtime endured during the quarantine when its space industry clientele were careful with their money, this was a positive boom. Not back up to precrisis levels yet; but the ships were returning to Tranquillity’s giant counter-rotating spaceport. Admittedly they were mundane i
nter-orbit vessels rather than starships, but nonetheless they brought new cargoes, and crews with heavy credit disks, and paid the service companies for maintenance and support. The masters of commerce and finance living in the starscraper penthouses were already making deals with the awesome Edenist industrial establishment in whose midst they had so fortuitously materialized. It wouldn’t be long before all the dormitoried starships were powered up and started travelling to Earth, and Saturn, and Mars, and the asteroid settlements. Best of all, the buzz was back among the tables and booths, industry gossip was hot and hectic. Such confidence did wonders for liberating anticipation and credit disks.

  Sarha, Ashly, Dahybi, and Beaulieu had claimed their usual booth, as requested by Joshua who’d told them he wanted a meeting. They didn’t have any trouble, at quarter to nine in the morning there were only a dozen other people in the place. Dahybi sniffed at his coffee after the waitress had departed. Even their skirts were longer at this time of day. “It’s not natural, drinking coffee in here.”

  “This time isn’t natural,” Ashly complained. He poured some milk into his cup, and added the tea. Sarha tsked at him; she always mixed it the other way round.

  “Are we flying?” Dahybi asked.

  “Looks like it,” Beaulieu said. “The captain authorized the service engineering crew to remove the hull plates over Lady Mac ’s damaged node. The only reason to do that is to replace it.”

  “Not cheap,” Ashly muttered. He stirred his tea thoughtfully.

  Joshua pulled the spare seat out and sat down. “Who’s not cheap?” he asked briskly.

  “Replacement nodes,” Sarha said.

  “Oh, them.” Joshua stuck up a finger, and a waitress popped up at his side. “Tea, croissants, and orange juice,” he ordered. She gave him a friendly smile, and hurried off. Dahybi frowned. Her skirt was short.

  “I’m flying Lady Mac tomorrow,” Joshua told them. “Just as soon as the Oenone returns from the O’Neill Halo with my new nodes.”

  “Does the First Admiral know?” Sarha inquired lightly.

  “No, but Consensus does. This is not a cargo flight, we’ll be leaving with Admiral Saldana’s squadron.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. That’s why you’re here. I’m not going to press gang you this time. You get consulted. I can promise a long and very interesting trip. Which means I need a good crew.”

  “I’m in, Captain,” Beaulieu said quickly.

  Dahybi sipped some coffee and grinned. “Yes.”

  Joshua looked at Sarha and Ashly. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To the Tyrathca Sleeping God, so we can ask it how to solve the possession crisis. Ione and the Consensus believe it’s on the other side of the Orion nebula.”

  Sarha deliberately looked away, studying Ashly’s face. The pilot was lost in stupefaction. Joshua’s simple words were the perfect bewitchment for a man who’d given up normal life to witness as much of eternity as he could. And Joshua knew that, Sarha thought. “Monkey and a banana,” she muttered. “All right, Joshua, of course we’re with you.” Ashly nodded dumbly.

  “Thanks,” Joshua told them all. “I appreciate it.”

  “Who’s handling fusion?” Dahybi asked.

  “Ah,” Joshua produced an uncomfortable expression. “The not-so-good news is that our friend Dr Alkad Mzu is coming with us.” They started to protest. “Among others,” he said loudly. “We’re carrying quite a few specialists with us this trip. She’s the official exotic physics expert.”

  “Exotic physics?” Sarha sounded amused.

  “Nobody knows what this God thing actually is, so we’re covering all the disciplines. It won’t be like the Alchemist mission. We’re not on our own this time.”

  “Okay, but who do you want as fusion officer?” Dahybi repeated.

  “Well . . . Mzu’s specialist field at the Laymil project was fusion systems. I could ask her. I didn’t know how you’d all feel about that.”

  “Badly,” Beaulieu said. Joshua blinked. He’d never heard the cosmonik express a definite opinion before, not about people.

  “Joshua,” Sarha said firmly. “Just go and ask Liol, all right? If he says no, fine, we’ll get someone else. If he says yes, it’ll be with the understanding that you’re the captain. And you know he’s up to the job. He deserves the chance, and I don’t just mean to crew.”

  Joshua looked round the other three, receiving their encouragement. “Suppose there’s no harm in asking,” he admitted.

  The crews were starting to refer to themselves as the Deathkiss squadron. On several occasions the phrase had almost slipped from Rear-Admiral Meredith Saldana’s own mouth as well. Discipline had kept it from being spoken, rather than neural nanonic prohibitions, but he sympathised with his personnel.

  The sol-system news companies were hailing Tranquillity’s appearance in Jupiter orbit as a huge victory over the possessed, and Capone in particular. Meredith didn’t see it quite that way. It was the second time the squadron had gone up against the possessed, and the second time they’d been forced to retreat. This time they owed their lives entirely to luck . . . and his own rebel ancestor’s foresight. He wasn’t entirely sure if the universe was being ironic or contemptuous towards him. The only certainty in his life these days was the squadron’s morale, which was close to nonexistent. His day cabin’s processor datavised an admission request, which he granted. Commander Kroeber and Lieutenant Rhoecus air swam through the open hatch. They secured their feet on a stikpad and saluted.

  “At ease,” Meredith told them. “What have you got for me?”

  “Our assignment orders, sir,” Rhoecus said. “They’re from the Jovian Consensus.”

  Meredith gave Commander Kroeber a brief glance. They’d been waiting for new orders from the 2nd Fleet headquarters in the O’Neill Halo. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir, it’s a secure operation. CNIS has located an antimatter production station, they asked Jupiter to eliminate it.”

  “Could have been worse,” Meredith said. For all it was rare, an assault on an antimatter station was a standard procedure. A straightforward mission like this was just what the crews needed to restore confidence in themselves. Then he noticed the reservation in Rhoecus’s expression. “Continue.”

  “A supplementary order has been added by the Jovian Security sub-Consensus. The station is to be captured intact.”

  Meredith hardened his expression, knowing Consensus would be observing his disapproval through Rhoecus’s eyes. “I really do hope that you’re not going to suggest we start arming ourselves with that abomination. ”

  If anything, Rhoecus seemed rather relieved. “No, sir, absolutely not.”

  “Then what are we capturing it for?”

  “Sir, it’s to be used for fuelling the Lady Macbeth ’s antimatter drive unit. Consensus is sending a pair of ships beyond the Orion nebula.”

  The statement was so extraordinary Meredith initially didn’t know what to make of it. Though that ship’s name . . . Oh yes, of course, Lagrange Calvert; and there was also the matter of a ludicrously ballsy manoeuvre through Lalonde’s upper atmosphere. “Why?” he asked mildly.

  “It’s a contact mission with the non-Confederation Tyrathca. We believe they may have information relevant to possession.”

  Meredith knew he was being judged by Consensus. An Adamist—a Saldana—being asked by Edenists to break the very law the Confederation was formed to enforce. At the least I should query 2nd Fleet headquarters. But in the end it comes down to trust. Consensus would never initiate such a mission without a good reason. “We live in interesting times, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir; unfortunately, we do.”

  “Then let’s hope we outlive them. Very well. Commander Kroeber, squadron to stand by for assault duties.”

  “Consensus has designated fifteen voidhawks to join us, sir,” Rhoecus said. “Weapons loading for the frigates has been given full priority.”

  “When do we leave
?”

  “The Lady Macbeth is undergoing some essential maintenance. She should be ready to join the squadron in another twelve hours.”

  “I hope this Lagrange Calvert character can stay in formation,” Meredith said.

  “Consensus has every confidence in Captain Calvert, sir.”

  The two of them sat at a table by the window in Harkey’s Bar. Glittering stars chased a shallow arc behind them as their drinks were delivered. Two slender crystal flutes of Norfolk Tears. The waitress thought that wonderfully romantic. They were both captains, he in crumpled overalls but still with the silver star on his shoulder, she in an immaculate Edenist blue satin ship-tunic. A handsome couple.

  Syrinx picked her glass up and smiled. “We really shouldn’t be drinking. We’re flying in seven hours.”

  “Absolutely,” Joshua agreed. He touched his glass to hers. “Cheers.” They both sipped, relishing the drink’s delectable impact.

  “Norfolk was such a lovely world,” Syrinx said. “I was planning on going back next midsummer.”

  “Me too. I’d got this amazing deal lined up. And . . . there was a girl.”

  She took another sip. “Now there’s a surprise.”

  “You’ve changed. Not so uptight.”

  “And you’re not so irresponsible.”

  “Here’s to the sustainable middle ground.” They touched glasses again.