Salvation

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Hey,” a shout came from outside the marquee. “Paramedics here. We got an emergency call.”

  Yuri cocked his head to one side, regarding Callum carefully. “So?”

  Callum gave his wife a desperate, loving look. “Take it,” he said wretchedly.

  “Shit!” Raina kicked the dead portal door.

  “In here,” Moshi shouted. He unzipped the marquee’s side panel. “She needs help—badly.”

  Three paramedics ran in.

  JULOSS

  YEAR 587 AA

  Dellian lay back on the warm sands, tired but happy with it, as he waited for the flyer to land. Even after ten days, he was still impressed by the beach—the whole island, actually. The resort was one of the very few that hadn’t been allowed to decay naturally after most of the humans living on Juloss had flown off into the galaxy. Its management genten had been left with full control of all its original service and maintenance remotes, to preserve the water bungalows and communal buildings at the same high standard as it had for the previous two centuries.

  That standard was one Dellian had swiftly come to appreciate after sixteen years spent in the confines of the Immerle estate and its communal dormitory. If nothing else, he could actually have solitude if he wished. Everyone in his yeargroup had been assigned their own water bungalow—a neat little construction of curving glass walls framed by ancient hardwood beams, topped off with a thatched roof. They stood several meters out from the shore, resting on living coral pillars. The glass floor gave him a fantastic view of the superbly clear water a meter below and the amazing variety of colorful fish that came sporting through the shallows.

  Of course, that solitude had been the last thing on anyone’s mind, especially at night. Principal Jenner had announced the ten-day break as a surprise reward for passing their senior year assessments. No adults or muncs would be with them. For the first time in their lives they would be alone, without any external authority to impose order, devoid of responsibility except to themselves.

  “So just relax and enjoy yourselves,” sie said. “And keep it together. This is as much a test of maturity as anything else. We trust you. Don’t let us or yourselves down.”

  The island had a broad circular lagoon on one side, where the water was barely two meters deep and as warm as a bath. Perfect for learning how to windsurf. The other side was the wide sun-saturated beach open to the ocean, with long jetties where the resort’s boats and powerskis waited for anyone who fancied faster, more adventurous, activities. Food was available all day long in the open-walled central pavilion, cooked to perfection by the genten’s remotes.

  Dellian had swum, powerskied, learned the rudiments of windsurfing, canoed, played tennis and beach volleyball, lazed around drinking by the pool, or sat in the open-air amphitheater watching old dramas. Then as night fell all the boys would pair up, or form larger groups, and head back to the water bungalows for hours of energetic sex. The sea air and the freedom had reacted with their hormonal bodies to fire their libido up to a relentless height. In those ten days Dellian had been to bed with more than half of the boys, including Xante, of course. Xante, who had everyone queuing up to find out how big his cock really was, and who fucked like an angel.

  Some of the boys had even been bedded by Tilliana and Ellici. And that had been a major disappointment for Dellian—which for some reason he couldn’t let go of. He’d been extremely eager to find out what sex with a girl was like, but Yirella hadn’t shared his enthusiasm. He told himself he could wait until she was ready for that level of intimacy, that their friendship was more important to him. Even so, lost in ecstatic congress with his friends every night, it was her face he’d pictured over theirs.

  As he waited on the beach, the skin on his bare torso started to tingle in the sunlight. Every morning he’d put on the highest-rated sunblock, which the bungalow’s dispenser assured would last all day, only for him to have to apply it again at midday—or, more often, for someone else to slather it licentiously all over his skin for him. He sat up and started pulling on his t-shirt. As he did, Yirella came off the wooden walkway that led to a cluster of the water bungalows. Dellian waved hopefully. She smiled and walked over.

  Now that she and the other girls had molted, Dellian considered her bare skull to be quite erotic. He’d been fantasizing about rubbing sunscreen on for her; after all, who didn’t like a scalp massage?

  “The genten said our ride would be here in ten minutes,” he said in greeting.

  “And you don’t think that’s odd?”

  Dellian frowned, not quite sure what she was talking about. “Odd how?”

  She knelt on the sand beside him, looking down quizzically at his thickset form. Dellian had grown a lot over the last three years, but while he’d increased in shoulder-breadth and weight, mainly due to muscle mass, Yirella had continued her upward climb, leaving her and the other two girls increasingly spindly compared to the boys. When they stood up together now, his eyes were level with her boobs, which he considered a size match about as perfect as you could get.

  “Why not just portal back to the estate?” she asked distantly.

  “Uh…because there is no portal, would be my best guess,” he retorted.

  “But why is there no portal, Del?”

  He frowned, wondering, as always, how her brain functioned. Her head was in direct proportion to the rest of her, which he reckoned made her skull a good twenty percent larger than his—or any boy’s. The geneticists who’d designed the clan’s binary children had given her a cute flat nose, wide enough to hold additional blood vessels that fed into a carotid rete at the base of her cranium, a configuration of arteries and veins that basically served as nature’s heat exchanger. Yirella and the girls needed it to help cool their larger brains, along with the absence of hair, which would’ve otherwise acted as insulation over their skulls, preventing the heat from escaping.

  All that extra gray matter generated more and smarter thoughts than Dellian could ever manage, just as the geneticists intended. But it meant keeping up with her and the other girls was hard sometimes. “Because now everyone’s gone, most of the portals have shut down, especially to somewhere as remote as this.” He gave her an expectant look, pleased that he’d come up with a logical and rational answer.

  “The resort is maintained to give people a holiday. Therefore, regular transport is an obvious requirement. So why shut it down?”

  “I liked the sense of isolation we had here. It made me feel…I don’t know, different, like seeing what being an adult is going to be like.”

  She grinned. “Me too. It felt like we were being trusted for the first time ever. That was nice.”

  His eyes tracked along her amazingly long legs, wondering how they’d feel straddling his hips. Perfection, he decided. “Could’ve been better,” he said wistfully.

  Yirella laughed and flicked some sand at him. “Oh, Del, you’re not still cross that we didn’t have sex, are you?”

  “Saints, no. I wasn’t cross. I was disappointed, that’s all.”

  “It’s just, I don’t think this was the right place and time for you and me, that’s all. The island was purely about everyone partying and having lots of fun sex. We deserve it after all those battle games we’ve been playing for the last couple of years; they’ve been tough. Now we’re all as relaxed and happy as we’ve ever been.”

  “Yes, but…No, sorry, I still don’t get it.”

  She gave him a genuinely caring smile. “Look, we both know we are going to have sex, and it’ll be great sex, too. But we have feelings for each other, strong feelings—you know this. So being together could mean a lot more for us. I don’t want to risk that by making it the same as a simple holiday fuck. That’s why.”

  “Okay.” Dellian’s throat had suddenly become very dry. We are going to have sex. She actually said that. Great sex! He was frantic to ask
: Saints, tell me when? “Shame you didn’t have any ordinary holiday fun sex.”

  Her smile quickly turned wicked. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I had plenty of sex. I mean, have you seen how long Xante’s cock is?”

  Hearing that was the same as being taken out early in one of the combat tactics games Dellian had spent so much of the senior year playing. It didn’t physically hurt, but it was hugely upsetting. “I’m glad,” he lied.

  The flyer appeared—a matte-gray cylinder with rear stub wings, skimming in over the water. It slowed as it approached the beach, and trim landing legs unfolded from its fuselage.

  Yirella shook her head at the machine as it touched down. “Doesn’t make sense,” she complained.

  He laughed. “You really do want to solve every problem in the universe, don’t you?”

  “Give me time, and I will.” Her dazzling smile returned, making Dellian’s world a better place again.

  They got to their feet together. Then Yirella bent fast and kissed him. “You’re special to me,” she said seriously. “You’re not like the other boys. I don’t want our friendship to end.”

  “It won’t,” he promised solemnly.

  As he joined the queue for the flyer, he glanced around the other boys, seeing blissful expressions and hearing all the cheerful chatter. He tried his best to keep sullen resentment off his face when he saw Xante, whose arms were around Ellici’s waist and Janc’s shoulders, the three of them laughing away merrily.

  Compared to the sun shining down on the island, it was so dark inside the fuselage, Dellian’s eyes took a moment to adjust. He found a seat midway along and settled into it. Yirella sat next to him.

  He let his head rest deep in the cushioning and half closed his eyes. “Advanced development year,” he said, as if surprised by what awaited them when they got back to the clan estate. “I didn’t think it would ever come.”

  “What do you think they’ll do to us?” she mused.

  “Alexandre said not to worry. The implants will help us boost up; we’ll be able to merge with any weapons tech the design teams can produce. The surgery’s routine; it doesn’t hurt or anything.”

  “I can’t see that I’ll be any use fighting the enemy,” she said. “You and the other boys, yes; you’re all tough. But I’m not.”

  “You’ll command,” he said. “You have the tactics and the smarts. All we’ll ever do is what you say.”

  “Suppose I get it wrong?”

  “You won’t. I trust you.”

  “Oh, great Saints.” She shuddered. “I don’t need that.”

  The flyer lifted from the beach and headed back out across the sea.

  “Flight duration is one hundred and seven minutes,” the genten pilot announced. “Immerle estate has been notified of your arrival time. Your year mentor, Alexandre, says sie hopes you all had a good time, and is looking forward to seeing you all again.”

  The statement was greeted with boos and cheers in equal measure. Dellian stared out of the window as they went supersonic. The sea was strangely uniform as it slid past twenty kilometers underneath them. He picked out several island groups but couldn’t work out their size. Then they were over land again.

  Old cities and settlements were easy to see, gray wounds in the verdant blanket of vegetation. Two or three times he saw columns of smoke winding up from bush fires. His view began to shift as the flyer banked slightly.

  “Why are we changing course?” Yirella asked.

  “Are we?”

  “Yes!” She was looking around, as if seeking confirmation. “Pilot, what is happening?”

  The boys in nearby seats glanced curiously at her.

  “Stand by for systems confirmation,” the genten said.

  “What?”

  Dellian pressed his face to the window. The land below was becoming rumpled as they started to pass over some low foothills. The green was diminishing, draining away to more rugged browns and ochres, beset with tiny dark specks.

  “Systems undergoing irregularities,” the genten said. “Please remain seated. Safety restraints will activate in ten seconds. Do not be alarmed, this is a precautionary measure only.”

  “Oh, precious Saints,” Dellian moaned. The flyer’s nose-down angle was getting steeper. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought their speed was increasing. They certainly seemed to be losing altitude.

  He held still as the cushions started to swell, extending a series of rib-like restraints around his torso and limbs.

  “What is the nature of the problem?” Yirella demanded.

  “Propulsion irregularities. Enabling compensation.”

  “Del, my databud can’t reach the net.”

  “What?” he grunted.

  “I’m cut off. Are you online?”

  “Connection check,” he ordered his databud.

  “Global communication net offline,” its voice whispered into his ear.

  “Saints! No, it’s down,” he told her.

  “Pilot, why are we offline?” she asked, her voice rising.

  “Attempting to reestablish connection with global communication net.”

  “What do you mean ‘attempting’?”

  “Temporary connection loss.”

  “How can that happen? The network is orbital. Everywhere is in range.”

  “Attempting to reconnect. Operating on reserve power.”

  “Oh, great Saints!”

  “What’s our altitude?” Dellian asked.

  “Fourteen kilometers. Descending.”

  “Saints! Are we going to crash?”

  “Negative. Reserve power sufficient to enact zero velocity touchdown.”

  He was proud of himself for not panicking. In fact he was proud of all his clanmates for remaining equally cool, even though it was obvious they were all scared shitless.

  The flyer’s descent angle slowly became more pronounced as it dropped into a terrifying dive. The foothills expanded fast. Dellian tried to memorize what he was seeing. Understand your terrain—one of the golden commandments of tactical training.

  The genten leveled them out. Then deceleration kicked in. G-force shoved Dellian down hard into his seat. His vision began to tunnel out, swirls of red closing like a misty iris. He managed to catch sight of ground that was becoming very rocky and steep.

  “Touchdown in four, three, two—”

  The impact immediately reversed the flyer’s acceleration impetus, flinging Dellian and the others about wildly, shaking them. Deafening tearing sounds filled the cabin as the fuselage skidded along. He saw a wingtip spinning chaotically through the air, overtaking them. Then the whole cabin buckled. A split opened up in the front of the fuselage. Dust blasted in. Everyone screamed. There was a final crunch, and all movement ended abruptly.

  Dellian fought to get his breathing back under control. His heart was thudding as if he’d just finished a marathon. Dust filled his mouth and nostrils, bringing a strange sulfurous smell. The cabin was lying at a perturbing angle, with the floor tilted a good twenty degrees, and nose down. A jagged sheet of sunlight shone through the forward split, fluorescing the ochre sand that saturated the air.

  “Are you okay?” he asked Yirella urgently.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Everyone okay? Any injuries?”

  Rello and Tilliana had been sitting close to the split. They were badly shaken. The dust blast had left their exposed skin burned and abraded. Tilliana’s face was bloody; Ellici was already at her side, worrying about the damage to her eye.

  “The clan medics can fix that easily,” Xante assured her.

  “What clan medics?” Ellici snapped back.

  “Let’s get outside,” Dellian told them, keeping his voice level.

  Everyone was keen about that; the flyer now represented chaos and dange
r. But the doorway didn’t open, not even when Janc slapped the emergency release button repeatedly. So they eased themselves out through the gash and stood on the sandy ground.

  Dellian looked around. There were hills in every direction, with larger slopes blocking the eastern skyline. Soil was thin and dry, supporting a few straggly bushes with shriveled leaves. Odd black sleeper trees poked up at random. Boulders were scattered everywhere, most balancing precariously given the angle of the slope. It was colder than it ought to be with such a bright sun and no clouds.

  “Now what?” Xante said.

  “Rescue will be here soon,” Orellt said positively.

  “No, actually,” Yirella said, wiggling through the fuselage gap. “There’s no power in the flyer, and I can’t get the genten to respond. It’s dead along with the rest of the systems.”

  “The emergency beacon will be broadcasting our position,” Ellici exclaimed.

  Yirella shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s hope so.”

  “It’s self-contained!”

  “And the flyer is failure proof. But here we are.”

  “What do we do?” Xante asked.

  “Just stay calm and stay put,” Dellian said. “Is anyone connected to the global net?”

  The question was greeted with sour and nervous expressions as they all consulted their databuds. Nobody had any connection.

  Dellian couldn’t think how that was possible. But he knew he mustn’t allow them to get spooked by the situation. “The second the flyer doesn’t show up, they’ll be searching for us,” he told them confidently.

  “We drifted a long way off course,” Janc said anxiously.