The Saints of Salvation [British Ed.]

by Peter F. Hamilton

  She watched him glance around, then open the iron gate and start up the front path. ‘We have a visitor,’ she called out.

  Dellian glanced around from the hanging fire in the middle of the room. It was a Scandinavian design – a metal saucer with a copper top, suspended by an iron flue. She’d included it in the lodge more as an aesthetic statement than anything practical, but it threw out a surprising amount of heat. Not that the logs Dellian was shoving in were real wood, of course; these cylinders were a self-oxygenating burner that was CO2 neutral. After all, nobody wanted to disturb the delicate rebalancing of Earth’s climate now that the ice age had been coaxed into retreat.

  Dellian used a poker to rearrange the logs, lunging as if he were fencing with a far more skilful opponent. ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t know him.’

  ‘Saints!’ A shower of sparks erupted from the fireplace, and he started stomping on them as they bounced across the polished parquet flooring.

  The door sensor sent her a polite notification of presence. ‘I’ll go and find out.’ She held back a frown as she walked past him. As usual, Dellian was in his constable’s uniform, which wasn’t the most welcoming for guests, but there’d only be an argument if she mentioned it. Again.

  Yirella opened the front door and found it easy to smile a greeting at Horatio Seymore. He was very handsome, and taller than Dellian, but it was more than that; something about him just made her feel comfortable. She knew he’d be perfect for helping troubled kids. Shame he looks so troubled himself.

  ‘I’m really sorry to intrude,’ Horatio said straight away, ‘but I’m looking for my wife, and you’re the only person on Earth who can help.’

  Yirella hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I’m only a part-time adviser to the Alliance alien assessment committee these days,’ she said. ‘I have no official status. And anyway, you’ll need the family-tracing agency for that.’

  ‘No, I don’t need to trace her. I already know where she is.’

  ‘Where?’ she asked automatically.

  ‘Sanctuary.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  They settled on a long couch facing the fire, Yirella and Dellian cosying up close at the end nearest to the fire and Horatio at the other end, straight-backed and tense, ignoring the Darjeeling tea a remote had poured for him.

  ‘If you’ve been in a cocoon since 2226, how do you know your wife is in Sanctuary?’ Yirella asked.

  ‘Gwendoline was on the Pasobla when the Olyix came,’ Horatio told them. ‘It portalled out of Delta Pavonis and became one of the exodus fleet. They established a string of generation worlds.’

  She felt Del’s arm tighten around her at the mention of the Pasobla. ‘That’s the same exodus habitat Emilja and Ainsley were on,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wait . . .’ Her meld extracted a whole batch of files. ‘Gwendoline Zangari? She was your wife? You’re Loi’s father? Loi who was Saint Yuri’s assistant, who stole the entanglement node at Salt Lake City?’

  Horatio nodded. ‘That’s her. And my boy.’

  ‘You were snatched by the Olyix once, years before the invasion. Yuri found you.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You’re practically a saint yourself,’ Dellian said in admiration.

  ‘Hardly,’ Horatio said. ‘I’ve spent every waking second since I was re-bodied reviewing files. There are tens of thousands of public records. But with filters, I’ve managed to build a strategy. The key was Lolo Maude.’

  ‘The Factory warship?’

  ‘Yes. You see, I knew Lolo as well, back in the Blitz2 days.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘No. Sie used to come to a community kitchen I helped run.’

  ‘Wait! If you knew Lolo, you must have met hir boyfriend, Ollie, as well. Ollie Heslop?’

  Horatio frowned. ‘I don’t think so. Lolo’s boyfriend was Davis Mohan.’

  Yirella grinned in delight. ‘That was Ollie’s alias! He was on the run during Blitz2.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just – you’re living history, you know. We learned all about this in school when we were taught about the Saints.’

  ‘Right. But the point is, Lolo obviously made it to the Factory. After that, sie became a warship like Ainsley.’

  ‘I know. We picked up Lolo’s signal on the Morgan.’

  Horatio leant forwards, his eagerness overcoming lingering apprehension. ‘Once I learned about Lolo, I ran checks through the Morgan’s records. Ainsley said something to you.’

  ‘His granddaughter,’ Yirella exclaimed. She smiled down at Dellian. ‘Remember? Ainsley said that when the Factory alliance broke up, his granddaughter joined the Katos mothership to establish Sanctuary.’

  ‘That’s Gwendoline,’ Horatio said.

  ‘Of course. He told me she was there when he transferred his consciousness into the warship.’ Her delight faded. ‘I’m sorry, Horatio. You’re right, Gwendoline must be at Sanctuary. But—’

  ‘They called it that for a reason,’ Dellian said firmly. ‘Best guess is that it’s hiding between the stars, the same as a Neána abode. A place the Olyix could never find. Nobody can.’

  ‘But nobody’s looked,’ Horatio said. ‘Not really. And you’re the greatest expert on it, Yirella.’

  ‘It was a hobby for a while, that’s all. I accessed what files there are, which are mostly stories. There are no solid facts – not one. Our knowledge of Sanctuary ends when the Katos ship left to build it; the humans who went with them were very thorough in deleting information from the records. From then on, all we have are second-hand recollections that became our legends. I can give you a list of everything I found and you can access them, too.’

  ‘We can do a lot more than that.’

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. We can ask people who were at the Factory.’

  ‘Ainsley was there, but he didn’t know anything, or he had his memories edited for security. And the only other person we know for sure was at the Factory was Captain Kenelm, and sie’s dead.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Horatio said. ‘There is someone else.’

  ‘Who?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘The Lolo Maude.’

  Yirella stared at him thoughtfully. ‘We don’t know where the Lolo Maude went. Sie never showed up at the neutron star.’

  ‘Has anyone searched for hir?’

  ‘No,’ she agreed reluctantly.

  ‘Then that would be a good place to start, would it not?’

  ‘I . . . Well, yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘It was thousands of years ago,’ Dellian said. ‘And those Factory warships could travel fast. That gives you a very large volume of space. Nice idea, but not practical.’

  ‘Sie would have flown to the enclave,’ Horatio said. ‘And by now, sie will know the Olyix were defeated. The Alliance is broadcasting a lot of messages out into space to contact lost humans.’

  ‘Conjecture,’ Yirella said, wishing she could sound more confident. But he’s right, it makes sense.

  ‘And that’s why I came to you,’ Horatio said. ‘The corpus humans will build you a fleet of ships to search for Lolo Maude if you ask. You’re the genesis human. You created them, then you saved them in the enclave. Am I right?’

  ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘that’s a condensed version of events.’

  ‘A hundred per cent correct,’ Dellian said proudly.

  ‘I’m asking you to consider my request. You don’t have to join me, but if you could just get me a single ship, I’d be eternally grateful.’

  ‘If Gwendoline is alive and living in Sanctuary,’ Dellian said, ‘she will have been there for millennia. Have you thought about that?’

  ‘I have,’ Horatio said. ‘At the end, I gave up everything I’d done on Earth, abandoned people who depended on me, just so I could be with her on the Pasobla. Then the Olyix caught me before I could get through a portal. She knows how
much I love her. And she knows I was cocooned, that I’m not dead. I just want to see her again. I want to know she’s okay, that she led a good life after . . .’

  Yirella had to look at the floor so she didn’t have to see the tears in Horatio’s eyes. ‘Let me think about it,’ she said.

  *

  ‘You’ll think about it?’ Dellian said once Horatio had left.

  ‘Well, what else could I say? The poor man clearly loves her.’

  ‘And I remember their story, how Saint Yuri got Horatio back after he was snatched by Olyix agents. She loved him, too.’

  ‘Well, there you go.’

  ‘Over twenty thousand years ago!’

  Yirella slumped back into the couch and put her head in her hands. ‘If it was you, I’d find you.’

  He sat beside her with a sigh and slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Me too.’

  She couldn’t look at him. Guilt still haunted her mind, that she didn’t quite trust him enough to confide that her original aspect had left to go hunting the God at the End of Time. And trust was such a huge part of unconditional love. Then there was the knowledge she could never get over, that this her was the clone. Not the person Del had grown up with and fallen in love with. That she was an imposter – however well intentioned.

  Would he be flattered or horrified? Would he laugh it off, or walk out of the door? She never wanted to know.

  All that shame hung between them, the spectre he couldn’t see – couldn’t be allowed to see – holding back what would make him truly happy: a family, children, everything they’d dreamed would belong to them once the war was won. She just couldn’t do it. Not until she knew for sure that they were truly safe. Because I know the war isn’t over, let alone won. Saints, do I know.

  The Alliance had established wormholes and portals across nearly a third of the galaxy. Not every star, of course; that would require a colossal – and unnecessary – network. But thanks to the corpus ships racing ever onwards, their coverage was comprehensive. Alpha Defence was receiving many reports of clashes with the remnants of the Olyix, but so far, the Alliance was undefeated.

  But the galaxy isn’t safe. That it could ever be so was a foolish belief, rooted in their childhood, where fear of the other lurking outside the Immerle estate fence had been indoctrinated right from birth. And knowing it is a false belief should allow me to reject it. I am rational above all else. Yet she was scared to have a child. What might happen to it if the Olyix returned? So very, very stupid.

  She kissed him and ran her hand over his neat constable’s uniform. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

  ‘Huh? Well . . . I’ve got another batch of meetings with the I and M policy board tomorrow.’

  ‘So what’s up with Implementation and Monitoring?’

  ‘Nothing much. How do we best encourage compliance with laws when people are struggling with re-body trauma and disassociation?’

  ‘Carefully, I’d guess.’

  ‘Yeah. But some constables are being attacked, because they’re the authority figures. So there’s an argument for light armour when you’re on street patrol. They want my opinion on increased unarmed combat training, and maybe some non-lethal peripherals.’

  ‘That sounds paramilitary.’

  ‘Yeah, but ordinary people who have recovered are entitled to a degree of safety from their neighbours. The alternative is segregation based on mental status. That’s too stigmative.’

  ‘Sounds like what we need is more therapists.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not Implementation and Monitoring. It’s not too bad with populations from the exodus worlds. But – wow – people from Earth? Their norms are very different.’

  ‘So are you looking forward to it?’

  ‘Am I . . . You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘You’re bored senseless, aren’t you?’ She watched his face struggle to expel the guilty expression.

  ‘Maybe,’ he conceded. ‘This is not what I trained for. It takes some adjustment, that’s all. I’m no different from anyone else. I mean, are you enjoying the assessment committee?’

  ‘Never have, never will.’

  ‘Ah. So?’

  She held both his hands and smiled contentedly, her nose a centimetre from his. ‘You want to get out of here?’

  ‘Saints, yes!’

  ‘I’ll call Immanueel. They can start designing a search ship for us.’

  ‘Oh, Saints, thank you!’ He kissed her. ‘Hey, maybe we can find your tachyon signal while we’re looking for Lolo Maude.’

  Yirella twisted her lips in an awkward grimace. ‘Maybe . . .’

  Yirella1

  Deep Space

  The domain was spherical, which Yirella had found somewhat disconcerting at first. A globe five kilometres in diameter, an almost unbroken green from the luxuriant jungle landscape. At its heart far above, eight tiny bright stars whizzed around one another in circular orbits, moving so fast they appeared as solid lines – electrons in a classic atom model.

  She had no idea why corpus humans always favoured a tropical climate. Something to do with having a neutron star as your home sun, maybe? But the warm and humid domain was peaceful and gave her time to come to terms with everything that had happened. Endless time, if she needed it. Time when reflection eventually passed into resolution. She used her morning walks through the gently steaming vegetation to banish doubts. Afternoons were mostly spent reviewing memories the armada had extracted from the oneminds. Then there was yoga, which was calming – especially now. And she learned how to prepare food that had actually grown – on plants. Not that she’d abandoned printed meals, but there were days when she found cooking therapeutic.

  Then there was the news. Immanueel’s ship scanned space through a wide array of sensors, with a baseline over a thousand AUs across. There was violence out there; they’d seen it. Huge battles had been fought, powerful enough for their radiation aftermath to shine brightly across a thousand lightyears – corpus fleets falling upon Olyix outposts. Every time they detected the embers of those melees, she was reminded of the squad – of Tilliana and Ellici, of Alexandre. Of him. Of the loss.

  This is all for you, she told the memories. So you can be safe.

  The course they’d flown since leaving the enclave had not been straight. They’d stopped every few centuries to mine and refine new material reserves from the planets in lifeless star systems; constructors formed new warships for Immanueel’s ever-expanding number of aspects. So eventually it was a modest flotilla of copper-skinned vessels that flew with her on her quest. The trajectory and pauses meant she’d eventually seen the supernova they’d caused – a gleam that outshone the incredible swirl of the core stars. She’d spent hours in an observation dome, staring at it with her naked eye, feeling no regret at the cosmic cataclysm. It was a beacon to all newly emerging species that they had nothing to fear from the stars. Almost.

  That was weeks ago, domain time.

  Immanueel’s biophysical body arrived at her home as she was finishing a lunch of avocado salad and (printed) salmon. She smiled up at them. ‘What have you come to tell me today?’

  ‘Genesis human, we have found it,’ Immanueel said. There was a level of pride in their voice she’d not heard before. A hand went instinctively to her belly. That which she had done was unforgivable. But she had given up her life and love for this quest. She was entitled to some part of the joy that could have been. ‘Show me!’

  It was the same observation dome where she’d watched the destruction of the Olyix home stars. Now, though, the cluster of Immanueel’s ships was stationary in interstellar space, with the galactic core gleaming off to one side. Ahead was an unnatural indigo glow as if a miniature monochrome nebula were suspended out there in the darkness. Except there was no dust, no wisps of gas animated by radiation.

  ‘The tachyon beam,’ she whispered. Tears threatened to emerge, but then she was so emotional right now.

  ‘As it passes through this moment in spac
etime, yes,’ Immanueel confirmed.

  ‘Can you determine its direction?’

  ‘We have. It is not quite what we expected.’

  ‘Oh?’ She turned to them, frowning. ‘Then where does it come from?’

  ‘The origin point is in orbit around this galaxy, inclined eighty degrees to the ecliptic.’

  ‘Close,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. And, genesis human, the message was sent from sixty thousand years in the future.’

  ‘That’s not the end of time. Not even close.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay then.’ She grinned in malicious anticipation at the enigmatic glimmer of Cherenkov radiation. ‘Let’s go kill us a god.’

  Salvation timeline

  1901 Guglielmo Marconi transmits radio message across the Atlantic Ocean.

  1945 First nuclear explosion (above ground).

  1963 Limited Test Ban Treaty signed, prohibiting atmospheric nuclear bomb tests.

  2002 Neána cluster, near 31 Aquilae, detects electromagnetic pulse(s) from atomic bomb explosions on Earth.

  2005 Neána launch sublight mission to Earth.

  2041 First commercial laser fusion plant opens in Texas.

  2045 First commercial food printers introduced.

  2047 The US Defense Advanced Research Project Agency reveals artificial atomic bonding generator – the so-called force field.

  2049 US Congress passes act to create Homeland Shield Department, charged with building force fields around every city.

  2050 China forms Red Army’s City Protection Regiment, begins construction of Beijing shield.

  2050 Saudi kingdom installs mass food-print factories. Twenty per cent of the kingdom’s remaining crude oil allocated for food printing.

  2050 Russia starts National People’s Defence Force; its shield generator project starts with Moscow.