The Temporal Void (ARC)

by Peter F. Hamilton

  'Yes sir,' Tomansio replied as he directed their capsule down mi to the garden. The welcome team's capsule was planting itself nil the roof next to the golden crystal dome containing the spa.

  'What do we do?' Oscar asked as the door expanded and he stepped out on to a border of fuchsia bushes, his boots crushing I he white and scarlet flowers into the loam.

  'Exactly as we were told,' Tomansio said. 'And remember, don't use your biononic field function. I know it's superior to anything in these armour suits, but the welcome team will detect it'.

  'Okay.' They joined the rest of the custody support troops as they marched into the ground floor lobby. Behind them, the perimeter squad started to push back the first batch of angry citizens who'd arrived from the park.

  'Danal has just been arrested,' Cheriton told them. 'Two officers from cabinet security are hauling him off right now. He's not a happy man.'

  'That must be a deliberate distraction,' Tomansio said.

  'Yeah, but by who?' Beckia said. 'The Second Dreamer or another bunch like us?'

  The lobby was filled with contractors' equipment and caskets piled high with rubbish. Bright temporary lighting on a metal frame cast strong shadows.

  'The welcome team have taken command of the apartment block's net,' Cheriton said. 'Hang on, I'm assessing the results from their scrutineers.'

  Tomansio led Beckia and Oscar into the concrete stairwell. More rubbish had been casually tipped off the floors above forming a heap of dusty debris at the bottom of the stairs in tin-basement. A couple of paramilitaries went down to investigate the garage.

  'According to the net there are about thirty people currently in residence,' Cheriton said. 'The whole damn place is being redeveloped. The fourth floor only has four people registered I'm two apartments. Danal and Mareble, and a married couple Someone called Araminta is refurbishing the remaining three on that level. Mining her now.'

  Oscar hurried up the concrete stairs. The long line of suited paramilitaries were making a lot of noise as they trooped up with him. Instructions relayed from Honilar assigned six of them to each floor. Oscar was seriously impressed with Liatris when he, Tomansio and Beckia were given the fourth floor.

  They emerged into the vestibule to find all the apartment doors broken open and two of the welcome team standing guard in full military armour suits. Oscar could just see through the doorway into apartment three, where the terrified occupants were in the middle of the big living room. A man and woman: him in a pair of shorts, her in a long nightshirt. Standing side side, their arms raised as another of the welcome team covet them with a large gun. She was shaking and crying, while her partner was trying to be resolute. The way his leg muscles were trembling betrayed him more than any gaiafield emission.

  Major Honilar came out of Danal's apartment. 'No sign him. He couldn't have got out of the building, he didn't have time. I want every resident on every floor in custody and taken to our headquarters. Search and scan each apartment, make sure you have everyone.' He turned and went back into Danal's apartment.

  'Pair up,' Tomansio said. 'Take an apartment each.

  Oscar accompanied Tomansio as they went into apartment number four. He scanned round with his suit's sensors, resenting how slow and restricted they were compared to a biononic field scan. You're spoilt, he told himself. The suit didn't detect any body-size thermal signatures. The apartment was half-way through refurbishment. Several inactive bots were lined up in the living room. New cables and pipes were laid out along one wall. Junked utility fittings were stacked up by the door. Crates and boxes with BOVEY'S BUILDING SUPPLY MACROSTORE printed a round them were waiting to be unpacked. Some furniture had been left, a coffee table that was now badly scuffed, with several mugs on top, waiting to be washed. An ancient couch with a matching armchair that had odd lumps in its cushioning.

  His u-shadow was displaying the reports from the other squads, who were busy rounding up the residents on other floors. So far, their identities matched their files.

  'In here,' Tomansio said, using their secure link. He was standing in the doorway to a bedroom. The bed itself was a bare mattress with a big sleeping bag crumpled on top. Four suitcases were lined up along a wall; one was open revealing a collection of woman's clothes. The small dresser was swamped by hair styling tools and membrane scale cases.

  'Not listed as lived in,' Oscar said.

  'Depends what lists you check. Liatris, run another search on Araminta. Has she sold this apartment?'

  'I'm on it.'

  While Tomansio checked the other two bedrooms Oscar went into the main bathroom. The floor had been stripped back to I ho bare concrete, as had the walls. A brand new carved stone bath cuboid was sitting in the middle. Halfway up the wall behind it, the stub of the original cold water feed pipe jutted out of the concrete, its valve dripping into a plastic bucket beneath. The old toilet bowl was still plumbed in. A big hot water tank stood in one corner, already boxed in by the struts of a false wall, just awaiting the cover boards which were stacked in front of it. A maze of pipe work was strewn round its base. Components for a spore shower were lying ready for assembly.

  'Nothing,' he told Tomansio.

  'The other bedrooms are empty.'

  Oscar found him behind the living room's kitchen bar. The old culinary unit had been removed to stand on the ground, though the nutrient feed pipes were still plumbed in. A kettle and a microwave were sitting on the scratched marble work surface. His thermal scan showed him the kettle's temperature was above ambient. 'This place has been used recently,' he muttered.

  'We need to talk to her,' Tomansio said. 'If anyone can tell us who's been in and out of these apartments, it's her.'

  'That shouldn't be too difficult,' Oscar said. 'We know who she is. Finding her will be easy for Liatris.'

  'Yeah.' Tomansio's sensors swept round one last time. 'Grab something from her bedroom, just so we can run a DNA verification that she's the one living here. Then we'd better get back and help with rounding up the rest of the suspects.'

  'Poor bastards,' Oscar said as he picked up a small scale applicator brush. 'What do you think Honilar will do with them?'

  'Good question. How do you prove you're not the Second Dreamer? It's not as if there's physical evidence. I guess if he doesn't get a confession they'll use a memory read.'

  Oscar shuddered. 'That isn't exactly going to endear them to the Second Dreamer. They need him to help them get into the Void.'

  'Oscar, face it, with today's medical techniques you can make someone do just about anything you want.'

  'Medical techniques?'

  'That's what they started out as.'

  'I suppose you know how to do that?'

  'We all had training in that area, yes.'

  Despite the heavy armour suit with its perfect insulation, Oscar suddenly felt cold.

  * * * *

  Paula had rarely experienced a pang of deja vu as strong as the one that hit her when the stained glass door opened and she walked into the entrance hall. And she hadn't even been to the old building before. She walked past the empty concierge desk and stared at the glass cage lift. It was the age of everything around her that was generating that weird sensation tickling the back of her mind. According to the Daroca City Council files the interior was perfectly authentic, exactly as it had been during the Starflyer War. She wasn't going to disagree, as someone who had lived through those times she could feel the decor was right.

  The lift took her up to the fifth floor, and she walked into Troblum's penthouse apartment. On the trip over from the spaceport she'd accessed Lieutenant Renne Kampasa's ancient Directorate files on the one time she'd visited - ANA had to deep access the memory. With the file came a note that Troblum had requested access to that same file a hundred years ago, along with associated forensic reports.

  His restoration work was excellent, Paula acknowledged as she walked into the huge open plan lounge. The balcony had a magnificent view out over the Caspe River, with the re
st of Daroca filling in the background.

  It didn't take her long to establish there wasn't anything useful in the apartment, and all Troblum's personal files had boon wiped from the building net. The only mild exception was in the bedrooms, each of which inexplicably had their closets full of girls' clothes. Troblum's own clothes, comprising three ageing toga suits and his unpleasant underwear, were stuffed into a chest of drawers in the master bedroom. For a moment Paula wondered if the dresses belonged to Troblum's girlfriend. She raised an eyebrow when she took out a leather designer miniskirt. It might be slightly prejudiced of her to think it, but what would a girl with a figure to wear such an item see in Troblum? Then she recognized the label, one she hadn't seen for over seven hundred years, and realized that the skirt was also Starflyer War vintage style. She let out a whistle of admiration; he'd even reproduced the girls' wardrobe as best he could.

  Now that is true obsession.

  Paula started going through the other apartments in the ancient converted factory while her u-shadow accessed the building's net to analyse the remaining files. It was the largest apartment on the third floor which drew her attention. The others were all relatively authentic reproductions, but this one had been modified again. All the internal walls had been removed, and the resulting chamber sealed against the outside atmosphere with a sustainer membrane and clinical-grade air filters. Rows of heavy benches ran the entire length; each one equipped with a series of data nodes and high voltage power sockets. She could see the outlines where objects had once rested. They must have been there for decades to make any kind of impression on the stainless steel surface. The net subsection for the apartment had also been thoroughly wiped.

  'Three courier capsules were requisitioned to collect items from the building around the time Troblum disappeared,' her u-shadow reported.

  'What items?'

  'Unknown. They were stored in stabilized cases.'

  'Ah,' Paula said. 'I bet it was a collection. Most likely Starflyer War memorabilia. Stubsy Florae often procured historic relics for clients. Where were the cases taken?'

  'The capsules made three separate trips made to the city spaceport, they were collected by different commercial ships registered in the External worlds. No record of their ultimate destination.'

  'It was to Florae' She knew it. That's why Troblum was then; to pick it up. And it would have meant a great deal to him. That can only mean he was planning to leave the Commonwealth entirely. She opened a link to ANA. 'Troblum was more scared than I realized.'

  'Marius does that to people.'

  'Yes. But there was something else. Remember what he told us when he first made contact. He had something that I would understand, and his mania is the Starflyer War. A time I am familiar with.'

  'That hardly narrows it down.'

  'Something else does,' Paula said. All she could see was that figure ascending into its ship amid the ruins of Florae's villa. A slight person. That wiggle of the hips, a taunt, a couldn't-care-less contempt. None of today's agents and representatives had that kind of attitude, not even the Knights Guardian. They all prided themselves on their steely professionalism. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

  'What feeling?'

  'I have one last trip to make. I'll tell you after that.'

  'Can't you tell me now?'

  'No. Believe it or not, I'd be embarrassed if I'm wrong. You'll think I'm obsessive. I have to know for myself.'

  'How intriguing. As you wish.'

  'Are you making any progress on mining Troblum's life for me?'

  'Yes. In many ways he is an odd person, especially for a Higher. I have a reasonably complete timeline for you. It has some suspicious gaps, and he even served on a scientific mission for the Navy.'

  'Really.' Paula's u-shadow received the file. She scanned the contents list in her exovision; one of the more recent items attracted her. 'A presentation to the Navy about the Anomine and the Dyson Pair barrier generators? And Kazimir himself was there. I'd like a summary of that, please.'

  'Of course.'

  'Thanks, I'll review it on my way back to Earth.'

  'You're coming here?'

  'Yes, this little problem of mine will only take a moment to confirm. I'll be there in an hour.'

  * * * *

  Major Honilar rounded up thirty three people from the apartment block, and shipped them back to the security headquarters that were set up in Colwyn's docks. The cordon around the building was maintained, even in the face of growing hostility from the crowd in the park. Five paramilitaries from the support squad made one final sensor sweep after the transport capsules carted off the unfortunate residents, but they found nothing. Once they'd finished they left, reassigned to other more urgent duties. The occupying forces were having a hard time of it ;is more and more of Viotia's inhabitants joined the physical pro tests against their presence.

  An hour and a half after the last of the suited figures clomped out of apartment four on the fourth floor, the muffled sound of a power tool resonated round the bathroom. One after the other three fixing bolts around the top of the hot water tank spun round then dropped on to the floor. The hemispherical top of the tank tipped up a fraction. Fingers appeared in the gap, and pushed against the thick thermal insulation foam, shoving the top aside. It too fell on to the floor with a loud clang.

  'Sweet Ozzie!' Araminta groaned.

  She took a long time just to lever herself up to a standing position. The cylinder was only just big enough to hold her in terrible crouch position. Every limb throbbed as she finaly stretched them free. Cramp attacked her joint muscles, bringing tears to her eyes. She was close to sobbing when she eventually straightened her spine. It was another five minutes of simple standing and letting the pain subside before she attempted to climb out, using the false wall boxing as a ladder.

  The only noise was the crowd outside jeering and taunting the paramilitaries on the cordon. Araminta peered cautiously into the living room. Nobody about. Her macrocellular clusters couldn't detect any individual data signals. She'd isolated herself from the Unisphere, and knew she couldn't reconnect without being detected. She crossed the living room, feeling unnervingly exposed. The main door was ajar, its expensive brass lock broken, which drew a scowl. As far as she could determine, the whole fourth floor was deserted. She shut the door, and jammed a crate of kitchen fittings behind it.

  'Okay then,' she said, and sat down in the ancient armchair. Got up again and went over to the kettle. She was just about to switch it on when she wondered if some tricky little monitor program would notice the power usage. Five minutes later she'd extracted the power cell from a bot, and wired it up to the kettle.

  She sat back down in the armchair with a cup of wonderfully hot tea and some of the classy chocolate biscuits she always kept around.

  So now what?

  Inigo's Ninth Dream

  Edeard hadn't visited the House of Blue Petals for nearly a month. Now, with the court case winding down, he stood on the street facing it as the sea breeze gusted along Upper Tail Canal. Finally, the winter was ending, with the onset of spring conjuring some much-needed warmth across the Lyot Sea. A light drizzle swept through Edeard's concealment to dampen his face. He continued to stare at the building with its long oval windows, frowning at the vague feeling of disquiet stirring in his mind. Men went in and out the same as they always did. The doormen stood like muscular statues on either side of its three tall doors. Even the piano music drifting out across the street was pleasingly familiar.

  When he pushed his farsight through the sturdy walls, he detected nothing out of the ordinary. The bar was full of eager clients, with the stewards mixing their drinks which the ge-monkeys delivered. The madam made her rounds. All around the gallery, the girls pouted and batted their eyes, radiating faux longing. Up on the third floor, Ivarl's mind was its usual tight knot of suppressed thoughts. He was in his office as always, with several people in respectful attendance.

  It was all perfectly n
ormal.

  So what's wrong?

  One day he would really have to make sense of these sensations which occasionally haunted him. But this was hardly as bad as the night Ashwell was attacked. He would just have to be alert, that was all.

  The two sailors walking up the steps never knew they were shadowed, putting any nerves down to the questing gaze of the uniformed doormen. They were waved through. Edeard followed them across the threshold.

  The decor had changed slightly. Ivarl had bought some large coloured-glass globes over two feet in diameter, their swirling patterns of amber and aquamarine clashing in gentle curlicues. Ten of them stood on ornate wooden pedestals around the walls of the bar. Edeard gave them a mildly disapproving glance, and slipped further into the room.

  A dog barked loudly.

  Edeard froze. He hadn't realized the animal was there, its mind was similar to the ge-monkeys. It was a beagle, chained up to one of the big iron door hinges. Even as he reached for its mind to quieten it down, the doormen were slamming the doors shut. Huge metal bolts, three inches thick were rammed home, locking the doors tight.

  He whispered: 'Oh crap,' as people started shouting. Several clients were in a panic, scurrying round to find some route out. He had to flatten himself back against the wall as one militia officer ran past demanding to know what was going on. A group of the uniformed doormen had clustered together around the bottom of the stairs. They were brandishing revolvers.

  'Gentlemen, your attention please,' Ivarl shouted. 'Quiet!'

  Edeard looked up as the bar fell silent. Ivarl was standing on the gallery, both hands on the rail looking down, his irregular lips open in a brutish smile. Edeard almost let out a cry of dismay. Tannarl, was standing beside him, surveying the upturned faces with that superior leer of his. Edeard had met Ranalee's father only once before, at a fabulous ball the Gilmorn family had thrown in their mansion. As they'd shaken hands he'd seen where Ranalee got her hauteur from.

  Lady, but I'm an idiot.

  'I'd like to welcome my newest guest to this House,' Ivarl announced loudly and smugly, he held up a pair of socks Edeard recognized - they'd been left behind in that lodge on the Iguru, that was what the beagle must have scented. 'And I extend the full use of the bar to you… Waterwalker.'