The Night's Dawn Trilogy

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “She’ll sleep for a good eight hours now she’s got that sedative in her,” Endron said, holding up the empty squeeze bulb. “And when she wakes up she won’t be anything like as hyper. Furay told me what she was like when you boarded the spaceplane. She was having a bounceback response to the hangar fire. In a way that kind of overreaction is as bad as depressive withdrawal.”

  “I see.” There didn’t seem anything to add. She glanced back at Genevieve before the funny door contracted. For one whole night there would be no possessed, no Roberto, and no Quinn Dexter.

  I’ve done what I promised, Louise thought. Thank you, Jesus.

  Despite how tired she was feeling, she managed a prideful smile. No longer the worthless, pampered landowner daughter Carmitha had such contempt for just scant days ago. I suppose I’ve grown up a bit.

  “You should rest now, lady,” Fletcher said.

  She yawned. “I think you’re right. Are you going to bed?”

  For once Fletcher’s sedate features showed a certain lightness. “I believe I will linger awhile longer.” He indicated a holoscreen which was displaying the image from an external camera. Cloud-splattered landscape was rolling past, pastel greens, browns, and blues illuminated by Duke’s radiance. “It is not often a mortal man is permitted to view a world over the shoulder of angels.”

  “Good night, Fletcher.”

  “Good night, lady. May the Lord guard your dreams from the darkness.”

  * * *

  Louise didn’t have time to dream. A hand pressing her shoulder woke her soon enough.

  She winced at the light coming through the open door. When she tried to move, she couldn’t, the sleeping bag held her too tight.

  “What?” she groaned.

  Fletcher’s face was a few inches from hers, a gloomy frown spoiling his brow. “I apologise, lady, but the crew is in some confusion. I thought you should know.”

  “Are they on board?” she cried in dismay.

  “Who?”

  “The possessed.”

  “No, Lady Louise. Be assured, we are perfectly safe.”

  “What then?”

  “I think they are in another ship.”

  “All right, I’m coming.” Her hand fumbled around until she found the seal catch inside the bag; she twisted it ninety degrees and the spongy fabric split open along its length. After she dressed she wrapped her hair into a single artless ponytail, and swam out into the tiny lounge.

  Fletcher showed her the way to the bridge, wriggling along the tubular companionways which connected the life-support capsules, and through dimly lit decks which appeared even more cramped than their lounge. Louise’s first sight of the bridge reminded her of the Kavanagh family crypt beneath the manor’s chapel: a gloomy room with candlelike crystals sitting on top of instrument consoles, spilling out waves of blue and green light which crawled across the walls. Machinery, ribbed tubes, and plastic cables formed an untidy glyptic over most bulkheads. But most of all it came from the four crew members lying prone on their bulky acceleration couches; eyes closed, limbs immobile. A thin hexagonal web was stretched over them, holding them down on the cushioning.

  Furay and Endron she recognised, but this was the first time she’d seen Captain Layia and Tilia, the Far Realm’s node specialist. Endron had been right, the other Martians had exactly the same anatomical features as himself. In fact there was very little difference between genders; Louise wasn’t entirely sure the two women even had breasts. On top of that rib cage they would have been absurd.

  “Now what?” she asked Fletcher.

  “I am not sure, their repose refutes any disturbance.”

  “It’s not sleep, they’re datavising with the flight computer. Joshua told me that’s what happens on a starship bridge. Um, I’ll explain later.” Louise blushed faintly; Joshua had become such a fixture in her life it was hard to remember who he actually was. She used some grab hoops to move herself over to Furay’s couch, and tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. Somehow the thought of disturbing the others didn’t arise, a child-fear of how those strange figures would respond.

  Furay opened his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to know what was happening.”

  “Yeah, right. Hang on.” The webbing peeled back and curled up, vanishing into the edge of the couch’s cushioning. Furay pushed off, and slowly twisted his body around to the vertical, using a stikpad to anchor himself in front of Louise. “Nothing too good, I’m afraid. The navy squadron’s commanding admiral has put every ship on condition amber, which is one stage short of an actual combat alert.”

  “Why?”

  “The Tantu has dropped out of our communications net. They won’t respond to any signals. She’s worried that they might have been hijacked. Apparently there was some kind of garbled message a few minutes after the frigate’s spaceplane docked, then nothing.”

  Louise flashed a guilty glance at Fletcher, who remained unperturbed. The action did not go unnoticed by Furay. “The Tantu’s spaceplane left Bennett Field about ten minutes after us. Care to comment?”

  “The rebels were close behind us,” Louise said quickly. “Perhaps they stowed away on the other spaceplane.”

  “And took over an entire frigate?” Furay said sceptically.

  “They have energy weapons,” Louise said. “I’ve seen them.”

  “Try waving a laser rifle around on the bridge of a Confederation Navy starship and the marines would cut you into barbecue ribs.”

  “I have no other explanation,” she said earnestly.

  “Hummm.” His stare informed her he was having big second thoughts about bringing her on board.

  “What remedial action does the admiral propose?” Fletcher asked.

  “She hasn’t decided yet. The Serir has been sent to rendezvous. The situation will be reviewed when they report.”

  “She?” Fletcher asked in surprise. “Your admiral is a lady?”

  Furay pulled at his chin, trying to work out just what the hell he was dealing with.

  “Yes, Fletcher,” Louise hissed. “We don’t have many female estate managers on Norfolk,” she explained brightly to Furay. “We’re not used to ladies holding important positions. Do excuse our ignorance.”

  “You don’t strike me as unimportant, Louise,” Furay said.

  His tone was so muddled, silky, and scathing at the same time, she couldn’t decide if he was making what Mrs Charlsworth called an overture, or just being plain sarcastic.

  Furay suddenly stiffened. “It’s moving.”

  “What is?”

  “The Tantu. It’s under way, heading up out of orbit. Your rebels must have hijacked it, there’s no other reason.”

  “The ship is flying away?” Fletcher asked.

  “That’s what I just said!” Furay told him in irritation. “They must be heading up for a jump coordinate.”

  “What’s the admiral doing about it?” Louise asked.

  “I’m not sure. The Far Realm isn’t a combat craft, we don’t have access to the squadron’s strategic communications.”

  “We must follow it,” Fletcher announced.

  “Pardon me?”

  Louise glared at him with silent urgency.

  “This ship must follow the frigate. People must be warned of what it carries.”

  “And just what does it carry?” Furay asked mildly.

  “Rebels,” Louise said hurriedly. “People who’ve looted and murdered, and will do so again if they aren’t arrested. But I’m sure we can leave the administering of justice to the Confederation Navy, can’t we, Fletcher?”

  “Lady—”

  “Exactly what has got you so all-fired het up?” Captain Layia asked. Her couch webbing peeled back allowing her to glide over towards the three of them.

  Her face did have a few feminine qualities, Louise admitted, but not many; the shaven scalp was too unsettling—all ladies had long hair. The judgemental way Layia took in the sc
ene betrayed her authority; that she was in command had never been in doubt from the moment she spoke, it had nothing to do with the silver star on her epaulette.

  “I am concerned that we should follow the frigate, ma’am,” Fletcher said. “The rebels on board cannot be allowed to spread their sedition any further.”

  “Nor will they be allowed to,” Layia said patiently. “I can assure you the admiral does not regard the hijacking of a navy frigate lightly. However, it is a navy matter, and we are just a supply ship. It is not our problem.”

  “But they must be stopped.”

  “How? If you use combat wasps you’ll kill everyone on board.”

  Fletcher appealed to Louise, who could only shrug, though the motion didn’t quite come off in free fall.

  “The admiral will send a ship to pursue them,” Captain Layia said. “When it arrives in a star system it will simply broadcast the situation to the authorities. The Tantu will be unable to dock at any port, and eventually their consumables will run out, forcing them to negotiate.”

  “Those on board will not be allowed to disembark?” Fletcher asked apprehensively.

  “Absolutely not,” the captain assured him.

  “Providing the pursuit ship manages to keep up with them through their ZTT jumps,” Furay said pessimistically. “If Tantu programs for a sequential jump sequence, then anyone following will be in trouble, unless it’s a voidhawk. Which it won’t be, because the squadron doesn’t have one.” He trailed off under the captain’s stare. “Sorry, but that’s the normal method to avoid tracking, and every navy ship can perform sequential jumps. You know that.”

  “Ma’am, please,” Fletcher entreated, “if there is any chance the rebels can escape, we have to fly after them.”

  “One, you’re a passenger. I believe Mr Furay explained how we are obliged to stay in Norfolk orbit as long as the navy requires, and no amount of money can alter that. Two, if I broke orbit to chase the Tantu, then the admiral would have me brought back and relieved of my duty. Three, as you’ve been so helpfully informed, the Tantu can perform sequential jumps; if a top-line frigate can’t follow them through those manoeuvres, then we certainly can’t. And four, mister, if you don’t get off my bridge right now, I’ll sling you into a lifeboat and give you a one-way trip back down to the land you love so dearly. Have you got all that?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Louise said, feeling an inch small. “Sorry to bother you. We won’t do it again.”

  “Aw shit,” Endron called from his acceleration couch. “I’m getting multiple processor dropouts. Whatever this glitch is, it’s multiplying.”

  Layia looked at Louise, and jabbed a finger at the hatch.

  Louise grabbed Fletcher’s arm and pushed off with her feet, trying to propel them towards the hatchway. She didn’t like the expression of anguish on his face one bit. Her trajectory wasn’t terribly accurate, and Fletcher had to flip them aside from one of the consoles.

  “What are you trying to do?” Louise wailed when they were back in the lounge they’d been allocated. “Don’t you understand how dangerous it is to antagonize the captain?” She caught herself and clamped a hand over her mouth, distraught at the gaffe. “Oh, Fletcher, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yet you spoke the truth, lady. As always. It was foolish of me, I admit, aye, and reckless too. For you and the little one must remain safe up here.” He turned and looked at the holoscreen. They were over the side of Norfolk which was turned to face Duchess, a harsh vista of reds and black.

  “Why, Fletcher? What was so important about following Quinn Dexter? The navy can take care of him. Are you worried what’ll happen if he gets loose on another planet?”

  “Not exactly, lady. Alas, there are many possessed abroad in your fine Confederation now. No, I have seen into that man’s heart, and he frightens me sorely, Lady Louise, a fright more profound than the hell of beyond. He is the strange one I felt earlier. He is not as other possessed. He is a monster, a bringer of evil. I have resolved this matter in my own mind, though it has taken many hours of struggle. I must become his nemesis.”

  “Dexter’s?” she said weakly.

  “Yes, my lady. I think he may be the reason Our Lord blessed me to return. I am vouchsafed a clarity in this regard I cannot in conscience ignore. I must raise the alarm before he can advance his schemes further to the misery of other worlds.”

  “But it’s not possible for us to go after him.”

  “Aye, lady, such a conundrum has a fierce grip upon my heart, borrowed though it be. It squeezes like a fire. To have been so close, and to lose the scent.”

  “We might not have lost him,” Louise said, her thoughts aching they were spinning so fast.

  “How so, lady?”

  “He said he was going to Earth. To Earth so he could hurt someone . . . Banneth. He was going to hurt Banneth.”

  “Then Banneth must be warned. He will commit such terrible atrocities in pursuit of his devilsome aims. I can never purge what he said of the little one from my mind. To even think such filth. Only in his head do such ideas dwell.”

  “Well, we are going to Mars anyway. I expect there will be more ships flying to Earth than to Tranquillity. But I don’t have a clue how you could find Banneth once you get there.”

  “Every voyage is divided into stages, lady. It is best to sail them one at a time.”

  She watched him for some while as the holoscreen’s pallid light washed across his rapt face. “Why did you mutiny, Fletcher? Was it truly terrible on the Bounty?”

  He gazed at her in surprise, then slowly smiled. “Not the conditions, lady, though I doubt you would much care for them. It was one man, my captain. He it was, the force moving my life towards the shore of destiny. William Bligh was my friend when the voyage started, strange though it is to recount such a fact now. But oh, how the sea changed him. He was embittered by his lack of promotion, fired by his notions of how a ship should be run. Never have I witnessed such barbarism from a man who claimed to be civilized, nor endured such treatment at his hands. I will spare you the anguish of detail, my fair lady Louise, but suffice it to say that all men have a breaking point. And mine was found during that long, dreadful voyage. However, I endure no shame over my actions. Many good and honest men were freed from his tyranny.”

  “Then you were in the right?”

  “I believe so. If this day I were called before the captains in a court-martial, I could give a just account of my actions.”

  “Now you want to do something similar again. Freeing people, I mean.”

  “Yes, lady. Though I would endure a thousand voyages with Bligh as my master in preference to one with Quinn Dexter. I had thought William Bligh versed in the ways of cruelty. I see now how mistaken I was. Now, to my horror, I have looked upon true evil. I will not forget the form it takes.”

  10

  The reporters had spent several days in prison, a phrase which their Organization captors studiously avoided; the preferred designation was house arrest, or protective confinement. They’d been singled out and spared when the possessed spread through San Angeles, then corralled with their families in the Uorestone Tower. Patricia Mangano who was in charge of the guard detail allowed the children to play in the opulent lounges while parents mixed freely, speculating on their circumstances and rehashing old gossip as only their profession knew how.

  Five times in the last couple of days small groups had been taken out to tour the city, observing the steady falsification of buildings which was the hallmark of a land under possession. Once-familiar suburban streets had undergone timewarps overnight. It was as though some kind of dark architectural ivy were slowly creeping its way upwards, turning chrome-glass to stone, crinkling flat surfaces into arches, pillars, and statues. A plethora of era enclaves had emerged, ranging from 1950s New York avenues to timeless whitewashed Mediterranean villas, Russian dachas to traditional Japanese houses. All of them were ameliorated, more wistful renderings of real life.

/>   The reporters recorded it all as faithfully as they could with their glitch-prone neural nanonic memory cells. This morning, though, was different. All of them had been summoned from their rooms, herded onto buses, and driven the five kilometres to City Hall. They were escorted from the buses by Organization gangsters and assembled on the sidewalk, forming a line between the autoway and the skyscraper’s elaborate arched entrance. On Patricia’s order the gangsters took several paces back, leaving the reporters to themselves.

  Gus Remar found his neural nanonics coming back on-line, and immediately started to record his full sensorium, datavising his flek recorder block to make a backup copy. It had been a long time since he’d covered a story in the field. These days he was a senior studio editor at the city’s Time Universe bureau, but the old skill was still there. He started to scan around.

  There were no vehicles using the autoway, but crowds were lining the sidewalk, five or six deep at the barrier. When he switched to long-range focus he could see they stretched back for about three blocks. The possessed were a majority, easy to spot in their epoch garments: the outlandish and the tediously uninspired. They seemed to be mingling easily enough with the non-possessed.

  A slight fracas two hundred metres away at the back of the crowd caught Gus’s attention. His enhanced retinas zoomed in.

  Two men were pushing at each other, faces red with anger. One was a dark, handsome youth, barely twenty with perfectly trimmed black hair; dressed in leather jacket and trousers. An acoustic guitar was slung over his back. The second was older, in his forties, and considerably fatter. His attire was the most bizarre Gus had yet seen on display; some kind of white suit, smothered in rhinestones, with trousers flaring over thirty centimetres around his ankles, and collars which looked like small aircraft wings. Large amber-tinted sunglasses covered a third of his puffed-out face. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances, Gus would have said it was a father quarrelling with his son. He shunted his audio discrimination program into primary mode.