The Night's Dawn Trilogy

by Peter F. Hamilton

He broke surface to draw down a huge desperate gulp of air. People in flexible armour suits were flying through the air above him; human lemmings landing in the basin with a tremendous splash. He saw Mzu, her small figure unmistakable in its prim business suit.

  Keaton shook his head dog-fashion, blowing his cheeks out. “Hell, it’s cold.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Joshua demanded. “They hit you dead on, and it never even blistered you.”

  “Right question, sir, but unfortunately the wrong pronoun. As I once said to Oscar Wilde. Stumped him completely; he wasn’t quite as hot on the riposte as legend says.”

  All Joshua could do was cough. The cold was crippling. His neural nanonics were battling hard to prevent his muscles from cramping. And they were going to lose.

  White fire smashed against the basin rim five metres above him. Radiant dribbles of magma ran down the basin wall.

  “What in God’s name did you bring us here for?” Monica shouted.

  “I didn’t fucking bring you!”

  Her hand grabbed the front of his ship-suit. “How do we get out?”

  “Jesus, I don’t know.”

  She let go, her arm shaking badly. Another strike of white fire lashed above them. The rim was outlined like a dawn horizon from orbit.

  “They can’t hit us here,” Samuel said, his long face was dreadfully strained.

  “God, so what,” Monica answered. “They’ve only got to walk over here and we’ll be dead.”

  “We won’t last that long. Hypothermia will get us before then.”

  Monica glared at Joshua. “Can anyone see some steps?”

  “Dick,” Joshua said. “Are your neural nanonics working?”

  “Yes.”

  “Access the shed’s management computer. Find us a way out. Now!”

  This is a last-ditch madness, I know, Samuel called to the Hoya. But is there anything you can do?

  Nothing. I am so sorry. You’re too far away, we cannot provide fire support.

  We’re retreating, Niveu told him, his tone full of savage regret. It’s this diabolical antimatter. We’ve fired every combat wasp in defence, and they’re still coming through. The nations have gone insane, every SD platform went offensive. Ferrea was damaged by a gamma ray pulser, and Sinensis had to swallow out to avoid a direct impact. There’s only the two of us left now. We can’t last much longer. Do you wish to transfer? We can delay a few seconds more.

  No. Go, warn the Consensus.

  But your situation—

  Doesn’t matter. Go!

  “Half the shed’s processors are glitched,” Dick Keaton said. “The rest are in standby mode. It’s been mothballed.”

  “What?” Joshua had to shout to make his mouth work. His kicks to tread water were difficult now.

  “Mothballed. That’s why there’s no ironberg in here. The small canal leaks. They drained it for repairs.”

  “Drained it? Let me have the file.”

  Keaton datavised it over, and Joshua assigned it to a memory cell. Analysis programs went primary, tearing into the information. What he wanted was a way to drain the basin, or at the very least a ladder. Which wasn’t quite what he found when the schematics display rose into his mind. “Ione!” he shouted. “Ione.” His voice was pathetically weak. He worked his elbows, swivelling around to face Samuel. “Call her.”

  “Who?” the bewildered Edenist asked.

  “Ione Saldana, the Lord of Ruin. Call her with affinity.”

  “But—”

  “Do it or we’re going to die in here.”

  * * *

  The gee force on Lady Macbeth’s bridge began to abate, sliding down from a tyrannical eight to an unpleasant three.

  He certainly flies the same way as Joshua, Sarha thought. The few seconds she’d spared from fire control to monitor their vector had shown her a starship which was keeping pretty close to the course which the navigation program had produced. Not bad for a daydreamer novice.

  “The Urschel is accelerating,” Beaulieu said. “Seven gees, they’re going for altitude. Must be a jump.”

  “Good,” Sarha said firmly. “That means no more of those bloody antimatter combat wasps.”

  All three of them had cheered when the Pinzola was struck by a fusion blast. The resulting explosion as all the frigate’s antimatter confinement chambers were destroyed had blown half of Lady Mac’s sensors, and Pinzola had been eleven thousand kilometres away, almost below the horizon.

  The orbital conflict had been played out hard and fast over the last eleven minutes. Several starships had been hit, but over fifteen had risen to a jump altitude and escaped. There were no more SD platforms left in low orbit, although plenty of combat wasps were still prowling. But they were all a long way from Lady Mac. That was Sarha’s prime concern. As Beaulieu had said, the old girl could cope with Nyvan’s geriatric weapons. They had a couple of new scars on the hull from kinetic debris, and three radioactive hot spots from pulser shots. But the worst of it was over now.

  “Gravitonic distortion,” Beaulieu said. “Another voidhawk has left.”

  “Sensible ship,” Sarha muttered. “Liol, how long until we’re over Joshua’s horizon?”

  “Ninety seconds—mark.”

  She datavised an order into the starship’s communications system. The main dish slid out of its recess and swung around, pointing at the horizon ahead.

  * * *

  Ione eased herself around the metal pillar to take another look into the shed’s high bay. The possessed up on the walkway were squirting a continual stream of white fire at the rim of the basin. That must mean Joshua and the others were still alive.

  Now appeared to be the optimum time to enter the fray. She had hung back ever since she’d sprinted into the shed ahead of the agency operatives. This whole situation was so fluid, the outcome could well be decided by who had the greatest tactical reserve. She wasn’t quite sure where that decision had come from; some tactics file her ‘original’ self and Tranquillity had loaded into the serjeant, or internal logic. How much inventiveness she owned in this aspect she wasn’t sure of. But wherever it had come from, it had been proved right.

  She had watched the events play out from the cover of the framework, hovering on the brink of intervention. Then the police had arrived and fouled up everything. And Joshua had fled across the high bay to the basin.

  She couldn’t work that one out. It was seawater in the basin, which must be close to the freezing point. Now he was pinned down.

  If she could get a clear shot at the walkway the possessed were using, she might be able to bring them all crashing down. But she wasn’t sure how effective even the heavy-calibre rifle would be against such a concentration of energistic power.

  Ione. Ione Saldana?

  Cold accompanied the affinity call, she knew exactly what it was like to be immersed in the basin. Agent Samuel, she acknowledged.

  I have a message.

  He widened his mind still further. She looked out at anguished heads bobbing in the water. Joshua was right in front of her, hair plastered down over his forehead. His throat laboured hard to force the words out. “Ione—shoot—out—the—small—canal—lock—gate—blow—that—fucker—away—good—and—be—quick—we—can’t—last —long.”

  She was already running towards the end of the shed. There was a rectangular gap in the framework structure over the small canal. It framed the door which slid up to allow the ironberg segments through. The bottom of the door closed to within a metre of the water itself. Below that, she could see the two lock gates which held back the water while the canal outside was being repaired. They were solid metal, tarnished by age, and thick with fronds of sapphire-coloured seaweed.

  She squatted down beside the edge of the canal and fired the heavy-calibre rifle. Trying to puncture the gates themselves would be hopeless, they weren’t made from any modern laced-molecule alloy, but their thickness made them completely impenetrable. Instead, the explosive-tipped shells pound
ed into the canal’s old carbon-concrete walls, demolishing the hinges and their mountings.

  The gates moved slightly as water squirted around the crumbling concrete. Their top hinges were almost wrecked, making them gradually pivot downwards, a motion which prised them further apart. A V-shaped gap appeared between them, with water gushing out horizontally. Ione fired again and again, concentrating on one wall now, mauling it to smithereens. One of the hinges gave way.

  Look out, Samuel warned. They have stopped attacking us. That must mean—

  Ione saw the shadows shifting behind her, knowing what it meant. Then the shadows were fading away as the light grew brighter. She switched her aim to the stubborn gate itself, using the explosions to punch it down, adding their weight to that of the water.

  White fire engulfed her.

  The gates were wrenched apart, and the water plummeted into the empty canal beyond.

  “Go with it,” Joshua datavised as the first stirrings of a current stroked his faltering legs. “Stay afloat.”

  A waterfall roar reverberated around the shed’s high bay, and he was pulled along the basin wall. The others were twirling around him. Quiet, unseen currents sucked them towards the end of the basin where it narrowed like a funnel into the small canal. They started to pick up speed as they drew closer to the mouth. Then the basin was behind them. Water was surging along the canal.

  “Joshua, please acknowledge. This is Sarha, acknowledge please, Joshua.” His neural nanonics told him the signal was being routed to his communication block via the spaceplane. Everyone, it seemed, had survived the orbital battle.

  “I’m here, Sarha,” he datavised. The canal water was boiling tempestuously as it flowed under the door, dipping down sharply; and he was racing towards it at a hazardous rate. It was becoming very hard to keep afloat, even here where the level was sinking. He tried a few feeble side-strokes to get away from the wall where the churning was at its worst.

  “Joshua, you’re entering into an emergency situation.”

  Two curling vortex waves recoiled off the canal walls to converge above him as he passed under the shed door. “No shit!” The waves closed over his head. Neural nanonics triggered a massive adrenaline secretion, enabling him to fight his way back to the surface with recalcitrant limbs. Distorted daylight and iron-hard foam crashed around him as he floundered back into the air.

  “I’m serious, Joshua. The Organization has tampered with one of the ironbergs. They altered its aerobrake trajectory so that it will land on the foundry yard. If they can’t get Mzu offplanet with them, they want her dead so she’ll have to join the Organization that way. It’s timed to crash after the spaceplane pickup was scheduled, so that if anything went wrong they’d still win.”

  The canal opened up ahead of Joshua, a rigid gully stretching away to the foundry building three kilometres distant. Water rampaged along it, a thundering white-water torrent which propelled him along helplessly. He wasn’t alone. Voi came close enough for him to touch if the pounding water hadn’t been so strong, snatching her away again immediately.

  “Jesus, Sarha, this is after the spaceplanes were scheduled.”

  “I know. We’re tracking the ironberg, it’s going to hit you in seven minutes.”

  “What? Nuke the bastard, now, Sarha.”

  The leading edge of the water reached the first section of scaffolding, a lattice of heavy walkways, cage lifts, and machinery platforms. It swept the lower members away, toppling the rest of the structure. The stronger segments held together for a few seconds as the spume rolled them along, then after a few revolutions they began to break apart, metal poles sinking to the bottom.

  “We can’t, Joshua. It’s already in the lower atmosphere. The combat wasps can’t reach it.”

  The water reached the second stretch of scaffolding. This was larger than the first, supporting big construction mechanoids and concrete hoppers. Their weight lent a degree of stability to the edifice as the water seethed around it; several members broke free, but it managed to remain relatively intact against the initial onrush.

  “Don’t worry, Joshua,” Ashly datavised. “I’m on my way. Fifty seconds and I’ll be there. We’ll be airborne long before the ironberg crashes. I can see the sheds already.”

  “No, Ashly, stay back, there are possessed here; a lot of them. They’ll hit the spaceplane if they see you.”

  “Target them for me; I’ve got the masers.”

  “Impossible.” He saw the scaffolding up ahead and knew this was his one chance. The physiological monitor program had been issuing cautions for some time: the cold was killing him. His muscles were already badly debilitated, slow to respond. He had to get out of the water while he had some strength left. “Everybody,” he datavised, “grab the scaffolding or just crash into it if that’s all you can manage. But make sure you don’t go past. We have to get out.”

  The first rusty poles were coming up very fast. He reached out a hand. None of his fingers worked inside the medical package glove, not even when his neural nanonics commanded them. “Mzu?” he datavised. “Get to the scaffolding.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  It wasn’t much practical use to him, but the relief that she was still alive kept that small core flame of hope flickering. The mission wasn’t an utter disaster, he still had purpose. Surprisingly important right now.

  Dahybi had already reached the scaffolding, hugging a post as the water stormed past. Then Joshua was there, trying to hook his arm around a V-junction and shift his head out of the way at the same time to avoid a crack on the temple. The metal banged against his chest, and he never even felt it.

  “You okay?” Dahybi datavised.

  “Fucking wonderful.”

  Voi was flashing past, just succeeding in jamming an arm on a pole.

  Joshua inched himself further into the shaking structure. There was a ladder two metres away, and he flopped against it. The water wasn’t quite so strong now, but it was rising fast.

  Mzu came thumping into the end of the scaffolding. “Mother Mary, my ribs,” she datavised. Samuel landed beside her, and wrapped a protective arm around her.

  Joshua clambered up the ladder, thankful it was at a low angle. Dahybi followed him. Two more operatives caught the scaffolding, then Monica snagged herself. Gelai and Ngong swam quite normally across the canal, the cold having no effect on them at all. They grabbed the scaffolding and started shoving the numb survivors up out of the water.

  “Melvyn?” Joshua datavised. “Where are you, Melvyn?” He’d been one of the first to reach the canal after Ione blew the lock gate. “Melvyn?” There wasn’t even a carrier band from the fusion specialist’s neural nanonics.

  “What’s happening?” Ashly datavised. “I can’t acquire any of you on the sensors.”

  “Stay back, that’s an order,” Joshua replied. “Melvyn?”

  One of the ESA operatives floated past, facedown.

  “Melvyn?”

  “I’m sorry, Captain Calvert,” Dick Keaton datavised. “He went under.”

  “Where are you?”

  “End of the scaffolding.”

  Joshua looked over his shoulder, seeing the limp figure suspended in the crisscross of poles thirty metres away. He was alone.

  Jesus no. Another friend condemned to the beyond. Looking back at reality and begging to return.

  “That’s all of us, now,” Monica datavised.

  Altogether six of the operatives from the combined Edenist/ESA team had survived along with her and Samuel. Eriba’s corpse was swirling past amid a scum of brown foam. Fifteen people, out of the twenty-three who had entered Disassembly Shed Four, more if you counted the two serjeants.

  “What now?” Dahybi asked.

  “Climb,” Joshua told him. “We’ve got to get up to the top of the scaffolding. Our spaceplane is on its way.”

  “So is a bloody ironberg.”

  “Gelai, where are the possessed?” Joshua croaked.

  “Coming,” s
he said. “Baranovich is already out of the shed. He won’t let the spaceplane land.”

  “I don’t have a weapon,” Monica said. “There’s only two machine guns left between all of us. We can’t hold them back.” Her body was trembling violently as she crawled along a narrow conveyer belt connected to one of the concrete hoppers.

  Joshua went up another three rungs on the ladder, then sagged from the effort.

  “Captain Calvert,” Mzu datavised. “I won’t give anybody the Alchemist no matter what. I want you to know that. And thank you for your efforts.”

  She’d given up, sitting huddled limply in a junction. Ngong was holding her, concentrating hard. Steam began to spout out of her suit. Joshua looked around at the rest of them, defeated and tortured by the cold. If he was going to do anything to salvage this, it would have to be extreme.

  “Sarha, give me fire support,” he datavised.

  “Our sensor returns are being corrupted,” she replied. “I can’t resolve the foundry yard properly. It’s the same effect we encountered on Lalonde.”

  “Jesus. Okay, target me.”

  “Joshua!”

  “Don’t argue. Activate the designator laser and target my communications block. Do it. Ashly, stand by. The rest of you: come on, move, we have to be ready.” He took another couple of steps up the ladder.

  Lady Macbeth’s designator laser pierced the wispy residue of snow clouds. A slim shaft of emerald light congested with hazy sparkles as gusting snowflakes evaporated inside it. It was aligned on a road three hundred metres away.

  “Is that on you?” Sarha asked.

  “No, track north-east, two-fifty metres.”

  The beam shifted fast enough to produce a blurred sheet of green light across the sky.

  “East eighty metres,” Joshua instructed. “North twenty-five.”

  His retinal implants had to bring their strongest filters on line as the scaffolding was swamped by brilliant green light.

  “Lock coordinate—mark. Preclude one-five-zero metres. Switch to ground-strike cannon. Spiral one kilometre. Scorch it, Sarha.”

  The beam moved away, its colour blooming through the spectrum until it was a deep ruby-red. Then its intensity grew; snowflakes drifting into it no longer evaporated, they burst apart. Thick brown fumes and smoking pumice gravel jetted up from the disintegrating carbon concrete at its base. It changed direction, curving around to gouge a half-metre groove in the ground. A perfect circle three hundred metres in diameter was etched out in polluted flame, with the canal scaffolding at the centre. Then the beam began to speed up, creating a hollow cylinder of vivid red light which expanded inexorably. The ground underneath it ignited, vaporizing the cloak of snow into a rolling cloud which broiled the land ahead of the beam.