The Night's Dawn Trilogy

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Etchells shot out of the smog blizzard with cyclonic eddies rolling away from his hull. He swung round a splayed clump of black pentangular pillars, then used a mushroom-like industrial refinery to slalom again.

  The way Syrinx’s hands dug into the acceleration couch padding was nothing to do with the appalling gee forces washing across the bridge. The image of the craggy diskcity surface hurtling past mere metres away was shining directly into her brain. Her eyes were tight shut from reflex, and it wasn’t the slightest use. There was no escape. Oenone’s steady determination as it pursued the hellhawk prevented any censure. To doubt her love now would be selfish betrayal. She fought her own fear to bestow trust and pride.

  On the other side of the bridge, Oxley was emitting a constant low moan of dismay without ever needing to draw breath.

  Its resolve weakens, Oenone claimed buoyantly. It is slowing to turn now. We will catch it soon.

  Yes. There was absolutely nothing in the tactical programs she could use to help this situation. If they rose above the artificial valleys, the hellhawk would be able to fire combat wasps straight at them. They couldn’t fire back down, one errant submunition would slaughter thousands of Mosdva. So the chase continued, which was ultimately to their advantage. It prevented the hellhawk from firing on Lalarin-MG. At a terrible cost to her nerves.

  Another wormhole terminus opened a hundred kilometres above them.

  Hello Etchells, Rocio said.

  You? Etchells exclaimed in shock. Shoot the shit chasing me, they’ve found something here that’ll wipe us out.

  The Mindori fired three lasers at a glass cone heat exchanger a couple of kilometres ahead of Etchells. The mechanism detonated, shattering into crystalline splinters spinning inside a writhing gas cloud. Etchells screamed his fury into the affinity band and accelerated at seventeen gees, desperately trying to rise above the lethal kinetic debris. Irradiated gas streaked over the hellhawk’s polyp. Energistic power flared, warding off the crystals with a ragged shield of white fire. Etchells’s barrel rolled up away from the bloating indigo nimbus.

  Oenone had a few extra seconds before collision. It pulled up fast, skirting the boundary of the whirling crystals. The Stryla was only thirty kilometres ahead of it. Oenone’s targeting radar locked on to the hellhawk. Then the electronic sensors warned Syrinx that the Mindori was targeting their hull.

  Don’t shoot, Rocio warned.

  Kill them, Etchells demanded.

  Syrinx aimed five lasers at the Mindori.

  Etchells also targeted the other hellhawk with three masers. Kill them now, he said.

  I won’t shoot if you don’t, Rocio said to Syrinx. Two of his lasers were aligned on the Stryla. At least find out why we’ve come here first.

  So tell us, Syrinx said.

  * * *

  Jed and Beth were pressed against the port in the bridge, gazing in veneration at the xenoc artefact spread out below the hellhawk. There weren’t many details, it was so dark, but the rim was close enough to see a silhouette of enticing geometries in the backscatter of red light. Gerald Skibbow was sitting on the acceleration couch behind the weapons console, Loren Skibbow studying the tactical displays keenly, watching the voidhawk and hellhawk rising fast from the darkside.

  Traitor, Etchells spat, pushing his shaky anger behind the word.

  To what, exactly? Rocio asked. What’s your crusade, Etchells? What do you care about other than yourself?

  I’m trying to stop these people from flinging us all back into the beyond. Maybe you’re all for that.

  Don’t be absurd.

  Then for fuck’s sake help us wipe out that cylinder. Whatever they’ve come here for, it’s in there.

  There’s no weapon in there, Syrinx said. I’ve already told you that.

  Maybe I’ll take a look later, Rocio said.

  Shithead, Etchells raged. I’ll blow you to fucking pieces if you don’t help wipe out that voidhawk.

  And that’s why I’m here.

  What? What are you fucking talking about?

  Rocio enjoyed the irritation and confusion Etchells was emitting. Death, he said. You’re very keen to see others die, aren’t you. You never gave Pran Soo a chance.

  You’ve got to be shitting me. You came after me because of her?

  And Kiera. I’ve got someone on board who would like to see our ex-leader.

  Kiera is on board? Syrinx asked.

  Yes, Rocio said.

  Listen you half-wit dickbrain, we’re on the same side, Etchells said. I know the hellhawks have found another supply of nutrient fluid. That’s brilliant. We’re free of doing any fighting for people like Capone and Kiera. That’s what I want.

  You were Kiera’s number-one cheerleader. You’re still doing what she wants even with the blackmail removed.

  I was looking out for me. Just like you were doing for yourself. We had different methods, but we want the same thing for ourselves. That’s why you’ve got to help us. Together we can beat those Confederation ships and destroy the cylinder.

  Then what?

  Then whatever we want, of course.

  You don’t really think we’d let you share our nutrient supply, do you? After what you’ve done.

  You’re starting to piss me off.

  Jed and Beth saw the monstrous bird rise into view through the port, a jet-black shadow against the ruddy darkness of the umbra. Malevolent eyes gleamed scarlet, looking straight in at them. They backed away from the port together. To one side of the bird was another shadow, an elongated oval.

  “Gerald,” Jed said nervously. “Mate, there’s things out there.”

  “Yes,” he said. “The Oenone and the Mindori. Isn’t it wonderful?” He sniffed, wiping moisture from his sunken bloodshot eyes. His voice became high again: Loren’s. “She’s there. And there’s nowhere for the bitch to run anymore.”

  Jed and Beth gave each other a defeated look. Gerald was activating a lot of systems on the console.

  “What are you doing?” Rocio asked.

  “Bringing the remaining generators on line,” Gerald answered. “You can route their power into the lasers. Kill it with one shot.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  “YES IT IS!” Gerald cried. “Don’t you try to back out now.” He clutched the edge of the console, blinking in confusion.

  “Gerald?” Beth pleaded tremulously. “Please, Gerald, don’t do anything rash.”

  Loren’s face flicked up over Gerald’s tortured expression. “Gerald’s fine. Just fine. Don’t you worry.”

  Beth started sobbing, clutching at Jed. His arms went round her as he stared miserably at the mad figure hunched over the console. When Skibbow had just been bonkers it’d been bad enough. This new demented combination was hell’s own gatekeeper.

  Loren ignored the two kids. “Rocio. Ask the voidhawk to help. It’s to their advantage. We don’t want any mistakes now.”

  “Very well.” There was an edge of worry in the voice. I have a proposition, he said to Syrinx, on singular engagement.

  Go ahead.

  I have no quarrel with you, nor do I care about your mission. Etchells and Kiera threaten both of us.

  Then why did you stop us from firing at them?

  Because I need to capture Kiera alive. The father and mother of the body she possesses are on board. Unfortunately, they have fire authority over my combat wasps. My energistic power can disable the missiles, but the Skibbows would be able to detect my intent. There is no way of telling how they’d react; they are not a stable combination. They could choose to kamikaze; in which case I’m not sure if I could block their commands to the warheads in time.

  I see. What do you suggest?

  From this range, my lasers are quite capable of killing the Stryla’s central organ cluster in one shot. Etchells will be flung back into the beyond, and Kiera will be left intact. I will dock, and the Skibbows can deal with her.

  So what do you want us to do?

&n
bsp; Nothing. Do not interfere when I shoot. That’s all I ask.

  What about Kiera’s control over the Stryla’s combat wasps?

  A second laser strike will eliminate the combat wasps in their launch cradles. I can be fast. She will not have time to launch or detonate them.

  You hope.

  Can you provide an alternative?

  Etchells spoke into the general affinity band: Rocio, I can see you’ve powered up your weapon pod generators. Know this, Kiera and I have rigged my combat wasps. Any energy beam strike against me or my life-support module will result in every warhead blowing simultaneously. Both of you are well inside the lethal blast radius.

  All right, Rocio said. We’ve all been real smart and blocked each other. Nobody can win now, so why don’t we all just back off?

  No, Syrinx said. If either of you accelerate away or attempt to open a wormhole interstice, I will fire. I will not give you the freedom to return to the cylinder.

  So just what the hell are we supposed to do now? Rocio demanded.

  We are negotiating for the cylinder to be evacuated, Syrinx said. When all the Tyrathca have left, I will permit the three of us to retreat simultaneously. Not before. You will not slaughter innocent entities to appease your paranoia.

  For fuck’s sake, Etchells said. Rocio, join me, we’ll blow this voidhawk to shit and stop them getting the weapon.

  There is no weapon, Syrinx insisted.

  I’ll tell you something, Etchells, Rocio said. If it comes to a choice, I’m with Captain Syrinx.

  Shithead traitor! You’d better pray their weapon works and pray real hard, because if it doesn’t I will personally track you down past the end of the universe.

  You won’t have to chase me anywhere.

  Syrinx looked over at Ruben and pouted her lips. “Maybe we should just let them go at it.”

  “Nice thought. I wonder what the Mosdva dominions are making of all this.”

  “As long as they don’t start shooting at us, I don’t care.”

  “We’re getting something,” Oski announced. “It’s not the full almanac, but I’m accessing files with colony planet locations; they’re linked to star map references.”

  “Can you access their star map files?” Syrinx asked.

  “Loading a questor now,” Oski said. “Stand by.”

  Syrinx and Oenone waited eagerly as the information began to trickle across the communication link. The first maps the questors accessed showed unknown starfields, but the third has a portion of the Orion Nebula covering a quarter of the picture. Oenone matched the image to the navigational plot of the nebula it had made on the voyage to Mastrit-PJ, instinctively correlating the Tyrathca coordinate formula into its own astronomical reference frame. More star maps followed, allowing the voidhawk to expand and refine the coordinate grid, correlating with recognizable star patterns. After eight minutes it could visualize a globe of space five thousand light-years across, centred on Mastrit-PJ. Tyrathca designations tagged the constellations.

  Syrinx’s thoughts flowed through the mental construct, filled with quiet pride as she absorbed the detailed configuration.

  It was easy, Oenone said modestly.

  You handled it superbly, she said. That needs to be said.

  Thank you.

  Syrinx made an effort to compress her sadness. But you do realize we probably won’t get to go there.

  I understand. We need to keep the hellhawks at bay.

  I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted to go.

  So did you. We must not be selfish, though. There is more at stake than our feelings. And we have explored further than anyone else.

  Oh yes!

  Joshua will do well.

  I know. Amusement lifted her spirits. A year ago I wouldn’t have been saying that.

  It is not just you who has changed.

  You always did like him, didn’t you?

  He was what you feared to become. Your envy became disdain. You should never be scared of what you are, Syrinx. I will always love you.

  And I you. She sighed contentedly. “Joshua, Swantic-LI found the Sleeping God at an F-class star three hundred and twenty light years from here. Coordinates coming over.” She ordered the bridge processors to datavise the file over to Lady Mac’s flight computer.

  “Hey, good work, Oenone.”

  “Thank you, Joshua.”

  “Okay, how do you want to break up the stand-off? If I launch a combat wasp salvo from here, they’ll be forced to swallow out. We can combine to protect the cylinder. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll wipe each other out before they come back for it.”

  “No, Joshua. We can handle the stand-off. You take off now.”

  “Jesus, you’re kidding.”

  “We can’t waste the time which protecting the cylinder is going to take; it’ll be days most likely. And we certainly can’t take the risk that we might both get damaged or killed in a fight with the hellhawks. You have to leave. Once the stand-off’s over, we’ll follow.”

  “That’s very cold and logical.”

  “It’s very rational, Joshua. I am an Edenist after all.”

  “All right. If you’re sure?”

  “Who better?” She relaxed serenely on her acceleration couch, sharing Oenone’s perception of local space. Waiting. Lady Macbeth’s jump registered as a sharp twist in spacetime, gone in a nanosecond.

  Syrinx looked round at her crew, reaching out to them so their thoughts and regrets could mingle with hers. Sharing herself to achieve that cherished equipoise of their culture. It must have worked; for eventually she asked: “Anyone bring a pack of cards?”

  27

  The two friends walked together along the top of Ketton island’s cliff, taking a few minutes alone together to say goodbye. Their parting would be permanent. Choma had chosen to join with Tinkerbell, sharing that entity’s voyage across eternity; while Sinon, almost uniquely among the serjeants, had decided to go back to Mortonridge.

  I promised my wife I would return, that I would rejoin the multiplicity once more, he said. I will keep my word to her, for we believed in Edenism together. By doing this I will strengthen our culture. Not by much, I will be the first to admit, but my conviction in us and the path we have chosen will contribute to the overall conviction of the multiplicity and Consensus. We must believe in ourselves. To doubt now would be admitting we should never have existed.

  And yet what we are doing is the pinnacle of Edenism, Choma said. By transferring ourselves into Tinkerbell’s version of the multiplicity we are evolving the human condition, moving on from our origin with confidence and wonder. This is evolution, a constant learning curve, there is no limit to what we can find in this realm.

  But you will be alone, isolated from the rest of us. What is the point of knowledge if you cannot share it? If it cannot be used to help everyone? The beyond is something the human race must face in union, we must know and accept our answer as one. If Mortonridge taught us nothing else, it was that. Towards the end I had nothing but sympathy for the possessed.

  We are both right. The universe is big enough to allow us that.

  It is. Though I regret what you are doing. An unusual development. I think I have become more than I was supposed to in this body. I believed such emotions would be impossible when I volunteered to join the Liberation.

  Their development was inevitable, Choma said. We carry the seeds of humanity with us no matter what vessel our minds travel in. They were bound to flourish, to find their own route forward.

  Then I am no longer the Sinon who emerged from the multiplicity.

  No. Any sentient entity who has lived, has changed. I will have a soul then. A new soul, one that is different to the Sinon I remember.

  You do. All of us do.

  Then once again I will have to die before I transfer myself back to the multiplicity. What I bring to the habitat is only such wisdom as I can muster. My soul doesn’t follow my memories, so the Kiint say.

  Do you fe
ar that day?

  I don’t believe so. The beyond is not for everyone, knowing there is a way through, or round, as Laton claims, is enough to give me confidence. Though there is some trepidation stirring within me.

  You will overcome, I am sure. Never forget it is possible to succeed. That thought alone should guide you.

  I will remember.

  They stopped on the crest of a mound and looked out over the island. Long lines of people were picking their way over the cracked earth, the last refugees from the buried town heading towards the cliff top where Tinkerbell was pressed against the rock. The giant crystal’s opalescent light sent ripples of gentle colour slithering over the drab ground. Air had coiled into a topaz nimbus all around it.

  How apt, Sinon said. It looks as though they are walking off into the sunset.

  If I have a regret, it is that I won’t know how their lives finish. They will make a strange group, these souls who are going to occupy serjeant bodies, their complete humanity always beyond their grasp.

  When they came out of the beyond, they claimed all they wanted was sensation again. They have that now.

  But they are genderless. Not to mention sexless. They can never know love.

  Physical love, perhaps. But that certainly isn’t all the love there is. As with you and I, they will become whole in their own way.

  I feel their disquiet already, and they haven’t even reached Mortonridge yet.

  They can learn to adapt to what lies ahead. The habitats will welcome them.

  Nobody has ever become an Edenist against their will before. Now you have twelve thousand bewildered, angry strangers grumbling away into the general affinity band. Most of them with a cultural background that will act against easy acceptance.

  With patience and kindness they will find themselves again. Think what they have been through.

  At last we come to the true difference between ourselves. I am restless and eager for the future, a voyager. You are ruled by compassion, a healer of souls. Now you see why we have to part.