The Evolutionary Void v-3

by Peter Hamilton

  They decided to wait until midmorning before leaving the hotel. That way they figured there would be more people about, more Living Dream followers doing the same thing, more paramilitaries patrolling. It would be safest.

  The hotel was only a couple of miles from Colwyn City’s docks, where the wormhole opened to the safety of Ellezelin. When they made their way cautiously down to the lobby, it was deserted. Mareble had tried to order some modern clothes from a local cyber-store and have them delivered by bot, but they’d never arrived. The store’s management system insisted they’d been dispatched. She wanted to use the clothes in an attempt to blend in with everyone else on the street. Instead, they made do with what they had. Danal wasn’t too bad; his sweater was a neutral gray, and he wore it above brown denim trousers. From a distance it would escape attention. Except for his shoes, which were lace-ups. Nobody else in the Commonwealth used lace-ups anymore. Mareble was more worried by her own green and white dress; a dress was less suspicious, but the style was recognizable as belonging to Makkathran. In fact, it was a copy of a dress Kanseen had worn one night in Olovan’s Eagle.

  Standing in front of the door, she called a cab. There was a metro rail running along the street right outside the hotel. Her u-shadow reported that the cab companies weren’t responding to requests; their amalgamated management cores apologized and said that normal service would resume as soon as possible.

  “It’s not far,” she said, more for her own benefit than his. “Come on, we can get there. We’ll be back on Ellezelin in an hour.”

  Danal nodded, his lips drawn together in a thin bloodless line. “Okay.”

  The hotel entrance was on Porral Street, which was almost deserted when they walked out into the warm midmorning sunlight. They could hear distant airborne sirens as well as a suppressed buzzing like some angry insect, which Mareble just knew was a crowd on the hunt. Porral Street opened out onto Daryad Avenue, which was the main thoroughfare in this part of town, sweeping down the hill to the river Cairns. And just off to one side at the end of that slope were the docks. Simply looking down the broad avenue with its tall buildings and silent traffic solidos changing color and shape for nonexistent ground vehicles produced a surge of hope. Along its whole length she could see barely a hundred people in total.

  An equally optimistic Danal linked his arm through hers, and they set off at a fast pace. A lot of the stores on either side had suffered damage. Windows were broken and covered with big sheets of black carbon. Most of the adverts were cold and dark. Three smashed cab pods blocked the metro rails running down the middle of the road. The people they passed never met their gaze. Nobody was sharing anything in the gaiafield. Nobody wanted to be noticed. Mareble was acutely aware of other people heading down the slope-couples, groups-all of them moving with that same urgent intent as her own gait yet trying to appear casual.

  They were halfway down toward the smooth fast-flowing water of the river and starting to relax, when they crossed a side road. The shouts of the mob reached them at the same time. Mareble saw a man running frantically toward them, chased by about fifty people.

  “Run!” he screamed as he charged past. His black felt hat tumbled off as he turned down the slope. The mob was thundering up fast behind him, faces contorted with bloodlust and hatred. Mareble and Danal took off after him; it was pure instinct.

  “Help,” Mareble yelled. Her u-shadow was sending an alert to the Ellezelin forces that wasn’t even being acknowledged. She cried into the gaiafield, only to receive the slightest ripple of sympathies from Living Dream followers. “Somebody help!”

  Danal was holding her hand, tugging her along. The dress was hindering her legs. Her ankle boots weren’t designed to run in. It was at least a mile and a half to the docks. Fear began to burn along her nerves as the adrenaline kicked in. She thought of the Waterwalker on the mountain after Salrana’s betrayal, with Arminel and his thugs closing in on the pavilion. Even then he had maintained his dignity. I must be like him.

  Her foot hit something, and she went flying, landing painfully on the stone block pavement, grazing her knees, tearing the skin on her wrists. The jolt thumped along her arms, and she wailed in dread, knowing it was all over. “Lady, please,” she whimpered as Danal hauled her to her feet.

  The mob came up around them incredibly fast, surrounding them with a fence of savagely hostile faces. They carried lengths of wood and metal bars; a couple gripped small laser welders.

  “No,” Mareble whimpered. Tears were already smearing her vision. She hated how weak she was, but they were going to hurt her. Then she would die before ever knowing the true wonder of the Void.

  “I’ve called the paramilitaries,” Danal said defiantly.

  A pole caught him on the side of his head, making a nasty crack. His mouth had barely opened to cry out in pain when another smacked across his shins. Danal dropped fast, his limp hand slipping from Mareble’s arm.

  “No!” she yelled. Her wild face looked directly at the man in front of her, pleading. He seemed ordinary enough, middle-aged, dressed in a smart jacket. He won’t hit a woman, she thought. “We just want to go. Let us go.”

  “Bitch.” His fist slammed into her nose. She heard the bone crunch. For the first second it didn’t hurt; she was numb with shock and terror. Then the frightening pulse of hot pain pierced her brain. Mareble screamed, crumpling to her knees. To one side she saw a boot kick Danal’s ribs. Blood was pouring down her mouth and chin.

  “That’s enough,” a woman’s voice said calmly. A dark figure stepped into the middle of the mob.

  Then finally the gaiafield was awash with sympathy and kindness. The amazing sensation grew and grew like nothing Mareble had ever known before. She gasped in astonishment, blinking up at the woman, who was now opening her coat as if emerging from a cocoon. Underneath she wore a long cream robe resembling those of the Clerics. It seemed to glow of its own accord. A pendant on a slim gold chain around her neck shone an intense blue light across Mareble’s face, which somehow siphoned out so much of her fear. For a moment she trancended her own body to look out across the stars from a viewpoint outside the galaxy. The sight was extraordinarily warming. Then she was back on Viotia and looking up in silent awe at the figure grinning down at her.

  The front rank of the mob was hesitating, their first angry glances at the intruder fading to bewilderment. Even their hatred and rage couldn’t stand against the blaze of serenity and comfort she poured into the gaiafield.

  Danal raised his head, a look of incredulity rising over his pain. “Dreamer!” he gasped in wonder.

  “Hello, Danal.” Araminta smiled. She pushed some of the Skylord’s contentment into the greeting, feeling it wash over the poor abused man, feeling his relief. Mareble was watching her worshipfully as she tried to staunch the flow of blood from her broken nose, and right across the Commonwealth, Living Dream followers sent their welcome and thanks that she had finally come out of hiding to take up her destiny. The wave of goodwill was awesome in its extent, combining the emotion of billions, sending it sweeping across hundreds of worlds.

  Then one of the mob finally managed to shake off the daze of sensation Araminta and the Skylord were radiating out into the gaiafield. It was the one who’d punched Mareble. “You!” he spit. “This is all your fault.” A metal bar was raised. Araminta stared at him, feeling something flow from the Skylord into her mind, elevating her thoughts still higher. And she recalled Ranalee’s iniquitous ability. “No,” she told him quietly, and changed his mind for him, draining away the fear and hatred.

  His mouth parted in a silent gasp, and the metal bar clattered to the ground just as a squadron of capsules roared in overhead. Araminta grinned up at them as they descended, sharing the sight with everyone everywhere. She held a hand out and helped Mareble to her feet as armor-clad figures shoved their way through the sullen silent mob.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said mildly as they came right up to her, guns drawn to cover the throng. “Ple
ase assist Danal.”

  The officer in front hesitated. She could sense the uncertainty in his mind, the desperate wish to be anywhere else. “You’re to come with me,” he announced.

  I AM THE DREAMER, Araminta proclaimed into the gaiafield, using the Skylord’s strength to bolster the claim. The officer swayed back from the force of the thought, almost falling as his knees weakened. Behind him, people were flinching, cowering at the power of her thoughts. “Did the Waterwalker travel by capsule?” she continued mildly. “I think not. I will walk to the wormhole. Those of you who wish to follow the dream may accompany me.” She gave the mob a calculated look. No one would meet her gaze now. “Those who would hurt my followers will be dealt with.” She glanced at the officer again. “Your name?”

  “Darraklan. Captain Darraklan.”

  “Very well, Captain Darraklan, your men will perform escort duty. There will be peace in this city. That is my wish.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Darraklan stammered.

  Araminta raised an eyebrow. The hint of censure peeked out from her mind.

  Darraklan bowed. “Yes, Dreamer,” he corrected himself.

  Araminta gave Mareble a gracious smile. “Come.” The crowd parted, and she started walking down the slope toward the river and the docks. Bewildered Ellezelin troopers quickly helped Danal to his feet.

  By the time she reached the bottom of Daryad Avenue, she’d picked up quite a retinue. Happy Living Dream followers had rushed out of every intersection to greet her, disbelief and joy surging out of their minds. Captain Darraklan’s troopers maintained a careful escort, not pressing in yet forming a secure perimeter. Capsules drifted high overhead, keeping pace. Araminta ignored them.

  There had been many protests outside the docks themselves. Several hundred hardy city residents had set up camp in front of the main entrance, only to be largely ignored by the capsules that flitted in and out over their heads. Now they formed a curious crowd, watching as Araminta led her procession toward them. Anxiety and uncertainty began to rattle along the front rank. It was one thing to taunt the unassailable, indifferent paramilitaries on the other side of the fence for the injustice they’d brought to Viotia and quite another to face down a living messiah with mysterious telepathic powers. Araminta was still a hundred meters short of them when they began to part, leaving a clear passage to the dock entrance. Tall gates were hurriedly peeled open to reveal another batch of paramilitaries. These were headed by Cleric Phelim himself, who didn’t offer anything by way of complicity or acceptance.

  Araminta knew this was the first real test of her claim to be the Dreamer. Phelim wouldn’t crumple like Darraklan, though she was certain that ultimately he wouldn’t be able to withstand Ranalee’s dominance technique. She sincerely hoped the Skylord would lend its assistance again if she asked, if she showed an obstacle to bringing the faithful to the Void as she had promised she would. In fact, it really shouldn’t need the intervention of a Skylord. To the whole of Living Dream she had assumed her rightful position as their leader, their savior. Clerics had become nothing more than administrators and bureaucrats, simple functionaries to facilitate her wishes. Judging from the expression on Phelim’s face and the few tightly controlled thoughts he did permit to be shared through the gaiafield, he was beginning to realize that, too.

  I just have to keep going, she told herself in that little core of identity she didn’t share across the gaiafield, be an unstoppable force just like I promised Bradley. The true followers won’t stand for anyone interfering with me, not now that I can deliver the Pilgrimage. That’s what Living Dream stands for; it is everything to them.

  A phony respectful smile spread across Cleric Phelim’s face. “Second Dreamer,” he said, with a slight emphasis on “second.” “We are so glad you have chosen to come forth at last. Welcome.”

  Araminta didn’t even stop walking. She headed straight at the troopers lined up behind Phelim. They quickly shuffled aside. “Part of the reason I remained concealed was the suffering you unleashed on this world,” she said as she led her supporters through the troopers. Mareble, who had stayed close by the whole way down Daryad Avenue, glared at Phelim. It was a common sensation directed at the man. Up ahead was the wormhole; Araminta could see the violet-blue Cherenkov radiation leaking out from the edge. A different sunlight shone through the center.

  Phelim’s expression hardened as he struggled to restrain himself. “I assure you we did everything that we could to-”

  He was moving with her now, ambling in an awkward sideways gait. She’d won. “When I sit in the Orchard Palace, I will order a full and open inquiry into your part in this aggression,” she said dismissively.

  “Wha-” Phelim managed to blurt.

  “Violence was something the Waterwalker strove to eradicate. He devoted his lives to it. The cause almost broke him, but he succeeded. That is his true inspiration to us. And this monstrous invasion is the antithesis of everything Living Dream stands for. To believe you will go unpunished for such an atrocity is arrogant beyond belief.”

  Cheering broke out all across the docks as Phelim abruptly stood still, watching with an open jaw as Araminta carried on to the wormhole. A lot of the enthusiastic jeering voices were rising from the protesters just outside the entrance.

  Araminta smiled proudly, savoring the victory. The wormhole was directly ahead of her now, guarded by tall metal pillars studded with weapons and sensors. The Ellezelin forces parted before her. Helmets were discarded, showing grinning faces. The true believers were delighted she was here, was going to lead them onward just as the movement had always promised. She was cheered and applauded.

  “Thank you,” she told them. “Thank you so much.” It was hard not to laugh outright. She’d accessed politicians working the crowds enough times, always hating the smug cynical bastards putting on a human persona whenever elections were due. Now she understood how they did it; puppeting the crowds was apparently an inbuilt ability.

  Just as she reached the wormhole, she slowed and gripped Mareble’s hands. The woman looked at her with an alarming degree of adoration, eyes bright above the dried blood staining her face and dress. “You can go home now,” Araminta told the overwhelmed woman. “I will lead us on Pilgrimage shortly, once the ships are ready.”

  Mareble’s lower lip trembled as she began to cry.

  “It’s all right,” Araminta assured her. “Everything is all right now.” That was a lie on the grandest scale possible. She was rather pleased with herself for carrying it off with such panache.

  Araminta raised a hand to her newfound friends and walked into the mouth of the wormhole, where she was engulfed by Ellezelin’s warmer, yellower sunlight.

  “Holy crap!” Oscar muttered.

  “That’s not her,” Tomansio said.

  “She’s fucked us,” Beckia grunted. “Totally fucked us. She’s killed the whole galaxy.”

  On the other side of the starship’s cabin, Liatris shook his head, his mouth raised in a lopsided smile of admiration. “Smart lady. They kept pushing her and pushing her, backing her into an impossible corner. There were only ever two options. Cave in or come out fighting. They never expected her to do that.”

  “Because that’s not her,” Tomansio said confidently.

  “Looked like her,” Oscar said. His u-shadow was still accessing the unisphere news feeds, showing the mouth of the wormhole not half a kilometer from the Bootle amp; Leicester warehouse where the Elvin’s Payback was secreted. It had taken a great deal of willpower not to run out of the starship and take a look at events for himself. The unisphere feed showed him hundreds of joyous people following their newfound messiah through the wormhole to Ellezelin. Unisphere coverage ended there. The other end of the wormhole was in a security zone.

  The gaiafield, however, was still gifting Araminta’s sight and emotions as she walked across the nearly empty staging field. Capsules rushed through the air toward her. People were breaking off from their tasks on the acres of machi
nery scattered about to cheer her arrival in Greater Makkathran. And how is dear old Cleric Conservator Ethan going to react to this? he wondered.

  “So that’s it,” Beckia said. She was still cranky at having to wear the medical sleeve on her arm, which was busy knitting the deep-tissue repairs she’d undergone after the fight in Francola Wood. Three other enriched agents had swarmed her, and her integral force field had temporarily overloaded down her left side. Oscar had pulled her out of the fray just before the capsules landed. He considered her lucky. Tomansio had managed to extract them, and the medical capsule that had repaired her had performed a minor miracle.

  “Maybe,” Oscar said. “She must have a plan.”

  “That’s a dangerous assumption,” Tomansio said. “Liatris got it right; she’s been forced into this act simply to survive.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t her,” Oscar countered.

  Tomansio’s handsome face shone with a bright smile. “Touche.”

  “It’s her,” Oscar said.

  “Still not convinced,” Tomansio said. “This … empress isn’t the same girl we’ve been chasing after. Facing down Living Dream simply isn’t in her psychology.”

  “What, then?” Beckia demanded.

  “Double bluff,” Tomansio said. “They got to her; they broke into her mind and installed their own operating routines. This is a puppet of Living Dream, one that’s been pushed out center stage to focus everyone’s attention. Big bonus that she’ll do what every follower wants and lead them to Pilgrimage. It makes perfect sense for Ethan to do this; he gets everything he ever wanted.”

  “Except lead Living Dream,” Oscar said. “That’s her next step. It has to be; she can’t do anything else but claim the throne now.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tomansio said. “He still gets what he wants, which is a ticket into the Void, and at the same time he doesn’t get any of the blame if it all goes belly-up.”