Great North Road

by Peter F. Hamilton

  *

  As soon as the spaceships appeared, Sid and Jacinta had driven to the school to collect the kids, putting the Toyota Dayon on manual and using Sid’s police authority to demand priority in the city’s road metamesh. They’d pulled up outside with the siren blaring and strobes flashing, much to Will and Zara’s delight. Both children were disappointed when Sid switched them off for the trip back to Jesmond.

  ‘Why?’ Will grumped.

  ‘Because I don’t think the spaceships are hostile,’ Sid explained. He was only half concentrating on the road, which was dangerous when so many people were driving so badly, racing home or to collect loved ones just like him. The streets were rivers of green tail lights, with nobody obeying the metamesh. His attention was mainly on the images playing in his iris smartcell grid. The imposing shoal of spaceships was holding station above and around the gateway, the only objects that were static in the whole area. Their unnerving cybernetic spawn were seething over and inside the massive gateway generator. Sunlight flashed and flickered off the chrome tool mandibles as they writhed incessantly, clawing at the mechanism’s seams, prising it apart like mechanical carrion.

  ‘Why, Dad?’

  ‘Because they come from Jupiter. I think.’

  ‘How do you know that, Dad?’

  ‘Because I once met someone who flew in one.’

  ‘Dad!’ Zara squawked excitedly. ‘When was that?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘The night Uncle Ian died, okay.’

  ‘Were they part of the D-bomb plot?’ Will asked.

  ‘Aye, come on you two, give your father a break,’ Jacinta said sternly.

  ‘But Mum—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Sid said. ‘No, the spaceships didn’t have anything to do with the plot. They belong to Constantine North. But I’ve no idea why they’re dismantling the gateway, okay.’ Just like always, we never get to find out what’s really going on.

  The sound of jet turbines rolled along the streets. Both kids spent the rest of the journey trying to spot the fighters circling the shoal, vigilantly guarding Newcastle citizens from the invaders blatantly looting their city’s greatest asset. Fast, dark delta shapes would flash through the gaps between the rooftops, and they’d point and whoop eagerly.

  Back home safely, the Hurst family settled down in the lounge, watching the big wall pane. Media helicopters were venturing ever closer to the floating spaceships, in a quasi-lethal game of dare. Down on Last Mile’s streets, a similar charade was being acted out, with reporters attempting to dodge past the nervous agency constables who were trying to close down access roads leading to the gateway. HDA personnel carriers were rumbling along the Kingsway, bringing squads of troopers, with officers not sure what they were supposed to be doing in the absence of definite orders from their command.

  Sid’s e-i reported a lot of high-priority calls stacking up in his transnet interface. The whole of Market Street’s sixth floor were trying to get in touch. He didn’t care, he’d run about meekly at the bidding of the rich and powerful for years, playing the game for their benefit, because, as any smart man knew, that was how the world worked.

  But on this day he was going to be with his family, because that was what a man should do. Defiance felt good, too.

  Northumberland Interstellar made an official statement seventy minutes into the crisis. An amazingly calm Alanzo 2North stood up in front of a media scrum at the company’s marketing headquarters in the city centre and announced that the gateway was being dismantled to prevent a humanitarian disaster. That native sentient life had been discovered on St Libra, and an orderly evacuation of the Independencies was being planned.

  He wanted to emphasize the spaceships were North-owned, and not a threat to anyone. Yes, they had come from Jupiter. No, he couldn’t comment if one of them had been at the Mountain High building the night Ian Lanagin died.

  ‘Is that true, Dad? Have they found aliens?’ Will asked.

  ‘Yes. I saw one.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. It killed Uncle Ian.’

  Jacinta gave him a sharp glance as her elbow nudged him.

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Sid!’ Jacinta hissed.

  He shrugged.

  A couple of news-company helicopters had found the spaceship parked outside Augustine North’s truncated pyramid mansion beyond Alnwick. Armed security helicopters were buzzing them, but their meshes and lenses were sending back high-resolution images. Several Norths were milling round the base of the craft. Automated trolleys were trundling out of the mansion, laden with crates and pods.

  The news switched back to the gateway shoal. Another of the smaller teardrop spaceships was drifting upwards. News copters played chicken with the squadron of HDA’s VTOL gunships following it as it began to fly north, a couple of hundred metres above the city.

  ‘It’s come over the river,’ Will said. ‘That’s central station, look.’

  ‘What’s it doing, Daddy?’ Zara asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Sit watched uneasily as the spaceship slid smoothly over the Civic Centre. That route would bring it very close to—

  ‘Is it following the Metro line?’ Jacinta asked.

  ‘Looks like it,’ Sid admitted.

  Will scrambled to his feet. ‘We’ll be able to see it!’ he yelped.

  ‘No!’ Sid said, and lunged, trying to grab his son’s arm as the boy charged past with youthful exuberance. ‘Come back.’

  Sid set off after Will. Jacinta and Zara were on his heels. Will got the front door open, and ran out into the small front garden. Sid was a couple of paces behind him, and finally managed to grab hold of the boy’s shoulder. It didn’t matter, Will had stopped anyway.

  The spaceship with its hornet-swarm of terrestrial aircraft in cautious pursuit was over St George’s Terrace, and descending. Sid’s neighbours were also outside, staring in quiet awe as the spaceship approached.

  ‘Dad!’ Will said in scared delight. ‘It’s coming here.’

  Sid’s arm went round the amazed boy, his other arm went round his wife and daughter. Twenty metres in front of him, in the middle of a quiet suburban street, a spaceship from Jupiter silently touched down. A circle near the base darkened and dissolved. A North stepped out, wearing a green shirt open at the neck and blue jeans; he grinned at Sid as the news copters and VTOL gunships circled overhead.

  Zara pressed into Sid’s side, moving slowly behind him as the North walked up to their front gate.

  ‘Hello, Sid,’ the North said.

  ‘I’ve no idea who you are,’ Sid told him. ‘Not unless you tell me.’

  ‘I understand. I’m Clayton. No subterfuge this time, boss, I owe you that much. That’s why I’m here. I know you need answers, and you deserve them.’

  ‘Aye, appreciate that; so what was that thing?’

  ‘An avatar sent by St Libra’s dominant life.’

  ‘Did it kill the North?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who was he; who did we pull out of the Tyne?’

  ‘Aldred. The avatar took on his identity.’

  Sid nodded weakly, giddy with the thought that he’d worked right alongside the alien imposter for months, talked to it, sat in cafés with it, accepted its reassurances about his future. And now he knew, he wished it made a difference. Right now he didn’t see one. ‘Why?’

  Clayton pulled a face. ‘That’s a long answer, and we’re leaving as soon as the gateway is dismantled. I can send the file for you. Some of it’s quite fascinating, though there’s a lot of history involved.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Sid blurted. He couldn’t take his eyes from the spaceship. That same sleek machine had been in his dreams for a week, shooting up to the stars, leaving him earth-bound and envious. Envious because it wasn’t his life.

  ‘The Sirius system,’ Clayton said. ‘We’re going to start a new world, Sid; build a fresh civilization from scratch. Among other things.’<
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  ‘But you’ve shut down the gateway. How will you get there?’

  ‘The long way round, I’m afraid.’ He gestured at the spaceship with a smile. ‘Fortunately they’re fast, and it’s only eight and a half lightyears away.’

  Sid felt his heart leap. Part of him ached with longing at the prospect. He looked at Jacinta, reading the fascination in her expression. ‘Take us with you,’ he said.

  *

  The Camilo Village school hall had quickly become their community centre once the snow and ice arrived. It allowed them all to cook big shared meals when the blizzards allowed, there were still classes for the kids, planning sessions for the adults, people coming together to solve problems, organize work parties. If Saul didn’t know the farms were buried under metres of snow, that no more food could be grown, he might almost have enjoyed the winter. But as the weeks progressed and they settled into a routine scavenging between storms, snippy rumours started to infiltrate their cosy world, about hoarders, about hidden stashes, about some people not pulling their weight.

  Those petty squabbles had instantly become irrelevant when the news came through the remnants of Abellia’s net that morning, telling them the Highcastle gateway had shut down. The last images from Newcastle were bewildering. Hundreds of spaceships falling from the sky, then nothing.

  Was Earth being invaded?

  Camilo villagers didn’t care about that. They had all trudged into the school hall without even being summoned. It was a town-council-style meeting, and a lot of fear was being vented in angry exchanges. Everybody in the village agreed they could keep going as they were for another couple of months, though the scavenger parties were now having to venture further each day – and they weren’t the only people stripping the unoccupied houses of their food. So far encounters with other groups had been peaceful, even collaborative on occasion. But they admitted that had just ended. They’d have to mark out their territory.

  Otto got up and began talking about building greenhouses so they could start growing their own food. People jeered and told him to shut up, told him that Brinkelle was growing food in vats. He yelled back, telling them all to get real; the farms were all under metres of snow and Brinkelle wasn’t riding to the rescue; if the Institute could grow food they’d be doing it by now.

  Isadora, Jevon, and Clara were quiet and subdued as the shouting grew louder and more acrimonious. Saul was wondering if bringing them to the meeting was a good idea, they deserved the truth, yes, but—

  The rancour was inevitable, he supposed, he could still remember the self-preservation frenzy that had possessed everyone on New Florida when the Zanthswarm began. Strange – he hadn’t thought of David and Alkhed for decades. Now he found himself wondering if the paramedics had ever made it back to Miami.

  Emily leaned over to him. ‘You should say something,’ she murmured.

  ‘Nobody’s listening.’

  ‘They will listen to you.’

  Which might have been true, but he didn’t know what to say. Maybe when things calmed down he could go round to people individually, try to build a consensus. It was more his style than a public slanging match.

  Then his e-i told him he had a call. And nothing mattered any more.

  Saul stood up, a look of utter serenity on his face. Otto and Gregor faltered in the middle of an insult storm, giving him puzzled glances, waiting for him to speak.

  Instead he smiled at his children. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  ‘Saul?’ Emily asked him nervously.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Someone’s here.’ He bustled his curious children and concerned wife out, making sure the little ones put their gloves on and pulled their hats down. The rest of the village watched them go in puzzled silence.

  ‘Saul?’ Otto queried.

  ‘You might want to see this, too,’ he said blithely. Those closest to him caught the glint of moisture in his eyes.

  The whole meeting poured out of the school hall, following close behind the Howard family. They were just in time to see a grey-green teardrop-shaped spaceship drop out of the aurora’s thrashing streamers to land softly on the ice-swamped beach. Saul walked towards it without hesitation. Isadora, Jevon, and Clara clung to him, awed by the strange wonder from the sky which their daddy knew about. Emily was silent, but sticking with her husband.

  As the airlock opened at the base of the spaceship, Saul turned to her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I never told you about any of this. I thought she was dead. I really did. I thought it was just me and you starting over together.’

  Even now he wasn’t sure. It was Angela who’d called him, yes, but . . .

  Two women walked out of the spacecraft. Angela was one of them, a woolly hat pulled well down against the frigid sea breeze, but still unable to contain her hair. The other had nearly identical hair, just darker and longer. And her face was enchantingly familiar.

  Saul burst into tears and opened his arms wide, frightened his legs would give way he was shaking so badly. Then Rebka was pressed up against him, cold nose nuzzling his face, and all emotional herself. ‘Hello, Dad.’

  *

  It was quite a party crammed into the bungalow’s lounge. Angela watched Saul putting a couple of new sparpine logs into the stove in the middle of the room. It was make-work; the stove was impressively hot, and this many people in one room wouldn’t need any extra heat. The giveaway was how he kept staring at Rebka, the adoration and wonder in his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, and clearly wasn’t going to be parted from his lost daughter by more than a couple of metres at best. Still, at least he’d stopped crying.

  Angela had to admit his other children were quite cute. Isadora, Jevon, and Clara were having their best day since the sunspots emerged. There was an actual spaceship parked outside, they had a brand-new big sister who was exciting and lots of fun, Dad was all funny because he was so happy. A whole bunch of interesting and important strangers were in their house, including an incredibly scary monster. All of which would give them a lot of kudos among their friends in the village afterwards. Angela grinned when little Clara ran up to Rebka and shyly offered up one of her cuddly toys, a green-furred monkey called Bananas One. Rebka was all smiles when she played with the toy, earning even more worship from the girl.

  That was the kind of scene that might have belonged to her and Saul if life had been different. Very different, she amended. But then if it had been different Rebka wouldn’t have been born.

  No regrets.

  Coby North and Raul were accepting mugs of tea from Emily. The woman hadn’t said much since the spaceship arrived. Angela was aware of some sharp glances being thrown her way. They were clearly going to have to have a long conversation some time soon.

  Emily hesitated in front of the Barclay-avatar, clearly wondering if she should offer it a mug. It shook its head fractionally, and Emily hurried on, relieved.

  Then there was Otto and Markos who were standing to one side, there to represent the village, but clearly at a loss what to make of their unexpected visitors. The other members of the convoy were being looked after in the school hall where they’d been promised showers in the restrooms. She imagined they’d be subject to a lot of questions right now.

  Paresh settled into the settee beside her, wincing as his strapped shoulder touched the armrest.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure. It’s a lot better now.’

  Angela knew he was making a big effort not to look at the Barclay-avatar. It had been quite a step forward for him to leave his carbine and pistol behind in the canyon.

  ‘Good to hear,’ she murmured. ‘Apparently there are some spare bungalows in Camilo. We’ll be moving in to one as soon as we can clear the snow off the roof and get it heated.’

  ‘Oh will we?’ he demurred.

  Which wasn’t her puppy boy at all. ‘Rebka and I will,’ she teased back. ‘I believe there’s a spare bedroom.’

  ‘I’ll take what I can get.’
>
  ‘Good.’ Her hand closed on his thigh and she lowered her voice. ‘And you’d better bring some painkillers for your ribs. Maximum dosage. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you and I have had sex?’

  ‘I am very aware of that number, yes.’ He broke off and smiled politely as Emily brought him a mug of tea over. Isadora followed her mother round with a pack of orange chocolate bourbons, eager to please.

  Angela took a couple and smiled her thanks at the curious girl.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ Coby North said. ‘I have to fly over to the mansion and explain what’s happening to Brinkelle.’

  ‘What’ll happen to us?’ Otto asked.

  ‘Ultimately, all humans will be leaving St Libra,’ Coby said.

  ‘What?’ Otto spluttered.

  Coby glanced over at the Barclay-avatar, as if seeking permission. ‘We’re trespassing here. It’s not our world.’

  ‘It might not be yours, but it is mine. My children were born here.’

  ‘So were ours,’ Saul said. ‘Listen to what’s being said, Otto. Listen carefully, because it’s not our world to be born into. We don’t have that right.’

  ‘Are the sunspots not enough to convince you?’ the Barclay-avatar asked.

  Otto gave him a frightened look.

  ‘Where are we going to go?’ Saul asked. ‘The gateway is closed.’

  ‘Sirius XIV,’ the Barclay-avatar told him. ‘It is further out than St Libra, but well inside this star’s life band. The rotation is twenty-three hours nineteen minutes, which I’m sure you can adapt to. And gravity is point-nine Earth standard. It even has iron ores in the crust. It will suit you well.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Emily said. ‘That planet has an atmosphere worse than Venus. We can’t live there. Nobody can.’

  ‘It is inhospitable now,’ the Barclay-avatar said. ‘But all things change. I have agreed to modify it for you. All you will need to do is provide the seeds to engender your own biosphere.’

  ‘Which Constantine will fly here,’ Coby said. ‘We have a gene-bank on the Jupiter habitat for just such an eventuality – well, not quite. But it’ll do.’

  ‘The gateway is closed,’ Otto growled. ‘Nobody can get here.’