Peter Hamilton - The Mandel Files

“What will you do?” Vassili asked.

“Find out where Charlotte Fielder got the flower from, then go and meet the alien.”

Vassili gripped both of his hands. “Gregory, if this alien turns out to be a threat, do not keep the knowledge to yourself. Do not become like the kombinates, and seek to gain advantage from it. It is the concern of all the peoples of this world.”

“If it’s dangerous, I’ll scream the house down, no messing. No matter what Julia Evans or Royan might say.”

“Good, for I confess, what you have told me about this alien has frightened me. This is very strange behaviour for a sentient creature. I am forced to say suspicious. Hiding like this, contacting weapons merchants before governments. Not good. You listen to me, my command network is plugged into the Chinese and Eastern Federation Co-Defence League’s Strategic Defence platforms, and I am authorized to use them. I have the codes, and I am prepared to activate the systems, Gregory, on your word.”

“That’s… quite a responsibility.”

“You are a soldier, Gregory, a true soldier. You will do what’s right, I know you will.” Vassili let go of his hands, and clapped him on the shoulder again, grinning. “Besides, since when did you go into battle without covering fire, eh? A soldier’s most important maxim. Backup, Gregory. I will be your backup, once again.” He shook his head, grin turning to a mock scowl. “Bah, listen to us. Two ageing warriors lost in the past. Portentous, are we not?”

“Very, but at least nobody else knows.”

Vassili laughed.

“One last thing,” Greg said. “Can you run another name through the Federal Crime Directorate memory core for me?”

“Surely. Whose criminal misdeeds do you wish exposed now?”

“Dmitri Baronski.”

They told Charlotte about Baronski after she woke up. It was his death which finally cancelled all her links with the past. She had relied on him so much, which she hadn’t realized up until then. But now there was nothing left for her, nothing at all; no one to call, nowhere to go.

So she made it her job to look after Fabian. The last promise made to a dead man. And Fabian needed looking after. His life had been fifteen years of luxury, of staff existing solely to run around after him, of any material possession he wanted a single phone call away. That was all he knew. He went into major sulks if his meals weren’t ready on time. And now he’d seen his home and father fall out of the sky. Burning.

She was sure the Event Horizon medics didn’t appreciate how deep it went. They had written him off as another shock case. Tranquilizers, a couple of weeks’ therapy, a few months to recover, and it would all be over. They were used to treating combat casualties, not lost, traumatized teenagers.

He wouldn’t even cry any more. They were given a room together in the platform’s little clinic. She had woken some time after midnight to see him lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He spent the rest of the night nestled in her arms, dozing off in the early hours.

After breakfast the duty nurse found her some clothes; a pair of stonewashed Levi’s, trainers, and an Organic Flux Capacity tour sweatshirt. She turned up the bottom of the Levi’s to stop them from flopping over the trainers, and asked for a belt to pinch the oversize waist. Charlotte stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and shuddered. A Grunge disciple dressing down. At least nobody I know will see me wearing this, thank heavens.

Then it was time to wait again. None of the clinic staff quite seemed to know what their status was, whether they were guests or prisoners.

Suzi had been in the next room, her knee wrapped in bioware membranes, plugged into medical ‘ware stacks with thick bundles of fibre-optic cable. Charlotte had thanked her for getting them off the Colonel Maitland, had a few words; but Suzi didn’t know what was going on either. “Greg’ll be back soon,” she said. “We’ll find out what’s going down then. And you’ll have your big moment.” The casual way she said it chilled Charlotte, like she didn’t have any choice but to tell them what they wanted to know, reducing her to a cyborg. Her life was being programmed by others. Nothing really new in that. But that didn’t make it the same.

Delivering that bloody flower. Her one spark of independence in years. She knew she shouldn’t have done it. But delivering a flower from a lover-it was just fun. Harmless fun. How could it possibly have ended like this?

Baronski would have known what to do next. In fact, he would have warned her off in the first place. If only she had confided in him.

In the end, Fabian’s blank-faced suffering had got to her. She asked to go outside for a breath of fresh air. They even had to have a hardline escort for that.

Outside was heat, noise, and the smell. They walked along one side of the platform, looking down on the two-metre generator vent pipes peeing brown water into the ocean, it stank of salt and sulphur. The bass thundering noise of the cascades made her feel queasy.

“Pure shark shit,” said Josh Bailey, the crash team member who was with them. “We have to live with it the whole time. I’m almost immune by now.”

“Lucky you.” Charlotte knew she ought to show an interest. “Establish a minimum rapport with everyone you meet,” Baronski had told her. “Try to understand where they fit into life, how they relate to you.” Except it all seemed a little pointless now.

Fabian leant on the rail and stared silently at the three waterfalls staining the green ocean. It was green, she saw, because of the minute algae flecks floating in it. Like thick soup.

She put her hand over his. “He wouldn’t have felt anything, Fabian.”

“You saw that gondola! He burnt to death. It’s a horrible way to die.”

“He would have been unconscious from the smoke long before the flames reached the study.”

His head twisted round, eyes frantic for a moment, wanting to believe. “Do you think so?”

“Whenever houses catch on fire, that’s always the reason people don’t get out; overcome by smoke.”

“Oh.” He dropped his head again to stare at the sloppy water. “I’ve never lived in a house.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Yes. I suppose…” He stiffened, speaking with brittle dignity. “I suppose you’ll be leaving me now.”

“No, not unless you want me to.”

He glanced up, too frightened to believe. “But you’re not being paid any more. And I heard them tell you Baronski is dead.”

“Fabian.” She turned him to face her, putting her hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away. “Your father’s money never bought you the time we spent together.”

He started crying as his mouth parted in a smile.

“Oh, Fabian.” She cuddled him to her, kissing the top of his head. His arms tightened round her with desperate strength.

“I’m frightened,” he croaked.

“So am I. But it isn’t so bad if you’ve got someone to share it with you.”

They embraced for a long time. Being that close, wordless but knowing, wasn’t something she wanted to break. And she had told him the truth, fear was easier to weather this way.

She saw the Pegasus slide out of the western sky, three sharply pointed fighter planes enclosing it in a tight formation. It was heading straight for the platform. Charlotte watched it knowingly, a little twist of tension rising.

Josh Bailey’s cybofax bleeped.

“Don’t bother,” she told him. “That’ll be for me.”

Fabian tagged along automatically behind her. It could have been a problem when they reached the conference room, Josh Bailey looked like he was about to object, but Charlotte sent him a silent plea, and he shrugged, waving them both through the door.