Peter Hamilton - Great North Road

The news switched back to the gateway shoal. Another of the smaller teardrop spaceships was drifting upward. News copters played chicken with the squadron of HDA’s VTOL gunships, following it as it began to fly north, a couple of hundred meters 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 Center. 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 neighbors 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 around the amazed boy, his other arm around his wife and daughter. Twenty meters 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?”

“Abner. 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 Earthbound 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.”

“But you’ve shut down the gateway. How will you get there?”

“The long way around, I’m afraid.” He gestured at the spaceship with a smile. “Fortunately they’re fast, and it’s only eight and a half light-years 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 center once the snow and ice arrived. It allowed them all to cook big shared meals when the blizzards subsided; 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 meters 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 rumors started to infiltrate their cozy 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 farther 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 Brinkelle was growing food in vats. He yelled back, telling them all to get real; the farms were all under meters 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 rancor 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 around 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 anymore.

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 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 gray-green teardrop-shaped spaceship drop out of the aurora’s thrashing streamers to land softly on the ice-swamped beach. Saul walked toward it without hesitation. Isadora, Jevon, and Clara clung to him, awed by the strange wonder from the sky that their daddy knew about. Emily was silent, but sticking with her husband.