Peter Hamilton - Great North Road

As the air lock 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 meters as 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 afterward. 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 sometime 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 were 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 around 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 farther 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.”

“The Jupiter constellation will fly here through interstellar space,” Raul said. “Most of it is too big to fit through the gateway, anyway. In fact, it’s bringing the Newcastle end of the gateway with it.”

“Why?” Paresh asked.

“To reassemble on Sirius XIV,” Coby said. “That way, everyone on St. Libra can walk through. It’s a good deal. Without it, Sirius would remain redshifted until the planet is rid of us that way.”

“I have agreed with Constantine to end my disruption of Sirius. The sunspots will decline over the next two months,” the Barclay-avatar said. “Winter will end. You may spend the intervening years recovering and making ready. I will resume my mission as Zebediah, preparing the people of the Independencies for their departure.”

Saul and Emily let Angela have their spare room that night. Rebka was given Clara’s room, so the delighted six-year-old got to move in with a less-pleased Isadora.

“This stuff really smells,” Paresh complained as he wormed down into their makeshift bed. The spare room had only a single bed, so they’d pulled the mattress on the floor, added cushions from the bungalow’s sofas, and zipped a couple of sleeping bags together on top.

Angela had just come back from the bathroom, where every tile seemed to be ingrained with children’s toothstik gel. She glanced around the bedroom’s walls where Saul had stacked hundreds of sparpine logs so they could dry out, ready for burning in the stove. It was the first time since the sunspot outbreak that she’d experienced any of St. Libra’s scents. This one was quite acidic. “Not so bad,” she murmured.

“Have you spoken to Emily yet?” he asked.

“No. I’ll do it tomorrow. I think it’s best she gets to talk things through with Saul first.”