Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

This first encounter , she corrected herself. Or should that be … In the end she decided human grammar hadn’t quite caught up with the Void’s abilities.

Whatever strange temporal adjustment the Skylord had made to facilitate their acceleration ended soon afterward. Ahead of them, the few stars shining amid the nebulae had acquired a blue tinge to their spectrum, and those behind stretched down into the red. The Silverbird ’s smartcore determined that they were now traveling at about point nine three lightspeed. On board, glitches were reducing to acceptable levels, and her vertigo faded away.

She let out a huge sigh of relief, then grinned ruefully. “Thanks, Dad,” she said out loud. Trust him to figure out what to do. Her good humor faded as she acknowledged that others would be coming into the Void; that damned Pilgrimage would also go a-hunting for Querencia. So has the Second Dreamer agreed to lead them? And how the hell are they ever going to get past the Raiel in the Gulf?

Gore had told her to concentrate on getting to Makkathran, so she’d just have to trust that he knew what he was doing, which didn’t exactly inspire her with confidence. He’d have a plan of some kind, but it probably wouldn’t be one she approved of.

No, forget probably; it just won’t be .

Not that she had a lot of alternatives.

Once they were under way, the Silverbird ’s smartcore plotted their course vector. Justine examined the projection, which extended a sharp green line past a purple and scarlet nebula shaped like a slipper orchid. The nebula was eleven light-years distant, and wherever they were heading for beyond that was invisible, blocked by nebula light and pyres of black interstellar dust.

After breakfast and a bout of exercise in the ship’s gym, Justine sat back on the couch and longtalked the Skylord.

“How long will it take for us to reach the solid world we’re traveling to?”

“Until we reach it.”

She almost smiled; it really was like talking to a five-year-old savant. “The world orbits its star at a constant rate. How many times will it have gone around by the time we arrive?” Then all she had to worry about was if the Skylord even had a concept of numbers; after all, why would a spaceborne creature need to develop math?

“The world you seek will have gone around its star thirty-seven times by the time we arrive there.”

Crap! And a Querencia year is a lot longer than an Earth year. Don’t their months last for something like forty days? “I understand. Thank you.”

“Will others of your kind come into the universe soon?”

“The one your kindred spoke to, the one who asked you to let me in; she will lead them here. Listen for her.”

“All of my kindred do.”

That sent a slight chill down Justine’s spine. “I would like to sleep for the rest of the flight.”

“As you wish.”

“If anything happens, I will waken.”

“What will happen?”

“I don’t know. But if anything changes, I will be awake to talk to you about it.”

“Change in this universe is finding fulfillment. If you are asleep, you will not reach fulfillment.”

“I see. Thank you.”

She spent a further half day getting ready, checking various systems, loading in a whole series of instructions about what constituted a reason for the smartcore to bring her back out of suspension. In the end she acknowledged she was just killing time. The last thing she did as she got undressed was shut down the confluence nest, ensuring that there would be no more of her amplified dreams leaking out to warp reality with such unexpected consequences. That brought back the one thought she’d been trying to avoid. Her mind lingered on the Kazimir she’d abandoned on the slopes of the ersatz Mount Herculaneum. All that was left of him now was a pattern in the Void’s memory layer. It wasn’t fair to have lived for such a short time only to be unmade.

I will make you real again , Justine promised her poignant recollection of him. She lay down in the medical cabinet and activated the suspension function.

HUNGER AND A NAGGING pain woke Araminta. At first she was woefully drowsy as she lay on the motel bed. Bright daylight was shining around the window blinds, warming the still air. Her stiff muscles protested as she tried to shuffle herself to a sitting position. Every part of her ached. Her feet throbbed. When she pulled the duvet aside to look at them, she actually winced at the sight.

“Oh, Ozzie.”

Well! It was no good just lying about feeling sorry for herself; the first thing was to get her feet cleaned up a bit. She eased her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stripped off her filthy clothes. Without doubt, they were ruined; she’d have to get rid of them.

The room had a cybersphere node beside the bed so old that it was probably the one installed as soon as the drycoral had finished growing into shape. Araminta started tapping away on its small keyboard, using the new account she’d opened at the Spanish Crepes office. Miledeep Water didn’t have a touchdown mall, but Stoneline Street at its center had a plethora of small stores that sold everything she needed. One by one she accessed their semisentient management programs and placed her orders, adding the items to the delivery service she’d hired.

She ran the bathwater at just below body temperature, then sat on the side and gingerly eased her feet in. The water soaked away the worst of the dirt and dried blood, leaving them looking slightly improved. She was letting them dry when there was a knock on the door. Thankfully, the motel supplied toweling robes. She’d assumed the delivery service would be a courier case floating along on regrav, all nice and impersonal. Instead, once she’d hobbled over to the door, a young teenage girl called Janice was waiting outside, wearing a cap with the delivery company’s logo and carrying a couple of large shoulder bags.

Araminta was thankful her hair was still all messed up and the threadbare robe was a ridiculous white and red stripe. Even if the girl knew all about the Second Dreamer, she’d never recognize her in this state.

“I think Ranto was pulling into the park out front,” Janice said as she handed the bags over to Araminta.

“Ranto?”

“You ordered takeaway from Smoky James? He runs delivery for them.”

“Ah. Yes. Right.” Araminta couldn’t work out if Janice was angling for a tip. It said a lot about Miledeep Water’s economy that they used people instead of bots for a service like this. In any case, Araminta could remember how only half a year ago she depended on the tips at Nik’s, so she produced the cash coin, which was obviously the right thing to do as Janice smiled in gratitude.

Ranto appeared before the door was even shut, handing over the five thermplastic boxes of food from Smoky James. That immediately kicked up a dilemma. Araminta was desperate to use some of the medical kit she’d bought, but the smell wafting out of the food boxes was too much for her stomach; she could actually hear it churning. She sat back on the bed and kept her feet off the floor as she started to open the boxes. There were pancakes in berry syrup and cream, followed by an all-day breakfast of smoked bacon, local chulfy eggs scrambled, hash browns, baked galow, and fried mushrooms; the drinks box had iced orange juice and a liter flask of English breakfast tea, and she finished with toasted muffins. By the time she’d finished eating, her feet didn’t seem to be aching quite so badly as before. Nonetheless, she applied the antiseptic cleaner, wincing at how much it stung, then sprayed both feet with artificial skin, sealing in the abused flesh. When she finished, she just curled up on the mattress where she was and went straight back to sleep.