Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

“Yes.”

Inigo peered around, unable to contain his excitement. “So where is he?”

Aaron held up a finger for silence. On cue a woman’s rhythmic groans could be heard from the open bedroom window.

“Ah,” Inigo muttered. “What’s he like?”

“Not pleased to see me and especially not you.”

“Yeah. We never did hit it off.” He stood up cautiously and went over to Corrie-Lyn. His field scan ran a fast check. “So what’s the plan?”

“I’ll tell you when Ozzie comes down.”

“Whatever.” Inigo wandered into the house and found the kitchen. After a burst of enthusiastic compliments at discovering the culinary unit sitting amid all the historic cooking appliances, he started issuing it a complicated list. Several maidbots followed him back out to the veranda, carrying contemporary dishes: meal for two.

Corrie-Lyn finally shook off the sedative amid a flurry of cursing and groans. After a moment hugging a relieved Inigo, she shot Aaron a vicious glare. “Bastard.”

“We’re alive. The Chikoya can’t locate us. And I’ve found Ozzie.”

“So where is he?”

“I’m sure he’ll join us soon.”

“He’s not happy about this,” Inigo explained.

“Tell him to get in line.” But she relented when Inigo led her over to the table where the maidbots had laid out the meal. “Oh, wow, real food.” She hesitated.

“It’s genuine,” Inigo reassured her.

She grinned her gratitude and started wolfing down the keanfish starter, dipping the tassels into a plum and rador sauce. Aaron went into the kitchen and ordered his own meal from the culinary unit, eating it alone on the scrubbed pine table.

An hour later Ozzie still hadn’t come down. It was pushing the screw-you point a little far, Aaron decided. Inigo and Corrie-Lyn were chatting happily on the veranda, holding hands at the table like a couple on a first date as they finished their second bottle of wine. All the scene lacked was candles and twilight. The chamber’s light hadn’t varied since they’d arrived.

Aaron went upstairs and knocked politely on the bedroom door. There was no answer. Ozzie was being deliberately difficult, which was understandable but unacceptable. He went into the room. It was dark inside, with the big wooden shutters closed and the slats down. Ozzie and the woman were cuddled up on the bed. The woman was sleeping. Colorful patterns on her space-black body glowed in phosphorescent hues, shifting slowly in time with her breathing. Aaron hesitated at that. They reminded him of OCtattoos, a technology from so long ago that he didn’t even understand where the memory had come from.

Ozzie raised his head and peered at Aaron. “What, dude?”

“Quicker we start, the quicker it’s over.”

“This is the middle of the night, you moron.”

Aaron gestured at the light spilling in through the open door.

“Yeah? So? The light never goes out in Octoron. You make your own days here, man. And this is my night. Now take a hike.”

“No. You come downstairs now and greet Inigo.”

“Or what?”

“I start getting unpleasant.”

“Fucking fascist.” Ozzie slithered off the bed, muttering. “Drown in your own shit.” He found a silk robe and tugged the belt tight emphatically. “Used to some goddamn respect in my own home.” He combed his fingers through his mass of wavering wayward hair.

“I know. Turn your back for a moment and the whole Ozziedamned universe falls to barbarism.”

Ozzie glared at him for a long moment. It actually made Aaron nervous. Secondary routines were poised to activate his biononic defenses.

“Don’t push it, creepy boy,” Ozzie growled.

“Sorry, but you’re not making my life easy.”

Ozzie stomped past him out onto the first-floor landing. “That’s not what I was born to do.”

“So what with all this daylight, I guess I don’t have to worry myself too much over those vampires,” Aaron said to the legend’s back.

Inigo and Corrie-Lyn glanced around as Ozzie walked out onto the veranda, looking for all the world like guilty schoolkids. Inigo started to get up. “This wasn’t my idea, but I’m genuinely pleased we can finally-” He began.

“No shit, asshole.” Ozzie dropped down hard in one of the chairs around the table. He gave the remains of the meal a suspicious look and picked up a tantrene sausage. “Get on with it.”

“Okay, then. So what’s the plan?” Inigo asked Aaron.

Aaron sat at the table, trying to project the impression of a reasonable moderator. “My original goal was to take you into the Void,” he told Inigo. “The intention was to establish a link with the Heart or nucleus or whatever it is that has sentient control of high-level functions in there. With that communication channel open, it was hoped to initiate negotiations.”

Ozzie shrugged. “Makes sense in a lame-ass sort of way. We know we can’t shoot the thing down or blow it up. Who would negotiate?”

“I’m not aware what form the negotiations were to take. My job was to secure the link. After that … I’d know.”

“How in the Lady’s name was I supposed to start talking to the Heart?” Inigo asked incredulously. “Haven’t you people shared any of my dreams? You only reach the Heart after you have achieved fulfillment.”

“There is a methodology, I know,” Aaron said. “That is, I’m certain I have procedures to follow once we get inside.”

Inigo threw up his hands and slumped back in his chair for a sulk.

“Told you so,” Corrie-Lyn said smugly. “This whole mission is a complete waste of time. You murdered hundreds of people for nothing .”

“So why come here, man?” Ozzie asked. “Why me? Everyone who knows me in the Commonwealth knows I don’t do this kind of shit anymore. And your boss knows me, too much.”

“There are several ways I would expect you to help. One would be an ultradrive ship we can use to fly to the Void.”

“Dude, you need to stay current. Okay, first off, I don’t have an ultradrive. If I need that kind of shit … well, let’s just say I’ve got an arrangement with ANA. It’ll send me one if I ask. But we can’t ask anymore, can we? Second, your replacement”-he stabbed a forefinger at Inigo-“has just launched.”

“The Pilgrimage?” Corrie-Lyn asked. There was awe in her voice.

“Oh, yeah, babe. They’re truly that dumb.”

“How do you know?” Aaron asked.

“Myraian grooves all that cruddy gossip from the Commonwealth.”

“Myraian? The lady upstairs?”

“Yeah. The lady upstairs. Who, I’ll tell you for free, is mighty peed off with all of you right now, not least over mindspace crashing, so watch your mouth. I got a private TD link from the Spike to the Commonwealth. So even if you’re out of my gaiafield’s range, you can still get to dig what Araminta’s been doing.”

Inigo ignored the jibe about the gaiafield. “It will take them months to reach the Void, so-”

Ozzie’s harsh laughter cut him off. “Seriously, man, you need to get current. I’m going to open my house net for you to access. Catch up, and we’ll talk again in the morning. You know, before you leave in a cloud of gloom and defeat.”

He left them on the veranda and went back upstairs. At the last he opened his gaiamotes a fraction.

Inigo didn’t like the arrogance he exuded one little bit; it verged on smugness. Standard communication icons were slipping up into his exovision as the house’s nodes acknowledged his u-shadow. “We’d better see what’s been going on,” he said.

“Yeah,” Aaron agreed. His gaiamotes gave nothing away, but he sounded troubled.

Ozzie’s temper had improved slightly when he came down for breakfast the next morning. That was deliberately quite a while after he’d woken the first time. He and Myraian had gone at it the way they had the night before, and after that he’d dozed contentedly for an hour. Then there was a shower-none of that modern itchy spore crap that clogged up his hair but a proper hot water and scented gel affair. Myraian hadn’t joined him, which was a shame, but you couldn’t have everything in life. Well, actually you could if you’d lived as long as he had, but then you learned not to be too demanding of people. They were transient enough without the stresses and strains everyone unwittingly put on a relationship. It had taken a long time for him to learn why it was women never stayed with him beyond a couple of decades, so now he knew how to treat them right. Or at least fake treating them right.