Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

This time the moisture staining his cheeks wasn’t coming from his brow.

“So when do you think Inigo is going to get to Makkathran?” he asked to distract himself from death, which was surely going to hit at any moment. He was still amazed at Paula Myo calling to tell Gore that Inigo, a weird duo-multiple Araminta, and a team of her agents had somehow raced Troblum’s starship ahead of the Pilgrimage fleet.

“It really shouldn’t be long, son. You’ll be out of there and back with your girls before you know it.”

“Yeah, sure.” His one remaining satisfaction was knowing that he was doing something to help Lizzie and the girls. By contrast, it would have been awful to be stuck inside the Sol barrier with them, not knowing what was happening outside, whether there was any hope. Not much, but enough , he promised his family. Given the not so small miracle Gore had worked in getting Inigo to help, he’d convinced himself there was a chance. A very small one, but it was real. All he had to do now was rendezvous with the siphon.

It took another fifty minutes to maneuver through the macrosurges of the convection zone’s deathly environment before the fifty-kilometer circle of the siphon force field was directly underneath Last Throw . Hysradar showed the torrent of two-million-degree hydrogen streaming in through the rim. The Delivery Man guided the starship across the curving upper surface of the giant lens shape and then slowly down until it was nose-on to the edge.

“That’s the weak part,” Gore said. “Show me what you can do.”

The Last Throw eased forward until its force field actually touched the protective shield around the siphon. That was when the Delivery Man finally got to feel some physical aspect of the flight. A low thrumming reverberated through the cabin as the starship was caught between the force field and the plasma hurtling past. He could feel the decking vibrate and grinned weakly. Maybe tranquillity was preferable, after all.

Sensors could just manage to scan through the semipermeable segment of the force field it was pressed against. The smartcore began to probe what it could of the siphon’s quantum signature, tracing ghostly outlines of the gigantic generator sheltered inside the force field. The map of its structure built slowly. Eventually there was enough for the Delivery Man to begin the second stage.

The Last Throw activated several TD channels, which were directed with impressive accuracy at the siphon’s control network. Low-level connections were created, and a software analysis was initiated.

“It’s not the same kind of semisentient that controls the elevation mechanism,” the Delivery Man reported. “More like a distributed AI routine, although the parallels with Commonwealth genetic software are minimal.”

“Can it be hacked?”

“There are a lot of safeguards, including an external override which will have to be neutralized, but the smartcore says we have several infiltrator packages which should work.”

“Launch them.”

It’s Gore . That was the thought Oscar awoke to. The medical capsule’s cover withdrew, showing a blurred figure peering down at him in the cargo hold’s dim green-tinged light. Gore is expecting someone to join Justine, and that’s what Aaron was committed to. Gore is Aaron’s controller .

The face above him resolved into Araminta-two, whose mind was badly agitated.

“It’s Gore,” Oscar croaked. Suspension had left him with stiff muscles everywhere and an embarrassingly full bladder.

“What is?” Araminta-two asked.

“The person behind Aaron, or at least one of them.”

“Oh. You mean because he’s directing everyone to Makkathran? Yeah, I figured that one out a few months back. Even Aaron agreed.”

“Ah. Right. Need to pee.” Oscar levered himself upright on his elbows and nearly banged his head on the ceiling of the forward cargo hold. There wasn’t much room between the bulky medical cabinets. He saw that three of them were already empty.

I thought I was supposed to be first out . “Everything okay?”

“Just about,” Araminta-two answered with a whole load of glumness. Oscar gave him a good look; the Dreamer was wearing a baggy blue T-shirt and gray-green trousers that had a lot of spare fabric. For a moment Oscar thought he was dressing in Troblum’s old clothes before acknowledging the style was deliberately feminine. “What’s up? Have we arrived?”

“Our Skylord is decelerating us into Querencia orbit. Troblum has already detected the Silverbird ’s beacon, so we know where Makkathran is. No need for observational orbits.”

“That’s good.” He really needed to pee.

“It’s been touch and go with Aaron,” Araminta-two blurted.

“Why?”

“His memories of the Cat are breaking through. He spends longer and longer asleep, wrestling with his nightmares. Yesterday he was only awake for five hours. And his body’s having some kind of psychosomatic reaction, I think enhanced by his psychic ability.”

“Oh, crap.” Oscar hunched down and made his way along the companionway to the main cabin. His u-shadow connected him to the smartcore, and an exoimage display showed him the planet ahead, expanding quite rapidly as they decelerated into orbit. “Seventy-three minutes out? And we spent three and a half months traveling. Not bad.” He made it into the cabin to find Inigo, Corrie-Lyn, and Tomansio waiting for him. “Gotta go.” He pointed urgently at the washroom cubicle. They all waved him on, offering sympathetic thoughts.

He was just sealing his fly when the deluge of senses hit him hard, foreign thoughts slicing clean through his basic mental shield, bringing vertiginous light, sensation, sound, taste, along with a primeval fear that numbed his hands as he tumbled down into someone else’s life.

It had been a fabulous holiday. When evening came, they’d taken one of the hundreds of tourist boats that nosed around the piers of Tridelta City and headed up the Dongara River for a night of partying and native spectacle. The planet’s native bioluminescent vegetation didn’t disappoint, glowing vividly against the dark skies. And the lounges on the boat provided a lot of wild fun, impressing even the most jaded passenger.

They disembarked at dawn and went back to their hotel on the top of the old Kinoki Tower three kilometers above the muddy waters of the rivers that shimmied around the city groynes. Daytime was spent eating, sleeping, and having furious sex. The Cat had no inhibitions, which was yet another reason he loved her so. Provocative and daring, she exhausted him and still wanted more, telling him what she expected his poor old flesh to perform.

“Let me have just one break.” He laughed, reaching for some of the chilled wine. But the bottle was lying on its side where it’d been kicked. He gave it a depressed stare and told his u-shadow to connect to-

The Cat rolled him onto his back and straddled him. A delightful victorious smile lit up her cute face. “Wrong answer,” she said, grinning. Her hand closed around his wrist, and the skin burned beneath her fingers. He screamed as the charred flesh welded itself onto the mattress. She gripped the other hand and seared that down, too. “Nobody denies me,” she told him.

He screamed again as she began on his ankles, spread-eagling him so he was held immobile by the stringy remains of his own smoldering flesh. Then her hands stroked nimbly along his chest. She stiffened her fingers and powered them down like a knife. Bones cracked, and blood welled up in deep punctures. “With your body gone, I will take your mind and finally your soul,” she promised. He screamed and screamed and twisted with all his strength to escape, prizing himself free-