Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

That was the life-the lives-that awaited her in the Void.

She could even feel the Skylord’s thoughts at the back of her mind. All she had to do was call it. Say: take me in.

Such a simple thing to do. Three little words, and I would be happy forever .

But it was also the life that awaited everyone who went with her. And the energy it took to fuel such egotistic wish fulfillment came from consuming the rest of the galaxy. Every star, every planet, every biological body-they were what supplied the atoms it took to make the Void’s magnificent ability possible. The ones who paid the price.

“I can’t,” she told the darkened chalet. “I will not do that.”

The decision made her skin chill and her heart flutter. But it had been made now. Her resolution would not waver. Logic and instinct were as one. This is who I am. This is what makes me .

Araminta slowly sat upright. It was still night outside, with maybe three hours left until dawn. She needed a drink and some decent dreamless sleep. There was still some of the English breakfast tea in the flask from Smoky James. She rolled off the bed and saw the red text drifting down the unisphere node’s little screen on top of the bedside cabinet. She blinked at it and read it again.

Tea and sleep abruptly forgotten, she knelt in front of the bedside cabinet and used the keyboard to bring up the news articles. Her gaiamotes opened slightly, allowing her to know the horror and fear flooding through the gaiafield. It wasn’t a hoax. The Accelerator Faction had imprisoned Earth. ANA was gone. The rest of the Commonwealth was on its own. She stared numbly at the screen for a long moment, then accessed the code in her storage lacuna and typed it in.

Laril’s face appeared, gaunt and apprehensive, with drawn skin and deep bags under his eyes. “Oh, thank fuck,” he wheezed. “Are you okay? I’ve been going frantic.”

She smiled. It was the only way she could stop herself from bursting into tears. “I’m okay,” she promised him with a voice that wavered dangerously.

“And you’re-” He frowned, his head shaking from side to side as he focused on exovision displays. “You’re on Chobamba. How did you get there?”

“Long story. Laril, they’ve taken away the Earth!”

“I know. ANA was the only thing that could stop this.”

“Yes. Someone helped me. Oscar, his name was Oscar. I’d never have gotten out of Bodant Park without him. He said he worked for ANA. He said he would help me. I was thinking I might call him, ask ANA to help me. What do I do now?”

“That depends on what you’ve decided. Are you going to help Living Dream get into the Void?”

“No. It can’t happen. They’ll wipe out the galaxy.”

“Okay, that brings your options down to three.”

“Go on.”

“Ask the navy for protection. If anyone has the firepower to stand up to the Accelerators, it’s them.”

“Yes. That’s good. What else?”

“This Oscar person. If he does work for ANA, he should also be able to keep you away from Living Dream. He’ll probably have resources which none of the others do.”

“What’s the last one?”

“Side with a faction that is opposed to the Advancers and Living Dream.”

“But there aren’t any factions left.”

“They’re locked up inside the Sol barrier, but their agents are still out here in the Commonwealth. And they’re all looking for you. I can negotiate with one for you. Get them to take you away, safe, where no one will ever find you.”

“Then what? Running away doesn’t solve anything. This has to be finished.”

“My darling Araminta, there is no ‘finish.’ The Void has been there for a billion years, more probably. The Raiel couldn’t get rid of it; the Commonwealth certainly can’t.”

“Somebody must be able to. There has to be a way.”

“Maybe ANA knew how.”

“They’ll get the Earth out eventually,” she said, suddenly fearful. “Won’t they? They’ll be trying? They must be.”

“Yes. Of course they will. They’ll be trying very hard indeed. The rest of the Commonwealth, certainly the Inner worlds, have a lot of talent and ability and resources, more than you realize. They’ll bring down the barrier.”

“Right, then,” she said, trying to convince herself. “I’ll take that option. I’ll call Oscar.”

Laril smiled weakly. “That’s my Araminta. Would you like me to call him for you?”

She nodded. “Please. I’m too scared to access the unisphere.”

“All right. Have you got a code for him?”

“Yes.” She started typing it in.

“That’s good. I’ll make-”

The image on the screen broke apart into a hash of blue and red static.

“Laril!” she gasped.

The static swirled, then formed bright green letters: Araminta, please access this.

She scuttled backward across the floor. “No,” she gasped. “No, what is this? What’s happening?”

“Araminta,” the node’s speaker said. It was a female voice, composed and authoritative. “This is a shotgun message into Chobamba’s cybersphere. All nodes will receive it and broadcast it to every address code; it will also be held in storage until purged, which should take a while. Hopefully that gives it long enough to reach you somehow. I am not aiming it at you directly, because I don’t know precisely where you are. Living Dream has discovered you are on Chobamba, but they haven’t yet determined your exact position. Don’t use the gaiafield again; they have very sophisticated tracking routines in the confluence nests. Several teams of combat-enriched operatives are working on finding you, the same type of people responsible for the Bodant Park massacre. You must leave immediately. I’d advise you to use the route you took to get there. It is relatively safe. Do not hesitate. Time is now a critical factor. Please know, there are people working to help you. The Commonwealth Navy is capable of protecting you. Ask for their aid. Go now.”

Araminta stared at the node in disbelief; the green lettering remained on the screen, casting a pale glow across the darkened chalet. “Oh, sweet Ozzie!” It came out in a pitiful squeal. They know I’m here. Everyone knows I’m here . The woman was right; she had to leave. But it would take hours to reach the start of the path out in the desert. She looked around the chalet as her initial panic tipped over into desperation, seeing everything she’d bought, the gear that was essential for a trek along the paths between worlds. It was heavy. She could hardly run carrying it all with her, certainly not that far. Then she glanced at the Smoky James wrappers, which she hadn’t got around to putting in the trash chute, and an idea formed.

Smoky James was good. Araminta had to admit that. It was three o’clock in the morning, and they took only twenty minutes to deliver the pizza and fries with a flask of coffee. The contraption Ranto was riding as he pulled up in front of Araminta’s chalet was something she’d never seen before-an absurdly primitive three-wheeled bike of some kind, presumably the great-great-granddaddy of a modern trike pod. It didn’t look safe, with a leather saddle seat slung in the center of an open black carbon frame that had its fair share of repair patches, like epoxy bandages swelling the struts. The axle-drive wheels were connected to the frame on long magnetic suspension dampers, which didn’t quite seem to match. Ranto was steering it manually with a set of chrome-orange handlebars. With a sinking heart, Araminta guessed this was necessity rather than preference. It wasn’t going to have any kind of smart technology ready to assume the driving and navigation functions.

He clambered off and pulled the pizza carton out of a big pannier behind the saddle.