Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

Finally, the smartcore admitted he was on the approved list of people allowed to fly the ship and granted him flight command status. The Delivery Man breathed out heavily and ordered the airlock open. Directly above him the base of the starship sank inward and produced a dark cavity. Gravity inverted, and he slipped up into the small spherical chamber. The floor contracted beneath his feet, and the apex opened. He rose into the hemispherical cabin.

Systems came back on line as the smartcore readied the ship for flight. Everything was functional; the formidable armaments were all ready. The Delivery Man ordered a single fat chair for himself and sat down gratefully as it extruded from the floor. With the ship under his command, he was a player again; it bestowed a lot of confidence.

He called the “executive” on a secure link.

“You made it, then,” his unknown ally said.

“Sure.”

“And Araminta’s skipped off down the Silfen paths. You know, I’d genuinely like to meet her one day. She’s made complete idiots out of the most powerful organizations in the Greater Commonwealth. You’ve got to admire that.”

“She’s been lucky,” the Delivery Man commented. “That’s going to run out.”

“People make their own luck.”

“Whatever.”

“Is the ship ready?”

The Delivery Man took a moment before answering. “I’m sorry, but in the end my family is all that matters to me. I think it would be best if I went after Marius.”

“He’s already left Fanallisto. His ship took off about fifteen minutes after Lady Rasfay launched. You maybe see a connection there, supersecret agent?”

“I’ll find him.”

“Not alone, you won’t. Besides, I’m the best chance for your family’s survival.”

“I don’t know what you are or where your loyalties lie.”

“I said I would give you proof, and I will. Here are the coordinates. Come and get it.”

The Delivery Man studied the data that arrived. “The Leo Twins? What’s there?”

“Hope. And maybe just some salvation thrown in for good measure. Come on, sonny, what have you got to lose? It’s going to take you a few hours at most to get there. If you don’t like what you find, then you’re free to turn around and launch yourself into your whole honorable quest thing. I think you owe the Conservative Faction this much, don’t you?”

The Delivery Man regarded the ridiculous coordinate for a long time. The only possible thing at the Leo Twins would be some kind of secret Conservative Faction facility. After all, he reasoned, they had to make their ultradrive ships somewhere. In which case, why would they need this ship back there? “Can’t you just level with me?”

“Okay, then: As far as I know, I’m the only one with a valid plan to save the galaxy from Ilanthe and the Void.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Does ANA have a plan, or, rather, did it? Does the navy? Do any of the other faction survivors? Maybe you wanna go bold and ask MorningLightMountain? Release the big fella from behind that barrier and it’ll certainly wipe us out: Problem solved if you’re looking at the overall big picture. Or … oh, no, don’t tell me you think the President and the Senate will produce a way out. You’re going to entrust the fate of the galaxy to politicians?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Just stop whining and get yourself over to the Leo Twins. You’ll have your answers there, I promise.”

“Just tell me.”

“Can’t. Don’t trust you enough.”

“What?”

“The stakes are too high. I can’t predict what you’ll do at this stage. And I do have other options if you fail me. Not as good as you, though. That means the best chance your Lizzie and the kids have is you and me teaming up. Something you might want to think on.”

The link closed.

“Shit!” The Delivery Man thumped his fist against the chair’s resilient cushioning. He knew he didn’t really have a choice. “Take us to the Leo Twins,” he told the smartcore.

From a nightside orbit, Darklake City was a blaze of light over a hundred fifty kilometers across, infested with strange lightless sections where the lakes and the steepest mountains had repelled any attempts at development throughout its nearly fifteen-hundred-year human history. Sited in the subtropical zone of Oaktier, the capital was a monument to both progress and classicalism. Its ancient core district of crystal skyscrapers and vermilion-shaded condo-pyramids had flourished as the world became Higher, with individual buildings maintained or expanded as new materials and techniques became available. Residents from the first-era Commonwealth would still have recognized the center, even though the scale of the structures had increased dramatically. Outside the old hub, newer suburbs reflected the whimsey of modern architecture and a lack of industrial or commercial districts, producing stretches of parkland where homes and various community buildings sprawled amid the vibrant flora. Citizens continued to celebrate their original Pacific Basin ancestry with strong traditions in seasports and enthusiasm for the planet’s ecology. Such factors gave Oaktier a reputation of being altogether less conventional and formal than the majority of Inner worlds, where Higher culture seemed to be nothing other than an endless series of seminars and debates on public policy. As such, Oaktier tended to draw a fair proportion of new citizens from the External worlds as they began their inward migration and transformation to Higher.

Somehow, Digby didn’t think his adversary was beginning the conversion to Higher culture. The starship he’d followed from Ellezelin sank through the upper atmosphere, heading down to the smallest of Darklake City’s three spaceports. The craft had come out of hyperspace without any stealth and filed a standard landing request with the planetary spaceflight authority.

By contrast, Digby kept the Columbia505 a thousand kilometers above the equator and employed its full stealth suite to ward off the local defense agency’s sensors. The planetary government, in all its thousands of local committees, had come to a uniform decision to go to a grade one alert status. Three River-class warships were in patrol orbit half a million kilometers out, ready to respond to any perceived threat. Fortunately, they hadn’t detected the Columbia505 , either.

“The Accelerators must have an active team down there,” Digby reported to Paula as the Accelerators’ starship landed. “Do you want me to contact our local office for support?”

“We’re long past a tussle between enriched agents to achieve our objectives,” she told him. “You’ll have to follow the ship’s pilot through scruitineers in the planetary cybersphere. That will leave you positioned to apply firepower from orbit to achieve our objectives.”

“We have objectives?”

“Yes. One. And it’s very simple: No one else must acquire Araminta. No one. No matter what the cost.”

“Ozzie! You want me to shoot into an urban area?”

“If that’s what’s required. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I don’t believe she’ll ever come to Oaktier.”

“Then why is the Accelerator agent here?”

“Laril, Araminta’s ex-husband, is currently on the inward migration. He’s living in Darklake City.”

“Oh. And you think she’ll make contact?”

“She already has. I’ve analyzed his node logs. They’ve had a couple of chats. The last one was interrupted by my shotgun on Chobamba.”

“Ah.” Digby ordered his u-shadow to run a search through local records. “There’s no history of a Silfen path on Oaktier.”