Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

“Run!” he screamed as he charged past. His black felt hat tumbled off as he turned down the slope. The mob was thundering up fast behind him, faces contorted with bloodlust and hatred. Mareble and Danal took off after him; it was pure instinct.

“Help,” Mareble yelled. Her u-shadow was sending an alert to the Ellezelin forces that wasn’t even being acknowledged. She cried into the gaiafield, only to receive the slightest ripple of sympathies from Living Dream followers. “Somebody help!”

Danal was holding her hand, tugging her along. The dress was hindering her legs. Her ankle boots weren’t designed to run in. It was at least a mile and a half to the docks. Fear began to burn along her nerves as the adrenaline kicked in. She thought of the Waterwalker on the mountain after Salrana’s betrayal, with Arminel and his thugs closing in on the pavilion. Even then he had maintained his dignity. I must be like him .

Her foot hit something, and she went flying, landing painfully on the stone block pavement, grazing her knees, tearing the skin on her wrists. The jolt thumped along her arms, and she wailed in dread, knowing it was all over. “Lady, please,” she whimpered as Danal hauled her to her feet.

The mob came up around them incredibly fast, surrounding them with a fence of savagely hostile faces. They carried lengths of wood and metal bars; a couple gripped small laser welders.

“No,” Mareble whimpered. Tears were already smearing her vision. She hated how weak she was, but they were going to hurt her. Then she would die before ever knowing the true wonder of the Void.

“I’ve called the paramilitaries,” Danal said defiantly.

A pole caught him on the side of his head, making a nasty crack. His mouth had barely opened to cry out in pain when another smacked across his shins. Danal dropped fast, his limp hand slipping from Mareble’s arm.

“No!” she yelled. Her wild face looked directly at the man in front of her, pleading. He seemed ordinary enough, middle-aged, dressed in a smart jacket. He won’t hit a woman , she thought. “We just want to go. Let us go.”

“Bitch.” His fist slammed into her nose. She heard the bone crunch. For the first second it didn’t hurt; she was numb with shock and terror. Then the frightening pulse of hot pain pierced her brain. Mareble screamed, crumpling to her knees. To one side she saw a boot kick Danal’s ribs. Blood was pouring down her mouth and chin.

“That’s enough,” a woman’s voice said calmly. A dark figure stepped into the middle of the mob.

Then finally the gaiafield was awash with sympathy and kindness. The amazing sensation grew and grew like nothing Mareble had ever known before. She gasped in astonishment, blinking up at the woman, who was now opening her coat as if emerging from a cocoon. Underneath she wore a long cream robe resembling those of the Clerics. It seemed to glow of its own accord. A pendant on a slim gold chain around her neck shone an intense blue light across Mareble’s face, which somehow siphoned out so much of her fear. For a moment she trancended her own body to look out across the stars from a viewpoint outside the galaxy. The sight was extraordinarily warming. Then she was back on Viotia and looking up in silent awe at the figure grinning down at her.

The front rank of the mob was hesitating, their first angry glances at the intruder fading to bewilderment. Even their hatred and rage couldn’t stand against the blaze of serenity and comfort she poured into the gaiafield.

Danal raised his head, a look of incredulity rising over his pain. “Dreamer!” he gasped in wonder.

“Hello, Danal.” Araminta smiled. She pushed some of the Skylord’s contentment into the greeting, feeling it wash over the poor abused man, feeling his relief. Mareble was watching her worshipfully as she tried to staunch the flow of blood from her broken nose, and right across the Commonwealth, Living Dream followers sent their welcome and thanks that she had finally come out of hiding to take up her destiny. The wave of goodwill was awesome in its extent, combining the emotion of billions, sending it sweeping across hundreds of worlds.

Then one of the mob finally managed to shake off the daze of sensation Araminta and the Skylord were radiating out into the gaiafield. It was the one who’d punched Mareble. “You!” he spit. “This is all your fault.” A metal bar was raised. Araminta stared at him, feeling something flow from the Skylord into her mind, elevating her thoughts still higher. And she recalled Ranalee’s iniquitous ability. “No,” she told him quietly, and changed his mind for him, draining away the fear and hatred.

His mouth parted in a silent gasp, and the metal bar clattered to the ground just as a squadron of capsules roared in overhead. Araminta grinned up at them as they descended, sharing the sight with everyone everywhere. She held a hand out and helped Mareble to her feet as armor-clad figures shoved their way through the sullen silent mob.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said mildly as they came right up to her, guns drawn to cover the throng. “Please assist Danal.”

The officer in front hesitated. She could sense the uncertainty in his mind, the desperate wish to be anywhere else. “You’re to come with me,” he announced.

I AM THE DREAMER, Araminta proclaimed into the gaiafield, using the Skylord’s strength to bolster the claim. The officer swayed back from the force of the thought, almost falling as his knees weakened. Behind him, people were flinching, cowering at the power of her thoughts. “Did the Waterwalker travel by capsule?” she continued mildly. “I think not. I will walk to the wormhole. Those of you who wish to follow the dream may accompany me.” She gave the mob a calculated look. No one would meet her gaze now. “Those who would hurt my followers will be dealt with.” She glanced at the officer again. “Your name?”

“Darraklan. Captain Darraklan.”

“Very well, Captain Darraklan, your men will perform escort duty. There will be peace in this city. That is my wish.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Darraklan stammered.

Araminta raised an eyebrow. The hint of censure peeked out from her mind.

Darraklan bowed. “Yes, Dreamer,” he corrected himself.

Araminta gave Mareble a gracious smile. “Come.” The crowd parted, and she started walking down the slope toward the river and the docks. Bewildered Ellezelin troopers quickly helped Danal to his feet.

By the time she reached the bottom of Daryad Avenue, she’d picked up quite a retinue. Happy Living Dream followers had rushed out of every intersection to greet her, disbelief and joy surging out of their minds. Captain Darraklan’s troopers maintained a careful escort, not pressing in yet forming a secure perimeter. Capsules drifted high overhead, keeping pace. Araminta ignored them.

There had been many protests outside the docks themselves. Several hundred hardy city residents had set up camp in front of the main entrance, only to be largely ignored by the capsules that flitted in and out over their heads. Now they formed a curious crowd, watching as Araminta led her procession toward them. Anxiety and uncertainty began to rattle along the front rank. It was one thing to taunt the unassailable, indifferent paramilitaries on the other side of the fence for the injustice they’d brought to Viotia and quite another to face down a living messiah with mysterious telepathic powers. Araminta was still a hundred meters short of them when they began to part, leaving a clear passage to the dock entrance. Tall gates were hurriedly peeled open to reveal another batch of paramilitaries. These were headed by Cleric Phelim himself, who didn’t offer anything by way of complicity or acceptance.