Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

Little Kiranan stretched his arms out toward his grandma and squealed delightedly as Edeard’s third hand plucked him from his father’s shoulders and delivered him to Kristabel’s embrace.

“I wonder if it’s changed,” Kristabel murmured as she made a fuss over the boy.

Kiranan pointed at the horizon. “Island,” he announced. “Big home.” His mind shone with wonder and expectation.

“It’s close, poppet,” Kristabel promised.

“It won’t change,” Edeard declared solemnly. “That’s the thing with Makkathran; it’s timeless.”

Kristabel flashed him a knowing smile. “It’s changed since you arrived,” she said smartly. “Ladies in shorts, indeed.”

He smiled, glancing down. She was wearing a white cotton shirt with blue canvas shorts, her legs lean and tanned from years of exposure to the sun. “There are worse revolutions.”

“Daddy,” Marilee called as she made her way along the deck.

“We’ll be back in time,” Analee said, accompanying her sister, the two of them linking arms instinctively against the swell. Lady’s Light was making a fair speed in the warm southwesterly wind.

“Not that we don’t trust Taralee.”

“Or the ship’s surgery.”

“But it will be a comfort to be back in the mansion with all of the Doctors Guild on call.”

“Just in case.”

They grinned at him. Both of them were six months pregnant and gloriously happy despite the constant morning sickness they both suffered from. And on board that was a very public morning sickness; nobody was completely shielded from the twins’ nausea, which had brought about a lot of sympathetic barfing among the exposed crew.

“That’ll be a close call,” he said, trying to be realistic. Not that the twins had ever paid much attention to that. “Even with good winds it’ll take a month from here.”

“Oh, Daddy,”

“That’s so mean.”

“We want to have landborn children.”

“Really?” he asked. “What does Marvane want? He’s a sailor, after all.”

Marilee and Analee pulled a face at each other.

“He’s a father now.”

“And our husband.”

“Yeees,” Edeard said. Natran had married the three of them a year and a half ago. A beautiful tropical beach setting, everyone barefoot while the bright sun shone down and wavelets lapped on the white sands, the twins ecstatic as they were betrothed to their handsome fiance. Querencia had no actual law against marrying more than one person at a time, though it certainly wasn’t endorsed in any of the Lady’s scriptures, so it had to be the senior captain rather than the flotilla’s Mother who conducted the ceremony. With Marvane’s title now irrefutable, the elated trio spent their honeymoon in a small shack the carpenters had built for them above the shore while the expedition took an uncommonly long time to catalog the flora and fauna of the island.

“So he’s going to settle with us,” Marilee announced as if it should have been obvious.

“In some little part of the Culverit estate on the Iguru.”

“Where we can raise babies and crops together.”

“Because this voyage is a lifetime’s worth of sailing.”

“For anyone.”

“And Taralee has found us some fabulous new plants to cultivate.”

“Which people are going to love.”

“And make us a fortune.”

Edeard couldn’t bring himself to say anything, though he could sense Kristabel becoming tense with all the twins’ daydream talk. But then, why shouldn’t it come true? Stranger things have happened, and as daydreams go it’s sweet. Besides, that’s what we’re all ultimately aiming for, isn’t it? An easier, gentler life . He was saved from any comment when he sensed Natran’s longtalk to the helmsman, ordering a small change of course. “Why?” he inquired idly.

“We need to identify the island,” Natran replied. “There are eight on the edge of the eastern archipelago. Once I’ve got an accurate fix, navigating home will be easy.”

“Of course.”

“Are you ready for home?” Kristabel asked quietly.

“I think so,” he said, though he knew it to be true. It’s all new from now on . Living in Makkathran again would be easy. Anticipation stirred a joy in him that had been missing for so long. He guessed she knew that, judging by the contentment glowing within her own thoughts.

“We could always go the other way around the world,” she teased. “There’s both poles to explore.”

Edeard laughed. “Let’s leave that to the grandchildren, shall we? You and I have enough to do taking up our roles again. And I think I might just consider running for Mayor at the next elections.”

The look she gave him was as if she’d never seen him before. “You never stop, do you?”

“Wonder who I learned that from, mistress?”

She grinned and cuddled Kiranan tight as the boy strained to see the city he knew was out there somewhere. “And you,” she told the boy. “You’re going to meet all your cousins.”

“Yay-oh,” Kiranan cooed.

“Who probably make up half the city’s population by now,” Edeard muttered. The rate at which Rolar and Wenalee produced offspring was prodigious, and he knew from the last time around that Marakas and Heliana were keen to get started.

“Daddy!” the twins chorused in disapproval.

“I wonder if Dylorn will be wed,” Kristabel said softly; there was a brief pang of regret-swiftly banished-at being parted from her children for so long.

“Without us there?” Analee sounded shocked.

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“You two did,” Edeard pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“We had you there.”

“Which makes it proper.”

Edeard sighed and grinned at the horizon. “Not long now. And Lady, we’re going to have the reunion party of all time.”

Makkathran appeared over the horizon just before noon on the thirty-eighth day after Manel had sighted the first eastern isle. The crew of the Lady’s Light knew it was near. Cargo ships had been a regular sighting for days, and early that morning they’d passed the outbound fishing fleet from Portheves, a village not ten miles from the city itself. Once they’d recovered from their shock, the fishermen had stood and cheered as the giant boats of the flotilla slid past.

By midmorning, they had a loose escort of a dozen traders heading toward the coastline. Good-hearted, curious longshouts from their new companions were thrown their way as they plowed through the crisp blue water. Then Makkathran emerged, its sturdy towers the first aspect to rise up over the horizon, their sharp pinnacles piercing the cloudless azure sky. A fervent rush of farsight swept out from the city to wash across the flotilla, accompanied by astonishment and a burst of exultant welcomes. Everyone was up on deck to see the city they’d left behind just over four years ago. Edeard thought the ships would just fly onward through the water even without any wind, so strong was the compulsion to make it home now. They must have been quite a sight to those in the city. Each magnificent ship had set out with three full sets of snow-white sails; now the Lady’s Light was rigged with a grubby patchwork of canvas stitched together from whatever sails remained after years of sun bleaching, storms, and frozen winters in which ice crystals hung heavy from every seam and rope. Both the Lady’s Star and the Lady’s Guidance had broad repairs of a softer tropical wood on their waterline where the coral of the Auguste Sea had breached them despite the crew’s best telekinetic efforts to snap the vicious submerged spines. Several ships had new masts to replace ones that were snapped off in various gales.