Peter Hamilton - Judas Unchained

“How about you?” she asked. “Have you had it rough for a few years?”

“Boy, you are quite something. At least he’ll die with a smile on his face.”

She stood directly in front of him, a sinful smile playing on her lips. “You’re very famous, Ozzie. I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t resist asking for this one little favor.”

“What’s that?”

“A kiss. That’s all. Just. One. Little. Kiss.”

Ozzie sucked in a breath, and checked the door behind her. “I dunno, man.”

“Ohhh.” Her lips came together in a mournful pout. “I’d be very grateful. It’s not every day you get to meet a living legend.”

“Ah…”

She stood on tiptoes, puckering her mouth up for a kiss. Her hands came up on either side, and gripped his tightly, fingers twining together. They kissed.

Ozzie’s e-butler told him the i-spots on his palms were being remotely activated to allow a simulated environment program to decompress inside his inserts. An emergency disconnect icon was flashing brightly as his intrusion counterware reacted. The weird electronic incursion interested him more than anything else. He granted the program full virtual interface authority and shifted the counterware to monitor status.

The result was like being teleported into a Russian doll of images. He now stood at the bottom of a translucent gray sphere clad in simple white coveralls, with the girl standing in front of him in the same garment. She had a slightly different face than her physical self; some features had been realigned, and the hair was shorter and golden, but it was definitely her. Outside the sphere, giant replicas of himself and the girl were locked in an embrace that he could still feel rather pleasantly on his lips. Beyond that, the Dark Fortress data swirled like a foggy nebula, boxed in by the study walls.

He brought his hand up to touch his mouth, a sensation that was overlaid on the kiss. He gave a dismissive grunt. “Okay,” he said, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Of course, but first, please try and maintain the kiss.”

“Like that’ll be difficult.”

“Very funny. This simulation should be impervious to any sensors in the mansion, and we’re accelerated in here so the kiss will be good camouflage. Don’t get your hopes up, stud-boy, a minute in real time is all the grope you’ll ever get.”

“Please to meet you, too, babe. And you are?”

“Mellanie Rescorai. The SI sent me to find out what happened to you.”

“I know that name. Oh, yeah, the one who gatecrashed my home with ten thousand guests.”

“Take it up with the SI. I have an updated SIsubroutine which I can decompress into an array for you, if we can find an independent one large enough in the mansion.”

“My inserts should be able to handle it,” Ozzie said. He ordered his e-butler to clear five of the biochips, shunting their files and programs into the remainder, and erecting some very strong fireshields.

“I doubt it,” she said.

“Let’s try, shall we.”

The surface of the gray bubble flared with squalling tangerine and mauve lines. His e-butler told him the biochips were filling up fast.

The lines settled down into interlocking spirals. “Hello, Ozzie,” the SIsubroutine said.

“Neat deal,” Ozzie said.

“You were about to reveal who built the barrier when Sheldon security broke the link.”

“Oh, yeah, what an evening that was.” He explained what Clouddancer had told him about the Anomine race.

“So they will not repair the damage,” the SIsubroutine said.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“MorningLightMountain won’t be a problem for much longer,” Mellanie said. “Nigel and the others have decided to use the nova bomb against Dyson Alpha. They’re also going to destroy any other stars that MorningLightMountain has colonized to make sure it is dead and can’t threaten us ever again.”

“More than one star?” Ozzie asked, aghast.

“They’re worried about how far it has spread. It’s had a long time since the barrier came down.”

“The radiation will wipe out any living creature in that whole section of the galaxy,” Ozzie said. “Don’t they fucking know that? Christ, no wonder Nigel wants me locked up in here.”

“They know,” Mellanie said. “But it has to be done.”

“Can you help?” Ozzie asked the SIsubroutine. “Can’t you see we’re wrong to do this?”

“Ethically, it is wrong. Yet it is required for your survival. This is not our decision to make.”

“Okay, look; I’ve been reviewing the Dark Fortress data. The Starflyer agent has obviously used a modified version of the original flare bomb it hit Far Away’s sun with. The quantum distortion is plain enough. That’s what’s screwed up the generator; everyone’s agreed on that. I thought it would need repairing, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why not?” the SIsubroutine asked.

“Because the effect is continuous. The whole time the Second Chance was in the Dyson Alpha system, it kept recording the same quantum abnormality. In other words, the actual generator systems could still be in working order, but they don’t function normally while their quantum structure is being disturbed. The disruption is just a proverbial wrench in the works.”

“Remove it, and the mechanism will resume operations.”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Ozzie said. “Our very last shot at redemption. Will you help me with that, at least?”

“How do you propose to remove the disruption device?”

“Nuke the fucker. What else can we do?”

“I doubt a nuclear explosive will work. If the device is producing an effect similar to a quantumbuster, the missile will either convert to energy at a distance or its components will no longer function—just like the generator itself.”

“So we use one of our quantumbusters; switch the effect from a field to a beam, point it at the Starflyer’s device, and pray our technology has a longer reach. The navy used quantumbusters to knock out flare bombs before, and it worked.”

“Assuming you are correct about every other factor, that sounds practical.”

“So I figure.”

“Do you think Nigel will agree?” Mellanie asked.

“Not a chance,” Ozzie said resentfully. “He doesn’t believe the generator can be fixed. Him and his merry band of psychopaths have already chosen the genocide option. He’s not going to let me send one of his ships on a wild goose chase.”

“Then why are you bothering with this?”

“Simple, man, now I know what has to be done, I can get on with it.”

“You?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Have you got a starship?”

“Technically, yes.”

“What do you mean, technically?” Mellanie pressed. “Does your asteroid have FTL?”

“No no, wrong way of thinking. I own forty-nine percent of CST. I agreed to take less than Nige, because all that corporate shit just ain’t my scene. So, technically, I own forty-nine percent of however many of these starships he’s gone and built.”

“I thought the Dynasty built the starships.”

“Do you want to commit genocide when it can be prevented?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“But you just said Nigel won’t let you have one of the ships. He won’t even let you out of the mansion grounds. The security briefing I got in Illanum was very explicit about that.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame, because it means you two dudes are going to have to bust me out of here.” Ozzie paused, and looked at Mellanie. “Does Nigel know it’s you that’s come here?”

“No,” the SIsubroutine said. “We intercepted a girl procured from Lady Georgina. Mellanie is a covert substitution.”