Peter Hamilton: The Dreaming Void

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The starship CNE Caragana slipped down out of a night sky, its grey and scarlet hull illuminated by the pale iridescence of the massive ion storms which beset space for lightyears in every direction. Beneath the deep space vessel, Centurion Station formed a twinkling crescent of light on the dusty rock surface of its never-named planet. Crew and passengers viewed the enclave of habitation with a shared sensation of relief. Even with the hyperdrive powering them along at fifteen light-years an hour, it had taken eighty-three days to reach Centurion Station from the Greater Commonwealth. This was about as far as any human travelled in the mid-thirty-fourth century, certainly on a regular basis.

From his couch in the main lounge, Inigo studied the approaching alien landscape with a detached interest. What he was seeing was exactly as the briefing files projected months ago, a monotonous plain of ancient lava rippled with shallow gullies that led nowhere. The thin argon atmosphere stirred the sand in short lived flurries, chasing wispy swirls from one dune to another. It was the station which claimed his real attention.

Now they were only twenty kilometres from the ground the lights began to resolve into distinct shapes. Inigo could easily pick out the big garden dome at the centre of the human section on the northernmost segment of the inhabited crescent. A lambent emerald circle, playing hub to a dozen black transport tubes that ran out to large accommodation blocks which could have been transplanted from any exotic environment resort in the Commonwealth. From those the tubes carried on across the lava to the cube-like observatory facilities and engineering support modules.

The pocked land to the south belonged to the alien habitats; shapes and structures of various geometries and sizes, most of them illuminated. Next to the humans were the silver bubbles of the hominoid Golant; followed by the enclosed grazing grounds where the Ticoth roamed amid their food herds; then came the mammoth interconnecting tanks of the Suline, an aquatic species. The featureless Ethox tower rose up ten kilometres past the end of the Suline's metal-encased lakes, dark in the visible spectrum but with a surface temperature of 180 degrees C. They were one of the species which didn't interact with their fellow observers on any level except for formal exchanges of data concerning the probes which orbited the Void. Equally taciturn were the Forleene, who occupied five big domes of murky crystal that glowed with a mild gentian light. And they were positively social compared to the Kandra, who lived in a simple metal cube thirty metres to a side. No Kandra ship had ever landed there since the humans joined the observation two hundred and eighty years ago; not even the exceptionally long-lived Jadradesh had seen one, and the Raiel had invited those boulder-like swamp-dwellers to join the project seven thousand years earlier.

A small smile flickered on Inigo's face as he took in all the diverse zones. It was impressive to see so many aliens physically gathered in one place, a collection which served to underline the importance of their mission. Though as his view strayed out to the shadows thrown by the station, he had to admit that the living were completely overshadowed by those who had passed on before them. Centurion Station's growth and age could be loosely measured in the same way as any humble terrestrial tree. It had developed in rings which had been added to over the centuries as new species had joined the project. The broad circle of land along the concave side of the crescent was studded with ruins, crumbling skeletons of habitats abandoned millennia ago as their sponsoring civilizations fell, or moved on, or evolved away from mere astrophysical concerns. Right at the centre the ancient structures had decayed to 'simple mounds of compacted metal and crystal flakes, beyond the ability of any archaeologist to decipher. Dating expeditions had established that this ancient heart of the station had been constructed over 400,000 years ago. Of course, as far as the timescale of the Raiel observation was concerned, that was still short.

A ring of green light was flashing on the lava field which served as a spaceport for the human section, calling down the CNE Caragana. Several starships were sitting on the drab rock beside the active landing zone; two hefty deep space vessels of the same class as the Caragana, and some smaller starships used for placing and servicing the remote probes that constantly monitored the Void.

There was a slight judder as the starship settled, then the internal gravity field switched off. Inigo felt himself rise slightly on the couch's cushioning as the planet's seventy per cent gravity took over. It was silent in the lounge as the passengers took stock, then a happy murmur of conversation broke out to celebrate arrival. The chief steward asked everyone to make their way down to the main airlock, where they would suit up and walk over to the station. Inigo waited until his more eager colleagues had left before climbing cautiously to his feet and making his way out of the lounge. Strictly speaking, he didn't need a spacesuit, his Higher biononics could cocoon his body in perfect safety, protecting it from the thin malignant atmosphere, and even from the cosmic radiation that sleeted in from the massive stars of the Wall five hundred lightyears away. But… he'd travelled all this way partly to escape his unwanted heritage, now was not the time to show it off. He started suiting up along with the rest.

The handover party was a long tradition at Centurion Station. Every time a Navy ship arrived bringing new observers there was a short overlap before the previous group departed. It was celebrated in the garden dome as a sunset gala with the best buffet the culinary unit programs could produce. Tables were laid out under ancient oaks that glittered with hundreds of magic lanterns, and the dome overhead wore a halo of gold twilight. A solido projection of a string quartet played classical mood music on a little stage surrounded by a brook.

Inigo arrived quite early on, still adjusting the sleeves of his ultra-black formal evening suit. He didn't really like the jacket's long square-cut tails, they were a bit voguish for his taste, but had to admit the tailor back on Anagaska had done a superb job. Even today, if you wanted true quality clothes you needed a human in the style and fitting loop. He knew he looked good in it; in fact good enough that he didn't even feel remotely self-conscious.

The station's director was greeting all the arrivals personally. Inigo joined the end of the short line and waited his turn. He could see several aliens milling round the tables. The Golant, looking odd in clothes that approximated the ones worn by humans. With their grey-blue skin and tall narrow heads, the polite attempt to blend in only made them appear even more out of place. There were a couple of Ticoth curled up together on the grass, both the size of ponies, though there any further resemblance ended. These were very obviously predator carnivores, with dark-green hide stretched tight over powerful muscle bands. Alarmingly big and sharp teeth appeared every time they growled at each other and the group of humans they were conversing with. Inigo instinctively checked his integral force field function, then felt shameful for having done so. Several Suline were also present, floating about in big hemispherical glass tanks like giant champagne saucers that were held up by small regrav units. Their translators babbled away while they looked out at the humans, their bulbous bodies distorted and magnified by the curving glass.