The Evolutionary Void.

By Peter F. Hamilton

For Felix F. Hamilton,who arrived at the start of the Void.Don't worry, Daddy's world isn't really like this.

ONE.

THE STARSHIP HAD NO NAME; it didn't have a serial number or even a marque. Only one of its kind had ever been built. As no more would ever be required, no designation was needed; it was simply the ship the ship.

It streaked through the substructure of s.p.a.cetime at fifty-nine light-years an hour, the fastest anything built by humans had ever traveled. Navigation at that awesome velocity was by quantum interstice similarity interpretation, which determined the relative location of ma.s.s in the real universe beyond. This alleviated the use of crude hysradar or any other sensor that might possibly be detected. The extremely sophisticated ultradrive that powered it might have reached even greater speeds if a considerable fraction of its phenomenal energy hadn't been used for fluctuation suppression. That meant there was no telltale distortion amid the quantum fields to betray its position to other starships that might wish to hunt it.

As well as its formidable stealth ability, the ship the ship was big, a fat ovoid over six hundred meters long and two hundred meters across at the center. But its real advantage came from its armaments; there were weapons on board that could knock out a half a dozen Commonwealth Navy Capital-cla.s.s ships while barely stirring out of standby mode. The weapons had been verified only once: was big, a fat ovoid over six hundred meters long and two hundred meters across at the center. But its real advantage came from its armaments; there were weapons on board that could knock out a half a dozen Commonwealth Navy Capital-cla.s.s ships while barely stirring out of standby mode. The weapons had been verified only once: the ship the ship had flown over ten thousand light-years from the Greater Commonwealth to test them so as to avoid detection. For millennia to come, primitive alien civilizations in that section of the galaxy would worship as G.o.ds the colorful nebulae expanding across the interstellar wastes. had flown over ten thousand light-years from the Greater Commonwealth to test them so as to avoid detection. For millennia to come, primitive alien civilizations in that section of the galaxy would worship as G.o.ds the colorful nebulae expanding across the interstellar wastes.

Even now, sitting in the ship the ship's clean hemispherical cabin with the flight path imagery playing quietly in her exovision, Neskia remembered with a little shiver of excitement and apprehension the stars splitting asunder. It had been one thing to run the clandestine fabrication station for the Accelerator Faction, dispatching ships and equipment to various agents and representatives. That was easy, cold machinery functioning with a precision she could take pride in. But seeing the weapons active was slightly different. She'd felt a level of perturbation she hadn't known in over two centuries, ever since she became Higher and began her inward migration. Not that she questioned her belief in the Accelerators; it was just the sheer potency of the weapons that struck her at some primitive level that could never be fully exorcised from the human psyche. She was awed by the power of what she alone commanded.

Other elements of her animal past had been erased quietly and effectively: first with biononics and acceptance of Higher cultural philosophy, culminating in her embrace of Accelerator Faction tenets, then by committing to a subtle rejection of her existing body form, as if to emphasize her new beliefs. Her skin now was a shimmering metallic gray, the epidermal cells imbued with a contemporary semiorganic fiber that established itself in perfect symbiosis. The face that had caused many a man to turn in admiration when she was younger now wore a more efficient, flatter profile, with big saucer eyes biononically modified to look across a mult.i.tude of spectra. Her neck also had been stretched, its increased flexibility allowing her head much greater maneuverability. Underneath the gently shimmering skin her muscles had been strengthened to a level that would allow her to keep up with a terrestrial panther on its kill run, and that was before biononic augmentation kicked in.

However, it was her mind that had undergone the greatest evolution. She'd stopped short of bioneural profiling simply because she didn't need any genetic reinforcement to her beliefs. "Worship" was a crude term for thought processes, but she was certainly devoted to her cause. She had dedicated herself completely to the Accelerators at a fully emotional level. The old human concerns and biological imperatives simply didn't affect her anymore; her intellect was involved solely with the faction and its goal. For the past fifty years their projects and plans had been all that triggered her satisfaction and suffering. Her integration was total; she was the epitome of Accelerator values. That was why she'd been chosen to fly the ship the ship by the faction leader, Ilanthe, on this mission. That, and that alone, made her content. by the faction leader, Ilanthe, on this mission. That, and that alone, made her content.

The ship began to slow as it approached the coordinate Neskia had supplied to the smartcore. Speed ebbed away until it hung inertly in transdimensional suspension while her navigation display showed the Sol system twenty-three light-years away. The distance was comfortable. They were outside the comprehensive sensor mesh surrounding humanity's birthworld, yet she could be there in less than thirty minutes. began to slow as it approached the coordinate Neskia had supplied to the smartcore. Speed ebbed away until it hung inertly in transdimensional suspension while her navigation display showed the Sol system twenty-three light-years away. The distance was comfortable. They were outside the comprehensive sensor mesh surrounding humanity's birthworld, yet she could be there in less than thirty minutes.

Neskia ordered the smartcore to run a pa.s.sive scan. Other than interstellar dust and the odd frozen comet, there was no detectable ma.s.s within three light-years. Certainly there were no ships. However, the scan picked up a tiny specific anomaly, which caused her to smile in tight satisfaction. All around the ship the ship ultradrives were holding themselves in transdimensional suspension, undetectable except for that one deliberate signal. You had to know what to search for to find it, and n.o.body would be looking for anything out here, let alone ultradrives. ultradrives were holding themselves in transdimensional suspension, undetectable except for that one deliberate signal. You had to know what to search for to find it, and n.o.body would be looking for anything out here, let alone ultradrives. The ship The ship confirmed there were eight thousand of the machines holding position as they awaited instructions. Neskia established a communication link to them and ran a swift function check. The Swarm was ready. confirmed there were eight thousand of the machines holding position as they awaited instructions. Neskia established a communication link to them and ran a swift function check. The Swarm was ready.

She settled down to wait for Ilanthe's next call.

The ExoProtectorate Council meeting ended, and Kazimir canceled the link to the perceptual conference room. He was alone in his office atop Pentagon II, with nowhere to go. The deterrence fleet had to be launched; there was no question of that now. Nothing else could deal with the approaching Ocisen Empire armada without an unacceptable loss of life on both sides. And if news that the Ocisens were backed up by Prime warships leaked out ... Which it would. Ilanthe would see to that.

No choice.

He straightened the recalcitrant silver braid collar on his dress uniform one last time as he walked over to the sweeping window and looked down on the lush parkland of Babuyan Atoll. A gentle radiance was shining down on it, emitted from the crystal dome curving overhead. Even so, he could still see Icalanise's misty crescent through the ersatz dawn. The sight was one he'd seen countless times during his tenure. He'd always taken it for granted; now he wondered if he'd ever see it again. For a true military man the thought wasn't unusual; in fact, it was quite a proud pedigree.

His u-shadow opened a link to Paula. "We're deploying the deterrence fleet against the Ocisens," he told her.

"Oh, dear. I take it the last capture mission didn't work, then."

"No. The Prime ship exploded when we took it out of hypers.p.a.ce."

"d.a.m.n. Suicide isn't part of the Prime's psychological makeup."

"You know that and I know that. ANA:Governance knows that, too, of course, but as always it needs proof, not circ.u.mstantial evidence."

"Are you going with the fleet?"

Kazimir couldn't help but smile at the question. If only you knew If only you knew. "Yes. I'm going with the fleet."

"Good luck. I want you to try and turn this against her. They'll be out there watching. Any chance you can detect them first?"

"We'll certainly try." He squinted at the industrial stations circling around High Angel High Angel, a slim sparkling silver bracelet against the starfield. "I heard about Ellezelin."

"Yeah. Digby didn't have any options. ANA is sending a forensic team. If they can work out what Chatfield was carrying, we might be able to haul the Accelerators into court before you reach the Ocisens."

"I don't think so. But I have some news for you."

"Yes?"

"The Lindau Lindau has left the Hanko system." has left the Hanko system."

"Where is it heading?"

"That's the interesting thing. As far as I can make out, they're flying to the Spike."

"The Spike? Are you sure?"

"That's a projection of their current course. It's held steady for seven hours now."

"But that ... No."

"Why not?" Kazimir asked, obscurely amused by the investigator's reaction.

"I simply don't believe that Ozzie would intervene in the Commonwealth again, not like this. And he'd certainly never employ someone like Aaron."

"Okay, I'll grant you that one. But there are other humans in the Spike."

"Yes, there are. Care to name one?"

Kazimir gave up. "So what's Ozzie's connection?"

"I can't think."

"The Lindau Lindau isn't flying as fast as it's capable of. It probably got damaged on Hanko. You could easily get to the Spike ahead of them or even intercept." isn't flying as fast as it's capable of. It probably got damaged on Hanko. You could easily get to the Spike ahead of them or even intercept."

"Tempting, but I'm not going to risk it. I've wasted far too much time on my personal obsession already. I can't risk another wild-goose chase at this point."

"All right. Well, I'm going to be occupied for the next few days. If it's a real emergency, you can contact me."

"Thank you. My priority now has got to be securing the Second Dreamer."

"Good luck with that."

"And you, Kazimir. G.o.dspeed."

"Thank you." He remained by the window for several seconds after he'd closed the link to Paula, then activated his biononic field interface function, which meshed with the navy's T-sphere. He teleported to the wormhole terminus...o...b..ting outside the gigantic alien arkship and through that emerged into the Kerensk terminus. One more teleport jump, and he was inside Hevelius Island, one of Earth's T-sphere stations, floating seventy kilometers above the South Pacific.

"Ready," he told ANA:Governance.

ANA opened the restricted wormhole to Proxima Centauri, four point three light-years away, and Kazimir stepped through. The Alpha Centauri system had been a big disappointment when Ozzie and Nigel opened their very first long-range wormhole there in 2053. Given that the binary, composed of G- and K-cla.s.s stars and planets, had already been detected by standard astronomical procedures, everyone had fervently hoped to find a human-congruent world. There weren't any. But given that they had successfully proved wormholes could be established across interstellar distances, Ozzie and Nigel went on to secure additional funding for the company that would rapidly evolve into Compression s.p.a.ce Transport and establish the Commonwealth. n.o.body ever went back to Alpha Centauri, and n.o.body had ever even been to Proxima Centauri; with its small M-cla.s.s star, it was never going to have an H-congruent planet. That made it the perfect location for ANA to construct and base the "deterrence fleet."

Kazimir materialized at the center of a simple transparent dome measuring two kilometers across at the base. It was a tiny blister on the surface of a barren, airless planet, orbiting fifty million kilometers out from the diminutive red dwarf. Gravity was about two-thirds standard. Low hills all around created a rumpled horizon, the gray-brown regolith splashed a dreary maroon by Proxima's ineffectual radiance.

His feet were standing on what appeared to be dull gray metal. When he tried to focus on the featureless surface, it twisted away, as if there were something separating his boot soles from the physical structure. His biononic field scan function revealed ma.s.sive forces starting to stir around him, rising up out of the strange floor.

"Are you ready?" ANA:Governance asked.

Kazimir gritted his teeth. "Do it."

As Kazimir had a.s.sured both Gore and Paula, the deterrence fleet was no bluff. It represented the peak of ANA's technological ability and was at least a match for the ships of the warrior Raiel. However, he did concede that calling it a fleet was a slight exaggeration.

The problem, inevitably, was who to trust with such an enormous array of firepower. The more crew involved, the greater the chance of misuse or leakage to a faction. Ironically, the technology itself provided the answer. It required only a single controlling consciousness. ANA declined to a.s.sume command on ethical grounds, refusing to ascend to essential omnipotence. Therefore, the task always fell upon the Chief Admiral.

The forces within the base swarmed around him, rushing in like a tidal wave, reading him at a quantum level and then converting the memory. Kazimir transformed: His purely physical structure shifted to an equivalent energy function encapsulated within a single point that intruded into s.p.a.cetime. His "bulk," the energy signature he had become, was folded deep within the quantum fields, utilizing a construction principle similar to that of ANA itself. It contained his mind and memories, along with some basic manipulator and sensory abilities, and unlike ANA, it wasn't a fixed point.

Kazimir used his new sensory inputs to examine the intras.p.a.cial lattice immediately surrounding him, reviewing the waiting array of transformed functions stored inside the dome's complex exotic matter mechanisms. He started to select the ones he might need for the mission, incorporating them to his own signature; it was a process he always equated to some primitive soldier walking through an armory, pulling weapons and shields off the shelves.

Ultimately he incorporated eight hundred seventeen functions into his primary signature. Function twenty-seven was an FTL (faster than light) ability, allowing him to shift his entire energy signature through hypers.p.a.ce. As he no longer retained any ma.s.s, the velocity he could achieve was orders of magnitude above an ultradrive.

Kazimir launched from the unnamed planet, heading for the Ocisen fleet at a hundred light-years an hour. Then he accelerated.

The Delivery Man smiled at the steward who came down the cabin collecting drinks from the pa.s.sengers as the starship prepared to enter the planet's atmosphere. It was a job much better suited to a bot or some inbuilt waste chute. Yet starliner companies always maintained a human crew. The vast majority of humans (non-Higher, anyway) relished that little personal contact during the voyage. Besides, human staff added a touch of refinement, the elegance of a bygone age.

He accessed the ship's sensors as the atmosphere built up around them. It was raining on Fa.n.a.llisto's second largest southern continent. A huge gunmetal-gray ma.s.s of clouds powered their way inland, driven by winds that had built to an alarming velocity across the empty wastes of the Antarctic Ocean. Cities were activating their weather dome force fields, the rain was so heavy. Flood warnings were going out to the burgeoning agricultural zones.

Fa.n.a.llisto was in its second century of development. A pleasant enough world, unremarkable in the firmament of External worlds, it had a population of tens of millions occupying relatively bland urban zones. Each had a Living Dream thane and a respectable number of followers. The prospect of Pilgrimage was creating a lot of tension and strife among the population, a situation that hadn't been helped by recent events on Viotia. Acts of violence against the thanes had increased with each pa.s.sing day of the crisis.

In itself that was nothing special; such conflicts were on the rise across the Greater Commonwealth. However, on Fa.n.a.llisto, several instances of violence had been countered by people enriched by biononics. The Conservative Faction was keen to discover what was so special about Fa.n.a.llisto that it needed support and protection from suspected Accelerator agents.

As he'd made quite clear to the faction, the Delivery Man didn't care. However, a Conservative Faction agent was now on Fa.n.a.llisto, and standard operating procedure for field deployment was to provide independent fallback support, which was why the Delivery Man hadn't gone straight back to London from Purlap s.p.a.ceport. Instead he'd taken a flight to Trangor and caught the next starship to Fa.n.a.llisto. At least he wasn't part of the active operation. The other agent didn't even know he was there.

The commercial starship fell through the sodden atmosphere to land at Rapall s.p.a.ceport. The Delivery Man disembarked along with all the other pa.s.sengers, then rendezvoused with his luggage in the terminal building. The two medium-size cases drifted after him on regrav and parked themselves in a cab's cargo hold. He ordered the cab to the commercial section of town, a short trip in the little regrav capsule as it flitted around beneath the force field dome. From there he walked around to another cab pad and flew over to the Foxglove Hotel on the east side of town, using a different ident.i.ty.

He booked in to room 225, using a third ident.i.ty certificate and an untraceable cash coin to prepay for a ten-day stay. It took four minutes to infiltrate the room's cybersphere node, where he installed various routines to make it appear as though the room were occupied. A nice professional touch, he felt. The small culinary unit would produce meals, which the maidbot would then empty down the toilet in the morning when it made the daily housekeeping visit. The spore shower would be used, as would various other gadgets and fittings; the air-conditioning temperature would be changed, and the node would place a few calls across the unisphere. Power consumption would vary.

He slid both cases into the solitary closet just for the sake of appearance and activated their defense mechanisms. Whatever was inside them, he didn't want to know, though he guessed at some pretty aggressive hardware. Once he'd confirmed that they were operating properly, he left the room and called a cab down to the front of the hotel's lobby. It wouldn't be he who came back to collect the cases-that would set a pattern. He was grateful for that operational protocol. After Justine's last dream, all he wanted to do was get back to his family. He'd already decided he would be turning down any more Conservative Faction requests over the next couple of weeks, no matter how much warning they gave him and how politely they asked. Events were building to a climax, and there was only one place a true father should be.

The lobby's gla.s.s curtain doors parted to let him through. The taxicab hovered a couple of centimeters above the concrete pad outside, waiting for him. He hadn't quite reached it when the Conservative Faction called.

I'm going to tell them no, he promised himself. Whatever it is Whatever it is.

He settled in the cab's curving seat, told its smartnet to take him to the downtown area, and then accepted the call. "Yes?"

"The deterrence fleet is being deployed," the Conservative Faction said.

"I'm surprised it took this long. People are getting nervous about the Ocisens, and they don't even know about the Primes yet."

"We believe the whole deployment was orchestrated by the Accelerators."

"Why? What could they possibly gain from that?"

"They would finally know the nature of the deterrence fleet."

"Okay, so how does that help them?"

"We don't know. But it has to be crucial to their plans; they have risked almost everything on manipulating this one event."

"The game is changing," the Delivery Man said faintly. "That's what Marius told me: The game is changing. I thought he was talking about Hanko."

"Apparently not."

"So we really are entering a critical phase, then."

"It would seem so."

Immediately suspicious, he said, "I'm not undertaking anything else for you. Not now."

"We know. That is why we called. We thought you deserved to know. We understand how much your family means to you and that you want to be with them."

"Ah. Thank you."

"If you do wish to return to a more active status-"

"I'll let you know. Has my replacement taken over following Marius?"

"Operational information is kept isolated."

"Of course, sorry."

"Thank you again for your a.s.sistance."

The Delivery Man sat upright as the call ended. "d.a.m.nit." The deterrence fleet! The deterrence fleet! This was getting serious, not to mention potentially lethal. He ordered the cab to fly direct to the s.p.a.ceport, and to h.e.l.l with procedure. The flight he was booked to depart on wasn't due to leave for another two hours. His u-shadow immediately tracked down the first ship bound for a Central world: a PanCephei Line flight to Gralmond, leaving in thirty-five minutes. It managed to reserve him a seat, paying a huge premium to secure the last first cla.s.s lounge cubicle, but the flight would take twenty hours. Add another twenty minutes to that to reach Earth through the connecting wormholes, and he'd be back in London in just over twenty-one hours. This was getting serious, not to mention potentially lethal. He ordered the cab to fly direct to the s.p.a.ceport, and to h.e.l.l with procedure. The flight he was booked to depart on wasn't due to leave for another two hours. His u-shadow immediately tracked down the first ship bound for a Central world: a PanCephei Line flight to Gralmond, leaving in thirty-five minutes. It managed to reserve him a seat, paying a huge premium to secure the last first cla.s.s lounge cubicle, but the flight would take twenty hours. Add another twenty minutes to that to reach Earth through the connecting wormholes, and he'd be back in London in just over twenty-one hours.

That'll be enough time. Surely?

Araminta had been so desperate to get the h.e.l.l away from Colwyn City, she hadn't really given any thought to the practical aspect of walking the Silfen paths between worlds. Ambling through mysterious woods dotted with sunny glades was a lovely romantic concept, as well as being a decent finger gesture to Living Dream and Cleric Conservator b.a.s.t.a.r.d Ethan. However, a moment's thought might have made her consider what she was wearing a little more carefully, and she'd definitely have found some tougher boots. There was also the question of food.

None of that registered for the first fifty minutes as she strolled airily down from the small spinney where the path from Francola Wood had emerged. She simply marveled at her own fortune, the way she'd finally managed to turn her predicament around.

Figure out what you want, Laril had told her.

Well, now I've started to do just that. I'm taking charge of my life again.

Then the quartet of moons sank behind the horizon. She smiled at their departure, wondering how long it would take before they reappeared again. It had been a fast traverse of the sky, so they must orbit this world several times a day. When she turned to check the opposite horizon, her smile faded at the thick bank of unpleasantly dark clouds that were ma.s.sing above the lofty hills that made up the valley wall. Ten minutes later the rain reached her, an unrelenting torrent that left her drenched in seconds. Her comfy old fleece was resistant to a mild drizzle, but it was never intended for a downpour that verged on a monsoon. Nonetheless, she sc.r.a.ped the rat-tail strings of hair from her eyes and plodded on resolutely, unable to see more than a hundred meters in front of her. Boots with too-thin soles slipped on the now dangerously slimy gra.s.s equivalent. As the slope took her down to the valley floor, she spent more than half her time leaning forward in a gorilla-style crouch to scramble her way slowly onward. That was the first three hours.