Nights Dawn (№4) - Neutronium Alchemist - Conflict

“Nothing ever is, Doc. I learned that long ago.”

“Ha! You’re too young.”

“Depends how you fill the years, doesn’t it?”

Alkad Mzu datavised the coordinate over.

A wormhole terminus is opening,tranquillity announced.

At the time, Ione was standing knee deep in the warm water of the cove, rubbing Haile’s flank with a big yellow bath sponge. She straightened her back and began wringing out the sponge. Her real attention was focused on a point in space a hundred and twenty thousand kilometres away from the habitat where the vacuum’s gravity density was building rapidly. Three SD platforms orbiting the emergence zone locked their X-ray lasers on to the terminus as it expanded. Five patrol blackhawks accelerated in at four gees.

A large voidhawk slipped out of the two-dimensional rent. Oenone , Confederation Navy ship SLV-66150, requesting approach and docking permission,it said. Our official flight authentication code follows.

Granted,tranquillity replied after it verified the code. The SD platforms were switched back to alert status. Three of the blackhawks resumed their patrol, while the remaining two curved around to form an escort as Oenone accelerated in towards the habitat.

“I’m going to have to leave you,” Ione said.

Jay Hilton’s vexed face peeped over the top of Haile’s gleaming white back. “What is it this time?” she asked petulantly.

“Affairs of state.” Ione started wading towards the shore. She scooped some water up and tried to flush the sand out of her bikini top.

“You always say that.”

Ione gave the disgruntled girl a forlorn smile. “Because it always is, these days.” Sorry, she added.

Haile formshifted the tip of an arm into a human hand and waved. Goodbye, Ione Saldana. I have much sorrow you are leaving, my endlegs itch like hell.

Haile!

I form a communication wrongness? I have shame.

Not wrong, exactly.

Gladness. That was a Joshua Calvert expression. Much favoured.

Ione snapped her teeth together. That bloody Calvert! Anger gave way to something more confusing, a sort of resentment . . . possibly. Hundreds of light-years away, and he still intrudes. It would be. Please don’t use it around Jay.

Understanding is me. I have a great many human emphasis phrases conveyed by Joshua Calvert.

I’ll bet you have.

I want properness in my communication. I ask your assistance in reviewing my word collection. You may edit me.

Yes, all right.

Much gladness!

Ione took another pace, then laughed. Reviewing everything Joshua had said to the young Kiint would take hours. Hours she hadn’t been spending on the beach of late. Haile was becoming very crafty.

Jay leaned against her friend, watching Ione put her sandals on and start back up the path to the tube station. There was a slightly distracted expression on the woman’s face, that Jay knew meant she was busy talking to the habitat personality. She didn’t like to dwell on the topic. More than likely, it would be the possessed again. That was all the adults talked about these days, and it was never reassuring talk.

Haile’s arm twined around Jay’s, the tip stroking her gently.

You taste of sadness.

“I don’t think these horrible possessed will ever go away.”

They will. Humans are clever. You will find a way.

“I hope so. I do want Mummy back.”

Shall we build the castles of sand now?

“Yes!” Jay grinned enthusiastically and started splashing her way back up to the beach. They’d made the discovery together that Haile with her tractamorphic arms was the universe’s best ever builder of sand castles. With Jay directing, they had made some astonishing towers along the shoreline.

Haile emerged from the water in a small explosion of spray. Betterness. You have happiness again.

“So do you. Ione promised to come back for the words.”

It is the best niceness when the three of us play together. She knows this really.

Jay giggled. “She turned purple when you said that. Good job you didn’t say fuck to her.”

The Oenone, ione reflected. Why do I know that name?

Atlantis.

Oh, yes.

And a certain interception in the Puerto de Santa Maria star system. We received an intelligence update from the Confederation Navy last year.

Oh, bloody hell, yes.

Captain Syrinx wishes to talk to you.

Ione sat down in the tube carriage and began towelling her hair. Of course.the affinity contact broadened, allowing Syrinx to proffer her identity trait.

Captain,ione acknowledged.

I apologize for the haste, but please be advised a Confederation Navy squadron will start arriving in another nine minutes and thirty seconds—mark.

I see. Is Tranquillity in danger?

No.

What then?

I am carrying the squadron’s commander, Admiral Meredith Saldana. He requests an interview at which he can explain our full strategic situation to you.

Granted. Welcome to Tranquillity.the captain faded from the affinity band.

She was curious about you,tranquillity said. It was quite plain from her emotional content.

Everybody’s always curious about me.she borrowed the habitat’s external senses to observe local space. They were in Mirchusko’s umbra, with Choisya and Falsia hovering just above the gas giant’s crescent horizon. Apart from the flotilla of blackhawks on patrol around the habitat’s shell, there was little spaceship activity. The Oenone was the first starship to arrive in seventy-six hours. Some MSVs and personnel commuters continued to glide between the counter-rotating spaceport and Tranquillity’s bracelet of industrial stations, but they were running a much reduced flight schedule. A lone dazzle-point of fusion flame was rising up past the drab grey loop of the Ruin Ring, an He3 tanker en route from the habitat’s cloudscoop to the spaceport. Program the squadron’s arrival into the SD platforms,she said. And warn the blackhawks, we don’t want any mistakes.

Naturally.

Meredith Saldana. That’s two family visits in less than a month.

I don’t think this is a family visit.

You’re probably right.

It was a suspicion which was proved unpleasantly correct soon after Syrinx and the admiral were shown into the audience chamber of De Beauvoir Palace. As she listened to Meredith Saldana explain the proposed ambush of Capone’s fleet at Toi-Hoi a swarm of ambiguous feelings lay siege to her mind.

I don’t want to involve us in front line campaigns,she confided to Tranquillity.

To be pedantic, we’re in the campaign, not the front line itself. And the eradication of the Organization fleet is not a strategic opportunity which can be overlooked.

No choice?

No choice.

I still think we’re too important for this.

But safe. The safest place in the Confederation, remember that.

We hope. I’d hate to put that to the test, right now.

I don’t see how it will. Not from this action. We will essentially be a supply and rendezvous base.

“Very well,” she told the admiral. “You have my permission to use Tranquillity for your task force’s port station. I’ll see that you get all the He3 you need.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Meredith said.

“I’m slightly concerned by this flight restriction you wish to place on starships until the ambush, although I do appreciate the logic behind it. I currently have over twenty blackhawks deploying sensor satellites around the orbit where the Laymil home planet used to be. It’s extremely important research work. I’d hate to see it jeopardized.”

“They would only have to be recalled for three or four days at the most,” Syrinx said. “Our scheduling is very tight, here. Surely a small delay wouldn’t effect the research too much?”

“I’ll recall them for now. But if you’re still here after a week, I’ll have to review the policy. As I said, this is part of the effort to find an overall solution. That is not to be regarded lightly.”

“Believe me, we don’t, ma’am,” Meredith said.

She stared at him, trying to work out what was going on behind his blue eyes. But his answering stare offered no clue. “I have to say, I find it ironic that Tranquillity has become so important to the Confederation and the Kingdom after all this time,” she said.

“Ironic or pleasing? Chance has finally brought you the chance to vindicate your grandfather’s actions.”

There was no humour in his tone, which surprised her. She’d assumed he would be more sympathetic than Prince Noton. “You think Grandfather Michael was wrong?”

“I think he was wrong to pursue such an unorthodox course.”

“Unorthodox to the family, perhaps. But I assure you it’s not chance which has brought us together. This whole situation will prove how right he was to act on his foresight.”

“I wish you every success.”

“Thank you. And who knows, one day I might earn your approval, too.”

For the first time, he produced a grudging smile. “You don’t like losing arguments, do you, Cousin Ione?”

“I am a Saldana.”

“That much is painfully obvious.”

“As are you. I don’t think every Confederation admiral would have coped as well as you at Lalonde.”

“I did not cope well. I ensured my squadron survived; most of it, anyway.”

“A Confederation officer’s first duty is to follow orders. Second duty is to the crew. So I believe,” she said. “As your original orders didn’t cover what you encountered, I’d say you did all right.”

“Lalonde was . . . difficult,” he said heavily.

“Yes. I know all about Lalonde from Joshua Calvert.”

Syrinx, who had been looking considerably ill at ease while the two Saldanas conducted their verbal fencing, glanced sharply at Ione, her eyebrows raised in interest.

“Oh, yes,” Meredith reflected. “Lagrange Calvert. Who could forget him?”

“Is he here?” Syrinx asked. “This is his registered port.”

“He’s away at the moment, I’m afraid,” Ione told her. “But I’m expecting him back any day now.”

“Good.”

Ione couldn’t quite fathom the Edenist’s attitude. Why do you think she’s interested in Joshua?

I have no idea. Unless she wants to punch him on the nose for Puerto de Santa Maria.

I doubt it. She’s an Edenist, they don’t do things like that. You don’t suppose she and Joshua . . . ?

I doubt it. She’s an Edenist, they have more taste.

Athene didn’t want him to come to the house. It would be too upsetting for the children, she explained. Though they both knew it was she who was discomforted by the whole idea; keeping him away was a way of establishing a psychological barrier.

Instead, she chose one of the spaceport reception lounges in the habitat’s endcap. There was nobody else in the spacious room when she arrived, not that there could be any mistake. The hulking figure was sitting on a deep settee in front of the long window, watching service crews bustling around the voidhawks on their pedestals outside. It was a squadron assigned to assist the Kulu Kingdom in the Mortonridge Liberation campaign, one of them would soon be transporting him to Ombey.

I missed this,he said, not turning around, I watched the voidhawks through the sensitive cells, of course, but I still miss this. The habitat perception doesn’t provide any sense of urgency. And my emotions were not suppressed exactly, but less colourful, not so keenly felt. Do you know, I think I’m actually becoming excited.

She walked over to the settee, an extraordinary sense of trepidation simmering in her mind. The figure stood, revealing its true height, several centimetres taller than she. As with all Tranquillity serjeants, its exoskeleton was a faint ruddy colour, although a good forty per cent of its body was covered in bright green medical nanonic packages. It held up both hands, and turned them around, studying them intently, its eyes just visible at the back of their protective slits.

I must be quite a sight. They force-cloned all the organs separately, then stitched them together. Serjeants take fifteen months to grow to full size usually; that would be far too long. So here we are, Frankenstein’s army, patched together and rushed off the assembly line. The packages should have done their work before we reach Ombey.

Athene’s shoulders drooped, mirroring the dismay in her mind. Oh, Sinon, what have you done?

What I had to. The serjeants must have some controlling consciousness. And seeing as how there were all us individual personalities already available . . .

Yes, but not you!

Somebody has to volunteer.

I didn’t want you to be one.

I’m just a copy, my darling, and an edited down one at that. My real personality is still in the neural strata, suspended for now. When I get back, or if this serjeant is destroyed, I’ll return to the multiplicity.

This is so wrong. You’ve had your life. It was a wonderful life, rich and exciting, and full of love. Transferring into the multiplicity is our reward for living true to our culture, it should be like being a grandparent forever, a grandparent with the largest family of relatives in the universe. You carry on loving, and you become part of something precious to all of us.she looked up at the hard mask that was its face, her own frail cheeks trembling. You don’t come back. You just don’t. It’s not right, Sinon, it isn’t. Not for us, not for Edenists.

If we don’t help the Kingdom to liberate Mortonridge, there may not be any Edenists for very much longer.

No! I won’t accept that. I never have. I believe Laton if no one else does. I refuse to fear the beyond like some inadequate Adamist.

It’s not the beyond we have to worry about, it’s those that have returned from it.

I was one of those who opposed this Mortonridge absurdity.

I know.

By committing ourselves to it, we’re no better than animals. Beasts lashing out; it’s filthy. Humans can be so much more.

But rarely are.

That’s what Edenism was supposed to be about, to lift us above this primitivism. All of us.

The serjeant put its arm out towards her, then withdrew it hurriedly. Shame leaked out into the affinity band. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I see how much this hurts you. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes one last time.

They’re not your own eyes; and you’re not even Sinon, not really. I think that’s what I hate most about this. It’s not just Adamist religions the beyond undermines, it’s ruined the whole concept of transference. What’s the point? You are your soul, if you are anything. The Kiint are right, simulacrum personalities are nothing more than a sophisticated library of memories.

In our case, the Kiint are wrong. The habitat personality has a soul. Our individual memories are the seeds of its consciousness. The more there are of us in the multiplicity, the richer its existence and heritage becomes. Knowledge of the beyond hasn’t ruined our culture. Edenism can adapt, it can learn and grow. Surmounting this time intact will be our triumph. And that’s what I’m fighting for, to give us that physical chance. I know the Mortonridge Liberation is a fraud, we all do. But that doesn’t stop it from being valid.

You’re going to kill people. However careful you are, however well intentioned you are, they will die.

Yes. I didn’t start this, and I won’t be the one who stops it. But I must play my part. To do nothing would be to sin by omission. What I and the others do on Mortonridge might buy you enough time.

Me?

You, Consensus, the Adamist researchers, maybe even priests. All of you have to keep looking. The Kiint found a way to face the beyond and survive. It’s here somewhere.

I’ll do what I can, which at my age is very limited.

Don’t underestimate yourself.

Thank you. You haven’t been edited down that much, you know.

Some parts of me can’t be edited, not if I want to keep being me. Bearing that in mind, I have one last favour to ask of you.

Go on.

I’d like you to explain this to Syrinx for me. I know my little Sly-minx, she’ll go nova when she hears I volunteered for this.

I’ll tell her. I don’t know if I can explain, but . . .

The serjeant bowed as best the medical packages would allow. Thank you, Athene.

But do please take care.

I can’t give you my blessing.

There was no lavish farewell party this time. Monterey had a more serious, less triumphant air these days. But Al chose the Hilton’s ballroom anyway to watch the fleet coming together, and to hell with any bad feelings and resentment it stirred up in his head. He stood in front of the window, gazing out at the starships clustered around Monterey. There were over a hundred and fifty of them, dwindling away until the more distant ones were nothing more than big stars. Ion thrusters fired microsecond jets of gauzy blue neon to keep their attitude locked. MSVs and personnel commuters swam among them, delivering new crew and combat wasps.

The stealthed mines which the voidhawks from Yosemite had scattered were no more, returning space around New California to a more peaceful state. Even the voidhawks sent to observe the Organization were finding it increasingly difficult to maintain their inspection high above New California’s poles.

As if to emphasise the change in local strategic fortunes, a hellhawk hurtled past the Hilton tower, twisting about in complex curves to dodge the stationary Adamist starships. It was one of the harpies, a red-eyed beast with a hundred-and-eighty-metre wingspan and a vicious-looking beak.

Al pressed himself up against the window to watch as it skirred around the asteroid. “Go you beaut,” he yelled after it. “Go get ’em. Go!”

A small puff of pink dust erupted from nowhere as a stealthed spyglobe was masered. The hellhawk performed a victory roll, wingtip feathers standing proud to twist the solar wind.

“Wow!” Al pulled back from the window, smiling magnanimously. “Ain’t that something else?”

“Glad I can live up to my part of the bargain,” Kiera said with cool objectivity.

“Lady, after this, you got as many fresh bodies as you want for Valisk. Al Capone knows how to reward his friends. And believe me, this is what I call friendly.”

A serene smile ghosted her beautiful young face. “Thank you, Al.”

The cluster of Organization lieutenants at the rear of the ballroom kept their expressions stoic, while their minds palpitated with jealousy. Al liked that; introduce a new favourite in court, and see how the old-timers bid to prove themselves. He sneaked a look at Kiera’s profile; she was wearing a loose-fitting purple blouse and second-skin-tightness trousers, hair tied back with fussy decorum. Her face was beguiling, with its prim features kept firmly under control. But smouldering deep behind it was the old familiar illness of powerlust. She had more class than most, but she wasn’t so different.

“How we doing, Luigi?” Al bellowed.

“Pretty good, Al. The hellhawk crews say they should have cleared away every mine and spyglobe in another thirty-two hours. We’re pushing those asshole voidhawks back further and further, which means they can’t launch any more crap at us. They don’t know what we’re doing anymore, and they can’t hurt us so bad. It makes one hell of a difference. The fleet’s shaping up great now. The guys, they’re getting their morale back, you know.”

“Glad to hear it.” Which was an understatement. It had been looking bad for a while, what with the voidhawks launching their unseen weapons and the lieutenants down on the planet abusing their authority to carve themselves out some territory. Funny how all problems locked together. Now the hellhawks had arrived the situation in space was improving by the hour. The crews were no longer living in constant fear of a strike by a stealthed mine, which improved their efficiency and confidence by orders of magnitude. People on the ground sensed the fresh tide above them and wanted to play ball again. The number of beefs was dropping; and the guys Leroy had working the Treasury electric adding machines said fraud was levelling out—not falling yet, but shit you couldn’t expect miracles.

“How do you keep the hellhawks in line?” Al asked.

“I can guarantee them human bodies when their work’s finished,” Kiera said. “Bodies which they can go straight into without having to return to the beyond first. They’re very special bodies, and you don’t have any.”

“Hey.” Al spread his arms wide, puffing out a huge cloud of cigar smoke. “I wasn’t trying to muscle in on you, sister. No way. You got a neat operation. I respect that.”

“Good.”

“We need to talk terms about another squadron. I mean, between you and me, I’m in deep shit over Arnstadt—pardon my French. The goddamn voidhawks there are wasting a couple of my ships each day. Something’s gotta be done.”

Kiera gave a noncommittal moue. “And what about this fleet? Won’t you need a squadron to protect it from voidhawks at Toi-Hoi?”

Al didn’t need to consult Luigi over that one, he could sense the hunger in the fleet commander’s mind. “Now you come to mention it, it might not be a bad idea.”

“I’ll see to it,” Kiera said. “There should be another group of hellhawks returning to Valisk today. If I dispatch a messenger now, they should be back here within twenty-four hours.”

“Sounds pretty damn good to me, lady.”

Kiera raised her walkie-talkie, and pulled a long length of chrome aerial out of it. “Magahi, would you return to Monterey’s docking ledge, please.”

“Roger,” a crackling voice said from the walkie-talkie. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Al was aware of an uncomfortable amount of satisfaction in Kiera’s mind. She was pretty sure she’d just won something. “Couldn’t you just tell Magahi to go straight back to the habitat?” he inquired lightly.

Kiera’s smile widened gracefully. It was the same welcoming promise which had ended the Deadnight recording. “I don’t think so. There’s a big security factor if we radio the order; after all there are still some spyglobes out there. I don’t want the Edenists to know Magahi is flying escort on a frigate convoy.”

“Escort? What frigates?”

“The frigates carrying the first batch of my antimatter combat wasps to Valisk. That was your part of the bargain, Al, wasn’t it?”

Damn the bitch! Al’s cigar had gone out. Emmet said their stocks of antimatter were nearly exhausted, and the fleet needed every gram to insure success at Toi-Hoi. He looked at Leroy, then Luigi. Neither of them could offer him a way out. “Sure thing, Kiera. We’ll get it organized.”

“Thank you, Al.”

Tough little ironass. Al couldn’t decide if he respected that or not. He didn’t need any more complications right now. But he was awful glad that she was lining up on his side.

He took another sidelong look at her figure. Who knows? We could get to be real close allies. Except Jez would kill me for real . . .

The ballroom’s huge double doors swung open to admit Patricia and someone Al had never seen before. A possessed man, who managed to cringe away from Patricia at the same time as he scampered along beside her. Judging by the perilously fragile state of his thoughts he had only just come into his new body.

He saw Al, and made an effort to compose himself. Then his eyes darted to the huge window. His discipline crumpled. “Holy cow,” he whispered. “It is true. You are going to invade Toi-Hoi.”

“Who the fuck is this goofball?” Al shouted at Patricia.

“His name’s Perez,” she said calmly. “And you need to listen to him.”

If it had been anyone else who spoke to him like that, they would’ve been kiboshed. But Patricia was one he really trusted. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“Think what he just said, Al.”

Al did. “How did you know about Toi-Hoi?” he asked.

“Khanna! I got it from Khanna. She told me to tell you. She said one of us must get through. Then she killed me. She killed all of us. No, not killed, executed, that’s what she did, executed us. Smash smash smash with the white fire. Straight through my brain. That bitch! I’d only been back for five minutes. Five goddamn minutes!”

“Who told you, fella? Who’s this she you got the beef with?”

“Jacqueline Couteur. Back in Trafalgar. The Confederation Navy got her banged up in the demon trap. I hope she rots there. Bitch.”

Patricia smiled a superior I-told-you-so, which Al acknowledged frugally. He put his arm around Perez’s shaking shoulders, and proffered the man a Havana. “Okay, Perez. You got my word, the word of Al Capone, which is the toughest currency of all, that nobody here is gonna send you back into the beyond again. Now, you wanna start at the beginning for me?”

Chapter 13

Earth.

A planet whose ecology was ruined beyond repair: the price it paid for elevating itself to be the Confederation’s supreme industrial and economic superpower. Overpopulated, ancient, decadent, and utterly formidable. This was the undeniable imperial heart of the human dominion.

It was also home.

Quinn Dexter admired the images building up on the bridge’s holoscreens. This time he could savour them with unhurried joy. Their official Nyvan flight authority code had been accepted by Govcentral Strategic Defence Command. As far as anyone was concerned, they were a harmless ship sent by a tiny government to buy defence components.

“Traffic control has given us a vector,” Dwyer said. “We have permission to dock at the Supra-Brazil tower station.”

“That’s good. Can you fly it?”

“I think so. It’s tough, we have to go around the Halo, and they’ve given us a narrow flight path, but I can handle that.”

Quinn nodded his permission without saying anything. Dwyer had been a perfect pain in the arse for the whole voyage, making out how difficult everything was before the flight computer performed whatever was required with faultless efficiency. An extraordinarily transparent attempt to show how indispensable he was. But then Quinn knew the effect he had on people, it was part of the fun.

Dwyer was immediately busy talking to the flight computer. Icons flurried over the console displays. Eight minutes later they were under power, accelerating at a third of a gee to curve southwards around the O’Neill Halo.

“Are we going down to the planet first?” Dwyer asked. He was growing progressively twitchier in contrast to Quinn’s deadly calm. “I didn’t know if you wanted to take over an asteroid.”

“Take over?” Quinn asked faintly.

“Yeah. You know, bring them the gospel of God’s Brother. Like we did for Jesup and the other three.”

“No, I don’t think so. Earth isn’t so arse backwards as Nyvan, it would never be that simple to convene the Night here. It must be corrupted from within. The sects will help me do that. Once I show them what I’ve become they’ll welcome me back. And of course, my friend Banneth is down there. God’s Brother understands.”

“Sure, Quinn, that’s good. Whatever you say.” The communications console bleeped for attention, which Dwyer happily gave it. Script flowed down one of the screens, which only amplified his distress as he read it. “Hell, Quinn, have you seen this?”

“God’s Brother gave me a great many gifts, but being psychic isn’t one of them.”

“It’s the clearance procedures we have to comply with after we dock. Govcentral security wants to ensure no possessed are on board.”

“Fuck that.”

“Quinn!”

“I do hope, I really fucking do hope that you’re not questioning me, Dwyer.”

“Shit, no way, Quinn. You’re the man, you know that.” His voice was verging on hysteria.

“Glad to hear it.”

The Brazilian orbital tower sprouted from the very heart of the South American continent, extending fifty-five thousand kilometres out into space. When it was in Earth’s penumbra, as it was when the Mount’s Delta approached, it was invisible to every visual sensor. However, in other electromagnetic wavelengths, and particularly the magnetic spectrum, it gleamed. A slim golden strand of impossible length, with minute scarlet particles skimming along it at tremendous speed.