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Authors: Peter F. Hamilton

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Great North Road (87 page)

BOOK: Great North Road
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“Aye, I’ll organize that.”

“And, Hurst, make fucking sure everyone understands this is still classified.”

“Got it.”

*

The conference room was one which any corporate CEO would be familiar with. Big oval table with democratically positioned leather chairs, perfectly neutral aircon atmosphere, holographic panes on the wall, neat consoles at every place. Expensive and efficient.

Major Vermekia didn’t approve. He found it an indication of how far corporate culture had pervaded every aspect of human activity. It was blandification, rubbing everything down to a smooth managed expectation. Military life shouldn’t be like that. Officers should be constantly reminded their decisions held people’s lives in the balance. And for an HDA officer, that could well mean millions of lives.

Despite his disapproval, he kept his expression neutral as he followed General Shaikh into the conference room. The general was certainly a man of honor. Rare enough in this day and age. Shaikh would do what had to be done, no matter his surroundings, of that Vermekia was confident.

The members of the Sirius science team Captain Toi had assembled were standing beside their chairs. Those big panes on the wall cast a faint pink light across the room. Instead of corporate accountancy data, each one carried a similar image of Sirius, its seething photosphere mottled by dark blemishes, plasma warts screwing up the flux lines. They accounted for more than half the surface area now.

Shaikh took the chair at the head of the table, and gestured everyone else to sit. “Captain Toi?” he asked.

She stood up. “Sir. We sent forty-eight satellites through the Cape Town war gateway. Thirty-one remain functional.”

“What happened to the rest?” Shaikh asked.

“Solar radiation storms knocked them out. They were in the closest orbits. We now don’t orbit anything closer than twenty million kilometers of Sirius.”

“The storms are that powerful?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see. Proceed.”

“Twenty-one satellites are in the twenty- to twenty-eight-million-kilometer orbit, scanning the star. They’re viewing the photosphere in visual spectra as well as scanning Sirius’s magnetic, gravitational field, and quantum signature. So far they have detected absolutely zero disturbance in the surrounding quantum fields. There are unusual fluctuations in the magnetic field, which correspond to the twists in the convection layer. But the astronomy team believes they originate within the star, and could be caused by deep current patterns within the core.”

“Is this a known phenomenon?” the general asked.

“Sir, this is Dr. Tavarez, our compressed-matter expert.”

Dr. Tavarez, a tall, slender academic with a balding scalp, nodded nervously as everyone turned to him. “General. We’ve not seen radiation zone currents produce quite this kind of cycle before, but we are dealing with exceptionally large time frames, especially in relation to historical astronomy.”

“Doctor, I simply need to know if this is natural.”

“I understand. Given the sheer size of Sirius, an asymmetric imbalance within the radiative zone, or even the neutron core itself could conceivably operate on this kind of thousand-year time scale. Just because we haven’t encountered it before does not negate its possibility. We are constructing theoretical models that admittedly require a stretch of credulity, but will provide a framework to explain the observed effects. And although I personally regard the Red Controversy as dubious at best, the facts we witness today are undeniable.” He waved a bony hand at the panes. “There is also the response of the St. Libra plants. To have an automatic reaction to this event is the strongest indicator that it has happened before; frequently, in order for a plant to evolve a response. Something affects Sirius’s magnetic field on a regular basis. It has to be an inordinately powerful cyclic influence, which suggests that the core is responsible.”

“So it is natural?”

“I believe so. Certainly the remaining satellite data seems to support an absence of Zanth activity.”

“Captain?” the general said.

One of the panes changed to show a 3-D orbital schematic of the Sirius system, with nineteen solid planets, including St. Libra, orbiting between the two stars, and three small rocky airless worlds chasing odd elliptical high-inclination orbits around Sirius B. The ten remaining sensor satellites shone as green triangles, covering a volume of space thirty AUs from Sirius A.

“Not one of the satellites has detected any kind of fluctuation within the quantum fields. There is simply no evidence of any kind of Zanth activity as we understand it,” Toi said. “Sirius space is completely clear.”

Vermekia cleared his throat. “So if we disregard the sheer size of the event, there’s nothing to make us suspect it is of Zanth origin?”

“There is its incongruity,” Dr. Tavarez said. “Although I am loath to rule out anything in a natural universe, this sunspot outbreak is completely unprecedented.”

“But not artificial? Not generated by an external force?” Shaikh persisted.

“I don’t see how it could be,” Tavarez said. “Whatever is happening within the star’s core is the key to this, for that is where the magnetic field is generated. It’s going to take decades of study to understand the core’s deep cycles.”

The general looked around the table, making brief eye contact with each of the scientists. “I understand this is fascinating to you on an intellectual level, but equally you must understand the effect it is having across the trans-stellar worlds. I require a consensus. Are you agreed there is no evidence of the Zanth at Sirius?”

“Sir,” Toi said. “That is the conclusion of this committee.”

“Thank you. Captain Toi, I am hereby officially canceling the Zanthswarm stage two alert. Please notify the situation center. Our forces are to stand down.”

“General,” Dr. Tavarez asked, “may we retain the satellites to continue our observation?”

“Major?” Shaikh asked.

“Impossible to bring them back through the war gateway,” Vermekia said. “And if we did, they’re dangerously radioactive; I don’t see what we’d do with them. But retaining the war gateway opening just to maintain communication links with the satellites would be expensive.”

“Can they be monitored from St. Libra?”

“I’m sure some kind of antenna can be put in place at our Highcastle office, yes.”

“See to it. Does anyone have an estimate how long the sunspot outbreak will last?”

“Several months at least,” Captain Toi said. “That will simply be how long it takes for the current spots to dissipate. If more continue to erupt, then the time scale simply cannot be known. It must have lasted a reasonable length of time for it to be noticed by naked-eye astronomers.”

“Years, then?”

“We think that’s likely, yes.”

“And the effect on St. Libra?”

“General,” said Professor Dendias, a climatologist. “I believe we’re looking at a major environmental shift. The sunspot activity hasn’t yet reached a peak, although it is slowing. The first spots to emerge remain substantial, and our estimate has them enduring for a couple of months. St. Libra’s atmosphere is already reacting to the reduced solar infall; there have been reports of rain becoming ice, and even unconfirmed reports of snow from the southernmost Independencies. This is just the start, there’s no telling what the ultimate effect may be. We might even see the inauguration of temperate bands in the north and south that will persist for years.”

“I see. My thanks to all of you for the work you’ve done.” The general stared at the panes while everyone except for Vermekia filed out. When the door closed and the blue seal light outlined it, he cocked his head at Vermekia. “You’ve remained in contact with Elston?”

“Yes, sir. Wukang is hanging on in there.”

“Are the warheads secure?”

“Yes, sir. I receive daily confirmation of that. However, the e-Ray link is now somewhat tenuous.”

“And the murders?”

“The Newcastle police are convinced their body was the result of a corporate war. I have to admit the evidence they’ve amassed points to that. However, Stevens has briefed me there remains one semi-official lead the chief detective is following up with our assistance. I’ll wait and see how that plays out before passing judgment. The murder of Coombes at Wukang is more pressing. Elston is convinced an alien is picking off his people. There are some perplexing incidents building up out there. But Passam is looking at evacuation.”

“No. Wukang and the others are to remain until we have proof of an alien or whoever murdered Coombes is exposed. Now that the Zanthswarm alert is over, can we get the extra Legionnaires we promised out to him?”

“The remaining Daedalus planes and the SuperRocs have been cleared for flight. But by all accounts flying over the Eclipse range right now is going to be tough.”

“A war gateway, then?”

Vermekia sucked down a breath. “Can be done, of course. We could drop a Daedalus through at high altitude above Wukang. But we wouldn’t be able to recover by that method, of course. It’s the anchor problem, as always. If we want direct access to the middle of the Brogal continent you’re looking at constructing a new gateway. It would cost tens of billions.”

“And take months, if not years,” the general said. “Yes, point taken. Even if they do capture an alien, it will have to be flown out. So Sarvar and Edzell need to retain their skeleton crews to facilitate that.”

“Our people are going to be fairly isolated anyway while the storms last. They can handle that. I’d be inclined to wait for the Newcastle result before we attempt to drop a Daedalus through a gateway into Wukang’s airspace. The reports I’ve had from the other forward-base xenobiology teams out there are confidently saying no animals have evolved on St. Libra. There is no genetic variance.”

“Smart plants?”

“Anything is possible, of course. But all the geneticists are saying the plants have a sophistication that would have taken a long time to evolve naturally, certainly longer than Sirius has been in existence. It looks like the planet was definitely bioformed a couple of million years ago.”

“Then we’re looking at the aliens who created the biosphere.”

“And given what we’ve done to the place since we arrived, they’d be justified in being very angry with us.”

“Then why don’t they just come out and say so?”

Vermekia shrugged. “The big question.”

“No.” Shaikh jabbed a finger at the mottled photosphere. “
That’s
the question. Did they do that? An alien species that can switch off a star is possibly more frightening than the Zanth. We’re wasting time scrabbling around in jungles and chasing gang lords in Newcastle. It’s pitiful. What we should be doing is establishing gateways to a dozen unexplored star systems to see if we can find this species, damn the cost of it.”

“Elston knows there’s something out there threatening Wukang. If anyone can catch it, he will.”

“And our contact with him is reliant on some e-Rays being beaten up by storms. That’s unacceptable. Order the camps at Edzell and Sarvar to deploy their reserve e-Rays—I want the link firmed up. And I think Elston should be given the full activation codes as a precaution.”

“I’ll get them sent to him.”

“Good. But make sure he understands it’s a last resort. Only to be used if aliens are based on St. Libra and pose a clear and verifiable threat to the human race.”

“He knows why this particular weapon was created, and the circumstances for deploying it. You can rely on him.”

*

Sid wasn’t worried he’d screw up using the applicator tube. He was also confident he could get into the locker where Boz had left his clothes while he went for his regular evening workout on the gym’s machines. It was being in a gym in the first place that was the whole flaw in the plan. Any gym member or regular who looked at him would instantly know he didn’t belong, that he was an interloper. Patrons of Regency Fitness would wonder what he was doing. Query why he was opening a locker—slobs like him didn’t need to change clothes because they didn’t do sessions. They’d raise a fuss, maybe call security or even the police. It would all go catastrophically wrong because like every middle-aged man with a real job he didn’t watch his diet like he should, or exercise properly. That lapse was going to come back and bite him hard.

“Are you all right?” Ian asked over the secure link.

“Fine.”

“There’s no one in the locker room. I’m monitoring the whole gym.”

“I know.” Sid was cursing the whole arrangement and the paranoia it had kicked off inside him. Gyms were Ian’s natural habitat. He should be in here while Sid stayed back in the flat and provided electronic coverage. But no—Sid wanted to show that he was prepared to take as much risk as anyone. So he went first.

Regency Fitness was a gym and fitness lifestyle business buried in the heart of the Fortin singletown. The men’s locker room was large and brightly lit, light, with wood-fronted lockers and a pigeonhole wall full of fluffy fresh towels for the marble-tiled shower room. He’d been inside for thirty seconds now, and Ian was right, he was the only person in there. Seven men were currently registered with the gym’s network as using the facilities. So seven of the fifty lockers would be in use.

Sid hurried along the row and found the first closed door. The lockers had simple coded lock pads. He told his e-i to quest the pad with the subber patch he’d copied from a bytehead’s cache a couple of years ago when they arrested her. It popped open. He looked at the clothes piled up inside.

“Not his,” said Ian, who was riding the image from Sid’s iris smartcells.

Sid closed the locker and went on to the next. The fourth one he opened belonged to Boz—those outsized clothes were instantly recognizable. He pulled the applicator tube from his pocket, the size of a matchstick made of buffed stainless steel. When he touched it to the heel of Boz’s shoe, his e-i triggered the launch system. A smartmicrobe was released, its sticky molecule surface adhering to the dark rubbery polymer of the heel. It would sit there passively recording the emissions from Boz’s links, ready to download on command. Small enough and new enough with its quantum junction structure to be impervious to ordinary detection systems, even those of Beijing’s dark tech barons should prove ineffective against it, Ralph had said.

BOOK: Great North Road
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