Pandora's Star

  Dudley stepped out onto the platform, and immediately reached for his sunglasses. The settlement was somewhere in the tropics, with a clammy humidity to go with the burning blue-tinged sunlight. To the west, he could just see the ocean past a series of gentle hills. He pulled his jacket off and waved his hand in front of his face. His skin was already sweating.

  Someone at the other end of the platform called out Dudley’s name and waved. Dudley hesitated in the act of raising his own hand. The man was just over six foot tall with the kind of slim frame that marathon runners cherished. Physical age was difficult to place, his skin was heavily OCtattooed; patterns and pictures glowed with hazy colour on every limb. Gold spiral galaxies formed a slow-moving constellation across his bald head. A perfectly clipped, greying goatee beard was the only real clue to late middle age. He grinned and started to walk down the length of the platform, his kilt flapping around his knees. The tartan was a bold pattern in amethyst and black.

  ‘Professor Bose, I presume?’

  Dudley managed not to stroke his own OCtattoo. ‘Uh, yes.’ He put his hand out. ‘Er, LionWalker Eyre?’ Even the way he pronounced it was wrong, like some kind of disapproving bachelor uncle. He hoped the heat was covering any blush to his cheeks.

  ‘That’ll be me. Most people just call me Walker.’

  ‘Er. Great. Okay. Walker, then.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Professor.’

  ‘Dudley.’

  ‘My man.’ LionWalker gave Dudley a hearty slap on his back.

  Dudley started to worry. He hadn’t given any thought to the astronomer’s name when the datasearch produced it. But then, anyone who had enough money to buy a one-point-three-metre reflecting telescope, then ship it out to a frontier world and live there with it, had to be somewhat eccentric.

  ‘It’s very kind of you to allow me a night’s observation,’ Dudley said.

  LionWalker smiled briefly as they headed back down the platform. ‘Well now, it was very unusual to be asked such a thing. Got to be important to you, then, this one night?’

  ‘It could be, yes. I hope so.’

  ‘I asked myself: why one night? What can you possibly see that only takes up such a short time? And a specific night as well.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Aye, well that’s it, isn’t it? I could not come up with a single thing; not in terms of stellar events. And I know there are no comets due, either, at least none I’ve seen, and I’m the only one watching these skies. Are you going to tell me?’

  ‘My department has an ongoing observation of the Dyson Pair; some of our benefactors were interested in them. I just want to confirm something, that’s all.’

  ‘Ah.’ LionWalker’s smile grew wise. ‘I see. Unnatural events it is, then.’

  Dudley began to relax slightly. Eccentric he might be, but LionWalker was also pretty shrewd.

  They reached the end of the platform and the tall man suddenly twisted his wrist and pointed a finger, then slowly drew a semicircle in the air. The OCtattoos on his forearm and wrist flared in a complicated swirl of colour. A Toyota pick-up truck pulled up sharply in front of them.

  ‘That’s an interesting control system,’ Dudley commented.

  ‘Aye, well, it’s the one I favour. Sling your bags in the back, will you?’

  They drove off along one of the newly extruded concrete roads, heading out of the busy settlement. LionWalker twitched his fingers every few seconds, inducing another ripple of colour in his OCtattoos, and the pick-up’s steering would respond fluidly.

  ‘Couldn’t you just give the drive array some verbal instruc-tions?’ Dudley asked.

  ‘Now what would be the point in that? My way I have control over technology. Machinery does as I command. That’s how it should be. Anything else is mechanthropomorphism. You don’t treat a lump of moving metal as an equal and ask it pretty please to do what you’d like. Who’s in charge here, us or them?’

  ‘I see.’ Dudley smiled, actually warming to the man. ‘Is mechanthropomorphism a real word?’

  LionWalker shrugged. ‘It ought to be, the whole bloody Commonwealth practises it like some kind of religion.’

  They quickly left the settlement behind, driving steadily along the road which ran parallel to the coast, just a couple of kilometres inland. Dudley kept catching glimpses of the beautifully clear ocean beyond the small sandy hillocks standing guard behind the shore. Further inland the ground rose to a range of distant hills. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, nor any breeze. The intense light gave the tufty grass and coastal reeds a dark hue, turning the leaves almost jade. Small scrub trees grew along the side of the road; at first glance similar to terrestrial palms, except their leaves were more like cacti branches, complete with monstrous red thorns.

  Fifty kilometres clear of the settlement the road curved inland. LionWalker gave an elaborate wave with his hand, and the pick-up obligingly turned off, heading down a narrow sand track. Dudley wound the window down, smelling the fresh sea air. It wasn’t nearly as salty as most H-congruous worlds.

  ‘See the way they laid the road well inland?’ LionWalker called. ‘Plenty of prime real estate between it and the coast. Thirty years’ time, when the city’s grown up, that’ll sell for ten thousand dollars an acre. This whole area will be covered in rich men’s beach houses.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘Not for me,’ LionWalker laughed. ‘I won’t be here.’

  It was another fifteen kilometres to LionWalker’s house. He’d taken over a curving bay which was sheltered by dunes that extended for several kilometres inland. His house was a low bungalow of pearl-white drycoral perched on top of a large dune only a hundred metres from the shore, with a wide veranda of decking facing the ocean. The big dome of the observatory was a little further back from the water, a standard concrete and metal design.

  A golden Labrador ran out to greet them, tail wagging happily. LionWalker fussed with it as they walked to the house. Dudley could hear the sounds of a furious argument while they were still twenty metres away.

  ‘Oh Lord, they’re still at it,’ LionWalker muttered.

  The thin wooden shutter door slammed open and a young woman stormed out. She was startlingly beautiful, even to Dudley, who was used to a campus full of fresh-faced girls.

  ‘He’s a pig,’ she spat at LionWalker as she hurried past.

  ‘Aye, I’m sure,’ LionWalker said meekly.

  The woman probably didn’t hear, she was already walking towards the dunes, face set with a determination that made it clear she wasn’t going to stop until she reached the end of the world. The Labrador gave her a longing look before turning back to LionWalker.

  ‘There there.’ He patted the dog’s head. ‘She’ll be back to give you your supper.’

  They’d almost reached the door when it opened again. This time it was a young man who came out. With his androgynous features, he was almost as beautiful as the girl. If it hadn’t been for the fact he was shirtless, Dudley might even have questioned his gender.

  ‘Just where does she think she’s going?’ he whined.

  ‘I don’t know,’ LionWalker said in a resigned tone. ‘She didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Well I’m not going after her.’ The youth set off for the beach, slouching his shoulders and kicking at the sand with his bare feet as he went.

  LionWalker opened the door and gestured Dudley inside. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Who are they?’ Dudley asked.

  ‘They’re my current life partners. I love them dearly, but I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it, you know. You married?’

  ‘Yes. Several times, actually.’

  ‘Aye well, you know what it’s like then.’

  The interior of the house was laid out in a classic minimalist style, which suited the location perfectly. There was a big circular fireplace serving as the focal point of the lounge. Tall curving windows revealed an uninterrupted view of the bay and the ocean. Air conditioning provided a relaxing c
hill.

  ‘Sit yourself down,’ LionWalker said. ‘I expect you could do with a drink. I’ll take you over to see the telescope in a minute. You can check it out then. I’m confident you’ll be satisfied.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dudley lowered himself into one of the big sofas. He felt very drab and colourless in such surroundings. It wasn’t just the richness of the house and its setting, but the vivacity of the people who lived here as well.

  ‘This isn’t what I was expecting,’ he admitted a few minutes later, when he’d drunk some of LionWalker’s very agreeable fifty-year-old Scotch.

  ‘You mean you thought I’d be somebody like you? No offence, my man.’

  ‘None taken. So what are you doing here?’

  ‘My family’s quite rich anyway. Not Earth wealthy, mind, but comfortable. I was born with a reasonable trust fund; then I went and made even more money for myself in the commodities market. That was a couple of rejuvenations ago. I’ve just been loafing ever since.’

  ‘So why here? Why Tanyata?’

  ‘This is the edge. This is as far out from our starting point as we’ve got – well, with the exception of Far Away. That’s a wonderful thing, even though everyone regards it as commonplace. I can sit here at night, and look where we’re going. You look at the stars, Dudley, you know what marvels there are to be seen out here. And those cretins behind us, they never look. Where we are now, this was what our ancestors thought was heaven. Now I can look out from their heaven and see where our future lies. Do you not think that’s a thing of glory?’

  ‘Certainly is.’

  ‘There are stars out here that you cannot see from Earth with the naked eye. They shine down out of the sky at night, and I want to know them.’

  ‘Me too.’ Dudley saluted him with the crystal tumbler that was a hundred years older than the Scotch it held, and gulped it down in one.

  *

  The two youngsters returned after a couple of hours cooling off by themselves. LionWalker introduced them as Scott and Chi as they sheepishly greeted Dudley. As a penance, the two of them set about building a bonfire on the beach, using the local driftwood which had a curiously matted texture. They lit it as the sun sank down towards the ocean. Bright orange sparks blew out of the flame tips to swirl high above the sand. Potatoes were pushed into the heart of the fire, while a make-shift barbecue grill was prepared for when the flames died down.

  ‘Can we see the Dyson Pair from here?’ Scott asked as the stars began to appear in the darkening sky.

  ‘No,’ Dudley said. ‘Not with the naked eye, they’re too far away. You can barely see Earth’s star from here, and the Dyson Pair are a thousand light-years beyond that.’

  ‘So when were they enveloped?’

  ‘That’s a very good question. We’ve never been able to pin down the exact construction time of the shells, that’s what my observation project is going to help solve.’ Even now Dudley wasn’t going to admit what he’d seen.

  If tonight’s observation cast any doubt on what he’d seen, he would simply have to bury the whole project right away. He couldn’t afford to make a fuss; he needed the job and its pension too much. Astronomy post-2050 had effectively ceased to be a field of pure science; when you could visit stars of every spectral type to observe them directly there was little point in prioritizing the profession. CST had long since taken over all major deep-space observation for purely commercial ends. In such circumstances, few higher educaction institutions in the Commonwealth bothered building observatories to compliment their faculties. There would be nowhere for him to go.

  An hour after sunset, Dudley and LionWalker walked through the dunes to the observatory. Inside, it was little different to the one on Gralmond. A big empty space with the fat tube of the telescope in the middle, resting on a complex cradle of metal beams and electromuscle bands. The sensor housings surrounding the focus looked a lot more sophisticated than anything the university could afford. A row of neat, modern display portals was lined up along the wall beside the door.

  Dudley glanced round at the professional equipment, feeling a degree of tension ebbing away. There was no practical reason preventing the observation from happening. All he had to deal with was his own memory of the event. Could it really have happened like that? Five months on, the moment seemed elusive somehow, the memory of a dream.

  LionWalker stood close to the base of the telescope, and began what looked like a robot mime dance. Arms and legs jerked about in small precise movements. In response, the doors on the dome started to peel open. Electromuscle bands on the telescope cradle flexed silently, and the fat cylinder began to turn, aligning itself on the horizon where the Dyson Pair were due to rise. LionWalker’s body continued to twist and whirl, then he was snapping his fingers to some unheard beat. The portals came alive one by one, relaying the sensor images.

  Dudley hurried over to them. The image quality was flaw-less. He gazed at the star field, noting the minute variation from the patterns he was used to. ‘What sort of linkage have we got?’ he asked his e-butler.

  ‘The planetary cybersphere is negligible, however there is a landline to the CST station. Available bandwidth is more than capable of meeting your stated requirements. I can open communication to the unisphere whenever you want.’

  ‘Good. Begin quarter of an hour before estimated enclosure time. I want full SI datavault storage, and a unisphere legal verification of the feed.’

  ‘Acknowledged.’

  LionWalker had stopped his gyrations, allowing the tele-scope to rest. He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ A datavault store and legal verification were expensive. Along with his ticket, the cost had taken quite a chunk out of their carefully saved holiday money. Something else Dudley hadn’t told his wife. But it had to be done, with the telescope sensor feed authenticated the observation would be beyond dispute.

  Dudley sat in a cheap plastic chair beside the telescope, his chin resting on his hands, watching the holographic light within the portals. He watched the dark sky obsessively as the Dyson Pair rose above the horizon. LionWalker made a few small adjustments and Dyson Alpha was centred in every portal. For eighty minutes it remained steady. A simple point of ordinary light, each spectrum band revealing an unwavering intensity.

  LionWalker made a few attempts to talk to Dudley about what to expect. Each time he was waved silent. Eventually he just gave up, and slumped in a chair next to the ageing astronomer. He was used to long nights, though sharing this one made it strangely boring.

  Dudley’s e-butler established a full wideband link to the unisphere, and confirmed that the SI datavault was recording.

  It was almost an anticlimax when, right on time, Dyson Alpha vanished.

  ‘Yes!’ Dudley yelled. He jumped to his feet, sending the chair tumbling backwards. ‘Yes, yes, yes. I was right.’ He turned to LionWalker, his smile absurdly wide. ‘Did you see that?’

  ‘Aye,’ LionWalker grunted with false calm. ‘I saw that.’

  ‘Yes!’ Dudley froze. ‘Did we get it?’ he asked his e-butler urgently.

  ‘Unisphere confirms the recording. The event is logged in the SI datavault.’

  Dudley’s smile returned.

  ‘Do you actually realize what that was?’ LionWalker asked.

  ‘I realize.’

  ‘It was impossible, man, that’s what. Completely bloody impossible. Nobody can switch off a star like that. Nobody.’

  ‘I know. Wonderful, isn’t it?’

  2

  Adam Elvin walked out of the CST planetary station in Tokat, the capital of Velaines. He took his time as he passed the sensors which were built into the fluted marble pillars lining the concourse. If he was going to be arrested, he would rather it be now before the rest of the mission was exposed.

  The average Commonwealth citizen had no idea such surveillance systems existed. Adam had dealt with them for most of his adult life. Understandably paranoid about sa
botage, CST used them to monitor everyone using their facilities. The sensor’s large processor arrays were loaded with visual characteristics recognition smartware that checked every passenger against a long long list of known and suspected recidivists.

  Adam had used cellular reprofiling to change his appearance (including height) more times than he could remember; at least once a year, more often twice or three times. The treatment could never cure the ageing process which was starting to frost his joints and organs; but it did remove scar tissue, of which he’d acquired more than his fair share over the decades. It also gave him a wide choice of features. He always felt that trying to disguise his seventy-five years was a pointless vanity. Any elderly person wearing an adolescent’s face was truly pitiful to see. The rest of the body always gave them away; too bulky, too slow. They were immediately picked out as losers, too poor to afford rejuvenation, retreating into the cheap fantasy of a skin-deep youth.

  He reached the departure rank outside the station’s passenger terminal, and used his e-butler to hail a taxi. There had been no alarm. Or at least nothing detectable, he told himself. You never could tell when you were up against her. She was smart, and getting closer to him as the years wore on. If she had prepared a trap for him on Velaines, it wasn’t to be sprung today – the time he would prefer.

  For the moment he was free to go about his mission. Today he was a new person, previously unknown to the Commonwealth. According to his citizenship file he was Huw North, a native of Pelcan, a first-life sixty-seven; an employee of the Bournewell engineering company. To look at he was over-weight; considerably so, given how seriously Commonwealth citizens took their health these days, weighing in at around two hundred and thirty pounds. Accompanying that was a round saggy face that sweated a lot. Thinning grey hair was combed low across his forehead in an unfashionable style. He wore a baggy brown raincoat with wide lapels. It was open down the front to reveal a creased grey suit. A big man with a small life, someone nobody paid attention to. Cellular reprofiling was a cosmetic treatment for the poor and the vain, not a method of adding fat and giving skin a pasty pallor. As a misdirection it never failed.