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Synopsis
Following on from The Reality Dysfunction, The Neutronium Alchemist is the second epic novel in the Night's Dawn trilogy by Peter F. Hamilton.
The ancient menace has finally escaped from Lalonde, shattering the Confederation's peaceful existence. Those who succumbed to it have acquired godlike powers, but now follow a far from divine gospel as they advance inexorably from world to world.
On planets and asteroids individuals battle for survival against the strange and brutal forces unleashed upon the universe. Governments teeter on the brink of anarchy, the Confederation Navy is dangerously overstretched, and a dark messiah prepares to invoke his own version of the final Night.
In such desperate times the last thing the galaxy needs is a new and terrifyingly powerful weapon. Yet Dr Alkad Mzu is determined to retrieve the Alchemist - so she can complete her thirty-year-old vendetta to slay a star. Which means Joshua Calvert has to find Dr Mzu and bring her back before the Alchemist can be reactivated.
But he's not alone in the chase, and there are people on both sides who have their own ideas about how to use the ultimate doomsday device.
Release date: September 29, 2009
Publisher: Orbit
Print pages: 1168
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The Neutronium Alchemist
Peter F. Hamilton
2020 Cavius base established. Mining of Lunar subcrustal resources starts.
2037 Beginning of large-scale geneering on humans; improvement to immunology system, eradication of appendix, organ efficiency
increased.
2041 First deuterium-fuelled fusion stations built; inefficient and expensive.
2044 Christian reunification.
2047 First asteroid capture mission. Beginning of Earth’s O’Neill Halo.
2049 Quasi-sentient bitek animals employed as servitors.
2055 Jupiter mission.
2055 Lunar cities granted independence from founding companies.
2057 Ceres asteroid settlement founded.
2058 Affinity symbiont neurons developed by Wing-Tsit Chong, providing control over animals and bitek constructs.
2064 Multinational industrial consortium (Jovian Sky Power Corporation) begins mining Jupiter’s atmosphere for He3 using aerostat
factories.
2064 Islamic secular unification.
2067 Fusion stations begin to use He3 as fuel.
2069 Affinity bond gene spliced into human DNA.
2075 JSKP germinates Eden, a bitek habitat in orbit around Jupiter, with UN Protectorate status.
2077 New Kong asteroid begins FTL stardrive research project.
2085 Eden opened for habitation.
2086 Habitat Pallas germinated in Jupiter orbit.
2090 Wing-Tsit Chong dies, and transfers memories to Eden’s neural strata. Start of Edenist culture. Eden and Pallas declare independence
from UN. Launch buyout of JSKP shares. Pope Eleanor excommunicates all Christians with affinity gene. Exodus of affinity capable
humans to Eden. Effective end of bitek industry on Earth.
2091 Lunar referendum to terraform Mars.
2094 Edenists begin exowomb breeding programme coupled with extensive geneering improvement to embryos, tripling their population
over a decade.
2103 Earth’s national governments consolidate into Govcentral.
2103 Thoth base established on Mars.
2107 Govcentral jurisdiction extended to cover O’Neill Halo.
2115 First instantaneous translation by New Kong spaceship, Earth to Mars.
2118 Mission to Proxima Centauri.
2123 Terracompatible planet found at Ross 154.
2125 Ross 154 planet named Felicity, first multiethnic colonists arrive.
2125–2130 Four new terracompatible planets discovered. Multiethnic colonies founded.
2131 Edenists germinate Perseus in orbit around Ross 154 gas giant, begin He3 mining.
2131–2205 One hundred and thirty terracompatible planets discovered. Massive starship building programme initiated in O’Neill Halo.
Govcentral begins large-scale enforced outshipment of surplus population, rising to 2 million a week in 2160: Great Dispersal.
Civil conflict on some early multiethnic colonies. Individual Govcentral states sponsor ethnic-streaming colonies. Edenists
expand their He3 mining enterprise to every inhabited star system with a gas giant.
2139 Asteroid Braun impacts on Mars.
2180 First orbital tower built on Earth.
2205 Antimatter production station built in orbit around sun by Govcentral in an attempt to break the Edenist energy monopoly.
2208 First antimatter-drive starships operational.
2210 Richard Saldana transports all of New Kong’s industrial facilities from the O’Neill Halo to an asteroid orbiting Kulu. He
claims independence for the Kulu star system, founds Christian-only colony, and begins to mine He3 from the system’s gas giant.
2218 First voidhawk gestated, a bitek starship designed by Edenists.
2225 Establishment of a hundred voidhawk families. Habitats Romulus and Remus germinated in Saturn orbit to serve as voidhawk bases.
2232 Conflict at Jupiter’s trailing Trojan asteroid cluster between belt alliance ships and an O’Neill Halo company hydrocarbon
refinery. Antimatter used as a weapon; twenty-seven thousand people killed.
2238 Treaty of Deimos; outlaws production and use of antimatter in the Sol system; signed by Govcentral, Lunar nation, asteroid
alliance, and Edenists. Antimatter stations abandoned and dismantled.
2240 Coronation of Gerrald Saldana as King of Kulu. Foundation of Saldana dynasty.
2267–2270 Eight separate skirmishes involving use of antimatter among colony worlds. Thirteen million killed.
2271 Avon summit between all planetary leaders. Treaty of Avon, banning the manufacture and use of antimatter throughout inhabited
space. Formation of Human Confederation to police agreement. Construction of Confederation Navy begins.
2300 Confederation expanded to include Edenists.
2301 First Contact. Jiciro race discovered, a pre-technology civilization. System quarantined by Confederation to avoid cultural
contamination.
2310 First ice asteroid impact on Mars.
2330 First blackhawks gestated at Valisk, independent habitat.
2350 War between Novska and Hilversum. Novska bombed with antimatter. Confederation Navy prevents retaliatory strike against Hilversum.
2356 Kiint homeworld discovered.
2357 Kiint join Confederation as “observers.”
2360 A voidhawk scout discovers Atlantis.
2371 Edenists colonize Atlantis.
2395 Tyrathca colony world discovered.
2402 Tyrathca join Confederation.
2420 Kulu scoutship discovers Ruin Ring.
2428 Bitek habitat Tranquillity germinated by Crown Prince Michael Saldana, orbiting above Ruin Ring.
2432 Prince Michael’s son, Maurice, geneered with affinity. Kulu abdication crisis. Coronation of Lukas Saldana. Prince Michael
exiled.
2550 Mars declared habitable by Terraforming office.
2580 Dorado asteroids discovered around Tunja, claimed by both Garissa and Omuta.
2581 Omuta mercenary fleet drops twelve antimatter planetbusters on Garissa, planet rendered uninhabitable. Confederation imposes
thirty-year sanction against Omuta, prohibiting any interstellar trade or transport. Blockade enforced by Confederation Navy.
2582 Colony established on Lalonde.
It seemed to Louise Kavanagh as though the fearsome midsummer heat had persisted for endless, dreary weeks rather than just
the four Duke-days since the last meagre shower of rain. “Air from the devil’s cookhouse,” the old women of the county called
this awful unbreathable stillness which blanketed the wolds. It complemented Louise’s mood perfectly. She didn’t feel much
of anything these days. Destiny had apparently chosen her to spend her waking hours doing nothing but wait.
Officially, she was waiting for her father, who was away leading the Stoke County militia to help quell the insurrection which
the Democratic Land Union had mounted in Boston. The last time he’d phoned was three days ago, a quick, grim call saying the
situation was worse than the Lord Lieutenant had led them to believe. That had made Louise’s mother worry frantically. Which
meant Louise and Genevieve had to creep around Cricklade manor like mice so as not to worsen her temper.
And there had been no word since, not of Father or any of the militia troops. The whole county was crackling with rumours,
of course. Of terrible battles and beastly acts of savagery by the Union irregulars. Louise tried hard to close her ears to
them, convinced it was just wicked propaganda put about by Union sympathisers. Nobody really knew anything. Boston could have
been on another planet as far as Stoke County was concerned. Even bland accounts of “disturbances,” reported on the nightly
news programs, had ceased after the county militias encircled the city—censored by the government.
All they could do was wait helplessly for the militias to triumph as they surely would.
Louise and Genevieve had spent yet another morning milling aimlessly around the manor. It was a tricky task; sitting about
doing nothing was so incredibly boring, yet if they drew attention to themselves they would be given some menial domestic
job to do. With the young men away, the maids and older menservants were struggling with the normal day-to-day running of
the rambling building. And the estate farms outside, with their skeleton workforce, were falling dismayingly far behind in
their preparations for the summer’s second cereal crop.
By lunchtime, the ennui had started to get to Louise, so she had suggested that she and her sister go riding. They had to
saddle the horses themselves, but it was worth it just to be away from the manor for a few hours.
Louise’s horse picked its way gingerly over the ground. Duke’s hot rays had flayed open the soil, producing a wrinkled network
of cracks. The aboriginal plants which had all flowered in unison at midsummer were long dead now. Where ten days ago the
grassland had been dusted with graceful white and pink stars, small shrivelled petals now skipped about like minute autumn
leaves. In some hollows they had drifted in loose dunes up to a foot deep.
“Why do you suppose the Union hates us so?” Genevieve asked querulously. “Just because Daddy’s got a temper doesn’t mean he’s
a bad man.”
Louise produced a sympathetic smile for her younger sister. Everyone said how alike they were, twins born four years apart.
And indeed it was a bit like looking into a mirror at times; the same features, rich dark hair, delicate nose, and almost
Oriental eyes. But Genevieve was smaller, and slightly chubbier. And right now, brokenly glum.
Genevieve had been sensitive to her moodiness for the last week, not wanting to say anything significant in case it made big
sister even more unaccountably irritable.
She does idolize me so, Louise thought. Pity she couldn’t have chosen a better role model.
“It’s not just Daddy, nor even the Kavanaghs,” Louise said. “They simply don’t like the way Norfolk works.”
“But why? Everybody in Stoke County is happy.”
“Everybody in the county is provided for. There’s a difference. How would you feel if you had to work in the fields all day
long for every day of your life, and saw the two of us riding by without a care in the world?”
Genevieve looked puzzled. “Not sure.”
“You’d resent it, and you’d want to change places.”
“I suppose so.” She gave a sly grin. “Then I’d be the one who resented them.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem.”
“But the things people are saying the Union is doing …” Genevieve said uncertainly. “I heard two of the maids talking about
it this morning. They were saying horrible things. I ran away after a minute.”
“They’re lying. If anybody in Stoke County knew what was going on in Boston, it would be us, the Kavanaghs. The maids are
going to be the last to find out.”
Genevieve shone a reverent smile at her sister. “You’re so clever, Louise.”
“You’re clever too, Gen. Same genes, remember.”
Genevieve smiled again, then spurred her horse on ahead, laughing gladly. Merlin, their sheepdog, chased off after her, kicking
up whirling flurries of brown petals.
Louise instinctively urged her own horse into a canter, heading towards Wardley Wood, a mile ahead. In summers past the sisters
had claimed it as their own adventure playground. This summer, though, it held an added poignancy. This summer it contained
the memory of Joshua Calvert. Joshua and the things they’d done as they lazed by the side of the rock pools. Every outrageous
sexual act, acts which no true well-born Norfolk lady would ever commit. Acts which she couldn’t wait for them to do again.
Also the acts which had made her throw up for the last three mornings in a row. Nanny had been her usual fuss the first two
times. Thankfully, Louise had managed to conceal this morning’s bout of nausea, otherwise her mother would have been told.
And Mother was pretty shrewd.
Louise grimaced forlornly. Everything will be fine once Joshua comes back. It had become almost a mantra recently.
Dear Jesus, but I hate this waiting.
Genevieve was a quarter of a mile from the woods, with Louise a hundred yards behind her, when they heard the train. The insistent
tooting sound carried a long way in the calm air. Three short blasts, followed by a long one. The warning signal that it was
approaching the open road crossing at Collyweston.
Genevieve reined her horse in, waiting for Louise to catch up with her. “It’s coming into town!” the younger girl exclaimed.
Both of them knew the local train times by heart. Colsterworth had twelve passenger services a day. This one wasn’t one of
them.
“They’re coming back!” Genevieve squealed. “Daddy’s back!” Merlin picked up on her excitement, running around the horse, barking
enthusiastically.
Louise bit her lip. She couldn’t think what else it could be. “I suppose so.”
“It is. It is!”
“All right, come on then.”
Cricklade manor lurked inside its picket of huge geneered cedars, an imposing stone mansion built in homage to the stately
homes of an England as distant in time as in space. The glass walls of the ornate orangery abutting the east wing reflected
Duke’s brilliant yellow sunlight in geometric ripples as the sisters rode along the greensward below the building.
When she was inside the ring of cedars, Louise noticed the chunky blue-green farm ranger racing up the long gravel drive.
She whooped loudly, goading her horse to an even faster gallop. Few people were allowed to drive the estate’s powered vehicles.
And nobody else drove them as fast as Daddy.
Louise soon left Genevieve well behind, with an exhausted Merlin trailing by almost a quarter of a mile. She could see six
figures crammed into the vehicle’s seats. And that was definitely Daddy driving. She didn’t recognise any of the others.
Another two farm rangers turned into the drive just as the first pulled up in front of the manor. Various household staff
and Marjorie Kavanagh hurried down the broad steps to greet it.
Louise tumbled down off her horse, and rushed up to her father. She flung her arms around him before he knew what was happening.
He was dressed in the same military uniform as the day he left.
“Daddy! You’re all right.” She rubbed her cheek against the coarse khaki-green fabric of his jacket, feeling five years old
again. Tears were threatening to brim up.
He stiffened inside her manic embrace, head slowly tipping down to look at her. When she glanced up adoringly she saw a look
of mild incomprehension on his strong ruddy face.
For a horrible moment she thought he must have found out about the baby. Then a vile mockery of a smile came to his lips.
“Hello, Louise. Nice to see you again.”
“Daddy?” She took a step backwards. What was wrong with him? She glanced uncertainly at her mother who had just reached them.
Marjorie Kavanagh took in the scene with a fast glance. Grant looked just awful; tired, pale, and strangely nervous. Gods,
what had happened in Boston?
She ignored Louise’s obvious hurt and stepped up to him. “Welcome home,” she murmured demurely. Her lips brushed his cheek.
“Hello dear,” Grant Kavanagh said. She could have been a complete stranger for all the emotion in his voice.
He turned, almost in deference, Marjorie thought with growing bewilderment, and half bowed to one of the men accompanying
him. They were all strangers, none of them even wore Stoke County militia uniforms. The other two farm rangers were braking
behind the first, also full of strangers.
“Marjorie, I’d like you to meet Quinn Dexter. Quinn is a… priest. He’s going to be staying here with some of his followers.”
The young man who walked forwards had the kind of gait Marjorie associated with the teenage louts she glimpsed occasionally
in Colsterworth. Priest, my arse, she thought.
Quinn was dressed in a flowing robe of some incredibly black material; it looked like the kind of habit a millionaire monk
would wear. There was no crucifix in sight. The face which smiled out at her from the voluminous hood was coldly vulpine.
She noticed how everyone in his entourage was very careful not to get too close to him.
“Intrigued, Father Dexter,” she said, letting her irony show.
He blinked, and nodded thoughtfully, as if in recognition that they weren’t fooling each other.
“Why are you here?” Louise asked breathlessly.
“Cricklade is going to be a refuge for Quinn’s sect,” Grant Kavanagh said. “There was a lot of damage in Boston. So I offered
him full use of the estate.”
“What happened?” Marjorie asked. Years of discipline necessary to enforce her position allowed her to keep her voice level,
but what she really wanted to do was grab hold of Grant’s jacket collar and scream in his face. Out of the corner of her eye
she saw Genevieve scramble down off her horse and run over to greet her father, her delicate face suffused with simple happiness.
Before Marjorie could say anything, Louise thrust out an arm and stopped her dead in her tracks. Thank God for that, Marjorie
thought; there was no telling how these aloof strangers would react to excitable little girls.
Genevieve’s face instantly turned woeful, staring up at her untouchable father with widened, mutinous eyes. But Louise kept
a firmly protective arm around her shoulder.
“The rebellion is over,” Grant said. He hadn’t even noticed Genevieve’s approach.
“You mean you rounded up the Union people?”
“The rebellion is over,” Grant repeated flatly.
Marjorie was at a loss what to do next. Away in the distance she could hear Merlin barking with unusual aggression. The fat
old sheepdog was lumbering along the greensward towards the group outside the manor.
“We shall begin straightaway,” Quinn announced abruptly. He started up the steps towards the wide double doors, long pleats
of his robe swaying leadenly around his ankles.
The manor staff clustering with considerable curiosity on top of the steps parted nervously. Quinn’s companions surged after
him.
Grant’s face twitched in what was nearly an apology to Marjorie as the new arrivals clambered out of the farm rangers to hurry
up the steps after their singular priest. Most of them were men, all with exactly the same kind of agitated expression.
They look as if they’re going to their own execution, Marjorie thought. And the clothes a couple of them wore were bizarre.
Like historical military costumes: grey greatcoats with broad scarlet lapels and yards of looping gold braid. She strove to
remember history lessons from too many years ago, images of Teutonic officers hazy in her mind.
“We’d better go in,” Grant said encouragingly. Which was absurd. Grant Kavanagh neither asked nor suggested anything on his
own doorstep, he gave orders.
Marjorie gave a reluctant nod and joined him. “You two stay out here,” she told her daughters. “I want you to see to Merlin,
then stable your horses.” While I find out just what the hell is going on around here, she completed silently.
The two sisters were virtually clinging together at the bottom of the steps, faces heavy with doubt and dismay. “Yes, Mother,”
Louise said meekly. She started to tug on Genevieve’s black riding jacket.
Quinn paused on the threshold of the manor, giving the grounds a final survey. Misgivings were beginning to stir his mind.
When he was back in Boston it seemed only right that he should be part of the vanguard bringing the gospel of God’s Brother
to the whole island of Kesteven. None could stand before him when his serpent beast was unleashed. But there were so many
lost souls returning from the beyond; inevitably some dared to disobey, while others wavered after he had passed among them
to issue the word. In truth he could only depend upon the closest disciples he had gathered.
The sect acolytes he had left in Boston to tame the returned souls, to teach them the real reason why they had been brought
back, agreed to do his bidding simply from fear. That was why he had come to the countryside, to levy the creed upon all the
souls, both the living and the dead, of this wretched planet. With a bigger number of followers inducted, genuinely believing the task God’s Brother had given them, then ultimately their doctrine would triumph.
But this land which Luca Comar had described in glowing terms was so empty, kilometre after kilometre of grassland and fields,
populated by dozing hamlets of cowed peasants; a temperate-climate version of Lalonde.
There had to be more to his purpose than this. God’s Brother would never have chosen him for such a simple labour. There were
hundreds of planets in the Confederation crying out to hear His word, to follow Him into the final battle against the false
gods of Earth’s religions, where Night would dawn forevermore.
After this evening I shall have to search myself to see where He guides me; I must find my proper role in His plan.
His gaze finished up on the Kavanagh sisters who were staring up at him, both trying to be courageous in the face of the strangeness
falling on their home as softly and inexorably as midwinter snow. The elder one would make a good reward for disciples who
demonstrated loyalty, and the child might be of some use to a returned soul. God’s Brother found a use for everything.
Content, for the moment, Quinn swept into the hall, relishing the opulence which greeted him. Tonight at least he could indulge
himself in decadent splendour, quickening his serpent beast. For who did not appreciate absolute luxury?
The disciples knew their duties well enough, needing no supervision. They would flush out the manor’s staff and open their
bodies for possession: a chore repeated endlessly over the last week. His work would come later, selecting those who were
worthy of a second chance at life, who would embrace the Night.
“What—!” Genevieve began hotly as the last of the odd adults disappeared inside the manor’s entrance.
Louise’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Come on!” She pulled hard on Genevieve’s arm, nearly unbalancing the younger girl.
Genevieve reluctantly allowed herself to be steered away.
“You heard Mother,” Louise said. “We’re to look after the horses.”
“Yes, but …”
“I don’t know! All right? Mother will sort everything out.” The words brought scant reassurance. What had happened to Daddy?
Boston must have been truly terrible to have affected him so. Louise undid the strap on her riding hat, and tucked it under
an arm. The manor and its grounds had become very quiet all of a sudden. The big entrance-hall doors swinging shut had acted
like a signal for the birds to fall still. Even the horses were docile.
The funereal sensation was broken by Merlin who had finally reached the gravel driveway. He barked quite piteously as he nosed
around Louise’s feet, his tongue lolling out as he wheezed heavily.
Louise gathered up the reins of both horses and started to lead them towards the stables. Genevieve grabbed Merlin’s collar
and hauled him along.
When they reached the stable block at the rear of the manor’s west wing there was nobody there, not even the two young stable
lads Mr Butterworth had left in charge. The horses’ hooves made an almighty clattering on the cobbles of the yard outside,
the noise reverberating off the walls.
“Louise,” Genevieve said forlornly, “I don’t like this. Those people with Daddy were really peculiar.”
“I know. But Mother will tell us what to do.”
“She went inside with them.”
“Yes.” Louise realized just how anxious Mother had been for her and Genevieve to get away from Daddy’s friends. She looked
around the yard, uncertain what to do next. Would Mother send for them, or should they go in? Daddy would expect to talk with
them. The old daddy, she reminded herself sadly.
Louise settled for stalling. There was plenty to do in the stables; take the saddles off, brush the horses down, water them.
She and Genevieve both took off their riding jackets and set to.
It was twenty minutes later, while they were putting the saddles back in the tack room, when they heard the first scream.
The shock was all the more intense because it was male: a raw-throated yell of pain which dwindled away into a sobbing whimper.
Genevieve quietly put her arm around Louise’s waist. Louise could feel her trembling and patted her softly. “It’s all right,”
she whispered.
The two of them edged over to the window and peered out. There was nothing to see in the courtyard. The manor’s windows were
black and blank, sucking in Duke’s light.
“I’ll go and find out what’s happening,” Louise said.
“No!” Genevieve pulled at her urgently. “Don’t leave me alone. Please, Louise.” She was on the verge of tears.
Louise’s hold tightened in reflex. “Okay, Gen, I won’t leave you.”
“Promise? Really truly promise?”
“Promise!” She realized she was just as frightened as Genevieve. “But we must find out what Mother wants us to do.”
Genevieve nodded brokenly. “If you say so.”
Louise looked at the high stone wall of the west wing, sizing it up. What would Joshua do in a situation like this? She thought
about the layout of the wing, the family apartments, the servants’ utility passages. Rooms and corridors she knew better than
anyone except for the chief housekeeper, and possibly Daddy.
She took Genevieve by the hand. “Come on. We’ll try and get up to Mother’s boudoir without anyone seeing us. She’s bound to
go there eventually.”
They crept out into the courtyard and scuttled quickly along the foot of the manor’s wall to a small green door which led
into a storeroom at the back of the kitchens. Louise expected a shouted challenge at any moment. She was panting by the time
she heaved on the big iron handle and nipped inside.
The storeroom was filled with sacks of flour and vegetables piled high in various wooden bays. Two narrow window slits, set
high in the wall, cast a paltry grey light through their cobweb-caked panes.
Louise flicked the switch as Genevieve closed the door. A couple of naked light spheres on the roof sputtered weakly, then
went out.
“Damnation!” Louise took Genevieve’s hand and threaded her way carefully around the boxes and sacks.
The utility corridor beyond had plain white plaster walls and pale yellow flagstones. Light spheres every twenty feet along
its ceiling were flickering on and off completely at random. The effect made Louise feel mildly giddy, as if the corridor
were swaying about.
“What’s doing that?” Genevieve whispered fiercely.
“I’ve no idea,” she replied carefully. A dreadful ache of loneliness had stolen up on her without any warning. Cricklade didn’t
belong to them anymore, she knew that now.
They made their way along the disconcerting corridor to the antechamber at the end. A cast-iron spiral staircase wound up
through the ceiling.
Louise paused to hear if anyone was coming down. Then, satisfied they were still alone, she started up.
The manor’s main corridors were a vast contrast to the plain servant utilities. Wide strips of thick green and gold carpet
ran along polished golden wood planks, the walls were hung with huge traditional oil paintings in ostentatious gilt frames.
Small antique chests stood at regular intervals, holding either delicate objets d’art or cut crystal vases with fragrant blooms
of terrestrial and xenoc flowers grown in the manor’s own conservatory.
The outside of the door at the top of the spiral stairs was disguised as a wall panel. Louise teased it open and peeped out.
A grand stained-glass window at the far end of the corridor was sending out broad fans of coloured light to dye the walls
and ceiling with tartan splashes. Engraved light spheres on the ceiling were glowing a lame amber. All of them emit
2037 Beginning of large-scale geneering on humans; improvement to immunology system, eradication of appendix, organ efficiency
increased.
2041 First deuterium-fuelled fusion stations built; inefficient and expensive.
2044 Christian reunification.
2047 First asteroid capture mission. Beginning of Earth’s O’Neill Halo.
2049 Quasi-sentient bitek animals employed as servitors.
2055 Jupiter mission.
2055 Lunar cities granted independence from founding companies.
2057 Ceres asteroid settlement founded.
2058 Affinity symbiont neurons developed by Wing-Tsit Chong, providing control over animals and bitek constructs.
2064 Multinational industrial consortium (Jovian Sky Power Corporation) begins mining Jupiter’s atmosphere for He3 using aerostat
factories.
2064 Islamic secular unification.
2067 Fusion stations begin to use He3 as fuel.
2069 Affinity bond gene spliced into human DNA.
2075 JSKP germinates Eden, a bitek habitat in orbit around Jupiter, with UN Protectorate status.
2077 New Kong asteroid begins FTL stardrive research project.
2085 Eden opened for habitation.
2086 Habitat Pallas germinated in Jupiter orbit.
2090 Wing-Tsit Chong dies, and transfers memories to Eden’s neural strata. Start of Edenist culture. Eden and Pallas declare independence
from UN. Launch buyout of JSKP shares. Pope Eleanor excommunicates all Christians with affinity gene. Exodus of affinity capable
humans to Eden. Effective end of bitek industry on Earth.
2091 Lunar referendum to terraform Mars.
2094 Edenists begin exowomb breeding programme coupled with extensive geneering improvement to embryos, tripling their population
over a decade.
2103 Earth’s national governments consolidate into Govcentral.
2103 Thoth base established on Mars.
2107 Govcentral jurisdiction extended to cover O’Neill Halo.
2115 First instantaneous translation by New Kong spaceship, Earth to Mars.
2118 Mission to Proxima Centauri.
2123 Terracompatible planet found at Ross 154.
2125 Ross 154 planet named Felicity, first multiethnic colonists arrive.
2125–2130 Four new terracompatible planets discovered. Multiethnic colonies founded.
2131 Edenists germinate Perseus in orbit around Ross 154 gas giant, begin He3 mining.
2131–2205 One hundred and thirty terracompatible planets discovered. Massive starship building programme initiated in O’Neill Halo.
Govcentral begins large-scale enforced outshipment of surplus population, rising to 2 million a week in 2160: Great Dispersal.
Civil conflict on some early multiethnic colonies. Individual Govcentral states sponsor ethnic-streaming colonies. Edenists
expand their He3 mining enterprise to every inhabited star system with a gas giant.
2139 Asteroid Braun impacts on Mars.
2180 First orbital tower built on Earth.
2205 Antimatter production station built in orbit around sun by Govcentral in an attempt to break the Edenist energy monopoly.
2208 First antimatter-drive starships operational.
2210 Richard Saldana transports all of New Kong’s industrial facilities from the O’Neill Halo to an asteroid orbiting Kulu. He
claims independence for the Kulu star system, founds Christian-only colony, and begins to mine He3 from the system’s gas giant.
2218 First voidhawk gestated, a bitek starship designed by Edenists.
2225 Establishment of a hundred voidhawk families. Habitats Romulus and Remus germinated in Saturn orbit to serve as voidhawk bases.
2232 Conflict at Jupiter’s trailing Trojan asteroid cluster between belt alliance ships and an O’Neill Halo company hydrocarbon
refinery. Antimatter used as a weapon; twenty-seven thousand people killed.
2238 Treaty of Deimos; outlaws production and use of antimatter in the Sol system; signed by Govcentral, Lunar nation, asteroid
alliance, and Edenists. Antimatter stations abandoned and dismantled.
2240 Coronation of Gerrald Saldana as King of Kulu. Foundation of Saldana dynasty.
2267–2270 Eight separate skirmishes involving use of antimatter among colony worlds. Thirteen million killed.
2271 Avon summit between all planetary leaders. Treaty of Avon, banning the manufacture and use of antimatter throughout inhabited
space. Formation of Human Confederation to police agreement. Construction of Confederation Navy begins.
2300 Confederation expanded to include Edenists.
2301 First Contact. Jiciro race discovered, a pre-technology civilization. System quarantined by Confederation to avoid cultural
contamination.
2310 First ice asteroid impact on Mars.
2330 First blackhawks gestated at Valisk, independent habitat.
2350 War between Novska and Hilversum. Novska bombed with antimatter. Confederation Navy prevents retaliatory strike against Hilversum.
2356 Kiint homeworld discovered.
2357 Kiint join Confederation as “observers.”
2360 A voidhawk scout discovers Atlantis.
2371 Edenists colonize Atlantis.
2395 Tyrathca colony world discovered.
2402 Tyrathca join Confederation.
2420 Kulu scoutship discovers Ruin Ring.
2428 Bitek habitat Tranquillity germinated by Crown Prince Michael Saldana, orbiting above Ruin Ring.
2432 Prince Michael’s son, Maurice, geneered with affinity. Kulu abdication crisis. Coronation of Lukas Saldana. Prince Michael
exiled.
2550 Mars declared habitable by Terraforming office.
2580 Dorado asteroids discovered around Tunja, claimed by both Garissa and Omuta.
2581 Omuta mercenary fleet drops twelve antimatter planetbusters on Garissa, planet rendered uninhabitable. Confederation imposes
thirty-year sanction against Omuta, prohibiting any interstellar trade or transport. Blockade enforced by Confederation Navy.
2582 Colony established on Lalonde.
It seemed to Louise Kavanagh as though the fearsome midsummer heat had persisted for endless, dreary weeks rather than just
the four Duke-days since the last meagre shower of rain. “Air from the devil’s cookhouse,” the old women of the county called
this awful unbreathable stillness which blanketed the wolds. It complemented Louise’s mood perfectly. She didn’t feel much
of anything these days. Destiny had apparently chosen her to spend her waking hours doing nothing but wait.
Officially, she was waiting for her father, who was away leading the Stoke County militia to help quell the insurrection which
the Democratic Land Union had mounted in Boston. The last time he’d phoned was three days ago, a quick, grim call saying the
situation was worse than the Lord Lieutenant had led them to believe. That had made Louise’s mother worry frantically. Which
meant Louise and Genevieve had to creep around Cricklade manor like mice so as not to worsen her temper.
And there had been no word since, not of Father or any of the militia troops. The whole county was crackling with rumours,
of course. Of terrible battles and beastly acts of savagery by the Union irregulars. Louise tried hard to close her ears to
them, convinced it was just wicked propaganda put about by Union sympathisers. Nobody really knew anything. Boston could have
been on another planet as far as Stoke County was concerned. Even bland accounts of “disturbances,” reported on the nightly
news programs, had ceased after the county militias encircled the city—censored by the government.
All they could do was wait helplessly for the militias to triumph as they surely would.
Louise and Genevieve had spent yet another morning milling aimlessly around the manor. It was a tricky task; sitting about
doing nothing was so incredibly boring, yet if they drew attention to themselves they would be given some menial domestic
job to do. With the young men away, the maids and older menservants were struggling with the normal day-to-day running of
the rambling building. And the estate farms outside, with their skeleton workforce, were falling dismayingly far behind in
their preparations for the summer’s second cereal crop.
By lunchtime, the ennui had started to get to Louise, so she had suggested that she and her sister go riding. They had to
saddle the horses themselves, but it was worth it just to be away from the manor for a few hours.
Louise’s horse picked its way gingerly over the ground. Duke’s hot rays had flayed open the soil, producing a wrinkled network
of cracks. The aboriginal plants which had all flowered in unison at midsummer were long dead now. Where ten days ago the
grassland had been dusted with graceful white and pink stars, small shrivelled petals now skipped about like minute autumn
leaves. In some hollows they had drifted in loose dunes up to a foot deep.
“Why do you suppose the Union hates us so?” Genevieve asked querulously. “Just because Daddy’s got a temper doesn’t mean he’s
a bad man.”
Louise produced a sympathetic smile for her younger sister. Everyone said how alike they were, twins born four years apart.
And indeed it was a bit like looking into a mirror at times; the same features, rich dark hair, delicate nose, and almost
Oriental eyes. But Genevieve was smaller, and slightly chubbier. And right now, brokenly glum.
Genevieve had been sensitive to her moodiness for the last week, not wanting to say anything significant in case it made big
sister even more unaccountably irritable.
She does idolize me so, Louise thought. Pity she couldn’t have chosen a better role model.
“It’s not just Daddy, nor even the Kavanaghs,” Louise said. “They simply don’t like the way Norfolk works.”
“But why? Everybody in Stoke County is happy.”
“Everybody in the county is provided for. There’s a difference. How would you feel if you had to work in the fields all day
long for every day of your life, and saw the two of us riding by without a care in the world?”
Genevieve looked puzzled. “Not sure.”
“You’d resent it, and you’d want to change places.”
“I suppose so.” She gave a sly grin. “Then I’d be the one who resented them.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem.”
“But the things people are saying the Union is doing …” Genevieve said uncertainly. “I heard two of the maids talking about
it this morning. They were saying horrible things. I ran away after a minute.”
“They’re lying. If anybody in Stoke County knew what was going on in Boston, it would be us, the Kavanaghs. The maids are
going to be the last to find out.”
Genevieve shone a reverent smile at her sister. “You’re so clever, Louise.”
“You’re clever too, Gen. Same genes, remember.”
Genevieve smiled again, then spurred her horse on ahead, laughing gladly. Merlin, their sheepdog, chased off after her, kicking
up whirling flurries of brown petals.
Louise instinctively urged her own horse into a canter, heading towards Wardley Wood, a mile ahead. In summers past the sisters
had claimed it as their own adventure playground. This summer, though, it held an added poignancy. This summer it contained
the memory of Joshua Calvert. Joshua and the things they’d done as they lazed by the side of the rock pools. Every outrageous
sexual act, acts which no true well-born Norfolk lady would ever commit. Acts which she couldn’t wait for them to do again.
Also the acts which had made her throw up for the last three mornings in a row. Nanny had been her usual fuss the first two
times. Thankfully, Louise had managed to conceal this morning’s bout of nausea, otherwise her mother would have been told.
And Mother was pretty shrewd.
Louise grimaced forlornly. Everything will be fine once Joshua comes back. It had become almost a mantra recently.
Dear Jesus, but I hate this waiting.
Genevieve was a quarter of a mile from the woods, with Louise a hundred yards behind her, when they heard the train. The insistent
tooting sound carried a long way in the calm air. Three short blasts, followed by a long one. The warning signal that it was
approaching the open road crossing at Collyweston.
Genevieve reined her horse in, waiting for Louise to catch up with her. “It’s coming into town!” the younger girl exclaimed.
Both of them knew the local train times by heart. Colsterworth had twelve passenger services a day. This one wasn’t one of
them.
“They’re coming back!” Genevieve squealed. “Daddy’s back!” Merlin picked up on her excitement, running around the horse, barking
enthusiastically.
Louise bit her lip. She couldn’t think what else it could be. “I suppose so.”
“It is. It is!”
“All right, come on then.”
Cricklade manor lurked inside its picket of huge geneered cedars, an imposing stone mansion built in homage to the stately
homes of an England as distant in time as in space. The glass walls of the ornate orangery abutting the east wing reflected
Duke’s brilliant yellow sunlight in geometric ripples as the sisters rode along the greensward below the building.
When she was inside the ring of cedars, Louise noticed the chunky blue-green farm ranger racing up the long gravel drive.
She whooped loudly, goading her horse to an even faster gallop. Few people were allowed to drive the estate’s powered vehicles.
And nobody else drove them as fast as Daddy.
Louise soon left Genevieve well behind, with an exhausted Merlin trailing by almost a quarter of a mile. She could see six
figures crammed into the vehicle’s seats. And that was definitely Daddy driving. She didn’t recognise any of the others.
Another two farm rangers turned into the drive just as the first pulled up in front of the manor. Various household staff
and Marjorie Kavanagh hurried down the broad steps to greet it.
Louise tumbled down off her horse, and rushed up to her father. She flung her arms around him before he knew what was happening.
He was dressed in the same military uniform as the day he left.
“Daddy! You’re all right.” She rubbed her cheek against the coarse khaki-green fabric of his jacket, feeling five years old
again. Tears were threatening to brim up.
He stiffened inside her manic embrace, head slowly tipping down to look at her. When she glanced up adoringly she saw a look
of mild incomprehension on his strong ruddy face.
For a horrible moment she thought he must have found out about the baby. Then a vile mockery of a smile came to his lips.
“Hello, Louise. Nice to see you again.”
“Daddy?” She took a step backwards. What was wrong with him? She glanced uncertainly at her mother who had just reached them.
Marjorie Kavanagh took in the scene with a fast glance. Grant looked just awful; tired, pale, and strangely nervous. Gods,
what had happened in Boston?
She ignored Louise’s obvious hurt and stepped up to him. “Welcome home,” she murmured demurely. Her lips brushed his cheek.
“Hello dear,” Grant Kavanagh said. She could have been a complete stranger for all the emotion in his voice.
He turned, almost in deference, Marjorie thought with growing bewilderment, and half bowed to one of the men accompanying
him. They were all strangers, none of them even wore Stoke County militia uniforms. The other two farm rangers were braking
behind the first, also full of strangers.
“Marjorie, I’d like you to meet Quinn Dexter. Quinn is a… priest. He’s going to be staying here with some of his followers.”
The young man who walked forwards had the kind of gait Marjorie associated with the teenage louts she glimpsed occasionally
in Colsterworth. Priest, my arse, she thought.
Quinn was dressed in a flowing robe of some incredibly black material; it looked like the kind of habit a millionaire monk
would wear. There was no crucifix in sight. The face which smiled out at her from the voluminous hood was coldly vulpine.
She noticed how everyone in his entourage was very careful not to get too close to him.
“Intrigued, Father Dexter,” she said, letting her irony show.
He blinked, and nodded thoughtfully, as if in recognition that they weren’t fooling each other.
“Why are you here?” Louise asked breathlessly.
“Cricklade is going to be a refuge for Quinn’s sect,” Grant Kavanagh said. “There was a lot of damage in Boston. So I offered
him full use of the estate.”
“What happened?” Marjorie asked. Years of discipline necessary to enforce her position allowed her to keep her voice level,
but what she really wanted to do was grab hold of Grant’s jacket collar and scream in his face. Out of the corner of her eye
she saw Genevieve scramble down off her horse and run over to greet her father, her delicate face suffused with simple happiness.
Before Marjorie could say anything, Louise thrust out an arm and stopped her dead in her tracks. Thank God for that, Marjorie
thought; there was no telling how these aloof strangers would react to excitable little girls.
Genevieve’s face instantly turned woeful, staring up at her untouchable father with widened, mutinous eyes. But Louise kept
a firmly protective arm around her shoulder.
“The rebellion is over,” Grant said. He hadn’t even noticed Genevieve’s approach.
“You mean you rounded up the Union people?”
“The rebellion is over,” Grant repeated flatly.
Marjorie was at a loss what to do next. Away in the distance she could hear Merlin barking with unusual aggression. The fat
old sheepdog was lumbering along the greensward towards the group outside the manor.
“We shall begin straightaway,” Quinn announced abruptly. He started up the steps towards the wide double doors, long pleats
of his robe swaying leadenly around his ankles.
The manor staff clustering with considerable curiosity on top of the steps parted nervously. Quinn’s companions surged after
him.
Grant’s face twitched in what was nearly an apology to Marjorie as the new arrivals clambered out of the farm rangers to hurry
up the steps after their singular priest. Most of them were men, all with exactly the same kind of agitated expression.
They look as if they’re going to their own execution, Marjorie thought. And the clothes a couple of them wore were bizarre.
Like historical military costumes: grey greatcoats with broad scarlet lapels and yards of looping gold braid. She strove to
remember history lessons from too many years ago, images of Teutonic officers hazy in her mind.
“We’d better go in,” Grant said encouragingly. Which was absurd. Grant Kavanagh neither asked nor suggested anything on his
own doorstep, he gave orders.
Marjorie gave a reluctant nod and joined him. “You two stay out here,” she told her daughters. “I want you to see to Merlin,
then stable your horses.” While I find out just what the hell is going on around here, she completed silently.
The two sisters were virtually clinging together at the bottom of the steps, faces heavy with doubt and dismay. “Yes, Mother,”
Louise said meekly. She started to tug on Genevieve’s black riding jacket.
Quinn paused on the threshold of the manor, giving the grounds a final survey. Misgivings were beginning to stir his mind.
When he was back in Boston it seemed only right that he should be part of the vanguard bringing the gospel of God’s Brother
to the whole island of Kesteven. None could stand before him when his serpent beast was unleashed. But there were so many
lost souls returning from the beyond; inevitably some dared to disobey, while others wavered after he had passed among them
to issue the word. In truth he could only depend upon the closest disciples he had gathered.
The sect acolytes he had left in Boston to tame the returned souls, to teach them the real reason why they had been brought
back, agreed to do his bidding simply from fear. That was why he had come to the countryside, to levy the creed upon all the
souls, both the living and the dead, of this wretched planet. With a bigger number of followers inducted, genuinely believing the task God’s Brother had given them, then ultimately their doctrine would triumph.
But this land which Luca Comar had described in glowing terms was so empty, kilometre after kilometre of grassland and fields,
populated by dozing hamlets of cowed peasants; a temperate-climate version of Lalonde.
There had to be more to his purpose than this. God’s Brother would never have chosen him for such a simple labour. There were
hundreds of planets in the Confederation crying out to hear His word, to follow Him into the final battle against the false
gods of Earth’s religions, where Night would dawn forevermore.
After this evening I shall have to search myself to see where He guides me; I must find my proper role in His plan.
His gaze finished up on the Kavanagh sisters who were staring up at him, both trying to be courageous in the face of the strangeness
falling on their home as softly and inexorably as midwinter snow. The elder one would make a good reward for disciples who
demonstrated loyalty, and the child might be of some use to a returned soul. God’s Brother found a use for everything.
Content, for the moment, Quinn swept into the hall, relishing the opulence which greeted him. Tonight at least he could indulge
himself in decadent splendour, quickening his serpent beast. For who did not appreciate absolute luxury?
The disciples knew their duties well enough, needing no supervision. They would flush out the manor’s staff and open their
bodies for possession: a chore repeated endlessly over the last week. His work would come later, selecting those who were
worthy of a second chance at life, who would embrace the Night.
“What—!” Genevieve began hotly as the last of the odd adults disappeared inside the manor’s entrance.
Louise’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Come on!” She pulled hard on Genevieve’s arm, nearly unbalancing the younger girl.
Genevieve reluctantly allowed herself to be steered away.
“You heard Mother,” Louise said. “We’re to look after the horses.”
“Yes, but …”
“I don’t know! All right? Mother will sort everything out.” The words brought scant reassurance. What had happened to Daddy?
Boston must have been truly terrible to have affected him so. Louise undid the strap on her riding hat, and tucked it under
an arm. The manor and its grounds had become very quiet all of a sudden. The big entrance-hall doors swinging shut had acted
like a signal for the birds to fall still. Even the horses were docile.
The funereal sensation was broken by Merlin who had finally reached the gravel driveway. He barked quite piteously as he nosed
around Louise’s feet, his tongue lolling out as he wheezed heavily.
Louise gathered up the reins of both horses and started to lead them towards the stables. Genevieve grabbed Merlin’s collar
and hauled him along.
When they reached the stable block at the rear of the manor’s west wing there was nobody there, not even the two young stable
lads Mr Butterworth had left in charge. The horses’ hooves made an almighty clattering on the cobbles of the yard outside,
the noise reverberating off the walls.
“Louise,” Genevieve said forlornly, “I don’t like this. Those people with Daddy were really peculiar.”
“I know. But Mother will tell us what to do.”
“She went inside with them.”
“Yes.” Louise realized just how anxious Mother had been for her and Genevieve to get away from Daddy’s friends. She looked
around the yard, uncertain what to do next. Would Mother send for them, or should they go in? Daddy would expect to talk with
them. The old daddy, she reminded herself sadly.
Louise settled for stalling. There was plenty to do in the stables; take the saddles off, brush the horses down, water them.
She and Genevieve both took off their riding jackets and set to.
It was twenty minutes later, while they were putting the saddles back in the tack room, when they heard the first scream.
The shock was all the more intense because it was male: a raw-throated yell of pain which dwindled away into a sobbing whimper.
Genevieve quietly put her arm around Louise’s waist. Louise could feel her trembling and patted her softly. “It’s all right,”
she whispered.
The two of them edged over to the window and peered out. There was nothing to see in the courtyard. The manor’s windows were
black and blank, sucking in Duke’s light.
“I’ll go and find out what’s happening,” Louise said.
“No!” Genevieve pulled at her urgently. “Don’t leave me alone. Please, Louise.” She was on the verge of tears.
Louise’s hold tightened in reflex. “Okay, Gen, I won’t leave you.”
“Promise? Really truly promise?”
“Promise!” She realized she was just as frightened as Genevieve. “But we must find out what Mother wants us to do.”
Genevieve nodded brokenly. “If you say so.”
Louise looked at the high stone wall of the west wing, sizing it up. What would Joshua do in a situation like this? She thought
about the layout of the wing, the family apartments, the servants’ utility passages. Rooms and corridors she knew better than
anyone except for the chief housekeeper, and possibly Daddy.
She took Genevieve by the hand. “Come on. We’ll try and get up to Mother’s boudoir without anyone seeing us. She’s bound to
go there eventually.”
They crept out into the courtyard and scuttled quickly along the foot of the manor’s wall to a small green door which led
into a storeroom at the back of the kitchens. Louise expected a shouted challenge at any moment. She was panting by the time
she heaved on the big iron handle and nipped inside.
The storeroom was filled with sacks of flour and vegetables piled high in various wooden bays. Two narrow window slits, set
high in the wall, cast a paltry grey light through their cobweb-caked panes.
Louise flicked the switch as Genevieve closed the door. A couple of naked light spheres on the roof sputtered weakly, then
went out.
“Damnation!” Louise took Genevieve’s hand and threaded her way carefully around the boxes and sacks.
The utility corridor beyond had plain white plaster walls and pale yellow flagstones. Light spheres every twenty feet along
its ceiling were flickering on and off completely at random. The effect made Louise feel mildly giddy, as if the corridor
were swaying about.
“What’s doing that?” Genevieve whispered fiercely.
“I’ve no idea,” she replied carefully. A dreadful ache of loneliness had stolen up on her without any warning. Cricklade didn’t
belong to them anymore, she knew that now.
They made their way along the disconcerting corridor to the antechamber at the end. A cast-iron spiral staircase wound up
through the ceiling.
Louise paused to hear if anyone was coming down. Then, satisfied they were still alone, she started up.
The manor’s main corridors were a vast contrast to the plain servant utilities. Wide strips of thick green and gold carpet
ran along polished golden wood planks, the walls were hung with huge traditional oil paintings in ostentatious gilt frames.
Small antique chests stood at regular intervals, holding either delicate objets d’art or cut crystal vases with fragrant blooms
of terrestrial and xenoc flowers grown in the manor’s own conservatory.
The outside of the door at the top of the spiral stairs was disguised as a wall panel. Louise teased it open and peeped out.
A grand stained-glass window at the far end of the corridor was sending out broad fans of coloured light to dye the walls
and ceiling with tartan splashes. Engraved light spheres on the ceiling were glowing a lame amber. All of them emit
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The Neutronium Alchemist
Peter F. Hamilton
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