Poseidon's Wake (39 page)

‘Of course. Make it clear to them how far I’m prepared to go.’

‘And how far is that, exactly?’

‘If I feel you are a threat to the Tantors, I will kill you all. Do you think you understand me well enough to be sure that’s an idle threat?’

‘I don’t think I understand you at all.’

Goma reached the door leading back into the sloping corridor. She touched the panel and it opened without any intervention from Eunice. Vasin was standing on the other side, looking back at her with something of the horror she must have immediately seen in Goma’s face.

‘What’s wrong? You look like someone just walked over your grave.’

‘Tell them,’ Eunice said, standing a little way back from the door.

It was all Goma could do to force the words out, never mind hope that they made sense to anyone else. ‘She says Ru is the weapon. That there’s something in her blood, something that kills Tantors. An engineered virus. She’s got Ru locked up, practically broke her arm getting her in there.’

‘Is this true?’ Vasin asked.

‘Why would it not be true, Captain? She’s given you the facts and I’m not disputing them. I have Ru in quarantine now. I may wish to draw another blood sample so my instinct is not to kill her immediately, even though that would probably be the wisest and safest thing. Do you see Sadalmelik over there? He’s dying. That’s inevitable. My medicines can’t help him – the best I can do is ease his passing.’

‘We can help,’ Vasin said. ‘When Saturnin gets back—’

The doorbell sounded again – the three chimes.

Eunice hammered a control. ‘Wait! Didn’t I say we had a problem here?’

The three chimes came again, then repeated in groups of three, so close that they nearly blended into each other. This was no longer a request to enter, Goma sensed, but an urgent demand.

‘Can’t you speak to them?’ Karayan asked.

‘It’s only one-way communication from here. For two-way, I have to be upstairs. It’s just the way I wired the place.’

‘It might be to do with Saturnin,’ Loring said. ‘Maybe he’s ready to come back inside.’

Goma did not think half an hour had passed yet, but perhaps the doctor had been swifter than expected.

‘Is Ru safe where you’ve left her?’ Goma asked.

‘For the moment. Without me you won’t get that door open in a hurry, so don’t think of attempting a forced takeover.’

‘I’m not. But if you harm a hair on her, I’ll personally skin you alive – fearless space explorer or not, you still bleed.’

‘Nice to know the ties of blood are that strong.’

‘Oh, they’re strong – but I also know something you don’t. Ru is innocent. She didn’t do this.’

‘Her blood says otherwise.’

‘Then your analysis is screwed up, or she’s carrying that virus unknowingly.’

‘And how might that have happened, exactly?’

‘I don’t know – maybe if we all calm down and stop talking about takeovers and force we might get somewhere. We’re on the same fucking side, Eunice. Against stupidity. So let’s start acting that way, shall we?’

The chimes sounded again.

‘Damn them!’

‘It sounds as if they really, really want to come inside,’ Goma said. ‘Maybe they have an emergency of their own – have you considered that? Maybe you should speak to them. Meanwhile, we might have medicines that can help the Tantors – but only if we all start cooperating again.’

‘She speaks sense,’ Karayan said. ‘And I will add this – I may not know Ru well, but I do not believe she set out to hurt those animals.’

Goma looked at him with something between suspicion and gratitude. He was the last person she would have counted on for support, and yet it appeared to be given with all sincerity.

‘I’d have thought you’d be quite happy to see Ru blamed for the virus.’

‘Because it keeps the blame from falling on the Second Chance delegation?’

‘Exactly.’

‘The Tantors may have been a development we viewed with unease, Goma, but that does not mean we endorse their cold-blooded murder any more than Ru would. This is something else. It is not our doing, and I doubt very much that it is hers.’

‘I need to talk to Atria,’ Eunice said. ‘Remember what I said about that door. You can follow me.’

‘I could remain here?’ Loring said. ‘Keep offering comfort to Sadalmelik.’

‘You might all be carrying the virus by now.’

‘Ru’s obviously the primary carrier,’ Goma said. ‘Anyway, the damage is done – let Aiyana do what ve can. We can’t just leave Sadalmelik on his own.’

Eunice looked at Loring for long seconds, performing some private assessment of ver suitability. ‘Fine,’ she said brusquely. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can. If anything changes, use that red button by the door to speak to me.’

‘I shall,’ Loring said.

They were soon on their way back up the sloping corridor, Eunice almost sprinting ahead of the others.

‘We have superb medical facilities on
Travertine
,’ Vasin was saying. ‘Anything in Ru’s blood, or which has spread to the rest of us, we can isolate and treat. You just have to trust us.’

‘And where has trust got us, exactly?’ Eunice said sharply. ‘One dying Tantor, and two more that won’t be far behind?’

‘We came across light-years of space to answer your call,’ Vasin answered. ‘Gave up our lives, our futures. We made sacrifices you can’t begin to understand. Mposi even died for you.’

They reached the accommodation level, all of them breathless except for Eunice. She barged through chairs, brushed aside kitchen utensils to reach a dusty communications console. ‘Atria? Can you hear me now?’

‘Yes, Eunice,’ came the Tantor’s voice. ‘We should like to come in.’

‘You can’t, not yet. The humans have brought a sickness with them. Sadalmelik is very unwell.’

‘How unwell? Will Sadalmelik pass into the Remembering?’

‘I don’t know. I’m doing what I can, but I won’t risk the rest of you becoming infected. I want you to remain in your suits, outside, until I’m sure the air in here is safe to breathe.’ She sniffed, rubbed a hand under her nose. ‘Can you do that for me?’

‘We can remain outside if we need to. But you must open the secondary lock, Eunice.’

‘Why?’

‘We found a man outside. We think he may have passed into the Remembering.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Nothing was wrong with their rooms in the household, nothing obviously amiss with the amenities on hand, but Kanu had never experienced a more restless night’s sleep in his life. He was back aboard
Icebreaker
, haunting the corridors again – ghosting their long, darkened lengths, returning to his periodic vigil at Nissa’s sleeping station. There were only so many hours in the night but his dreams felt like they contained weeks or months of mindless wandering. When at last he surrendered to day – the blue of the chamber’s ceiling lights had returned to its prior brilliance after dimming for the night – he felt as drained as if he had lived through every one of those wandering hours. He looked at his little finger, irritated again by the torn fingernail he had noticed on first waking from skipover. How had that happened, exactly? The inside of a skipover casket was smoothly contoured – there was nothing to catch a fingernail on.

He rose, gathered a sheet about his midriff and moved through the adjoining rooms to the washbasins and shower cubicles. He filled a basin with the odd-tasting water and doused his face, removing some of the night’s grease and grime.

‘What do you think Swift knows?’

‘About what?’ Kanu asked, turning around.

‘Everything. Us. The Tantors. What Dakota really wants. What happened to Chiku and the others.’

Nissa had entered the room through the other doorway. She was naked, her free hand resting on one hip, a chunk of fruit held in the other, the posture unselfconscious and one that Kanu found unavoidably arousing. They had been married, once, and then lovers again so recently it was easy to think that everything that had happened in the meantime was no more than a momentary loss of affection, a lovers’ spat. But years had passed since their divorce – decades, in fact – and even the reunion that began in Lisbon had been predicated on his ultimate betrayal of her.

After all that, how did he dare allow himself to feel that he might have fallen back in love with her? How did he dare hope that his feelings might be reciprocated? The universe did not contain enough forgiveness for that.

‘The thing is, I keep coming back to this: everything I know about you says you acted in service to what you thought was the common good. You’re not a bad man and you want the best for everyone – in so far as you understand it. But that still leaves us with a little difficulty, doesn’t it?’

Kanu swallowed hard. ‘Swift.’

‘Swift. Yes. And you know what? I’m almost at the point of thinking you might have earned my trust. Maybe even my forgiveness, although let’s not run before we can walk.’

Not wishing to hurt his chances of being viewed in a better light, Kanu nodded eagerly. ‘Let’s not.’

‘You’re an idealist, and you’re also hopelessly naive. But you’re not a fool, and nothing that’s happened to us was because you were acting selfishly, or for personal gain. I keep reminding myself of that. It’s the bridge that’s helping me find a way back to forgiving you. But here’s the difficulty. However I might end up feeling about you, I’m reserving that clemency for you, not the other voice in our heads. And – yes – I don’t doubt for a minute that he’s listening in.’

‘I allowed Swift inside me – offered him sanctuary beyond Mars. To that extent, I’m responsible for him.’

‘Yes, you are. In which case you’d better hope he’s still on our side. That our ends are the same as his. Because if one or both of us gets in the way of whatever Swift really wants . . . well, who knows what might happen?’

‘Let’s try not to assume the worst.’

‘There you go again: always the optimist.’ She bit into her fruit. ‘You’re an old fool and you’ve made some terrible decisions. You’ll probably make more. But deep down you’re good and kind and I think you still want to make the best of things. Shall I tell you something?’

‘Go on.’

‘When I found myself trapped aboard your ship, being shot at on our way out of Europa, I’d have gladly strangled you. I mean literally – no exaggeration.’

‘I believe you.’

‘You should. But on another level, I can’t quite say that I’m sorry it happened. I may not be an artist, but I’m a scholar of the arts – a seeker of wonder and novelty, if you like. I like it when life surprises me. And this morning I woke up to find three tiny elephants putting fresh fruit out for us.’ She levelled her palm at hip height. ‘They were this big. Not baby elephants, exactly, but miniature ones. They were clever, too. They could talk and answer questions. Their little piping voices came out of those contraptions they have strapped to their foreheads. We have elephant butlers. How marvellous is that?’

Kanu grinned. He felt flooded with joy, filled with the promise of her forgiveness. It was not there yet; it was nothing he could count on, but it was at least within the scope of his future, and for now that was enough.

‘Elephant butlers. I wish I’d been awake to see that.’

‘I suppose you’ll get your chance. Have you washed?’

‘I was in the process.’

‘Then finish. I’d like to make love to you. Do you have any particular problems with that?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘On the evidence, I didn’t think so. Afterwards we’ll have breakfast, and then we’ll see what Dakota has in store for us. And, Swift, if you’re listening in? Go and think machine thoughts for a while. You’re not wanted here.’

They were returned to their broken ship. Once aboard, Kanu satisfied himself with a quick check of the systems, verifying that
Icebreaker
had not been tampered with during their absence. All was well – or as well as when they disembarked. The ongoing repair processes had inched forward, although there was no useful change in the ship’s capabilities.

‘That door is sealed now,’ Nissa said, meaning the entrance to the polar berthing dock, ‘but if we had to get through it, I’m sure we could find a way.’

‘
Icebreaker
won’t be much use as a tool of persuasion – at least, not for a while.’

‘But we still have my ship. Granted, it’s not big enough to ram its way out, but it could still do some damage that I’m sure the elephants would rather avoid.’

‘Including our own suicides?’

‘I didn’t say it was a perfect plan. While you think of a better one, would you like some chai?’

Kanu began to dig through the repair summaries, running a finger down the list of tasks.
Icebreaker
had taken care of itself up to this point, but now it needed materials and parts it could not easily synthesise. Weeks or months of further work looked inevitable. After the year they had already spent in skipover between Poseidon and Paladin, though, Kanu supposed the additional delay was acceptable.

‘All this for an instant of damage!’

‘Stop complaining – we’re alive.’ She handed him a bulb of tepid chai, the best that could be managed in the weightless core.

‘Oh, I’m not complaining. But I’d much rather not be in her debt.’

‘She’s getting the better side of this bargain, Kanu. Have you seen the size of this place? She won’t miss a few thousand tonnes of materials, but in return she regains those sleepers.’

‘She strikes me as clever enough to have worked out how to do that herself,’ he mused. ‘You’d think they’d have made more of an effort if the Friends mean so much to them.’

‘Be grateful there’s something we can do for her.’

‘Oh, I am.’

When they had done as much with the repair tasks as could be managed in a day, Memphis met them at the airlock and brought them back to Dakota. Along the way, Kanu debated asking for another chance to view the recording of Chiku, but his instincts told him not to sound too eager to view it again so quickly.

Especially as Swift appeared to think there was something he ought not to blink for.

‘We will make every effort in our power to help you,’ Dakota said when he had outlined what was needed on an immediate basis. ‘I will assign a number of trusted Risen to you. You may direct them as you wish. I will instruct them to do everything they can to assist you with setting up the supply chains.’

‘It’ll take a while to get the ship running again,’ Kanu said.

‘Provided you find your lodging arrangements to your satisfaction, I do not see any great difficulty accommodating you. Besides, I have a selfish desire to enjoy your company for as long as I may.’

‘I think we’ll be around for a little while,’ Nissa said. ‘Would you like us to look at the skipover vault now?’

‘You are tired and there is no tremendous urgency. I would not wish you to feel beholden to me. Get the repair effort up and running, and then we may turn our thoughts to the Friends. Does that sound like a sensible course of action?’

‘Very,’ Kanu said.

The next day was similar, and the next, and the one after that. Slowly the supply lines were established. When the requirements were simple, everything went smoothly. When Kanu had more complicated requests, however, he found it difficult to communicate his needs to the Risen. There were inevitable misunderstandings, some of which required careful unravelling. Slowly, though, he could see the glimmerings of progress. There would be setbacks, the odd calamity or two – such things were inevitable. Equally, he could see no insurmountable barriers. The ship was fully capable of repairing itself. They would be able to leave.

Dakota always made sure she was appraised of their progress. During their audiences with her, they spoke of technical matters for an hour or so before turning to more general topics of conversation. No subject was obviously out of bounds, but Kanu had noticed a disinclination on Dakota’s part to speak in detailed terms about the history of
Zanzibar
. Even so, they did their best to coax information out of her while trying not to make it sound as if they had specific concerns.

‘It all looks idyllic,’ Nissa said offhandedly during one conversation. ‘Tantors thriving, living independently of human support. You’ve got it all organised – heat, air, power, water, food, waste management – even education! Chiku would have been glad to see you doing so well.’

‘She would recognise our difficulties, too – that we still recovering from the resource crisis. She would agree that we must not allow ourselves to become complacent. But at least we are laying the foundations for better times.’ Dakota closed the heavy volume she had been consulting. She had asked Kanu and Nissa for help with a difficult, ambiguous passage. ‘Yes, I am sure she would have been very pleased for us.’

‘And the construct,’ Kanu said. ‘Eunice had a stake in your future, too.’

‘That is very true.’

‘What happened to them?’ Nissa asked.

There was a silence, and Kanu began to fear that the question had been too direct, Nissa’s suspicions too overt. But when Dakota replied, she appeared unfazed.

‘It was all a tremendous sadness. The construct was the first to leave us. Gradually, she began to cease to function properly. It was very upsetting, after everything Eunice had done for our kind during the crossing. Like all machines, though, she began to wear out. Is it wrong of me to speak of her as a person? I know she wasn’t human, but the force of her adopted personality was striking, even to myself – she felt like a person to us.’

‘I understand,’ Kanu said.

‘Over time – years rather than months – she became progressively more unreliable and confused. She lost the thread of herself. We did what we could, but given the failing state of our own systems and the difficulties we already faced, our efforts were destined to meet with little reward. Truly, we could have benefited much from the construct’s guidance had she remained to help us. But in the end she stopped working.’

‘She died, you mean?’ Kanu asked.

‘As I said, it is a sadness.’

Swift, who was standing in silent observation to Kanu’s right, made a sceptical frown. He shook his head, touched a finger to the tip of his nose, looked on the verge of making a significant observation.

‘What happened to her remains?’ Nissa asked. ‘May we see them?’

‘They were dismantled and destroyed. It was one of her last coherent requests. It troubled us, but we had no choice but to honour her wish. Doubtless you have some sense of our loss. But that is as nothing compared to our feelings about Chiku. As you know from the recording, she remained awake to help the rest of us – a typically selfless gesture. Unfortunately, there was a gradual collapse of the closed-cycle life-support system, and conditions deteriorated over time. It became very hard for the humans, even the small number who had remained awake to assist us. In desperation, most of them joined the others in skipover. I’m afraid Chiku was among that number.’

‘Why was that a bad thing?’ Nissa asked.

‘Because those last few did not survive. There was a systematic failure of an entire bank of skipover caskets. I am sorry, Kanu – I can only imagine how upsetting this must be to you. Truly she gave us more than could ever be repaid. And we wept for the deaths of these martyrs – wept and scolded ourselves for not having done more. That was when we realised how far we still had to go before becoming your equals.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us all this sooner?’ Kanu asked.

‘For exactly the same reason I am sorry to have told you now – because it is a terrible thing, and a particular cruelty in light of your family connection. If I might offer one consolation, it is that the Risen cherish her memory – everything she did for us, everything she planned to do. And it is an honour to have another Akinya among us.’

Eventually Kanu felt it was safe to ask for a second viewing of the Chiku recording. They had been aboard
Zanzibar
for more than six weeks; the repair work was proceeding satisfactorily – it was perfectly reasonable that he should wish to begin fulfilling his side of the arrangement.

‘If you insist,’ Dakota said. ‘But please be assured that I have every confidence in your abilities, and that you will keep your word. Still, as you say, the repair process demands less of your time than it did originally.’

So Memphis took them back to the skipover vault beneath the civic building, and they were allowed to conduct as thorough an examination of the equipment as they desired. It was cold in the layered depths of the vault, and silent, and since they were surrounded by the sleeping dead it was hard not to think of ghosts, of lives in abeyance, of collective dreams of an unending winter.