On the Steel Breeze

CHAPTER TWENTY

Falling. She remembered falling in her dreams, falling out of the rigging of a great swaying galleon, high above oil-grey seas, and now she was falling in her waking life, weightless as a moonbeam. In that everlasting fall she felt warm and blissful and eternally safe. She wanted it to go on for ever, a dream of never being born.

But then a shrill voice pierced her amniotic tranquillity: ‘Alert condition. Orbital injection has failed. Atmospheric re-entry will commence.’

She forced herself into something approximating alertness. Where am I? What just happened to me? A few disconcerting moments of blankness, then the images began to surface. The household. A nightmare of cats and darkness. Red stairs and a thing like a coffin, into which she had climbed. Leaving Pedro behind, with the cats.

And then something had gone wrong.

The launch lasers should have pushed her the rest of the way to orbit, fingers of light cradling her upwards from the summit snows of Kilimanjaro like a gift from Earth. But they had failed. She was falling back home, a prisoner of ballistics, following a mathematical arc that had only one inevitable outcome.

She was not feeling quite so weightless now.

‘Atmospheric interface detected. Transitioning for blunt-capsule re-entry. Anticipated entry gee-loads in range four to four-point-five. Ablative measures at nominal temperatures. Impact projection locus: Indian Ocean, fifty-seven-point-five degrees east, one-point-one-five degrees north, point-five-degree error ellipse. Political jurisdiction: United Aquatic Nations seaspace. Anticipated splashdown in eight minutes. Scrambulance and air/sea rescue services alerted. Please remain calm.’

‘Chiku?’

Her battered brain registered a new voice. ‘Yes,’ she said, thick-tongued.

‘It’s Mecufi. I’m speaking from the seasteads. We have a lock on your capsule and a communications channel I think we can rely on. You’re currently falling back to Earth.’

‘I know.’

‘There appears to have been a momentary fault with the launch array – one of the lasers was misaligned. In light of my recent conversation with Arethusa, technical sabotage cannot be ruled out.’

She tried to nod, but found herself still immobilised in the capsule’s embrace. ‘It’s possible,’ she said, imagining Arachne infiltrating the launch lasers’ control system or co-opting a service robot to physically damage the array. ‘Mecufi, listen to me. You also need to get someone to the household – Imris Kwami has been badly injured. While you’re at it, can you tell Pedro to sit tight? I don’t want him risking his neck in this thing.’

‘Mr Braga is not with you?’

‘No – we had to ride this thing one at a time. I went first.’

‘I see.

‘Mecufi?’

‘Yes.’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘We have a… seismic indication that the blowpipe is currently active.’

‘You have to stop him – tell him to abort.’

‘We can’t, Chiku. We could only speak to you once you were in space, above the atmosphere. The launch lasers create a plasma that interferes with communications—’

‘Mecufi, I don’t fucking care. Just find a way to stop him.’

‘I’m sorry, Chiku, but we can’t just turn off the blowpipe. Your should know that – your family made this thing.’

She felt infinite dread and helplessness. ‘You have to help him.’

‘We’ll do what we can, but you are our immediate priority. Your entry vector looks satisfactory. How do you feel?’

‘Oh, just marvellous.’

But in truth she could not complain about her immediate physical needs. The gee load was nothing compared to what she had already experienced. It was starting to get warm inside the capsule, but it would be a while before it became uncomfortable. She could feel some buffeting, the occasional flutter of hard turbulence, but nothing excessive.

‘We have Pedro,’ Mecufi announced suddenly.

‘You’ve reached him already?’

‘No – we have a lock on him. He’s cleared the top of the mountain… rising at a steeper trajectory than your own ascent. The lasers are continuing to push the capsule… I think he will reach orbit safely.’

‘You think?’

‘It’ll take a few moments to plot his projected course. The failure of your launch was much more obvious from the outset. Ah, now this is concerning.’

‘What now?’ She made no effort to hide her irritation.

‘Your estimated impact point is very close to a Provider construction project.’

‘I thought I was coming down mid-ocean.’

‘You are, but there are Providers everywhere. The breakaway seasteads, the independencies with their stupid alliances. This may be coincidence, but… well, perhaps not.’

‘What the hell’s happening, Mecufi?’

‘The Providers are breaking off from their work – they’ve been tasked to move to your splashdown area.’

‘Mecufi, listen to me. I don’t know what Arethusa’s told you, but it’s vital that those Providers don’t reach me.’

‘Preventing them may be… problematic. Our own deep-ocean assets are moving to your splashdown location, but they may not reach you before the Providers do.’

‘You’d better make sure they do.’ Then she closed her eyes, surrendering to her fate.

After that, there was nothing to do but fall. As the atmosphere thickened, the capsule gradually decelerated to terminal velocity. The temperature inside the capsule had not increased and its soothing voice assured her that parachutes would soon deploy, slowing her descent further. She breathed a silent prayer to the blowpipe’s engineers for considering the possibility of launch failure and installing safety measures.

She felt the parachutes deploy – a quick succession of tugs as drogues and canopies popped. Ancient technology, but a clean and dependable breaking mechanism nonetheless. A couple of minutes later, she felt a firmer jolt as the capsule hit water and submerged, then a rising and falling sensation as it resurfaced and bobbed on the waves. Cued by some automatic trigger, a large area of the capsule’s skin flicked to transparency. She was floating on her back, water sloshing across her field of vision as each swell broke.

‘Please await rescue,’ the voice instructed, as if some other option might have presented itself. ‘Capsule integrity optimal. Life-support systems functioning normally. Sedation is available upon request.’

Under normal circumstances, the knowledge that the Providers were on their way would have made her relax. A few hours aboard this bobbing glass lifeboat, while scarcely pleasant, were a distinct improvement on drowning. She could even, with an effort of will, imagine how she might have viewed her surroundings under better circumstances. It was, in the objective sense, actually quite a nice day to be floating out at sea. The sea was a luscious jade green, the sky boundless and cloudless. There were no ships or boats visible, but the capsule was so low in the water that there might be vessels not too far away. She pictured the coloured fishing boats she had seen on the flight from Lisbon, imagined being hauled out of the sea by laughing fisherfolk, with their tall stories and strong coffee.

‘I see you’re safe.’ Mecufi’s voice startled her from her reverie. ‘The Providers are advancing but our assets should reach you first. You’re in UAN seaspace now, so sovereign jurisdiction should be clear. Are you comfortable?’

‘I’ll cope. Do you have an update on Pedro?’

‘Yes…’ The merman was silent for a few moments. ‘The news is not as good as we might have hoped.’

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, with a profound, visceral apprehension. ‘Did Pedro fail to reach orbit?’

‘The trajectory looked good to begin with and his arc was much higher than yours, but the lasers were still malfunctioning.’

‘He can still re-enter, can’t he? He’ll just come down somewhere else, right?’

‘There is a… difficulty. Pedro’s capsule is still moving ballistically, above most of the atmosphere. Soon his trajectory will bring him dangerously close to one of our vacuum chimneys and—’

She cut in. ‘Will he hit it?’

‘He will most probably skim past the tower and continue deeper into the atmosphere, but unfortunately the chimney won’t tolerate the possibility of a collision.’

‘What do you mean, “tolerate”?’

‘The chimney is equipped with self-defence protocols. We’re attempting to override them, but it might not be possible.’

She could hear his words, process their surface meaning, but her mind wouldn’t comprehend their full import. ‘Mecufi, you can’t let this happen.’

‘I assure you, Chiku, we’re doing everything in our power to prevent it.’

‘Can I speak to him?’

‘Yes, but please be aware that Pedro isn’t aware of the danger he’s in. Since he can’t act upon that information, it may be kinder to let him—’

‘I want to speak to him. Now.’

‘Are you sure, Chiku?’

In the rise and fall of the swelling waves she was certain of nothing, much less the wisdom of this course of action. What would she want, if their roles were reversed? To think she was safe when she was not? Or to know the truth, bitter as it was, and have a few moments to compose herself, or perhaps choose drug-induced painlessness and bliss, a little promise of heaven?

‘Let me speak to Pedro.’

‘Establishing the connection. You have a couple of minutes before he enters the avoidance volume. We’ll keep trying.’

She could blame Mecufi, but that would be pointless. The avoidance volume was designed to protect the many at the expense of the few. A cruel calculus, but it allowed the world to work.

‘Chiku?’ Pedro’s voice filled the capsule.

‘Yes,’ she said, swallowing hard. ‘It’s me. I’m down, floating. I’m told help’s on its way.’

‘The right sort of help, I hope. That was a hell of a ride, by the way. We should do it again some time!’

‘Yes. We should.’ And then she had to bite her tongue, because nothing she was about to say sounded right in her head.

‘I’ve spoken to this friend of yours – Mecufi, is it? He says I nearly reached orbit but couldn’t quite make it. I guess I’m not going to come down anywhere near you.’

‘They’ll find you,’ she said.

‘Yes, of course. I’m not worried now, just glad to be out of that place. I can’t stop thinking about Imris. I hope he’s going to be all right.’

‘We did everything we could for him. Imris wanted us to escape. And he’d be glad we saw what June and Eunice and Arethusa wanted us to see.’

‘It’s in your head now – you being rescued is all that matters.’

His choice of words was accidental, but they cut her to the core. As if he knew, deep down, the truth of his predicament.

‘Mecufi will take me to the seasteads. I’ll be safe there, and they can do whatever they need to do to access my memories. Depending on where you come down, it might be a while before we’re reunited.’

‘She won’t leave you alone, you know. You’ll never be safe.’

‘Nor will you.’

‘But you’re her primary target. I doubt Lisbon will be safe any more – too many ways she can reach us, if she’s still interested.’

‘Maybe she won’t be.’ But deep down Chiku knew Arachne would never lose interest in them, not even after she had transmitted her memories back to Zanzibar. Chiku would still be a liability, walking around with a head full of secrets. ‘You’re right, though – we could move on. Become merfolk! Join the aquatics! It wouldn’t have to be for the rest of our lives – just a holiday from being human.’

‘Chiku, is something wrong?’

‘No,’ she answered, just a touch too hastily. ‘Everything’s fine. I mean, as fine as it can be, given what we’ve just been through.’ But he had heard it, she knew – the false note in her voice, the forced optimism. The strained levity of the deathbed visitor.

And then an immense, oceanic calm washed over her. ‘Actually, Pedro, it’s not all fine.’

‘What are you saying, Chiku?’

‘Mecufi thinks you might be about to die.’

When he replied, she heard the slightest hint of amusement in his voice: hardly laughter, but definitely amusement. ‘I knew the bastard was hiding something. How bad is it?’

‘Your trajectory will take you near a vacuum chimney. There’s a small chance you’ll hit it. More than likely you won’t, but Mecufi thinks it’ll shoot you out of the sky before you get a chance.’

‘Nice of him to mention that.’

‘I think he was trying to be kind.’

‘He was, I suppose. And you telling me this, it isn’t very kind. But thank you.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’d rather know than not, Chiku. We’ve been together long enough for you to know that. I don’t need kindness at this point.’ He inhaled deeply, exhaled. ‘How long do I have?’

‘Mecufi said a couple of minutes.’

‘From the start of our conversation?’

‘I think so. Yes.’

‘Ever since we saw what happened to June Wing I’ve been wondering whether I’d have her strength, when the time came, to say, fine, I’ve had my life, I can’t complain. I just didn’t expect to get to find out quite so soon. I was thinking a few more decades, maybe a century, then I’ll worry about the answer to that question.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated.

‘No, don’t be. I’m… coping. As you say, there’s a chance, so no heroic last words. I have a question, though – just one.’

‘Go on.’

‘You’ve never really asked me about my life before I met you. I know everything about you, where you were born, what you’ve done… almost the entire history of your life. You’re an Akinya – it’s hard to get away from that! But I’m just some man you met buying ice cream. And unless I’ve missed something, that’s all you know.’

‘It is.’

‘Just a man who makes guitars, in a little studio in Lisbon. A man who works with wood and glue and string. And it’s true – that’s me. But there’s more. Not as much of a life as yours, but still – it’s mine. Someone ought to remember all of it. If you want to.’

‘I would.’ Then, as if affirming some time-honoured vow, she said: ‘I do.’

‘I have a friend, Nicolas. You know him – he comes to the studio sometimes. Always complaining about this or that. Nicolas knows me. He’ll tell you my story, if you can stand his company for a few hours.’

‘I’ll speak to him. I promise.’

‘Thing is, I’ve had some ups and downs. Some adventures, too. Been further than you’d guess. But whatever happens, this has been fun – it’s been good knowing you.’

‘I’m really sorry I dragged you into this.’

‘Oh, don’t be. I’m still glad we chose to buy ice cream at the same time. Even if those seagulls were thieving bastards.’

‘They were,’ she said, wanting to smile, but not quite having the strength. ‘They definitely were.’

She waited for an answer.

She lay in her little bobbing glass boat, adrift from herself. There was no present, no past, no future. No sadness, no sorrow, because those were ordinary little human emotions that required a frame of reference, and she had none to cling to. She had caved in, become a measureless void, no poles, no lines of latitude or longitude. She was an emptiness bigger than galaxies, unmapped and unmappable.

The worst thing of all, the knife that would not stop twisting, the realisation that left her so utterly harrowed, was that she would do all of this again. It had all been necessary. She had worlds to consider. The lives of multitudes hung in the balance.

On the horizon now, blurred through the water-washed glass of the capsule, Providers were advancing. There were three of them – pale outlines, all joints and limbs, like the projected forms of magnified insects. They looked as tall as thunderheads. The water here must have been kilometres deep, so they could not be walking on the ocean bed – could they? – but however they travelled, they terrified her. Where were the airpods and scrambulances?

‘Mecufi,’ she said, just a word, an oath as much as a plea. Because for all his promises, Mecufi had done nothing except fail to save Pedro. Perhaps Arethusa had it wrong after all, her judgement blunted by the years in Hyperion. Perhaps Mecufi was not to be trusted.

The Providers were closer still. She thought of the ones on Venus, their trumpeting exchanges. She wondered what they would do when they arrived. Not kill her, surely. At least not in any obvious or culpable fashion. But damage her, perhaps, so that her memories could not be retrieved. Make it look accidental, another complication of the blowpipe accident. These things happened, people would say. Even in a perfect world. The Providers had done their best.

Something knocked on the glass.

It was a hand, webbed between the fingers. The shadowy form the hand belonged to vanished beneath the water and resurfaced on the other side of the capsule. She could see a body now, and a face. Mecufi was the only merperson Chiku thought herself capable of recognising, but this was not Mecufi. This was a sleeker, leaner organism, the skin tone darker, the architecture of the face different.

She knew it. It was her own face, or rather it had the same proportions, the same balance of features, but altered for aquatic life. It was her son’s face.

‘Kanu,’ she said, astonished and numb.

He planted a hand against the glass, fingers spread. The skin between his fingers was fine-veined and translucent. The only reason for that touch was to offer reassurance.

Chiku twisted in the capsule. It was difficult to move, but she struggled until she could mirror Kanu’s gesture. They were palm to palm, only glass between them. Kanu’s lips moved. She could not hear him, but she thought he was telling her not to worry.

Beyond Kanu, something much larger broke through the waters, a huge and glossy thing with a shape too complicated to comprehend in one glance. Another surfaced a little to the right. Water rode off them in cataracting rivulets as they breached into daylight. She remembered one of Uncle Geoffrey’s stories, of being rescued at sea by the merfolk, of a voyage in an ancient clanking submarine. Doubtless the details had been embroidered, but somewhere in the telling would have been a core of truth. It could not have happened very far from here.

This, though, was no ancient submarine. It was changing shape as she watched, muscular parts moving against each other as it transformed. What she had originally thought to be two or three things were in fact a single entity. As the main part of it emerged – a kind of tapering irongrey hull, plated in places and soft in others – she realised that she was staring not into a porthole but an eye, perfectly defined, wider than she was tall. The eye regarded Chiku. Kanu, interposed between the capsule and the eye, moved his arms in a kind of sign language.

Tentacles intermeshed around her bobbing coffin to form a slithering cage and closed around the capsule. Suckers pressed against glass sought and obtained traction. The glass creaked, but held.

And then Kanu and the kraken carried her under.