Poseidon's Wake

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘It’s one of them,’ Ru was saying, for the fourth or fifth time. ‘Why bother looking elsewhere? Why bother locking up the rest of us when we all know the truth? None of us wants the expedition to fail — why would we?’

‘Gandhari’s got to follow procedure,’ Goma felt obliged to point out. ‘It can’t be easy for her, dealing with this.’

‘And if and when they find out who it is, what do you think they’ll do? What kind of law are we working under now, anyway?’

‘Are you hoping for blood?’

‘I saw what happened to your uncle.’

‘So did I. But if there’s one thing Mposi would have opposed, it’s mindless retribution. He was on Zanzibar during the troubles — when all hell nearly broke loose. Mposi and Ndege tried to stand for something better. For reconciliation, acceptance — for putting the past behind us.’

‘And look where that idealism got him. Same goes for your mother.’

‘You don’t need to remind me.’ And it was true: it was a constant fight to keep that image of him out of her mind, his body slumping over in the slow-bubbling digestive machinery of the well, the milky horror of what had become of the rest of him. She did not want to carry that memory with her for the rest of her life, but the more she resisted, the deeper it branded itself.

She forced herself to think of better times. Mposi at his desk in Guochang, Mposi swimming, Mposi the way she imagined him as a young man, emboldened by the challenges of building a new world — squaring up to a future he had earned, with forgiveness and prudence and an abundance of precocious wisdom.

Presently there was a knock on the door of their quarters. Goma opened it. It was Captain Vasin, looking tired.

‘I thought you should be the first to know,’ she said in a low, exhausted voice. ‘It’s starting to look like Grave was involved. We’ve already moved him from his quarters to a secure compartment.’

Goma nodded slowly — on one level, none of this surprised her. ‘What do you have on him?’

‘Enough to detain him for now. Maslin and your uncle both had their doubts about him. It turns out he was a late addition to the Second Chancer delegation — forced on them at almost the last minute. He has strong connections to a much more orthodox, conservative strain of Chancer thinking and they had enough influence to get their man aboard the ship. The others — the moderates — didn’t know him all that well.’

‘So you’re saying he was — what?’ Goma said. ‘A plant, put aboard to sabotage us? Exactly the man he said he was sent here to track down?’

‘It could be as simple as that. As to whether he was acting alone or as part of a larger plan against us, we’ll have to wait and see. There’s only so much background I can dig into on the ship.’

Goma recalled their handful of conversations, and the opinion she had already formed of Grave. ‘What the hell was a throwback like him doing on the ship in the first place?’

‘Obviously, a mistake was made.’

‘Tell me what else you know. This can’t be just about his background — they’re all true believers of one stripe or another.’

‘You’re right — it’s more than that. To begin with, there’s a strong likelihood that Grave had the technical know-how to reprogram the nanomachines in the well. Even the records I have say that he spent time aboard the holoships, including Malabar. Obviously a mistake was made.’

‘That’s an understatement if ever I heard one,’ Ru commented darkly, standing just behind Goma.

‘What’s the significance of Malabar?’

‘After the information wave hit Crucible, Malabar was one of the few holoships that still managed to maintain viable populations of industrial nanomachines. All the nanomachinery now in use, here or anywhere else in the system, derives from the Malabar samples. Grave was there as a schoolteacher. There’s no direct link, but with the right connections, he could easily have gained practical experience in handling and reprogramming nanomachines.’

‘Enough for what he did?’

‘With some additional tuition, maybe,’ Vasin said.

‘You’ll need more than that to nail him.’

‘When we first found Grave, not long after you found Mposi, he was returning to his cabin from the direction of the drive sphere. That’s suspicious, although not damning in and of itself. But we’ve now found blood traces in one of the secured areas. Evidence of a struggle, too — skin and hair scrapings, a shred of torn fabric.’

‘Grave’s blood?’

‘Mposi’s. Saturnin’s already run a match — he has your uncle’s blood on file from the skipover tests.’

‘What about Grave?’ Ru asked.

‘There’s no sign that he was hurt in the struggle. The fabric doesn’t appear to have come from his clothes, either. But he’s younger and stronger than Mposi was — it’s not really a surprise that your uncle would have fared worse in a struggle.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Ru said, still speaking over Goma’s shoulder, ‘That Grave killed him there, and then carried him all the way back through the ship to the Knowledge Room without anyone seeing?’

‘That’s not as outlandish as it sounds. There’s a cargo elevator connecting both spheres that bypasses all the main accommodation levels, and Grave wouldn’t have had far to go from the elevator to the Knowledge Room. Again, ordinary passengers can’t access the cargo elevator. But if Grave had already altered his bangle to allow entry into closed areas, it would have been no trouble to operate the elevator.’

‘What was that throwback doing in the drive sphere?’

‘That’s what I hope to find out. Of course, it’s not just propulsion systems in that area — there are equipment bays, supply stores and so on.’

‘We’re still alive,’ Goma said. ‘That has to mean something, doesn’t it? If there is a sabotage plan, it hasn’t worked so far.’

‘Maybe we’ve been lucky,’ Vasin said. ‘In which case we have your uncle to thank. I can only wish that he had come to me rather than keep this to himself. I’ve a feeling we will miss his skills and experience acutely in the days to come.’

Captain Vasin’s search parties worked their efficient, methodical way through the spine and aft sphere of Travertine. Before very long they found a storage room that had been closed but not locked, against normal protocol, and within that room was a rack of supply cases. The cases were examined thoroughly and with caution. One of them, supposedly containing spacesuit parts, was found to be unlocked. Inside, instead of helmets and neck rings were a dozen bottle-sized demolition charges packed in cushioning material.

Vasin explained to Goma that they were MH devices — metallic hydrogen charges. Their presence aboard the ship was not odd in itself, for such items were part of normal expedition equipment. These were not the itemised charges, however, which were stored under high security in the forward sphere. These must have been smuggled aboard, probably quite late in the loading operation. A single charge would easily have been sufficient to destroy much of the rear sphere, and perhaps the whole ship. Certainly Travertine would have been crippled beyond repair.

‘How in hell—’ Goma started saying.

‘The final preparations were completed in too much of a rush,’ Vasin said. ‘Our supporters wanted us away as quickly as possible, before someone changed their minds and decided the expedition shouldn’t go ahead after all. Corners were cut, details missed. First Grave, then letting something like this aboard.’

‘It’s a little late for regrets,’ Goma said.

‘Perhaps we’ve been fortunate. I’ll have the rest of the ship picked clean as a bone, of course.’

‘What does Grave say?’ Ru asked.

‘Still sticking to his story. Says he arranged to meet Mposi — that they were both looking for the same thing. Whatever his defence, it’ll be difficult for him to shrug off the forensic traces in that room. Grave’s fingerprints are as clear as they could be on the box containing the charges, and he left skin flakes in the room, too. Maybe he was on the verge of blowing us all up, or maybe he just meant to extract the charges and spread them around the ship in preparation.’

‘Why wait?’ Ru asked, frowning hard. ‘If blowing us up was the plan, why not do it there and then?’

‘We don’t know what his ultimate objective was,’ Vasin answered. ‘Maybe it wasn’t to destroy Travertine itself. When we get to Gliese 163, we’ll use the lander for close-up studies, not the ship. His target could be whatever we end up investigating.’

‘You’ll make him confess,’ Goma said, hardly daring to imagine the damage a bomb could do to her beloved Tantors, if they were present. ‘I want to know exactly what happened and why.’

‘A man with deep convictions can be hard to intimidate,’ Vasin said.

‘I think I could have a go at it,’ Goma answered.

Mposi’s body had been removed from the well and the nanomachines rendered safe. There was a funeral service, of sorts — a difficult, harrowing ceremony, which Goma was glad to put behind her — and then his remains were placed in skipover, to be carried all the way to Gliese 163 and — perhaps — back to Crucible. Vasin told Goma that she was obliged to preserve the evidence of any crime even when the circumstances appeared unambiguous — Dr Nhamedjo’s post-mortem examination was as thorough as it could be but, given the limited resources and expertise available on the ship, not completely exhaustive.

For Goma’s peace of mind, she would much rather have seen the remains incinerated or cast into space. Then she could begin to grieve for Mposi.

Even so, she slowly began to adjust to his absence. Ru was a wonderful strength, and Goma found herself blessing the chain of circumstances that had kept them together. If it had taken the death of the matriarch Agrippa to bind them closer, then she was grateful for the old elephant’s parting gift. She could not have faced the future without Ru.

Eventually, photons crawled back from Crucible. There had been a day or two of delay in addition to physical time lag. A stringent investigation of Grave’s background had added to the picture already formed, reinforcing their existing impression of him. His ideological background and link to the most conservative branch of the Second Chancer movement were established beyond doubt. So, too, was the fact that Grave had the necessary basic grounding in nanomachine programming, acquired during his time on the orbiting holoship. Given that unexpected expertise, he had the skills required to override the bangles’ intended security functions. There was no reliable confirmation that Grave had been installed aboard the ship as a kind of counterterrorist infiltrator.

Vasin still gave him his chance to defend himself. The ‘trial’ was an ad hoc affair attended by nearly the entire complement of crew and passengers. Grave was asked to explain his presence in the second sphere. He did not deny it, accepting that the forensic evidence was irrefutable. Nor did he deny that he had some experience with nanomachines.

‘What would be the point? You know my past. But this is a starship full of scientists and technicians.’

‘Your point?’ Vasin asked.

‘I doubt I’m the only one aboard who has come into close contact with nanomachines. Have you investigated everyone to the same extent you have me? What about the medical team?’

‘He has a point,’ Dr Nhamedjo said placidly. ‘I have worked with small quantities of medical nanomachinery — so have the other members of my team.’

‘Could you have reprogrammed the Knowledge Room?’ Vasin asked.

His handsome features looked rueful. ‘For about five minutes, when I was just out of medical school.’

‘You do yourself a disservice,’ Vasin said, meeting his expression with a smile of her own. ‘The main point, though, is that very few of us ever need to enter the second sphere — or have the means to do so.’

‘Mine can’t have been the only forensic traces you found in that sphere,’ Grave said. ‘Or are you saying none of your technicians ever go in there?’

There was a reasonableness to his objections, but also a pragmatic acceptance that his fate was already sealed. He looked broken, his aspirations in tatters — a man going through the motions of justice, knowing he could offer no persuasive argument.

‘Did you meet Mposi?’ Vasin asked.

‘On several occasions.’

‘Why?’

‘We wished to speak. I had some concerns, and I hoped to share them with him.’

‘Were these vague concerns about a threat?’

‘I can’t help that they were vague. It was my job to find out more information — to safeguard both the expedition and the integrity of the Second Chance delegation. Had Mposi and I located a tangible threat, we would have brought our concerns to you directly. In the absence of anything concrete, neither of us wished to trouble you.’

‘I keep hearing about people not wanting to trouble me,’ Vasin said ruefully. ‘I wish they’d let me decide for myself. Being troubled is what I’m here for.’

‘You have spoken to Crucible. Presumably they have verified Mposi’s account of things?’ Grave asked.

‘Mposi was warned about a possible sabotage effort,’ Vasin said. ‘But as far as we know, you could have been the saboteur he was warned about.’ Her tone sharpened. ‘Why did you kill him?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Ah, this missed rendezvous. What was the point of it?’

‘We’d arranged to meet and explore the second sphere together. Mposi knew how to enter secure areas. He’d already shown me how to alter my bangle to achieve the same settings, but I still needed his help to get into the drive section. When I arrived there, though, Mposi was late. Or rather, now I think he was early — that he arrived before me and someone else was already there. I saw signs of disturbance — the blood you found.’

‘You’re saying Mposi had already been attacked, perhaps even killed, by the time you arrived?’

‘I only know that he wasn’t there. I have no direct knowledge of what happened to him after that, except that you say he was murdered and his body placed in the well.’ Grave paused, then asked with a sudden and plausible innocence: ‘You asked me about my history with nanomachines. Do you honestly think I had the expertise to do that thing to Mposi?’

‘Didn’t you?’ Vasin asked. ‘The expertise is specific, but you could have easily acquired those skills on the Malabar. Why he agreed to meet you alone, I don’t know. Regardless, you knocked him out, maybe even killed him — we only have half of his body to examine — and dragged him to the cargo elevator. You took him to the Knowledge Room, reprogrammed the nanomachines… and hoped that would buy you enough time to cover your tracks.’

‘I did all that?’ Grave looked impressed with himself. ‘You overestimate my ability to improvise, Captain.’

‘If we were down to our last gram of fuel, our final rations,’ Vasin said, ‘I might have a case for execution — or at least for throwing you out of an airlock. As it happens, neither fuel nor rations are a concern. Besides, Mposi would not have approved. Given that — and the uncertain legal standing of this trial — I only have one option. You’ve offered a defence, but it cannot be corroborated. On the other hand, you had the opportunity, the technical means and — as a conservative Second Chancer — a plausible motive.’

‘Case closed, then.’

‘No — case still open, but looking increasingly doubtful for you. You may or may not be guilty — I don’t have the evidence to decide — but I can’t run the risk of you doing further harm. You will be committed to skipover, Grave. Put on ice for the entire duration of the expedition.’

Dr Nhamedjo spoke up sharply. ‘I won’t be party to that.’

Vasin turned to him. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor?’

‘Regardless of what we might think of Grave, this doesn’t begin to satisfy his rights as a member of this expedition. And I won’t go along with some execution-by-proxy—’

Vasin spoke quietly, but she had no need to raise her voice to sound authoritative. ‘It’s not an execution, Doctor — it’s clemency. I’m doing him a kindness by not presuming his guilt. I’d prefer you to comply with this decision, but the truth is I don’t need you to. Under emergency provisions, any member of this crew is entitled to assist another into skipover.’

‘Only when the medical staff are indisposed!’

‘Or unable to discharge their duties, which at this point amounts to much the same thing. I’m sorry to state it so plainly, Saturnin — we are friends, and I’ve no desire to overrule you — but Grave will be going into skipover with or without your assistance. Would you rather stand by and watch one of us clumsily attempt to do your own work for you?’

‘Of course not,’ Nhamedjo said, with a surliness at odds with his pleasant, accommodating features.

‘Perhaps I made a mistake,’ Grave said. ‘Has it occurred to you that I achieved nothing by supposedly murdering Mposi?’

‘You acted carelessly,’ Vasin answered. ‘That isn’t my concern.’

‘It should be. I am not his murderer. Someone else is. You’ve found your demolition charges — good for you. Maybe they were part of a plot to blow up the ship, as you suspect. But if the real killer is still active, they’ll simply move on to a different weapon.’

‘Such as?’

‘I wish I knew. If I did, I’d be the first to tell you.’

Goma woke after the trial to find a transmission waiting for her from Ndege. She had been expecting such a thing, knowing that her mother had been informed of Mposi’s death through at least two channels. First there had been a personal communication from Gandhari Vasin, sharing the news and expressing her deep regret that this dreadful thing had happened to such a respected and well-liked figure. Vasin had allowed Goma to see the transmission before she sent it, and not long after that she had composed her own message to Ndege.

Vasin had done her a kindness, in that it did not fall to Goma to break the bad news. She had only to express her sadness and offer her condolences. It was bad enough that her uncle had been killed, but it was much worse for Ndege, losing her brother. Goma had only known him for the short span of her own life; Ndege and Mposi had been witness to centuries.

Both had separated knowing that a reunion was vanishingly unlikely, but neither had expected to learn of the other’s death. Mposi might have died before the expedition reached its destination, but by the time the news of his passing reached Crucible, Ndege would probably not be alive to receive it. Similarly, if Ndege were to die in the next few decades, news of it could not possibly reach the expedition for many decades to come.

Neither would have anticipated this. Travertine was still only a little more than a light-week from Crucible — its voyage barely commenced. It felt limitlessly cruel of the universe to force this development on Ndege, as if she had not suffered enough already.

And yet she accepted it with what appeared to Goma to be extreme stoic forbearance. She spoke with dignity, acknowledging her sadness, yet proud that her brother had the courage to join the expedition, and the deeper courage to act to protect it. In the end, he had let none of them down — except Goma, perhaps, who would not now have his companionship and wisdom to draw on. Ndege was sorry for that, but she said there was a simple answer. What Mposi had been to Goma, Goma would now have to be to the rest of the expedition. Mposi’s qualities were in her — she just needed to find them.

‘You will not have to dig very deeply, daughter. I have confidence in you. I always have done. Now go, and choose wisely, and if it is within your capabilities, bring Mposi back to us. He came to love this hot, green world, and I think we owe it to him to bury him under a blue sky, under stars he would recognise. As for you — you already have my love, but if it were within my power I would send you twice as much of it. Be strong for me, be strong for Ru, be strong for the others, but above all else be strong for yourself. Good luck, my daughter.’

Goma’s first instinct was to reply at length, but on reflection she chose something simpler.

‘You say you should send twice your love, but you have already given me more than anyone ever deserved. Mposi isn’t here, but your good thoughts are. And in turn, I hope — I know — that you can feel mine. They wronged you, my mother, but you never hated them for it. And even when the world thought the least of you, I never wanted anyone else to be my mother. I am proud of my name, proud of what I am — proud of the place that shaped who I am, proud of the ancestors who stand behind me. I cannot replace Mposi — none of us could, except perhaps you. But I will do my best, and keep trying harder, and perhaps I will not disgrace his memory. And when this is done, I will bring Mposi home to Crucible.’

If more needed to be said, the words were not there. She did not even replay the transmission before committing it to deep space, arrowing back to her planet of birth.

She could expect a reply in under twenty days, allowing for time lag, but she did not think there would be an answer. They had said what they needed to say, absolving each other of a lifetime’s slow accumulation of unhappiness and bitterness and guilt. That was all gone now, wiped clean by a death.

When all that was left was love, words were superfluous.

The door opened at the command of her bangle. Goma stepped into the nearly darkened room, waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low green lighting. The form on the bed stirred, sensing her uninvited presence. At first Grave appeared untroubled, thinking perhaps that he was receiving another inspection from the captain or the medical staff. But then he must have recognised that this was not one of his normal visitors.

‘Goma,’ he said, raising himself from the bed, speaking quietly. ‘How did you get in here? No one told me to expect you.’

Behind her the door closed automatically.

‘You made a mistake,’ Goma said.

‘Did I?’

‘You mentioned that Mposi showed you how to reprogram the bangles.’

In the green half-light she made out his frown, his sleepless eyes, wide awake yet full of exhaustion.

‘How was that a mistake, exactly?’

‘Because it told me it could be done. Once I know a thing’s possible, that’s halfway to figuring out how to make it happen. Neither you nor Mposi would have had access to security tools, so finding the reprogramming mode couldn’t have been particularly complicated.’

He gave a half-smile, equal parts amusement and anxiety. ‘And did you?’

‘No, it was too difficult. Even for Ru, and she’s ten times smarter than me. But I went to Aiyana. I knew ve’d be up to it.’

‘And was ve?’

‘Already had it figured out. But like a typical scientist, once the puzzle was unlocked, ve lost interest in it. It never occurred to Aiyana to open any doors ve wasn’t meant to.’

‘I’m surprised you mention Loring’s name. Isn’t that a little rash if what you’re doing is against all the rules of the ship? Won’t that get Loring into trouble as well?’

Goma had moved to his bedside. Grave was keeping an eye on her but making no effort to leave the bed. She wondered if he thought she might have a weapon.

‘There isn’t going to be any trouble,’ she said. ‘What do you think I’ve come to do — kill you?’

‘It crossed my mind.’

‘In a little while, Grave, you’ll be as good as dead anyway. I’d be a fool to jeopardise my own standing on the expedition, wouldn’t I?’

‘Then I’m not sure what the point of this little visit is.’

‘I think you killed my uncle.’

‘That does appear to be the consensus opinion. Well done for subscribing to it.’

‘Shut up.’ She grabbed a lock of his hair, twisted it hard from his scalp, not caring how much it hurt him. ‘Shut the fuck up, you piece of believer piss. I saw Mposi. I saw what was left of him. Whoever did that, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to them. Nothing so fucking vile that I wouldn’t consider it. And I do think you did it. But I can’t be sure. Not totally.’

She still had his hair in her hand. Grave made a guttural sort of noise, not quite a yelp, but it left her in no doubt as to the discomfort she was inflicting. Yet he made no effort to fight her, his own hands resting at his sides.

‘Here’s the thing,’ she said. ‘You’re going on ice. Three hundred years, Gandhari says. No one will speak to you until we get back home. But if there’s one thing I should know, one thing you think might make a difference to our chances, I want to know it now.’

‘For the sake of that tiny chink of doubt?’

She dug her nails into his scalp. ‘Fuck you. I think there’s about one chance in a thousand that you didn’t kill Mposi. That’s not a doubt, that’s an outlier. But I still want to know. One thing. Whatever you’ve got.’

‘Tantors,’ he said.

It was enough to slacken her hold on him. She withdrew her hand, allowed his head to slump back onto his pillow.

‘Tell me more.’

‘That’s the fear, Goma, the reason for a sabotage effort. There are some on the extreme edge of the movement who share your suspicions.’

‘My suspicions about what?’

‘That the Tantors might have survived, somewhere beyond Crucible. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Be honest — it isn’t to heed the call of a dear dead ancestor. It’s to find talking elephants.’

‘What do you know about Tantors?’

‘The same as everyone else. And one extra thing. If there was a sabotage plan, destroying Travertine would only have been a side effect of the real intention. They mean to murder your elephants, Goma.’

‘You told me you hate the sin of what they are, not the elephants themselves.’

‘That was true.’

‘And now?’

‘I think it would still be wrong to harm them.’

‘The captain found the explosives. If there are more, she’ll find them.’

‘I don’t doubt it. But explosives aren’t the only weapon, are they?’

‘What else?’

‘I have no idea. If I were allowed my liberty, I might have a chance of finding out.’

‘Gandhari shouldn’t stop at you,’ Goma said. ‘She should put all of you on ice.’

‘We’re a fifty-three-strong expedition. That would still leave forty-one other candidates.’

‘It’s not one of the rest of us. You’re the fanatics, not us.’

‘I hope for your sake that you are right. Truth is, Goma, I never wanted us to be at odds. Whatever you think of me — and you have made your feelings abundantly clear — I did not hurt your uncle. Someone else killed Mposi — someone still at liberty aboard this ship. I know this, but of course I cannot make you see it for yourself. Nonetheless, I can encourage you to keep it in mind. Do you think you will find Tantors, after all this time?’

Goma felt a flush of shame for the physical hurt she had inflicted on Grave. It was beneath her, beneath the dignity of her name, beneath the memory of Mposi. The anger had been genuine and justified, but she had allowed it to use her rather than the other way around.

‘I don’t know.’

‘But you hope you will.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then be wise, Goma Akinya. Be very wise, and very vigilant. Because when the snake shows itself, I won’t be around to help you.’

Grave’s entry into skipover followed shortly afterwards, conducted without ceremony and with no apparent resistance from the subject. Goma was allowed to be present in the skipover vault with a small party of witnesses and technicians, including Ru, Maslin Karayan and a select number of other Second Chancers.

Grave had already been sedated and was only minimally conscious by the time the skipover casket was closed and the transition to suspended animation initiated. After their public dispute, Vasin and Nhamedjo appeared to have come to some grudging agreement regarding Grave’s committal to skipover. Saturnin handled the medical aspects, though with a conspicuous absence of enthusiasm.

Goma watched it all with a vague foreboding, knowing that she would soon be entering one of these sleek grey caskets and trusting her fate to a medical technology that was reliable but not foolproof, and which she did not pretend to understand. The assembly watched in silence as the status readouts marked Grave’s slide into medical hibernation, the gradual arresting of all cellular processes. Finally his brain gave its final surrendering flicker of neural activity, and all was still.

‘I am sorry I could not give you more,’ Vasin said to Goma, when the witnesses were beginning to disperse. ‘Some sense of justice having been done, rather than put on hold.’

‘Mposi wouldn’t have expected anything more.’

‘Perhaps not. But I admit that I felt the need for retribution — some sense that the punishment should fit the crime.’

Goma thought back to her night-time visit to Grave’s locked room. To the best of her knowledge it had gone unwitnessed and unreported. If Grave had mentioned it to anyone, there had been no consequences.

She thought of her fingernails, gouging little crescent-shaped wounds into his scalp.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted retribution.’