Poseidon's Wake

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

On the morning that he meant to kill himself, Kanu and Nissa made their customary journey from the household to the civic building for their daily audience with Dakota. Kanu had mentioned nothing of his intentions to Nissa and now did his best to banish every trace of them from his words and manner. She must not know, she must not suspect, or she would blame herself for not doing enough to stop him. Equally, Dakota had to be given every reason to believe that Nissa was in no way complicit in the act. His death would serve an obvious and logical end, but if he could engineer it in such a way as to cause the least difficulty for Nissa, all the better.

He did not feel suicidal, not even for a moment. This was not an action springing from some intense weariness of life, nor was he in physical pain. His despair, his sense of utter hopelessness, was derived entirely from his current predicament. He still loved the idea of being alive, and if he could have seen a path through his difficulties that both averted them and allowed for his own continued existence, he would have gladly taken it. But there was no such path. If he denied Dakota her starship, she would murder the sleepers. If he gave her the ship, she would court disaster not just for herself but for the entire human and elephant diaspora. Had he been a more ruthless person, he would have accepted the first outcome as morally preferable to the second. But Kanu would permit himself no such calculus. He would not balance life against life — except his own.

So he would do it. Destroy the ship, and he took away the means of her expedition. If she decided to kill the sleepers anyway, out of spite, that was beyond his control. But he hoped she would not, for they were still valuable to her. He dared apply the same reasoning to Nissa.

‘I’d like Nissa to come with me,’ he bluffed, knowing full well what Dakota’s answer would be.

‘And risk both of you running away with that ship?’ Dakota asked with a certain amusement, as if it was naive of him to think she might be so easily gulled. ‘No — good Nissa will remain here, aboard Zanzibar, while you conduct the tests. If the ship cannot be operated by one individual, it is not yet ready. Yet you have told me it is nearly ready.’

‘It is,’ Kanu said.

‘Then you will go aboard alone. If you require Risen assistance, so be it, but Nissa will remain here.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I won’t need the Risen.’

‘She won’t compromise on this,’ Nissa said.

‘I didn’t expect her to. It was worth a try.’

But in truth, he had never wanted Nissa with him — not given his intentions. He kissed her. He made it brief, lingering only for an instant. He did not want her to sense anything unusual about this parting.

‘How long do you think it will take?’ she asked.

‘Not long,’ Kanu answered.

With great care, he moved Icebreaker under its own power for the first time since the Watchkeeper attack. Only steering motors were required to extract the ship from Zanzibar, but the operation was as slow and painstaking as defusing a bomb. Once free, Kanu allowed his ship to drift to a safe distance of one hundred kilometres, while still following the same orbit around Paladin.

‘Dakota — can you hear me?’

‘Perfectly, Kanu.’

‘Put Nissa on. I want to be sure you haven’t hurt her.’

‘I’m fine,’ Nissa said, after the slightest of pauses. ‘She isn’t so stupid as to throw away one of her assets.’

‘Are you prepared to start the Chibesa drive?’ the Tantor asked, with a certain brusqueness. ‘I am eager for a demonstration.’

‘You’ll get your demonstration. But I need an hour or two to make sure nothing’s shifted since we were in Zanzibar. Go and read a book or something.’

Kanu was in the old control room. During the long course of Icebreaker’s repairs, Kanu had been aboard the ship so many times that it was easy to lose sight of the changes that had been made. From the outside, the alterations were slight, but the ship’s interior was different now, its symmetry and elegance butchered to allow access by the Risen. A number of additional control pedestals now awaited him, rising from the floor like tree-stumps. They came equipped with chunky, tactile interfaces suited for the use of trunks, and with wide-angle visual readouts arranged for the convenience of elephant eyes. Elsewhere, the Tantors had been provided with bulky, padded ‘couches’ — supporting structures they could straddle during periods of high gee-load or weightlessness. They were the size of trampolines.

The shuttle Noah had yet to be attached, but the docking connections were now in place on the upper hull. All but two of the escape pods had been adapted so that each could take a single Risen, leaving Kanu and Nissa a choice of the two remaining three-person pods — if the expedition ever took place.

Many of the locks, corridors and rooms had also been enlarged to suit beings the size and mass of Dakota. Where such enlargement demanded it, walls had been removed and chambers joined together. The ship’s interior spaces were larger, but as a whole it now felt smaller. There were still places Tantors could not reach, mostly because of unavoidable engineering considerations, but none related to the critical functions of the ship.

But there were presently no Tantors aboard — not a living thing save for himself.

Although every part of the ship was now under weightless conditions — the centrifugal wheels had been deactivated during the rebuild — Kanu still assumed his normal seated position with the console folded down over his lap.

Now the console chimed.

He had become used to the ship demanding his attention at frequent intervals — it had done little else during the repairs — but this was something else. Icebreaker was detecting an incoming radio transmission — a purposeful, directed attempt at communication — and it was not originating from Zanzibar.

While the console chimed, a blue symbol flashed on and off. Kanu stared at it, mesmerised. Breaking the trance, he made to answer the incoming transmission. But he stopped and first took the precaution of locking Dakota out of his communications, at least for the time being.

Then he took the call.

A man’s face appeared on the main display. He was fine-boned, with a greying beard and a scalp covered with tight grey curls. ‘My name is Nasim Caspari,’ he said, speaking Swahili with a delicate inflection. ‘I trust you can understand me. I am sending this transmission from the expeditionary vessel Travertine — we are presently in orbit around Orison. We came to this system from Crucible, on a mission to gather information for our government. Our intentions are peaceful and we are ready to offer assistance should it be required. We believe you may have been damaged and forced to seek shelter aboard Zanzibar. Your origin is unknown to us, but if there is scope for cooperation we would be glad to discuss the possibilities. Please respond when you are in receipt of this transmission, which will repeat until we hear a response.’

That part at least was true, for the ship confirmed that the signal was streaming in on a repeating cycle across a variety of frequencies and transmission protocols.

Whoever had sent it — whoever this Nasim Caspari was — they were anxious to be heard.

Kanu deliberated, wondering if he dared risk a reciprocal transmission. Was Dakota even aware of this attempt at contact? he wondered. She had never mentioned it, and Icebreaker had not begun to intercept the signal until it was safely beyond the screening influence of Zanzibar.

It was possible she did not know about it.

‘Help me, Swift. Give me a way of responding that she can’t possibly detect.’

‘Are you quite sure of the wisdom of taking such a risk?’

‘Yes. Quite sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Our predicament is complicated enough as it is without inviting outside interference.’

‘I want to talk to him. If I don’t, he may decide to interfere anyway.’

‘I still think it is unwise.’

‘I’m pleased you have an opinion. Do it anyway.’

‘A moment, in that case.’ Kanu’s hands moved under Swift’s control, executing a short sequence of commands. ‘There. The transmitters are aligned on Orison and the beam should not be within Dakota’s capabilities to detect. You may speak at your leisure.’

‘Thank you, Swift. And if you’d do me the courtesy of only allowing my words to come out of my mouth, that would be even more appreciated.’

‘You’re the diplomat. I wouldn’t dream of encroaching on your sphere of expertise.’

Kanu cleared his throat, tapping a knuckle against his windpipe, and straightened himself in his seat. ‘My name is Kanu,’ he began, seeing no need to add any more than that. ‘To the crew of the Travertine — may I congratulate you on a safe crossing. It’s true that we suffered some damage close to Poseidon, but all is now in hand and — despite your extremely kind offer — we have no need of outside assistance. Might I suggest, nonetheless, that you proceed with great caution? We were fortunate not to be more seriously damaged — very fortunate indeed. I wish you the best of luck with your endeavours.’

He closed the transmission and instructed the ship to send it onwards in a single burst.

This was a highly compact solar system, with Paladin, Orison and Poseidon all lying within half an AU of their star. Given the current alignment of the planets, Kanu knew he could expect an answer inside five minutes if the newcomers were quick in their response.

‘Kanu?’ Dakota asked, when at last he reopened the channel to Zanzibar. ‘Was there a difficulty?’

‘None, Dakota, but these diagnostic tests place a high workload on the ship. It’s better if we keep communications to an absolute minimum unless there’s something to report.’

‘And what is the prognosis? Nissa and I are both eager to see the evidence of your hard work.’

In truth, there was no reason for the ship not to work. The loom of monitors continued to report nothing anomalous, nothing that merited further attention. Trace gases pumped through the various combustion pathways had found no leaks or imperfections. The magnetic containment chambers responded well to surges of test power. Thin plasmas injected for test purposes were corralled, pinched and excited in the expected fashion. The system did its best to simulate instabilities and show that the dampening mechanisms were capable of doing their work.

Each of these conditions was only a step on the way to a true post-Chibesa reaction, but Kanu saw nothing to give him pause.

‘The prognosis is excellent, but I still need to allow more tests to complete.’

‘And how long would that be, precisely?’

‘A few minutes.’

‘You demand great patience of me, Kanu. But after two centuries, I suppose a few minutes more won’t hurt.’

‘I hope not. In the meantime, I’m going silent again. I’ll be back in touch when we’re ready to proceed with the full test.’

He shut her off and leaned back in his seat, sweat pooling between his shoulder blades. The diagnostic tests could run for as long as he let them, but the fact was the ship already knew as much about itself as it ever would.

‘Swift?’

‘Yes, Kanu?’

‘They could answer in five minutes or five hours — or not at all. If I’m left alone in my skull, I may go mad. Would you care for a game of chess while we’re waiting?’

‘If you think it would help.’

‘It probably won’t. But for old times’ sake, if nothing else.’

‘Then I shall be glad to oblige. You are dwelling on the possibility of a reply, aren’t you?’

‘I want to know what they know.’

‘It will not change our standing with Dakota. The essential facts of our arrangement are not subject to outside influence.’

‘Then there’s no harm in hearing what they have to say, is there?’

Swift conjured a chess table. They played a quick, careless game which Kanu won by narrow odds — it was possible, probable even, that Swift had contrived his own defeat — and were in the opening moves of a second when the console gave another chime.

‘Dakota?’ Swift asked.

‘No,’ Kanu answered. ‘Our new friends.’

It was a woman this time. She was an odd mixture of casual and formal, dressed in colourful clothes and a vibrantly patterned silk scarf, plus a great assortment of jangling, rattling jewellery. Her face struck him as open and friendly — there was something in it that reminded him of Garudi Dalal’s mother, from that day in Madras. But she addressed him from behind a desk, her hands clasped solemnly together, a grey wall behind her. And when she spoke, while there was no intimidation or posturing in her voice, she nonetheless conveyed a tremendous impression of authority.

A woman to be reckoned with, he thought.

‘Thank you for your response, Kanu. I am Gandhari Vasin, captain of the Travertine. Nasim was acting as my second-in-command while I was on Orison. We were alerted to your possible presence around Zanzibar and began beaming a message to you in the hope of making contact, but I confess our expectations were not great. Permit me to speak plainly. There are many things about this system we don’t yet know, and I am willing to assume the same is true for you. But we do know about Dakota, and we think you do, too. You may even have made direct contact with the Tantors. So have we — but with a different faction from Dakota’s. We have also made contact with Eunice Akinya. Eunice had a lot to tell us, and I think her account of events is likely to be different from Dakota’s. You may have been told that Eunice is dead, and if so, I would like you to consider a few other things that may not have been true.’

Kanu smiled at this. If only she knew. He had been doing little else but consider the degrees of truthfulness of things. She might as well have advised him there were benefits to breathing.

But for the time being, he was content to hear her out.

‘We have no reason to presume that your objectives conflict with ours, Kanu, but you may have been misled — gravely misled. There are dangers on Poseidon greater than anything you have already encountered. We are not speaking simply of the risk to your own life, although that would be considerable, but of wider implications — for all of us. You appeared free to answer Nasim’s transmission. Might I suggest that you do nothing, that you take no further action, until we are close enough for proper dialogue? There is one among us whom I think Dakota may wish to speak to. If you have the capability to pass on a message, please inform Dakota that we have an Akinya with us. Her name is Goma, and she is the daughter of Ndege.’

Now it was all he could do not to laugh. An Akinya! How impressed she must think he would be. The movers and shakers of history — the lineage that had dragged people to the stars.

How could an Akinya possibly fail to sort things out?

Shaking his head ruefully, he composed a response.

‘I will offer you the courtesy of a reply, Gandhari, but it may not be quite what you are hoping for. Firstly, I have no choice but to comply with Dakota’s wishes. I am fully aware of the risks posed by Poseidon, and also of the potential consequences of approaching that planet. I also know that many thousands of lives depend on my not failing Dakota, so your attempt at persuasion is wasted, I am afraid. Secondly, you speak of someone called Goma Akinya as if that name might carry weight. I am sorry to inform you — and indeed Goma — that you should be under no such illusions. I am also an Akinya, you see. My full name is Kanu Akinya, and my mother was Chiku Yellow. And my family name has not made the slightest difference to Dakota.’

When he was done and the message winging its way back to Captain Vasin, Swift moved a rook and offered his sage assessment of things.

‘You would be unwise to totally discount the value of this second Akinya, Kanu. The message specifically summoned one of your esteemed clan. There must have been a reason for that.’

‘She said Goma, not Ndege.’

‘But she mentioned Ndege, which I would suggest is not likely to be coincidence.’ Swift removed his pince-nez glasses and began polishing the lenses against his sleeve. ‘Are you going to make your move or just stare at the board until it suffers a minor quantum fluctuation?’

Kanu pushed a piece from square to square, but with no more care than if he had been blindfolded.

‘A win appears inevitable,’ Swift observed.

‘It doesn’t surprise me. My heart’s not really in the game.’

‘No, I mean that you have placed me in a highly disadvantageous position. There is hope for you yet, Kanu.’

‘Perhaps.’

He contacted Dakota and told her he was ready to activate the drive.

‘A short test,’ he explained to her. ‘Just enough to validate the repairs. Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m trying to make a run for it, would we?’

‘You would not, Kanu, in any case.’

‘Still, we don’t want any misunderstandings.’

‘No, we most certainly do not. Are you ready?’

‘Opening the priming flows as we speak.’ He waited a moment, studying the columns of numbers and shifting diagrams on his console. ‘Flows look good. Levelling out at injection pressure. Tokamaks building field strength. A little slow on three, but it’s correcting. I’m going ahead with plasma injection.’

‘By all means. Proceed with caution, Kanu.’

‘Plasma in and bottled. Approaching ignition in three… two… one. Good. We have fusion. Burn looking clean and stable. Tokamaks holding. Clear to initial Chibesa excitation.’

This was a technological commonplace — in the days before the moratorium, ignition would have been initiated hundreds of thousands of times a day with the utmost dreary reliability. But it was worth remembering that it had taken decades to perfect Chibesa’s discovery into a single workable prototype engine, and decades more before the engines achieved sufficient reliability for widespread use.

But the thrust came in, gently pressing his back into the chair.

‘I see you moving,’ Dakota said.

‘Yes, we have thrust. But I’m stepping things up — I’m going to take us into post-Chibesa energies.’

‘Are you sure you are not being hasty?’

But another voice said, ‘What are you doing? It was never our intention to take things this quickly.’

He told Swift, ‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘You may — but I certainly do not. We have barely satisfied ourselves that the initial process is stable, let alone achieved the confidence to push beyond that—’

‘Shut up.’

He must have spoken aloud, for Dakota asked, ‘Who are you addressing?’

‘Voices in my head,’ he explained. ‘I hear them sometimes. Nothing you need worry about. Commencing post-Chibesa transition.’

Now there was a bump rather than a nudge, and the console lit up with a quilt of red and amber status warnings. Icebreaker was achieving post-Chibesa energies, but in an uncontrolled, chaotic fashion.

‘Kanu — is all well?’

‘All is well, Dakota. Nothing could be better.’

The console was now a blaze of red and audible warnings had begun to sound from the walls. Under normal conditions, the ship would have intervened to shut down the unstable Chibesa process, but in this test mode the usual safety measures were suspended.

Kanu knew this — indeed, he had made sure it was so.

‘Kanu,’ Dakota said, ‘I have a suspicion — which may be unwarranted — but if you are attempting to destroy or damage the ship to escape your obligation—’

‘Put Nissa on again.’

‘She’s right here. Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to me, too.’

‘Then I’m sorry. I can’t see any other way. This is not Nissa’s fault. You must believe that, Dakota. Nor is it the fault of the Friends. You’ll gain nothing by punishing them now.’

‘Kanu!’ Nissa called out to him, her voice breaking on his name.

‘I must do this,’ he answered. ‘I love you — I’ll always love you — but there is no other way.’

And then — independent of his own volition — his hands moved to the console. He resisted the action but his efforts were useless: Swift now had total control of his nervous system. He might as well have been outside his own body, watching it dance to another’s will.

A vibration found its way through the fabric of the ship. It built in strength, the evidence of wildly varying drive stresses, too haphazard to be neutralised. And then there was a single violent shudder, as if Icebreaker had been struck by some larger object, and the vibrations died away to stillness. The alarms continued to sound, the console still a blaze of emergency notifications.

But the Chibesa engine had shut itself down.

The hold on him lingered, and then it was absent.

He gasped a powerful involuntary breath, as if he had just surfaced from deep, cold waters.

‘You traitor, Swift.’

‘I saved your life — again. Is it too much to expect a little gratitude?’