Poseidon's Wake

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Mposi had to take off again to conserve the fuel it needed for the steering motor. They pulled away from the wheel, made a few circuits to gather more information, then climbed back into low orbit.

‘While all that was going on,’ Vasin said, ‘we neglected to keep you informed of wider developments.’

It was just the captain and Goma, sitting next to one of the observation windows, interior lights dimmed, the ship taking care of itself for a while. Everyone was worn out, not just those directly involved in the rescue.

‘You’re going to tell me that the moons have returned to their usual orbits and we’re going to have the face the Terror on our way out?’

‘Thankfully, no — the moons are still holding their new alignment — all in the same orbit, strung out like pearls on a necklace. Problem is, it’s drawn the Watchkeepers. They must think this constitutes an open invitation.’

‘A problem for us, or for them?’

‘On the evidence, very much for them. We’re on the nightside now, which makes it easier — let me turn down the lights a little more.’

Vasin blacked out the cabin completely, leaving the moons and the stars as their only sources of illumination. The moons were too small to matter and the stars too far away. Goma floated in darkness until her eyes began to pick up something else.

Tiny migraine flashes, somewhere out there — almost too faint to detect, like ghost signals on her optic nerve. Pinks and greens and oranges, starbursts and starfish, tracing the same ecliptic plane as the moons.

‘They’re dying,’ Vasin said. ‘They’ve been trying to cross that line of moons for hours, ever since they fell into that new configuration, and they’re being sliced and diced. One after the other, they keep coming. It’s as if they’re too huge, too slow, to realise their mistake — like a pod of whales coming ashore, beaching themselves.’

‘You can see it happening?’

‘On long-range, yes. Whatever’s killing them, it’s hard to see where it originates. The moons, maybe — or even something out there we haven’t detected yet. For all we know, the moons are just the sensory elements of a defence system we can’t even see.’

Goma thought about that for a moment. ‘Now you’re scaring me.’

‘If you’re not scared, you don’t understand the situation. My — did I just sound like Eunice for a moment?’

‘She rubs off.’

‘I hope you’ll understand why I couldn’t authorise another expedition down the wheel. I want them all back here — but I won’t put more lives at risk to make it happen. Sometimes being a captain is about making the unpopular decisions — the ones you know you’ll stand a good chance of being hated for.’

‘You’ve done well, Gandhari. You’ve brought us this far, and you’ve shared a ship with Eunice. It can’t have been easy, working in her shadow.’

‘The airlock was never far away.’

‘For her, or for you?’

‘Either option was on the table. But you know, I still can’t decide whether we’ve really met her or not. She walks and talks like the real thing, and Nhamedjo — although it pains me to mention his name — told us she was real, all the way through. I’m sure Mona would agree, if she ran the same tests — the treacherous fucker had no reason to lie about that.’

Goma, despite her fatigue, despite her apprehension, laughed. ‘That’s not very captainly language, Gandhari.’

‘Do forgive me — I’ve had a taxing few days.’

‘You’re forgiven. But I agree — I still don’t know what to make of her. Where have her memories come from? They’re incomplete, stitched together from biographical fragments — they’re not actual memories at all. Then again, the construct version of Eunice lived several lifetimes on Zanzibar. Those memories are authentic — they’re just not part of the original Eunice’s life. Then she met the Watchkeepers, and they dismantled her and put her back together again using biological material. And she’s lived another lifetime or two in this form. What does that make her? More or less than the original Eunice? Her equal in every way? An extension of the same personality? If we take her back with us, what rights would she have?’

‘There’s no precendent for her,’ Vasin said. ‘She’s as strange as anything out there. Wonderful, intimidating — scary. And as sly as a fox. That trick she pulled on us with the mirrors — I’m still trying to work that one out. Did she commit the worst crime imaginable, or did she save lives and start another adventure?’

‘Kanu still went to Poseidon.’

‘But of his own volition, to spare the Risen. She can’t be blamed for his selflessness.’

‘I wonder if we’ll ever know what she did to Zanzibar.’

‘We won’t rest until we do. Collectively, I mean — as a society. Also, she’s demonstrated something rather significant — that whatever we don’t understand about the M-builders, and that’s rather a lot, we do have the ability to operate their technology.’

‘We’re just monkeys hitting piano keys.’

‘And maybe we’ll hit a tune now and then. It might take time. But I’m a navigator, Goma. People like me won’t rest until we’ve found a way to use the Mandalas. To go from our fastest ships to being able to travel as close to the speed of light as we can imagine?’

‘Aren’t you disappointed not to have something faster?’

‘I’ll take what I can get. I want to know how far that network extends — to ride the Mandalas so deep into the galaxy that our sun’s just another nameless dot in the Milky Way.’

‘You might skip between those stars quicker than you can blink, but it’ll still be years and years of travel for the people left at home.’

‘There aren’t any,’ Vasin said. ‘Not for me, at least.’

‘I still want to go home.’

‘You will. And here’s something else to think about. There is no Mandala in Earth’s solar system — at least not that we know of. Our best intelligence says Crucible’s is the nearest one.’

‘Crucible’s going to change.’

‘If the Mandalas allow us to use them, then yes. Your little planet — and remember, I wasn’t born there — it’s going to assume a different importance from now on. Crucible will be the gateway — the port of entry.’

‘Into what?’

‘We’ll find out. When we make it work.’

They turned their attention back to the distant lights of dying Watchkeepers. It was beautiful and sublime. Goma took no joy in the deaths of the alien machines, rather a sadness that they could not see their own folly.

Eventually the attrition slowed — the lights fading away like the last desultory bursts of a fireworks display.

‘There are more still out there,’ Vasin said, ‘but they must have had the sense to hold back.’

‘I almost feel sorry for them.’

‘You shouldn’t. They’ve caused us enough trouble.’

That was true, and her words should have been enough to settle Goma’s doubts. But still, the Watchkeepers had been kind to Eunice — or at least merciful — and they had given her a gift beyond measure. Perhaps it had been nothing to them, a kindly gesture almost too small for their accounting — like a person tipping an upended insect back onto its legs, the whim of a moment. But they had made her human, put life into her lungs, given her dreams and sorrows, all the stuff of mortality. They had given Eunice back to herself.

Goma could forgive them a lot for that.

She went to see Nissa, so that she would have something to report to Kanu. Nissa was still unconscious, still in Dr Andisa’s care. At least the best was now being done for her, although Andisa would not be pushed on her chances. Her suit had run out of power sooner that it ran out of air, so the cold of the high atmosphere had been her first problem. Despite layers of insulation, she had still suffered frostbite to her face and extremities, visible now where Andisa had applied a blue medical salve, especially around the temples and cheekbones. Oxygen starvation had come after the frostbite, and she could not have escaped neurological damage of some degree. But they had restored heat and air before the ascent, so things had certainly not worsened from that point on.

‘I barely know her,’ Goma said, ‘but I want her to live. It’s not just because of Kanu, of what her dying would do to him after all this. She came all this way, survived everything up until the wheel — even the Terror. It’s not right that she should die of fucking frostbite and oxygen starvation!’

‘We will do what we can,’ Andisa said gently.

Of course they would, but that was no reassurance at all to Goma. ‘Kanu’s still down there. I want to give him some encouragement, some reason to think she’ll be all right.’

‘This unconsciousness is partly a medical choice. I have given her as heavy a dose of neural growth factors as I dare risk. They will consolidate the damaged structures, prevent further obliteration and provoke a measure of synaptic reconstruction. But it is best that she not be awake while these processes are under way.’

‘I don’t doubt your skill, Mona. I just wish I had something concrete to give him.’

‘Tell him she is alive and receiving the best care available. That is the only honest answer I can provide. The moment there is better news, you will be the first to hear it. In the meantime, Goma?’

She wondered what was coming. ‘Yes?’

‘It was a fine thing, to have helped her. She would be dead without you, but you have given her hope. Now tell Kanu to worry about himself, and we will worry about Nissa.’

‘I shall.’

She found some chai, splashed water in her face to keep the tiredness at bay, then resumed contact with the party on the ledge. She used the general channel, addressing them all at once. Ru might have been her wife, but her concern right now was for each and every member of the party, including Hector.

‘We’re holding on,’ Ru said. ‘Supplies look good. Our suits are working fine, for now. There’s really not much to do but wait. We saw you take off — please tell me you’re planning to come back for us?’

Ru’s question might have been less than serious, but Goma was too tired to bother with anything but a straight answer. ‘Once you’re higher, we’ll break orbit and come back in again. Have you seen the firework display?’

‘Yes, and very pretty it was, too. Kanu says it must have been the Watchkeepers.’

‘He’s right,’ Goma confirmed. ‘They’ve been throwing themselves against the moons, getting sliced and diced — it’s as if they saw this as their one chance to get anywhere near the wheels. But it hasn’t worked. Looks like they’ve given up — at least, the carnage appears to be over for the time being. I don’t think that means we’ve seen the last of them — there must still be a lot more out there, waiting to see what happened. But if they expect answers from any of us, I’m not convinced they’re going to get them.’

‘Kanu might beg to differ,’ Ru said. ‘He’s been through the Terror just like Eunice did all those years ago. He said it’s given him a certain perspective.’

‘Is Kanu there?’

‘I am,’ he answered after a moment’s silence. ‘It’s good to hear you, Goma. Any news on Nissa?’

Kanu sounded more alert and focused than when she first met him on the ledge. ‘Doctor Andisa’s doing everything she can,’ Goma answered, gladdened to hear his voice. ‘We need to keep her stable until we can get her aboard Travertine. We have much better medical facilities on the big ship.’

‘It’s good to hear you, Goma. Would it be wrong to say I’m proud of you? We’ve done some good and bad things, we Akinyas. But I think I know where you stand.’

His words warmed her. ‘You too, uncle.’

‘I’m not sure which sounds less formal — uncle or Kanu. No one’s ever called me uncle before.’

‘They say you were a diplomat.’

‘Once. In another life. And a merman. I’ve been many things, in fact, and I’m not sure I’ve been terribly good at any of them.’

‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’

‘Oh, I’m not so sure. What exactly have I achieved? I betrayed my government, let down my friends, misled Nissa — all to serve the goals of machines on Mars I barely understand, let alone trust? And while Swift’s had to put up with being in my head, it’s not as if he’s really needed me for anything else. I’ve just been his vehicle, his means of reaching this place.’

‘Is Swift with you?’

‘Standing near us, polishing his pince-nez, trying not to look offended. At least one of us got what they wanted, anyway — to meet his maker.’

‘There must have been more to it than that.’

‘Some lofty ideas about deepening our understanding of the roles of the machine and the organic — trying to find a strategy for mutual coexistence. Just words, though. Meanwhile, our little jaunt has cost lives and anguish, and we’re no closer to understanding the Watchkeepers any better. Things are worse, in fact. If we hadn’t come here, none of the deaths would have happened.’

‘If there’s blame to apportion, you only get to take a share of it,’ Goma said. ‘None of us is an innocent party.’

‘Except, possibly, you.’

‘You underestimate me. I’d have climbed over a mountain of human bones to find the Tantors.’

‘Even though it was not the meeting you’d hoped for?’

‘It was a start. Ru and I spent our lives charting the fade of the Tantors — the decline of their cognitive signal. We never hoped to encounter a self-sustaining colony of Tantors, let alone the Risen. But yes, things went wrong. Human fucking stupidity. Fear and ignorance. As if the worst thing in the world would be to share it with another intelligence.’

‘People and elephants. People and robots.’

‘Maybe we should just let the elephants and robots live happily ever after,’ Goma said. ‘They seemed happy enough to take Eunice on her own terms.’

‘It can’t be that hopeless,’ Kanu answered, with a mixture of weariness and conviction. ‘I staked my life on brokering a peace between people and the Evolvarium. I’m old and foolish enough to delude myself that there’s still a chance of achieving that. Tell me you haven’t given up on the Risen?’

‘There aren’t many of them left.’

‘I gather there are a few on Orison, and shortly you’ll have a proper chance to know Hector, too. I was an ambassador to the machines, Goma. That was strange enough! Now the Risen will need to send an ambassador to us.’

‘They may need some persuasion. Earth’s not exactly their home.’

‘Mars wasn’t mine, but I found friends there.’

‘How is Hector?’ she asked.

‘No physical issues that we’re aware of. But the loss of Dakota has hit him hard.’

‘I wish I could speak to him now. Are you able to communicate?’

‘Our suits have a link, but it’s clumsy. Would you like me to pass on a message, for whatever good it may do?’

‘Tell him he is valued. Tell him that Ru and I can’t wait to hear what he has to tell us.’

‘I shall. Would you like to speak to Eunice now?’

‘Of course.’

She had been listening in all the while, naturally. ‘Goma. Good of you to remember us.’

‘As if I could forget.’

‘You did well. Kanu is right. Pride in another human being is an odd thing for me to feel — it’s usually frustration, bitterness, anger. You get used to that after a while — start to feel as if it’s the normal state of affairs. But look at you — you’ve made an old woman quietly pleased with you.’

‘That’s not why I did it.’

‘All the more reason to applaud your actions, then. You’ve had a lot to live up to, Goma, but you haven’t disappointed us.’

‘Us?’

‘Your illustrious ancestors. If I can’t speak for them, who can?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Not always. But on this occasion, yes. Very much so. Nissa is stable, you say?’

She would have gladly told Eunice how she truly felt about Nissa’s chances, but not while Kanu was still part of the conversation. ‘Mona’s doing her best.’

‘Yes. A distinct improvement on your last doctor, I must say. I much prefer her bedside manner.’

When the call from Goma was done, Swift was still there, leaning casually against the back wall of the shelf. He was the only one of them not dressed in a spacesuit, his stockinged legs crossed over each other, his pince-nez perched on the tip of his nose, and he was peering at Kanu with a certain provisional interest, as if he were a new species of sea creature discovered during some nautical expedition.

‘You really think my use for you is so shallow?’ Swift arched an eyebrow, inviting an answer.

Kanu answered subvocally, sparing his companions this exchange. ‘When the moment came, you couldn’t wait to show your true colours. You sided with that other machine — took events into your own hands.’

‘Only because I had the best interests of a friend in mind, Kanu. Need I labour the point?’

‘I’m sure you will.’

‘When you attempted to kill yourself on Icebreaker, I intervened. I did so because our twin fates were intertwined — if you died, so would I. But I also did so because you are my friend, and I believed that the situation was not quite as hopeless as you perceived it to be. I had, after all, already installed my image inside Icebreaker by then. I knew there was a faint chance of intervention, albeit under circumstances I had yet to foresee. But I also made a mistake. I denied you the free will I had always promised would be yours. And when you made me promise that I would not take similar action again, I held to that vow. Scrupulously. Even when it cut against every sensible instinct in my head. I mean, your head.’

‘That’s not funny, Swift.’

‘It’s not meant to be. My point is, I did not stop you entering Poseidon. We had the opportunity to turn around and only the lives of the Risen complicated that picture. To me they were a distraction, a nuisance. Statistical noise, interfering with my — what did you call them? Lofty ideas?’

‘The Risen are living beings. People.’

‘I came here to know the minds of machines, not mammals.’

‘You still had an incentive for carrying on. That was your opportunity to experience the Terror, to touch the M-builders’ minds. There was always something in it for you.’

‘Along with an excellent chance of dying. I would much sooner have abandoned the expedition, cooperated with Goma and organised an expedition under our own terms, rather than those of the Risen or the Watchkeepers. That point is moot, though. Did I break my vow?’

‘No,’ Kanu admitted, with a certain sullenness.

‘When everything was at stake, when my oldest human friend was about to throw himself into the fire for the sake of some elephants? Did I so much as tip the scales of his free will?’

‘No,’ Kanu said again.

‘Louder. I need to hear it.’

‘No. You didn’t. You kept your vow.’

‘Well, then,’ Swift said. ‘With that unpleasantness behind us, let us discuss the base cause of your present malaise.’

‘My malaise?’

‘I speak not of your present mental disequilibrium, occasioned as it is by the uncertainty surrounding Nissa’s condition. That is to be expected, and like you I hope fervently that she will come through this ordeal unscathed. My concern is a larger one — that the Terror has driven a gaping wound into your psyche, one that time and tide may struggle to repair.’

‘You were in my head when we felt the Terror, Swift. You got a dose of that as well. Don’t tell me otherwise.’

‘Yes, and the experience was every bit as bracing as I anticipated. A cold, hard blast of reality.’ Swift bounded to the edge of the groove with a chilling indifference to the drop beyond his toes. ‘What could be colder than being made to feel the utter futility of existence? To know that not only is there no meaning to anything, but there never can be? That life itself is completely devoid of purpose? That nothing will be remembered? That despite our grandest efforts, our boldest endeavours, nothing can or will ever be preserved? That the kindest acts are doomed to be forgotten, along with the cruellest? All loves, all hates erased from the record? Yes, what could be worse than that?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all in the whole of creation. And if death troubles me — which, I am pleased to say, it most certainly does — then the idea of not even being remembered, not even leaving the tiniest quantum ripple in the wake of the coming vacuum fluctuation… well, that is a great deal more than troubling. We live by our deeds, whether we are machines or people or elephants. And if our deeds are meaningless and forgotten, what does that make us?’

‘Nothing,’ Kanu answered, fiercely enough that he spoke the word aloud. ‘Pointless interactions between matter and energy, doomed to be erased. That’s the message, Swift. That there’s no meaning. That we don’t matter.’

‘No,’ Swift answered, with corresponding force. ‘We do matter. This truth does not rob us of meaning — it gives it back to us. It liberates us from the burden of posterity, from the burden of deluding ourselves that our acts have some chance of outlasting eternity. If we are kind to each other now, it’s not because we’re hoping to be remembered well, to be lauded in some great accounting of things. It’s not because we want to be rewarded for our behaviour, or to be admired for the wonderful things we did during our brief span of existence. Exactly the opposite! Now that we know there is no chance of that, our deeds have no higher meaning than the context of the moment in which they occur. One decent deed, one kind gesture, enacted without thought of recompense or remembrance, performed in the full and certain knowledge that it will be forgotten, that it cannot be otherwise — that single deed refutes the entire message of the M-builders. They were wrong! There is no Terror, only enlightenment! Only liberation! And we will continue to refute their message with every gracious act, every decent thought, every human kindness — until the moment the vacuum rips.’

‘Just a fancy speech, Swift. That’s all it is.’

‘More than a speech, Kanu. A viable moral strategy for negating the M-builders’ nihilism. It’s a choice. A question of free will. Do you choose it, or reject it?’

‘You’re a machine,’ he said. ‘How could you ever understand?’

‘I was a machine,’ Swift answered. ‘Once. But then I spent too long in the company of the living.’

‘Over here,’ Eunice said sharply.

Kanu turned. He had been so wrapped up in his conversation with Swift that he failed to notice Ru was no longer standing. She had slumped over at the back of the ledge and was lying akwardly on her side. It was not the posture of someone who had sat down carefully with the intention of closing their eyes or conserving energy. He saw in the same glance that none of her suit’s status indications were glowing.

Eunice was quickly at her side, easing her into a more natural position with her back braced against the rear of the ledge, her legs stretched out before her.

‘What is it?’ Kanu asked.

‘I don’t think it’s the concussion — she was lucid enough when Goma called. That bump she took coming down here must have done more harm to her suit than we realised. There’s been a sudden systems failure.’

‘She said nothing.’

‘Then she couldn’t have got much warning. Wait a second.’ Eunice was repeating the exercise she had already performed on Nissa, flipping open hatches in the chest pack, squinting through her own faceplate with steely concentration, not wanting to miss a detail.

‘We still have oxygen and power,’ Kanu said.

‘That won’t help her. There’s a system failure deep in the pack, maybe a secondary leak here as well. It must have opened up as the ambient pressure reduced. She’s in trouble, Kanu. Plugging in more air and power won’t help — the fault’s too extensive. Did you see her go down?’

‘No.’

‘I saw her a few minutes ago and she was still standing so she hasn’t been down long. If we can restore air and heat, she’ll have at least as good a chance as Nissa.’

‘You just said we can’t do that.’

‘Not with the supplementary supplies.’ Eunice paused, turned from the slumped form. ‘There’s an easier way. It’ll give her a fully functioning life-support system for the rest of the trip.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘She takes my chest pack. Watch what I’m doing very carefully — you’ll need to reverse these steps precisely when you reconnect my pack in place of hers.’

For a moment he did not quite grasp what she was proposing. The words, yes. The implication, no. But then the truth of it dawned with a sort of sick clarity. ‘No, Eunice,’ he said, dizzied. ‘This isn’t how it’s going to happen. My suit—’

‘Isn’t the same design as hers. Mine, piece of antiquated shit that it is, matches perfectly. Your chest pack won’t mate with her coupling systems; mine will. Watch.’ She ran her fingers around the edge of the pack, where the power and pressure valves connected with the rest of the suit. ‘Primary and secondary shut-offs. These have to be tight or the air inside her will vent the instant I remove the pack. Are you following?’

‘No. Stop. We need to think this through.’

‘Believe me, Kanu — the one thing you don’t do in emergencies is think things through. Thinking things through gets you a headstone and a nice epitaph. She thought things through. See how that worked out for her. Now watch!’

He reached out, tried to prise her hands away from the chest pack. ‘No. Not a life for a life.’

‘You think Ru deserves to die?’

‘None of us deserves to die! Not her, not you!’

‘Because I’m an Akinya?’

‘Because I will not let you give up your life for hers! For all we know she’s already beyond any hope of recovery!’

‘And Nissa wasn’t? We gave her a chance, Kanu — why not Ru?’

‘Nobody had to die for Nissa to get her chance.’

‘Ru wouldn’t be in this mess if she hadn’t come down for you.’ With a force that surprised him — far beyond what this small, bony woman looked capable of — Eunice reasserted her grip on the chest pack’s connectors. ‘I know you don’t want to see a death, Kanu. I know you’re not valuing my life over hers. You’re a good man and I understand your reluctance. But I won’t sit back and do nothing. You’re going to help me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You will. Swift? Make him. Do this one thing for me. And listen.’

He tried to struggle with her again even as part of him surrendered to the logic of her sacrifice, while another part accepted that she would always find a way to be stronger if the moment depended on it. But then his own strength was gone. Kanu felt himself slump back, as if every muscle in his body had been given an immediate and binding command to relax.

He stared at the figure who stood watching proceedings, hands behind his back, expression observant but concerned.

‘Swift!’

‘I have no choice, Kanu. She made me what I am. I can hardly refuse a simple request from my maker.’

After that, he could only bear witness.

‘The connections are sealed,’ Eunice said. ‘I’m removing the pack now.’ She eased the buckled device from Ru’s chest, exposing the gold- and-chrome-coated interfaces and plugs where it had coupled with her suit. ‘Now mine. This is the awkward part — they don’t generally assume you’ll be doing this while still inside the suit.’

‘There’s a reason for that,’ said Kanu. He could not interfere, but he could still talk.

‘Yes.’ But there was a sadness in her answer, not the dismissiveness Kanu might have expected. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll have. It’ll depend on the tightness of the seals. If I can maintain consciousness and dexterity, I’ll do my best to reconnect the pack to Ru, but you’ll need to do it if I can’t — is that clear?’

‘You’re asking the impossible of us.’

‘No, I’m asking you to save a life. Mine will already be over, bar the shouting. This isn’t a moral conundrum. I’m sparing you that.’

‘Damn you. And damn you, Swift, for playing along.’

Kanu was still unable to do more than talk and observe, his own body refusing to respond to motor commands.

‘Don’t blame him for his loyalty,’ Eunice said. ‘Two kinds of machine are conspiring to save a human life.’

‘You’re not a machine now.’

‘No — but let’s face it, I’m not one of you either. And as for our mutual friend Swift — he’s a taxonomic headache all of his own. What a pretty pair we make, eh? Oh.’ She was suddenly silent. ‘This is trickier than I expected. I can’t get my fingers around these shut-offs, but the pack won’t release unless they’re closed.’

‘No. I know what you’re going to ask, and no.’

‘You’re wrong. I don’t even have to ask. Swift — help me with these fastenings.’

‘Don’t do it,’ Kanu said.

Swift walked over to the two Akinyas and Ru’s seated form. ‘I must, Kanu. Or rather, we must. Don’t you see? I came to meet Eunice, to know the mind of she who gave life and form to the Evolvarium. Her request is a simple one and it would be quite wrong of me to refuse.’

Swift’s image fused itself with Kanu, and Kanu found himself moving. With deliberation and calm and an absolute absence of volition, his hands reached out to address the complicated, foolproof fastenings of Eunice’s chest pack. He tried to resist — tried to generate the nerve signals that would override these motor instructions now being controlled by Swift, but the effort was useless. His fingers found the shut-offs that Eunice had not been able to reach.

‘Do not fight it, Kanu,’ Eunice said, not unkindly. ‘You are blameless in this.’

‘Tell him to stop!’

‘And do not blame Swift, either. Swift is only doing that which he knows to be right.’

Cold grey gas vented out from her chest pack. Kanu’s hands finished their work with the shut-off valves and grasped the pack on either side. Slowly he eased it away from Eunice’s suit, revealing a corresponding arrangement of interfaces.

The spray of gas ceased. Nothing was coming out of her suit, nothing coming out of the pack.

Eunice was still responsive — there was still air in the suit and her helmet space, and her communications channel functioned independently of primary suit power.

‘Good. You’re doing well — both of you. Now attach it to Ru’s suit. Quicker the better.’

Swift made Kanu move towards the other suited form. But between one moment and the next, Swift’s control over him was gone.

‘You should do this, my friend.’

‘And if I try to put the pack back on Eunice?’

‘We’ll both fight you. Save Ru, Kanu. Her life’s in your hands now.’

He knew, with a vast and crushing inevitability, that there was only one course of action open to him now. He locked the undamaged chest pack into place on Ru’s suit. Eunice knelt down next to him and between them they opened all the necessary connectors.

For a few seconds there was no change in her suit. Then status lights flickered on her wrists and on the pack itself. The suit appeared to puff out slightly, stiffening her form.

‘She’s back on full pressure,’ Eunice said. ‘We’ll dial it up a little. Same with the power. Must be chilled to the bone in there.’ Eunice adjusted Ru’s life-support settings using both the chest-pack controls and the wrist functions, and then stood with a grunt of effort. ‘That’ll do. After thirty minutes, return to the default settings — use these controls.’

Kanu studied Ru’s unconscious face through her visor. There was no change as yet, but a drastic alteration was unlikely. He had to trust that they had helped her in time.

‘How do you think she’ll do?’ Kanu asked.

‘Lap of the gods. Goma mentioned something to me — a condition Ru has, due to oxygen poisoning — which may or may not complicate things. But we’ve done what we can.’ Eunice, he noticed, was drawing a heavier than usual breath between her utterances. ‘She looked strong to me. I liked her.’

‘You’d have done this for any one of us.’

‘Perhaps. But at least with Ru I had an account to settle. You’ll take care of her until you reach the ship, Kanu? Soon you’re going to be the only one of us standing.’

‘There must be something I can do for you. The oxygen supplies — can’t we plumb them in directly?’

‘You find me a tool shop, I’ll make the necessary alterations.’

‘I wish…’

She was still standing, but the effort — especially in Poseidon’s gravity — must have been taking its toll and her knees began to buckle. She allowed herself to rest a hand on Kanu’s shoulder. ‘You wish things were different from the way they are. That’s a refrain as old as time. I’ve lived a long and strange sort of life, Kanu, and I’ve known that feeling a few times. Generally it’s best to accept that things are exactly as bad as they look. At least that way you know it’s time to start digging your way out.’ She coughed, and when her voice returned it was weaker than before. ‘But no digging now. Not for me, anyway. And you know what? This hasn’t been too bad. I got to be human again. I got to be alive, with a head full of memories that felt as if they belonged to me.’

‘Did they?’

‘Once or twice. Enough to make the whole thing worthwhile.’ She staggered, caught herself. ‘Oh. I think I need to sit down now. Help me to the ledge. I’ll dangle my feet over the edge.’

‘I don’t want you falling.’

‘I’ve no plans to. I just want to see the sunrise.’

It was still dark. At the rate her suit systems were failing, there would be no sunrise for Eunice Akinya. But he could not deny her last request. Kanu guided her to the ledge, took her arm as she sat down on the lip.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Yes,’ she answered, after a silence. ‘They’ll want to take me back to Earth, back to Africa. They can have part of me, I suppose. But the rest belongs on Orison, with the Risen.’

‘I’ll make sure that happens.’

Kanu became aware of a presence looming behind him. He glanced around, expecting it to be Swift. But it was Ru, bracing her hands against her knees but otherwise standing.

‘I blacked out,’ she said. ‘Something wrong with my suit after all, I guess. But I feel fine now. What’s up with her?’

‘Look at your chest pack,’ Kanu said quietly.

Ru must not have noticed until that moment. She stroked a hand along the clean surface of the unbuckled, undamaged device. ‘Wait…’ she began. And then her gaze must have fallen upon the broken unit, still lying on the floor where they had left it.

‘Its hers, the one you’re wearing,’ Kanu said. ‘She wanted you to have it.’

‘What about Eunice?’

‘I think we should sit with her,’ he said. ‘Just for a while.’