Poseidon's Wake

by Alastair Reynolds

  ‘Tell them what you know,’ Vasin said, nodding at Goma. ‘For the benefit of everyone present.’

  As numb as she felt, unwilling as she was to start thinking of her uncle in the past tense, she forced some composure upon herself. ‘Mposi was in contact with Crucible.’

  ‘We all are?’ Loring said.

  ‘This was different. Some kind of private, political channel – a secret hotline. It makes sense that a man like my uncle would have something like that. Anyway, they told Mposi we had a problem.’

  Caspari’s hands were perfectly steepled. ‘What kind?’

  ‘A threat, aboard the ship. A sabotage device, something like that, and maybe someone to operate it. That’s as much as he told me.’ Goma swallowed – it was harder than she expected, just keeping the tremble out of her voice. She knew that if she let her mental defences down for an instant, she would soon be a sobbing wreck. ‘Mposi asked me to keep an eye out. He couldn’t risk dragging Captain Vasin into it until he was sure of his facts. But there were no suspects I could suggest.’

  ‘Except me,’ Karayan said, ‘I presume?’

  Goma looked down at her own hands, useless and sweaty in her lap. Nothing had prepared her for this, not even a life on Crucible with a mother the world detested.

  ‘Actually, Maslin, of the two of you, I suspected Peter first.’

  Grave looked at her sharply and started to say something, but Maslin Karayan cut him off.

  ‘What did Mposi say about Peter, Goma?’

  She thought back to that conversation, trying to piece it together in her memory without adding layers of half-truth and supposition. ‘Just that you didn’t know much about him.’

  Dr Nhamedjo leaned in. ‘Aren’t you both Second Chancers?’

  ‘We are,’ Grave stated, speaking before Karayan had a chance. ‘But the movement is far more heterogeneous than outsiders tend to presume. The expedition put unusual pressures on us – testing divisions that were already present. The twelve of us don’t stand for one strand of Second Chance thinking – we represent an assortment of viewpoints, from the progressive to the conservative.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Maslin didn’t know me when I joined the ship – that’s true enough. But why would he? I came from a different part of Crucible, from a different strand of the Second Chance movement.’

  ‘A more conservative one, more strongly opposed to the expedition?’ Ru asked.

  ‘We all have our beliefs,’ Grave replied equably.

  ‘What is her role in this?’ Karayan asked, nodding at Ru with blatant contempt.

  ‘Her role is that she was with me when we found my uncle being eaten by nanomachines,’ Goma said. ‘And I’d take one of her over ten of you any day.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Vasin said, with a barely audible cough. ‘Tempers are high and nerves are raw, but we still have to live aboard the same ship. Until we’ve formally got to the bottom of this, none of us is yet considered a suspect. We are all just potential witnesses – some of whom may hold clues to what happened. Is that understood?’

  Grave mouthed an almost silent, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have you anything to say about a potential sabotage effort?’ Vasin asked him.

  ‘I am here as a legitimate member of the delegation. But I was also tasked to maintain vigilance against a possible threat, whatever it might turn out to be, and from whichever direction.’

  There was a moment of silence. Goma shared the surprise and disbelief of those around her. Oh, please, she mouthed to herself. But before she could frame a more eloquent objection, Vasin was already speaking.

  ‘And the nature of this threat?’

  Grave’s voice sounded small. ‘It wasn’t clear.’

  ‘Why was no mention of this made before departure?’ Caspari asked.

  Grave cleared something from his throat, his tone becoming more confident. ‘The agreement to allow the expedition was fragile enough as it was. If word had got out about a possible sabotage threat, it would have been bad for the expedition and twice as bad for the Second Chance movement.’ Grave was looking at Karayan now, as if he might have been appealing to his support. ‘Of course, we had our arguments against the expedition in broader terms, but this was not the way for it to end. It was in the best interests of all concerned to continue as normal, but inform me of the possible threat.’

  ‘Can any of this be confirmed by Crucible?’ Vasin asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I was entrusted with this information under conditions of great secrecy. There are no names I can offer, no hidden cabals. Maslin – were you made aware of any similar concerns?’

  ‘If I had, I’d have spoken up already.’

  Grave looked down, his expression impassive. He had been abandoned by his one possible ally, but the development did not appear to surprise him.

  ‘I’ll speak to our government,’ Vasin said. ‘Maybe they can confirm Mposi’s side of things, at least – this hotline, the threat of which he was made aware. But it’ll take at least fifteen days to hear from them. Until then, we’re on our own. I’m afraid I must look closely at Second Chancer involvement – but that doesn’t mean I’m making an automatic assumption of guilt on anyone’s part. Maslin – you were asleep, with your wife and family. Your children have their own sleeping areas, but you’d all have known if anyone was coming or going?’

  ‘Yes. I was in my room all night.’

  ‘And, Peter – you were up and about, weren’t you?’

  He nodded; it would have been pointless to deny it. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘You appeared to be on your way back from the connecting spine. You’re allowed access to some areas of it – we all are – but I’m not sure why you needed to be there.’

  ‘Mposi asked to meet me there. When he didn’t show up, I started making my way back.’

  ‘How well did you know Mposi?’

  ‘Well enough.’

  ‘To murder him?’ Goma asked.

  ‘To believe him,’ Grave answered levelly. He held her eyes with his, the intensity of his gaze unnerving. ‘And I didn’t kill him. Which means someone else did.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘Secure for departure,’ Kanu said. ‘Close all locks, disconnect all bridges and umbilicals.’

  ‘If I might trouble you,’ the Margrave said, ‘I feel you should know that the Consolidation intruders are closing rapidly on Underthrace.’

  ‘Aren’t they running into the other Regals?’

  ‘It’s nothing they aren’t prepared for, I am afraid. Of course, if they were encountering anything more intimidating than barely organised ruffians . . . well, my people will give them a welcome they won’t forget, but I cannot promise miracles. I know you would rather wait until your ship is totally ready, but if you wish to avoid local difficulties—’

  ‘I understand. Margrave – this may be a silly question, but might you be safer aboard the ship rather than remaining in Underthrace?’

  ‘Could your ship keep me alive? Would you have a means of returning me to Europa once you are under way?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kanu said. ‘I suppose there are escape capsules, maybe a shuttle or lander . . .’

  ‘But you will most likely have need of such things when you reach your destination. No, I cannot put you to that much trouble, not when you have problems of your own. It is very kind of you, Kanu, but my home is here.’

  ‘And Nissa?’

  ‘She is safely out of harm’s way.’

  ‘Thank you, Margrave. When my family has a chance to show its gratitude . . . well, we will. You can count on that.’

  The console changed its displays. ‘Emergency launch readiness now achieved,’ the ship informed him. ‘Estimated risk factor below ten per cent.’

  ‘Ceiling charges primed and ready, Margrave?’

  ‘As they wi
ll ever be.’

  ‘Then we’re launching. Good luck with Underthrace. I can’t promise I’ll be in touch for a little while, but . . .’

  ‘Our thoughts go with each other. Farewell, Kanu.’

  ‘Goodbye, Margrave.’

  Kanu readied himself for the jolt of acceleration, but when the clamps relinquished their hold, he felt only the mildest of shoves, no more violent than the movement of an elevator. So far, so good – at least the docking clamps were functional – but the true tests lay ahead. He had yet to start the engine.

  Next came a barely felt crash as the rising ship crunched through the glass cupola at the top of the enclosing building. Since the water pressure had been the same on either side of the cupola, nothing slowed the ship’s progress. Kanu felt the occasional scrape or grind of resistance, but nothing that should trouble the hull. And then they were through, clear of Underthrace and in the black void of the sea. The ship was still accelerating as smoothly as if it were being pushed up from below by a giant piston. Of course, it was one thing to punch through Underthrace, and quite another to reach space itself.

  ‘Kanu,’ said a voice off to his right. ‘Might now be an opportune moment to speak?’

  He jerked around in the seat, convinced until that moment that he had the ship to himself.

  The frock-coated Swift was standing by the wall next to one of the alcoved figures. His hands were laced demurely before him, like a butler waiting for instructions. Kanu drew breath and started to speak, but before he could utter a word Swift raised a hand. ‘I’m not physically here, just a figment.’

  ‘I knew that.’

  ‘There was never a satisfactory time to present myself aboard Nissa’s ship – and besides, you had enough to be getting on with.’

  ‘And this is your idea of a “satisfactory time”?’

  ‘This is an excellent time.’ Swift gestured at the surroundings of the control deck. ‘This is a fine piece of engineering, by human standards. But you have only limited experience with the operation of spacecraft and – I think it fair to say – none at all in a ship of this nature. Very shortly, though, its capabilities will be put to the test. You will need maximum knowledge of the ship – what it can do and, just as crucially, what it cannot. I suggest that you allow me – the machine part of you – to take precedence, at least until we are in free space.’

  ‘You don’t know this ship any better than I do.’

  ‘That is true, but I can learn faster. I also have a great deal of technical knowledge to draw upon and the not inconsiderable advantage of being utterly infallible in my decision-making. We will hit the ice in about eight minutes, if those depth readings are to be trusted. I think that should be sufficient time for me to master the controls.’

  Kanu knew that a moment like this was coming – the moment when he had no option but to surrender himself to the machines.

  ‘You didn’t need to ask, did you? You’re so much a part of me now that you could have taken me over at any point – hijacked complete control of my nervous system.’

  ‘If the integration were not as thorough as it is,’ Swift said, ‘it would have been easily detected. To answer your question, though: yes, I could have assumed control at any time and I will do so in an instant if your life is imperilled. But as this situation is not quite that critical, I thought it polite to ask first. We have, I believe, just under seven minutes and thirty seconds left now. Will you allow me, Kanu?’

  At least one life – possibly much more than one life – hinged on this moment. For an instant, it was more than he could bear. But if he did not give himself completely to Swift, there was no point in carrying on. He had come this far, from the limbo of death on Mars, to serve one truth: the machines were not his enemy, and he was not theirs.

  ‘Do it.’

  Swift walked over to Kanu, slipped his form through the horseshoe console as if it were made of gas and lowered himself into the chair Kanu already occupied. The figment’s body folded neatly into the same space and submerged beneath Kanu’s skin.

  For a breath or two, Kanu felt no change.

  Then Swift had him.

  Since the thing inside his head was entirely biological – a separate personality utilising the same meat substrate on which his own consciousness now ran – Swift could only communicate with the outside world via the channels of Kanu’s own senses. He could not address the ship directly or read its mysteries via some direct neural connection. But he could see, and speak, and listen, and make Kanu’s hands move with card-sharp speed across the console.

  Kanu, in turn, felt himself being ruthlessly puppeteered. The muscles and tendons in his arms were not used to interpreting such a barrage of nerve signals. His eyes moved from one focus to another so quickly that Kanu’s visual flow shattered. He could feel the ocular muscles being cruelly overclocked, made to run faster than nature had intended. He visualised himself as he might have appeared had anyone been there to witness him: a man in a chair, twitching and jerking as if in the throes of a seizure or some prolonged electrical execution. He was even speaking – or rather giving out short, yelping utterances that bore little resemblance to Swahili, or indeed any human language, for that matter.

  But the ship understood. It understood and it was talking back, giving Swift the information and resources he needed.

  When Swift relinquished absolute control, Kanu felt the cutting of the puppet strings as an almost psychic severance. He slumped back in the seat, drained and in no small amount of pain after the way he had been manipulated. Swift was still there, though, his presence riding Kanu’s consciousness like a passenger.

  ‘I’ve made some adjustments to the display options. If you look up, the view through the ceiling shows exactly what is above us as we ascend. As you can see, the Margrave has not let us down – the charges are detonating.’

  They were still looking through inky kilometres of ocean, so the light reaching Kanu’s eyes must have been amplified many times. Nonetheless, the stuttering milky flashes – like the lightning from a storm system well over the horizon – could only be the demolition charges, sewn through the ice when the ship was first entombed. There appeared to be no end to the explosions – dozens, then hundreds of separate pulses of light tracing a cobweb of radial and concentric lines. They were shattering the overlying ice, rendering it locally weak rather than blasting it away in a single massive detonation. Twenty kilometres of it was pulverised – ice turning to slush, slush to water, water to steam – while great chunks, house- or palace-sized, remained intact.

  ‘It’s not enough,’ Kanu said. ‘We’ve miscalculated. We’ll never punch through that!’

  ‘It will be sufficient. As soon as there is a clear passage to space, the water will begin to geyser out into the vacuum. That in turn will help disperse the remaining fragments. Besides, the charges are still detonating! He must have sewn thousands of them. For a human, he has shown remarkable thoroughness.’

  ‘I’m not sure he’d take that as a compliment.’

  Kanu’s faith in the Margrave was not misplaced. As the ship closed the distance to the ceiling, so the explosions finally pushed a channel through to the Outside, a portal to the rest of the universe, and from that moment the process became self-sustaining as the water turned instantly to vapour, and the rocketing vapour forced the remaining fragments further apart.

  ‘Core initialising,’ Swift reported. ‘Momentum will carry us through the breach and we’ll switch immediately to full Chibesa thrust before Europa pulls us back. That will be the moment of maximum risk, Kanu. On the positive side, if things do go wrong, there’s little likelihood of you knowing about it. I should brace, if I were you. Our passage will still be a little bumpy.’

  And it was – ice clanged and scraped against the hull on all sides – but Kanu was reasonably certain that such things had been allowed for. Even so, he gripped the arms of
his seat and jammed his head hard against the headrest. The vibrations made his eyes blur. He closed them and willed this to be over. The rough passage reached a moment of maximum turbulence, and then the knocks and clangs and ice-rumbles began to diminish. A moment or two later they were clear, the ride perfectly smooth, and Kanu felt himself begin to float from the chair until the restraint redoubled its hold on him.

  ‘Clear of the surface,’ Swift said. ‘Pivoting to bring drive exhaust clear of the horizon. Ignition in three . . . two . . .’

  When weight returned, it felt as if someone had driven a mallet into the base of his spine. He sensed a bony shock wave moving up to his skull, the compression and relaxation of vertebrae, the sequenced stressing of nerves and muscle groups, gravity reaching and then exceeding Europa’s pull. Had to be one gee, maybe two. Swift was really gunning it.

  ‘One-third of a gee,’ Swift said, adding insult to Kanu’s discomfort. ‘Chibesa core operating normally. The ship will run some automatic calibration checks then increase to half a gee. Congratulations, Mr Akinya – you have yourself a starship.’

  At last Kanu opened his eyes. He still felt jammed into the seat, oppressed by cruel force.

  ‘It works.’

  ‘Early days, I believe is the expression. Still, to have come this far is unquestionably something. Have you considered a name for this ship?’

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Icebreaker. That’s what it should have been all along.’

  ‘Icebreaker it is, then. There’s a family connection to that name, isn’t there – some other ship?’

  ‘If you say so, Swift.’

  Kanu felt none of the triumph he had expected, only a nagging ulcerous guilt, a sense that he had fled the scene of a crime.

  ‘Will the wound heal?’

  ‘Soon enough. Actually, we’ve done very little harm compared to the damage inflicted by natural impactors over billions of years. And just as Europa’s ice has re-formed over those wounds, so it will eventually seal this gap.’