‘Do you believe it?’ Goma asked.
‘Of course I believe it. Physics doesn’t give a damn about how we feel. It doesn’t give a damn about us sleeping soundly in our beds, thinking we matter.’
‘Just because the M-builders accepted it, we don’t have to,’ Goma said.
‘You mean . . . maybe they were wrong?’
‘Why not?’
‘No . . . you’re right. It’s a possibility. They were only millions of years ahead of us, after all. They’d only achieved a mastery of physics sufficient to build these wheels and moons, to move entire mountains around at the speed of light.’
‘Sarcastic bitch,’ Ru said.
‘You’ll have to excuse me. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s how I process stupid questions.’
‘I meant it seriously,’ Goma said, not giving in that easily. ‘Fine, they came up with a theory. But what if it isn’t self-consistent? What if they just didn’t look hard enough for the flaw? Building these things – these wheels, the Mandalas – doesn’t that speak to you of a certain . . . arrrogance?’
‘It speaks to me of beings we’d be very, very wise not to underestimate.’
‘But being wrong can’t have been beyond them. Anyway – what have you learned from the grooves?’
‘Yes, do share your dazzling wisdom with us,’ Ru said.
‘She’s really starting to have issues with me, isn’t she?’
‘Probably has something to do with you nearly killing her.’
‘I thought we were over that.’
‘She isn’t.’
‘I can tell. I keep picking up on these subtle undercurrents of animosity. Anyway – the grooves. Yes. They’re very interesting.’
‘That’s all you’ve got – very interesting?’ Goma asked.
‘They’re either an obituary or a recipe, I’m not sure which. Let’s start with obituary. What the wheels appear to encode – or this wheel, anyway – is a kind of final statement from the M-builders. It’s not their cultural history. It doesn’t tell us what they looked like, where they came from, what side they buttered their toast on. But it does appear to relate to the Terror – recapitulating the same basic theme of cosmic futility, the vacuum fluctuation, the end of everything. I’d need to spend more time with it, but – going by this wheel – they’ve left us with a complete description of their final physical theory. Their ultimate understanding of nature – packaged in the mathematics of the Mandala grammar. Chibesa theory is just a tiny, low-energy approximation buried somewhere in the margins – almost a footnote! As I said, I’m only seeing glimpses, fragments of the whole, but they’re enough to tell me what I’m looking at.’
‘That doesn’t sound like an obituary.’
‘Hold your horses – there’s more. The theory’s only part of it – it wouldn’t need the entire wheel for its expression. The rest is . . . more complicated. Like I said, I’m only catching glimpses, but it feels as if I’m seeing a response to that theory – how the M-builders came to terms with their own ultimate description of nature.’
While they were talking, Goma had begun to notice the wall becoming ever steeper. It was still night – even the top of the wheel was now in shadow – and they were still above most of the atmosphere, but already she felt a long, uncomfortable distance from their starting point. With the descent came a kind of reverse vertigo, a sense of being too low rather than too high.
She tried not to dwell too much on that barely visible tether, holding them all against gravity.
‘So what was their answer – suicide?’
‘Not quite. Or maybe yes, but not in the way you mean. If the vacuum is unstable, what do you do? Maybe nothing. After all, the vacuum underpins everything. It’s the fundamental level of reality, the material out of which space–time is knitted. It’s the game board and we’re just the pieces sliding around on top. We can’t touch the game board – we can’t make it be something it isn’t. But if you’d been around as long as the M-builders . . .’
‘You might try,’ Goma said.
‘This is going to take some digging into. Probably more lifetimes than I’ve had freeze-dried maggots. Here’s a start, though. A hunch. The wheel is a recipe. It’s a set of instructions – a list of procedures for addressing the fundamental structure of reality. For getting down and dirty and poking around in the greasy guts of the quantum vacuum.’
‘You think that’s what the M-builders did?’
‘I think it’s what they became.’ Eunice let a few grooves go by before she carried on. ‘To alter the vacuum, to shore it up, to change the rules of the game – they had to embed themselves in the vacuum itself. They had to abandon matter and energy as we know them. Become pure structure – pure self-propagating patterns of coherent information. Phantoms in the floorboards. Ghosts in the carpet weave of the world.’
‘Did they?’ Ru asked.
‘That’s a very good question.’
‘I said I could do with less of your sarcasm.’
‘And this time I’m giving it to you straight, my dear. It is a good question – and I’ve a feeling the wheels won’t provide the answer. The wheels may offer an account of what they meant to do, but they won’t tell us whether they succeeded or not. I suspect it was all or nothing for the M-builders – dance into the vacuum or bring annihilation upon themselves. I don’t think they allowed themselves the option of living with failure – they could live with almost anything but imperfection.’
‘Remind you of anyone?’ Goma asked.
‘Oh, I’m not perfect – not by a long stretch. I just make the rest of you look bad.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
They had been descending in silence for hours, fatigue eating into their concentration, the wall now as close to sheer as made no difference, when Ru said, ‘Nineteen kilometres of tether spooled out. Can’t be far now.’
Goma signalled to Kanu that they must be near, but there was no answer. She did not immediately think the worst at this, for Kanu had sounded tired the last time they spoke and it would not surprise her in the least if he were asleep. On the far side of the wheel, the sky was beginning to show the first faint omens of day – an indigo haze where before it had been night. But the environmental readout on her suit still maintained that the outside conditions were entirely incompatible with the wants of human survival – that the air was too thin, too poor in oxygen and cold enough to freeze their lungs if they were so foolish as to breathe it in. By now, Kanu, Nissa and Hector would be totally reliant on the bottled oxygen while trying to keep hypothermia at bay.
‘Kanu?’ she called again, when they had descended another fifty grooves.
The answer came back at last – faint as if he were calling from the other side of the solar system.
‘Quickly, Goma.’
‘We’re coming.’
They gave it one last push, Ru cranking the winch to its maximum output, spooling the last few hundred metres of tether at the emergency deployment rate, almost free fall, with their feet barely kissing the wheel’s rushing succession of grooves and intermediate sections. And then there was a spill of light – not quite directly below them but close enough, a yellow warmth like the glow from a campfire.
They fell.
It was a slip of a few metres, no more – but it was enough to send Ru crashing into a groove, catching the edge of it with her suit’s chest pack. Goma felt the impact travel through the line, a hard pluck of tension caught and then released, and watched Ru suddenly go limp above her, arms lolling at her sides.
‘Ru!’
There was no answer. Goma’s heart was racing. They had been descending fast enough as it was, but that sudden short fall had been as terrifying as anything in her experience.
‘Eunice – are you all right?’
‘Right below you. Grapple must have shifted then regaine
d its grip.’
‘Ru’s hurt.’
‘I can see her. We’re not far from the ledge now. The winch is still spooling – I’m going to swing out, see if I can make it down. You’ll be a few seconds behind me. Watch out for Ru, and for that tether – you don’t want to tangle yourself up in that.’
There was time only to do, not to think. Ru had been hurt, but if Goma dwelt on that they were all going to be in trouble. To help Ru – to help all of them – she had to act quickly and dispassionately.
‘Kanu! We have a problem. Be ready to grab whatever you can – and don’t get pulled off the ledge.’
‘I’m leaning out. I can see you coming down – you’re only a few grooves above me. What happened?’
‘No time to explain. Just grab Eunice and her gear as soon as you’re able.’
‘Hold on.’
Then they heard a groan – Ru’s voice – and Goma’s heart leapt a little. No one groaned unless they still had some life in them.
‘What just—’
‘You were knocked out,’ Eunice said. ‘Turn off the winch. We’re in danger of dropping too far.’
Ru still sounded groggy. ‘I . . . yes. Wait.’
They slowed. Goma heaved a sigh of relief and realised she had barely been breathing since that first slip of the grapple. Damn their useless technology – could it not work flawlessly, just for once? But she supposed they had been asking rather a lot of it, expecting it to maintain a permanent grip on the alien fabric of the wheel.
Goma looked down.
Eunice had arrived at Kanu’s level. She halted just above the groove from which the yellow light spilled out and waited for Kanu to grab the supply bag and swing it in to safety. Goma saw Kanu’s gloved hands, a sheathed forearm, but no more of him than that.
One by one, they all managed to get into the groove. Ru lowered them a step at a time, taking no chances. Goma thought about the grapple, wondering if it had enough room to slip again without being pulled out of the groove completely. Not much they could do about it, fifty kilometres away.
Kanu was the only one of the party moving. Hector was a grey mass at the back of the groove, tucked into himself like a sculpture carved from a single lump of stone. It took a second glance for Goma to reassure herself that the Tantor really was inside a spacesuit and not simply exposed to the atmosphere. Next to him, squatting with her knees drawn up, hands laced around them, head slumped and with the face behind the visor showing no sign of registering their presence, was another spacesuited human.
They pushed the supplies into the back of the groove, clearing space for Ru, whose feet were just coming down into view. Goma stood as near to the edge as she dared and helped her swing back onto the hard, level floor of the groove. Ru wobbled then found her footing, glancing over her shoulder at the drop.
‘I still don’t know what happened back there.’
‘We fell,’ Goma said, casting an apprehensive eye over the front of Ru’s suit. The chest module was buckled in a crease where it had borne the brunt of the impact with the groove’s hard corner, half its status displays dim, the rest pulsing red.
None of that looked good to Goma.
‘I don’t remember.’
‘It was only a few metres – the grapple must have slipped. You hit the edge of a groove – I saw it happen just above me. How’s your head?’
‘Sore.’
‘There’s a smear on the back of your visor – the impact must have smashed your head against the glass, knocked you out for a second or two. Am I making sense to you?’
‘About as much as ever.’
‘I’m worried about concussion. I hate these suits. Why did we ever agree to doing anything involving spacesuits?’
‘Because it also involves Tantors.’
They unclipped the power winch, leaving it hanging on the end of the tether but still within easy reach.
‘She’s hurt,’ Kanu said, noticing the damage to Ru’s suit. ‘Did that happen just now?’
‘I’m all right,’ Ru said, waving aside his concern.
‘You’ve all taken an incredible risk to help us – I didn’t want any of you to get hurt.’
‘Keep an eye on your life-support traces,’ Goma instructed Ru before turning to Kanu. ‘Nissa doesn’t look good. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for, Goma – not so long ago we were at each other’s throats. But I am concerned for Nissa – her suit hit its margins earlier than mine. When she started running low on air and power, I hoped she’d be able to extend it by remaining motionless. Now she’s in and out of consciousness.’
‘We’ll do what we can,’ Goma said.
She went to Nissa. Her suit’s displays and marker lights were all dimmed or inactive, signifying its low-power condition. Nissa made no acknowledgement of Goma’s approach, not even when she knelt next to her and tried to open the access panel on her chest pack. Goma studied the layout of valves and power connectors for a moment, comparing them against the supplies they had brought down from Mposi. Then she went and selected an oxygen cylinder and emergency energy cell.
Eunice came over. ‘Let me deal with that,’ she said gently, taking the items from Goma’s hands. Eunice coupled them into Nissa’s backpack, and after a second or two there was a twitch of colour from one of the displays. But Nissa showed no immediate response to the influx of oxygen and power.
Eunice watched for a minute; opened another panel in the chest pack and adjusted some manual settings.
‘Well?’ Goma whispered.
‘Kanu?’ Eunice said. ‘Things aren’t good. Nissa’s gone into a hypothermic coma. It must have come on in the last few minutes – her suit’s incredibly cold, and she was down to a few gasps of oxygen on the needle.’
Kanu knelt down next to them. He had yet to accept supplementary oxygen or power, even though the exterior indicators on his own suit were already feeble or completely dimmed.
‘How bad?’
‘Hopefully we got here in time to avoid brain damage, but whatever the case, she needs better medical care than we can offer her here.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Goma asked.
‘Waiting for the wheel to carry us back into space isn’t going to be an option for Nissa. We have to get her up there much faster than that. The winch is the only way.’
‘Fine,’ Goma said. ‘Hook her on, reel the line back in as fast as it’ll go – if you think the winch is strong enough?’
‘The winch will be fine – it’s the grapple that concerns me. But Nissa’s already on the verge of death. She’ll need someone to guide her up. We can zip her into the supply bag – she won’t weigh any more than those bottles and power cells.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Kanu said instantly. ‘Show me how the winch system works and I will take her back to your ship.’
‘You’re barely any better off than Nissa,’ Eunice said. ‘That parasite in your skull is probably doing more to hold you on the right side of consciousness than you realise. One slip, though, and it’s all over. It’ll have to be one of us. We’re still pretty sharp, and we’ve already crossed the terrain once before.’
Goma nodded. The answer seemed obvious to her – not even worth discussing. ‘Can you do it?’
‘I could,’ Eunice answered, ‘were I not staying down here with Ru and Hector.’
‘No.’
‘I will not leave the Risen, Goma. That’s non-negotiable. Besides, if Ru has problems, I know a damn sight more about spacesuit functions than you do.’
‘If Ru’s suit’s damaged, then Ru should be the one who goes up.’
‘She may or may not have concussion, and under an increased life-support burden, her suit may or may not last until she reaches the top of the tether. She’s better off here with me, where I can finesse her sui
t to keep her alive. You’re the strongest of us, anyway. You’ve got me to thank for that – all those good genes I had the decency to pass on to you.’
‘You’re not going to budge, are you?’
‘I’ve made a life out of not budging. Bit late in the day to change old habits.’
‘You don’t even know Hector.’
‘Reason enough to spend some time with him.’
Goma went over to Ru and Kanu. They were working on the seals of the supply bag, opening it in readiness for Nissa.
‘She wants me to handle the ascent,’ Goma said, looking at Ru. ‘You can’t do it, not after what happened. I’d like to argue with that but she’s got a point. And if you run into trouble with that suit, you’re much better in her company than in mine. Can you put up with her until we’re back on the lander?’
‘I’m still willing to take Nissa up myself,’ Kanu said.
Goma shook her head. ‘You’re in no shape for that. If I had more confidence in the winch, I’d say we stuff you into the same bag. But there isn’t really room, and I’d worry about the line slipping again.’
‘I’ll stay, then,’ Kanu said, his tone indicating that he accepted the logic of the decision even if it displeased him.
Nissa was still unresponsive, although her suit was now back on partial power and her oxygen partial pressure had climbed back to a low but tolerable level. They eased her into the bag, checked her life signs one more time, then sealed it around her like a cocoon. The bag was toughened with layers of impact padding and self-healing membranes, sufficient to protect Nissa against tears, bumps and micrometeorite impacts. They had done what they could for her.
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