“I presume she’s your daughter,” the ship was saying.
Tunde didn’t reply.
“This is an official flight. I hardly think we should have a child aboard.”
I felt the slow burn of Tunde’s irritation.
“Listen,” he told the ship, “if you don’t shut it right now, I’m going to close you down and pilot on manual.”
There was a moment’s pause, and then the ship said, in a more tentative tone: “Is she your daughter?”
“None of your business. Initiate launch.”
The ship immediately obeyed, activating its vertical thrusters.
“Good for you,” I told Tunde. “It’s time you started asserting yourself.”
“You all right?” he asked Cori as the seat webbing enfolded them.
She nodded; she was fine.
The ship began to lift, rapidly picking up speed. The console optic winked on: the control tower was querying authorization for the flight. From Chloe and Lucian I conveyed another code, which Tunde transmitted. Presently the optic indicated clearance, by which time the terminus was rapidly dwindling beneath us.
“This is really exciting!” Cori remarked.
“I’m glad you think so,” Tunde said drily.
The bridgehead was filled with the thrusters’ roaring, and the acceleration pressed us back in our seats. Beyond the eye sockets, the sky rapidly faded to black.
“Maximum speed for Io?” the ship queried.
“Yes,” Tunde replied.
Fear was welling in him, and he did not want to contemplate the idea of having only the scuttle between himself and empty space.
“Shall I cocoon you for the duration?”
Tunde didn’t hesitate: “Do so. Close your eyes, Cori.”
The seat webbing began to exude a foam, which rapidly enveloped us.
“I estimate the flight time as five hours thirty-five minutes,” was the last thing I heard before the foam blotted out everything and we slept.
• • •
I drifted in darkness, and I thought I sensed Chloe and Lucian’s presence in the background. They did not speak, but it was comforting to feel them there, to know there was a link with the conscious world.
“Nathan?”
It was Nina. Her voice was disembodied but she spoke normally, as if she were close.
“I’m here,” I said.
“Where do you imagine we are?”
“Still in their heads, I suppose. But they’re sleeping, so there’s only this.”
“It should be frightening. We’re just pure mentalities. Yet I feel calm.”
“Is the girl all right?”
“She’s loving every minute of it.”
“She wasn’t afraid of you being in her head?”
“I explained as much as I could, and she accepted it. She’s bright, and she likes the idea of being important. All children do.”
“That sounds like the voice of experience.”
“Does it?”
There was a long pause, and I could almost sense her discomfort.
“Anything?” I asked.
She gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. “Perhaps it’s better that I’ll never know.”
Her presence was strong, even though I could see nothing. At that moment I think we both had a powerful sense of our missing lives, and of a certitude that we would not know them again.
“Can you believe this?” I said.
“It’s like a dream within a dream. Is Tunde coping?”
“He’s scared to his boots. But as long as you keep the girl happy, he’ll cooperate.”
Another silence, then: “I’m not sure this is right. We’re using them.”
“Maybe so,” I conceded. “But I know deep down he wants to do the decent thing and rescue Marea. He owes her. We’re acting as his conscience.”
Before she could say anything further, I felt the presence of Chloe and Lucian growing stronger. They began to communicate, instructing us on what we were to do next.
• • •
When Tunde woke he was disorientated for a moment, and he stared uncomprehendingly at the hazy umber panorama that filled the eye sockets.
“Beginning descent,” the ship informed him. “Touchdown in approximately thirty minutes, Haemus Base.”
“Wakey wakey,” I said, to remind him I was there.
He jolted at this, compelling me to say, “Keep calm. Everything’s going to be fine. Follow my instructions and we’ll have Marea out of there in no time.”
He focused his concern on Cori, who was beginning to stir as the last of the cocoon shrivelled away. She gave a big yawn, opened her eyes and grinned at him.
Io was leprous, its tawny surface blotched and pockmarked like a bruised and bloodied skin. Cori announced that she wanted to explore the scuttle before we landed. Tunde and the ship were against it, but Nina and I overruled them, leading her aft.
The scuttle was compact, its passenger section divided into two broad but low-ceilinged chambers, designed for the transportation of politia squadrons. Beyond this the central corridor led to the ship’s shrine, a hermetic room whose curving walls and ceiling focused on a prayer terminal with a pair of seats. Unlike most ship shrines, it looked pristine, its chrome and ivorine surfaces framing a steel-grey optic.
“Austere,” I remarked inwardly to Tunde.
“It’s spooky,” Cori said gleefully. “I like it!”
I was about to suggest she sit at the terminal when Chloe and Lucian communicated something that made me stop. And made the pliable Tunde agitated again.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking Cori by the arm.
At this point we felt a buffeting, and the ship announced that we should hasten to secure ourselves.
We hurried back to the bridgehead and got webbed in. As the scuttle decelerated with great hissing of its retros, the pressure rose and Cori exclaimed that her ears had popped.
“Do you want me to land?” the ship enquired. “Or will you bring me down yourself?”
Tunde stared as if hypnotized by the rush of the ground towards us.
“You do it,” he said urgently.
“I’m hungry,” Cori announced.
“You can’t possibly be!” said Tunde. “Not now.”
She was scrolling through the armrest menu, eyes widening at the displays of desserts.
“I wouldn’t eat anything until we’re down,” the ship advised her in the manner of an exasperated parent.
Dark blotches became craters and lakes and lava flows as we closed on the surface. Lateral lids began clearing the eye sockets of fine dust.
Cori selected a bananamint spiral drenched in toffice syrup and dusted with rainbow sherbet. The ship grumpily extruded a feedline to deliver into her hands, complaining that it had never before been required to serve confectioneries.
I could feel Tunde’s rising fear, and I seized hold of his mind, telling him to let me take control, let me do all the talking. Part of that fear was caused by my presence in his mind, and only his concern for Cori prevented him from relinquishing complete control to me so that he could hide like a passenger in his own body. The base veered into view, a ragged dark cross. Orange dust blossomed, obscuring it.
The ship bucked, tilted, manoeuvring for the best position. We dropped, and an instant later there was a lurch, then a recoil which flung Tunde tight against the webbing. Cori gave a squeak comprising fright and delight in equal measure.
“We’re down,” the ship announced.
I was sure it had been trying to teach us a lesson by a deliberately heavy-handed landing. And it had worked: Cori’s bananamint spiral was sitting in her lap.
The ship retracted the webbing, and I let Tunde occupy himself with cleaning his daughter. By the time this was done, the dust was settling outside.
“Listen,” I said to Cori, “you’re not supposed to be here, so you’re going to have to hide.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Are y
ou Nathan?”
The name still did not seem mine, but I had no other. I nodded.
“Is my father there?”
“Yes. He’s fine.” Tunde seemed content to let me take over whenever I pleased. “You have to help us. I want you to hide. Do you know where?”
She thought about it. “The shrine.”
“No!” Tunde cried, but I was ready and stopped him from saying it aloud.
“You’ll be safe there,” I told her. “But on no account are you to try to use the prayer terminal, understand?”
Tunde was aghast, but Cori looked at me as if I was stating the obvious.
“Nina’s already explained it,” she said.
I could almost see a hint of Nina’s smile on her lips. I wondered exactly how much she had explained.
Tunde remained tense, but I assured him that Nina wouldn’t let his daughter come to any harm.
“Does Father love this woman Marea?”
I stepped aside to let him answer; but all I experienced was the confusion of his emotions—emotions in which the fear for Cori’s safety was paramount.
“He obviously cares a great deal for her,” I said.
“Call us if you need us,” she said in Nina’s inflection. Then she went off down the corridor.
I had to quell Tunde again, but his resistance was brittle: I think he was still frightened of me. Through the socket I could see a small procession approaching from the base. At its head was, I knew, Governor Andreas. A cordon of armed guards flanked him, enclosing two figures. I zoomed one of the optics. Both were suited, but it was obvious they were Marea and Vargo.
“Right,” I told the ship, “get ready to open up.”
I donned a suit and visored helmet while one of the orifices on the control ridge ejected an imprimatur shard. Then I went down to the airvalve, surprised that I felt no fear.
Andreas and his escort had halted a respectful distance from the ship. I saluted him as I approached, palming my comlink.
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Andreas said.
“Change of orders,” I told him. “She’s being taken back to Mars.”
“What?”
I handed him the imprimatur that Chloe and Lucian had fabricated while we were in transit. He slotted the shard into a compad, scrutinized it, did not seem pleased.
“This is irregular. I was told the sentence was to be carried out here.”
“High Arbiter Miushme-Adewoyin sends her most personal apologies.” I was reciting what Chloe and Lucian had instructed me to say. “It is an urgent and sensitive matter. She greatly appreciates your cooperation and discretion.”
He eyed me. “We came here expecting to see a sentence carried out.”
I did not budge. “I’m merely following orders.”
He was a hard man, naturally suspicious. But I wore the uniform of the politia and had come in the ship he was expecting.
He turned to the guards. “Bring her forward.”
Marea approached, Vargo at her side. My visor was mirrored, so she could not see my face. But I could see hers: it was blank with terror.
I switched to an open channel. “You will come with me,” I said.
It was Vargo who spoke: “She wants me with her.”
I knew this was traditional: the condemned were always allowed the company of one other person before the execution.
“There’s no need,” I said. “She’s being shipped to Mars.”
This threw him for a moment. “She’s asked me to be her mentor, give her a proper farewell.”
“The arrangements have been changed.”
“It’s her final request,” he insisted. “You can’t deny her.”
Given the circumstances, it was brave of him to speak up. Andreas reacted angrily, telling him to mind his mouth or he’d be sent back to the rockface. Then I sensed Chloe and Lucian telling me that I was to let Vargo aboard, take him with me as well. It seemed to be a spur-of-the-moment decision.
I didn’t like this sudden change of plan, but Marea’s patent terror swayed it.
“That’s all right,” I said. “It’s permitted. He can come aboard for a few minutes.”
Andreas was not happy. He directed two guards to accompany us, but I told him this wasn’t necessary.
“These are two dangerous criminals,” he insisted.
There was a pistol in my suit holster. I unsheathed it. “There won’t be any problems.”
Marea was regarding me with a strange expression. Though distorted and muffled by the suitcoms, it was Tunde’s voice. I wondered if she had recognized it.
Andreas bristled: he had obviously wanted to be there at the end; but the new orders took precedence.
“He can have ten minutes,” he said. “Then I want him back.”
I didn’t like his manner, and I decided to make a point. “The prisoner is under my jurisdiction now, Governor. Your man will be returned to you when I’m ready.”
I marched Marea and Vargo up the ramp into the ship, holding the pistol at their backs. Neither spoke. I directed them to the bridgehead. As soon as we had reached it, I told them, “Get webbed in.”
“What?” This was Vargo.
“We’re getting out of here. Move it!”
I waved the pistol, urging them into the seats.
“Ship,” I said, “initiate emergency launch.”
The ship made a sound as if it was clearing its throat. “Are we in danger?”
“Just do it! And give me another seat!”
The ship went into action immediately, retracting its ramp and powering its engines. It extruded another seat beside Marea, and I sat down hastily; Marea and Vargo were already webbed.
“Keep an eye on the governor and his party,” I told the ship.
One of its optics focused in on the governor’s party. Andreas had already realized what was happening. He and his guards had begun to retreat.
The ship lurched, and began to lift. I felt Tunde’s anxiety rising.
“Is Cori secure?” I asked the ship.
“Quite,” it snapped back. “The shrine is the safest place inside me. Do you want maximum acceleration?”
“No.” I wanted to remain conscious. “Optimum speed and flightpath at normal tolerance.”
“I thought you said this was an emergency.”
“Dammit, do it!”
Through one of the ship’s sockets, I saw Andreas looking up at us. Then he was swallowed by the blossoming dust cloud as we sped away.
Though at tolerance, the acceleration was fierce without protection, and I was pressed back in my seat. Long minutes passed. Then the ship said:
“Three craft, probably interceptors, closing fast.”
I struggled to look at the displays.
“One G,” I said to the ship. Immediately it began to slow.
An optic gave the local topography and the likely origin of the craft: Haemus Base itself. So Andreas had moved swiftly to summon back-up; he intended to hunt us down.
I sensed guidance from Chloe and Lucian. We were within a few minutes’ flight time of Loki, one of the moon’s major volcanoes and currently active.
“I want you to fly into the Loki plume,” I told the ship.
“What?” It sounded outraged. “Do you realize the danger? The debris could clog my respiratory system, bring on a seizure.”
A pointed silence was my only reply. Marea and Vargo watched me, saying nothing, wondering no doubt what the hell was going on.
“Very well,” the ship said with great forbearance. “On your own head be it.”
I watched the tracker optic. The three ships continued to close. Then suddenly a grey fog enveloped us, a fog which rapidly darkened to black.
We were high above the peak itself, but the plume was extensive, molten rock and sulphur ejected explosively from below the moon’s crust, a massive cloud fountaining out over hundreds of kilometres of Io’s surface, dampening down Jupiter’s light in the region for months, coatin
g everything below it in black snow, making life even more miserable than ever for the unwilling benighted inhabitants of the moon.
For a long while there was only the roar of the drive cells, a roar increasingly accompanied by the crepitation of dust particles. Presently I ordered the ship to exit the plume. Minutes later we broke free, and the ship was flooded with amber light as Jupiter hung, huge and gibbous, in the darkness of interplanetary space.
I waited a few moments, then said to the ship: “Have we lost them?”
It made a throaty sound. “There is no pursuit.”
Its voice was hoarse, though I was sure it was only for effect. The bridgehead began to fill with grinding and hissing sounds as the ship announced that it was conducting a pneumatic evacuation of its entire propulsion system “to expel particulate matter of volcanic origin”.
I told the ship to relax the webbing across Marea and Vargo’s chests so that they were able to free their arms. For a few moments nothing happened. Then the webbing partially withdrew, stopped, then finally retracted fully.
Marea and Vargo removed their visors and masks. Marea was thin and pale, but it was her hairless head that shocked Tunde. Vargo was also bald.
“Who the hell are you?” Vargo said.
I took my own helmet off. Tunde was recovering from his initial surprise, and I let him come more to the fore.
Marea looked astounded, then delighted, to see him.
“Tunde,” she said at last.
He grinned at her.
“I can’t believe it’s you. How did you come to be here? You knew where I was?”
He nodded, his grin hiding the fact that he was taken aback by the sight of her.
“You’ve joined the politia?”
An echo of his old charm reasserted itself. He winked at her. “After a fashion.”
Cori appeared, safe and smiling. She ran to her father’s side.
“This is one of my daughters,” he told Marea. He introduced her.
Marea was still staring at him as if he were unreal. “How did you find us?” she wanted to know.
There was nothing for it but to tell her the truth. I did my best to hold back and let Tunde explain in his own words. He gave his account of what had happened to the womb, of his flight to Titan, his year spent hiding there. And then he told of his encounter with myself and Nina in the shrine, of how I had “inhabited” him, helped him steal the ship and ultimately rescue her.
Mortal Remains Page 19
