We might manage to salvage something from this yet.
They found the zero-tau pods in a lengthy cavern. At some time, there had been machinery or shelving pinned to the wall; small
metal brackets still protruded from the dark-amber polyp. Deep scratches told of their recent, hurried removal. Now the cavern
was empty except for the row of interstellar-black sarcophagi running the length of the floor. Each of them had been taken
from a blackhawk, the crudely severed fittings were proof of that. Thick cables had been grafted on to the interface panels,
wiring them into clumps of spherical high-density power cells.
“Where do I start?” Tolton asked.
The processor block he was carrying bleeped before Dariat could begin the usual prolonged process of exaggerated enunciation.
“It doesn’t matter. Pick one.”
“Hey,” Tolton grinned. “You’re back.”
“Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”
Oh, please,
Dariat said.
What’s the matter with you? We’re back on track. Rejoice.
Dariat was abruptly party to a resurgence of optimism, the sense of a hibernating animal approaching winter’s end. Holding
his scepticism in check, he watched Tolton go over to the closest zero-tau pod. The personality issued a couple of simple
instructions, and Tolton pecked at a keyboard.
Erentz completed her cower as the scene above her switched. One instant a Chinese warlord with a cruel smile, promising that
the next thing she would know was the torture leading up to possession, the next a moderately overweight, wide-eyed man with
a good ten days’ worth of grubby stubble was peering anxiously down at her. The light was dimmer, too. The wail which she’d
started before the pod was activated, continued, rising in pitch.
It’s all right. Calm yourself.
Erentz paused, gathering her breath.
Rubra?
The mental voice which had chivvied her along since before she could remember felt different slightly.
Almost. But don’t worry. The possessed have gone. You’re safe.
There was a background emotion which sparked a small doubt. But the obvious apprehension and concern of the man staring down
at her was a strange, fast-acting tonic. He definitely wasn’t possessed.
“Hello,” Tolton said, desperate for some kind of response from the startled young woman.
She nodded slowly, and raised herself gingerly into a sitting position. It didn’t help that the first thing she saw was Dariat
hanging back by the cavern entrance. She emitted a frightened gasp.
I’m on your side,
Dariat told her, earning a twitchy laugh in response.
What is happening here?
she demanded.
The personality began to fill her in. Acceptance of her new situation came amid a rush of relief. Erentz, like all the others
released from zero-tau, relied on Rubra to provide a substantial part of their confidence. That he was the one who’d beaten
the possessed was a heady boost for them. Fifteen minutes saw the last of the zero-tau pods deactivated. Dariat and Tolton
were sidelined to slightly peeved observers as the brigade of Rubra’s descendants quickly and efficiently set about releasing
their cousins. After that, when they’d come down off the hype, the habitat personality began marshalling them into groups
and giving them assignments.
First priority was given to igniting the various fusion generators dotted about the spaceport. They made two attempts to initiate
fusion, both of which failed. Microfusion generators, they soon found, worked well in the deep caverns; so they began the
arduous process of manoeuvring starship auxiliary tokamaks through the spaceport and down the endcap. When the first one came
on-line operating at thirty-eight per cent efficiency, they knew they really did stand a chance.
Schedules were drawn up to install another dozen in the caverns, feeding their energy into the habitat’s organic conductors.
After two days’ unstinting effort, the light-tube began to blaze with early-morning intensity. Noonday brightness was beyond
them, but the resumption of near-normal light provided a huge psychological kick for every resident (curiously, that also
included the ostracised ghosts). In tandem, the habitat’s huge organs began to function again, ingesting and revitalising
the myriad fluids and gases utilised within the polyp.
Confidence guaranteed, the personality and its team set about investigating their continuum. Equipment was ransacked from
physics labs and Magellanic Itg research centres, and taken down to the caverns where it was powered up. Crude space probes
were prepared from the MSVs, sprouting simple sensor arrays. Outside that hot hive core of activity, the rest of the residents
slowly began to gather themselves together mentally and physically. Although that promised to be possibly the longest journey
of all.
But after a week, Valisk had regained a considerable amount of its most desired commodity: hope.
______
There was a broad grin smeared across Joshua’s face during the entire approach manoeuvre; sometimes it came from admiration,
sometimes plain affection. He knew he must look utterly dopy. Simply didn’t care.
Lady Mac
’s external sensor array was feeding his neural nanonics a panoramic view of Jupiter’s snarled pink and white cloudscape.
Tranquillity formed a sharp midnight-black silhouette sailing across the storms.
The massive habitat looked completely undamaged; although its counter-rotating spaceport was darker than usual. The docking
bays, normally the focus of frantic time-pressure maintenance efforts, were shut down and lightless, leaving the curving ebony
hulls of Adamist starships half-hidden in their eclipsed metal craters. Only the navigation and warning strobes were still
flashing indomitably around the edges of the big silver-white disc.
“It’s really here,” Ashly said in a stunned voice from across the bridge. “That’s, that’s… ”
“Outrageous?” Beaulieu suggested.
“Damn right it is,” Dhabi said. “Nothing that big can be a starship. Nothing.”
Sarha laughed quietly. “Face it, people; we’re living in interesting times.”
Joshua was glad that the Mzu, her compatriots, and the agency operatives were all down in capsule D’s lounge. After everything
they’d been through, for the crew to show such bewilderment now was almost an admission of weakness, as if they couldn’t cope
with the rigours of starflight after all. Jovian flight management authority datavised their final approach vector, and Joshua
reduced the fusion drives to a third of a gee as they crossed the invisible boundary where Tranquillity’s traffic control
centre took over guidance responsibility. Their escort of five voidhawks matched the manoeuvre with consummate elegance; unwilling
to show anything other than perfection to Lagrange Calvert, a tribute to the modest debt Edenism owed him for Aethra.
If only they knew,
Samuel said.
They’d be flying parabolas of joy.
The Jovian sub-Consensus which dealt with classified security matters acknowledged the sentiment with an ironic frisson.
Given our culture’s fundamental nature, the restriction of knowledge is always a curious paradox to us,
it said.
However, in the case of the Alchemist, it is fully justified. Every Edenist does not need to know specific details, hence
the requirement for my existence. And your job.
Ah yes, my job.
You are tired of it.
Very.
As soon as the
Lady Macbeth
had emerged above Jupiter, Samuel had been conversing with the security sub-Consensus. It was the reason there had been relatively
little fuss made about their arrival. First Admiral Aleksan-drovich’s decision had quickly been accepted by Consensus and
Tranquillity.
After that, Samuel had immersed his mentality with Consensus, allowing his worries and tension to dissipate among his fellows.
Sympathy for Edenists was so much more than a simple expression of compassion; with affinity he could feel it reaching into
his mind, warmth and light dispelling the accumulation of icy shadows that were fear’s legacy. No longer alone. Floating in
a buoyant sea of welcome understanding. His thoughts began to flow in more regular patterns, and with that state achieved
his body quietened. A sense of wellbeing claimed him; sharing himself with Consensus, entwined with the billions living contentedly
above Jupiter, sporting with the voidhawks, he became whole again.
Yet this is the time we need you most,
sub-Consensus replied.
You have proved how valuable you are. Your skills are essential to this crisis.
I know. And if I’m needed for another assignment, I’ll go. But I think after this, it’s time I found a new career. Fifty-eight
years of one thing is enough, even for a low-stress job.
We understand. There is no immediate field assignment awaiting you. We would like you to resume the observation of Dr Mzu
for the time being.
I think that’s a formality now.
Yes. But it will help to have you there in person. You have proved your worth to Monica Foulkes, she trusts you, and it is
her report that will influence the Duke more than anything, and through him, the King. In this affair we must reassure the
Kingdom we are playing fair.
Of course. Our alliance is a remarkable achievement, even in these circumstances.
Quite.
I’ll stay with Mzu.
Thank you.
Samuel used his affinity to stay in communication with the voidhawk escort, so he could borrow the image of Jupiter from their
sensor blisters. It was a much more satisfying view than the AV projection of
Lady Macbeth
’s sensor array. He watched their approach to Tranquillity, awed by the giant habitat, and not a little disconcerted by its
star-jumping capability. It was so strange seeing it here, a familiar place, in a familiar location; but the two didn’t belong
together. He smiled at his own discomfort.
“You look happy,” Monica said gruffly.
They had taken acceleration couches slightly apart from Mzu and the
Beezling
survivors; the two groups still not quite trusting each other. During the flight they’d been formal and polite, nothing more.
Samuel waved at the lounge’s AV pillar with its moirÉ sparkle, which was also showing the approach. “I rather like the idea
of thwarting Capone in such a fashion. A habitat that can perform a swallow manoeuvre! Who’d have thought it? Well, a Saldana
did, obviously. I doubt many others would.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Monica said. “You were happy the moment we arrived here, and you’ve been getting happier ever since.
I’ve been watching you.”
“Coming home is always comforting.”
“It’s more than that, it’s like you’ve mellowed out.”
“I have. Communion with my people and Consensus always does that. It’s a valuable psychological relief. I don’t relish being
apart from it for so long.”
“Oh God, here we go again, more propaganda.”
Samuel laughed. They might not have affinity, but he knew her well enough by now that it almost didn’t make any difference.
A pleasant revelation when dealing with an Adamist, let alone an ESA operative. “I’m not trying to convert you, I’m just saying
it’s good for me. As you noticed.”
Monica grunted. “You ask me, it’s a weakness. You’re dependent, and that can’t be good in our profession. People should be
capable of acting by themselves without any hang ups. If I get wound up, I just run a stim program.”
“Ah yes, the natural human method of dealing with stress.”
“No worse than yours. Faster and cleaner, too.”
“There are many ways of being human.”
Monica stole a glance over at Mzu and Adul, still resentful at what they’d all been through. “Inhuman, as well.”
“I think she’s realized her folly. That’s good. It’s a sign of maturity to learn from one’s mistakes, especially after living
with them for so long. She may yet make a positive contribution to our society.”
“Maybe. But as far as I’m concerned, she’ll need watching till the day she dies. And even then I’d be none too sure, she’s
that tricky. I still think the First Admiral was wrong, we should have zero-taued the lot of them.”
“Well rest easy; I’ve already told Consensus I’ll continue watching over her. I’m too old and jaded for another active assignment.
Once this crisis is concluded I’ll move on to something else. I always rather fancied wine growing; fine wine, of course.
The kind of vintage that would satisfy the real oenophile. After all, I’ve tasted enough rubbish while I’ve travelled round
the Confederation. Some of our habitats have superb vineyards, you know.”
Monica gave him a single surprised look, then snorted in amusement. “Exactly who are you trying to fool?”
______
It certainly wasn’t a hero’s welcome. Only Collins bothered to report that the
Lady Macbeth
had docked, and they did it in a tone which suggested Joshua was slinking back home.
Five serjeants greeted Mzu and the
Beezling
survivors, escorting them to their new quarters. They weren’t under arrest, Tranquillity explained, speaking through the
constructs; but it laid down the guidelines for their residence quite austerely. A few friends were waiting for the crew in
the bay’s reception compartment. Dahybi and Beaulieu vanished off with them, heading for a bar. Sarha and Ashly took a commuter
lift together. Two deputy managers from the Pringle Hotel greeted Shea and Kole, ushering them away to their rooms.
That left Joshua with Liol to take care of. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that. They were still orbiting round
each other, though it was a closer orbit now. A hotel was out, too cold, Liol was family after all. He just wished they’d
managed to sort out the problem of
Lady Mac
and Liol’s gung-ho claim. Though his brother had definitely become more conciliatory as the flight progressed. A good sign.
It looked as though Liol would have to share his apartment. Well, at least he’d understand bachelor mess.