Lament for the Fallen (6 page)

‘Did they work? Did they hold me in place?’

[Yes. They are a good solution. Unfortunately, the tolerances are not good enough. At 1,500 metres, the rotation became extremely severe. The tension on the airbags was too great. The one on your left side burst at 900 metres. Much of the damage you suffered occurred below 500 metres, when the remaining bags collapsed. The crash through the trees saw to the rest.]

‘And how close to the target zone are we?’

[We are about 350 kilometres north of where we expected, in southern Nigeria, the Benue Peninsula.

[We’re in the village of Ewuru, about 250 kilometres up the Akwayafe River and near the border with Cameroon. About 2,400 kilometres from the coast to the umbilical. Say 2,700 kilometres all told. Well outside the connect for our purposes, but that also means we rely on luck as to what is available.]

‘Tell me about Ewuru. How far can you detect?’

[Only about five metres at the moment. I can get that up to ten to fifteen once you’re healed, but you will feel blind.]

‘I understand.’ He stops, his mind wanders, tracing her feel and warmth and heart. ‘I miss her.’

There is tactful silence.

‘Ewuru?’

[Not really a village, not really a town. Fortunately your nurses are a very talkative bunch. There are about 14,300 people here. Enough to support much specialization. They grow tea. You’ll like that. They have quite a diverse range of agriculture and, technology-wise, your grandfather would be proud. They have a river turbine, a range of fabricators, digesters and a sphere.]

‘Good, we were hoping for these. What have you learned?’

‘The sphere has been out of the connect for a very long time, but I have learned their language, food, customs. More than enough.’

‘And the turbine? Do they have spares?’

[Yes. I think they have an entire replacement, and a smaller emergency turbine, but neither have seen use.]

‘So, we have propulsion. What will we do for energy? Fuel, batteries?’

[Their fabricators are very basic and can produce simple structures only. This may be where we end up mired in local politics. Soldiers came through almost a week ago.]

‘Looting?’

[No, they appear to have been looking for you.]

‘Someone saw?’

[I brought us in from over the sea, but, yes, many people saw. Still, we have been very lucky. The village has no fear of the local warlords. Joshua Ossai, the village leader, led the soldiers to a large boulder they disguised as a meteorite. They cleaned it up a treat. Made it look as if it landed the same time you did. It is too big and shouldn’t have fooled them. Nonetheless, the soldiers seemed convinced and left.]

‘I owe him thanks. That is quick thinking.’

[They’ve looked after you well. Only –]

An unusual hesitation.

‘What?’

[I don’t know. Technology, economy, society – there isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and yet this village is remarkably self-sufficient. More so than I would expect. Nothing unusual, just odd when one looks closely.]

‘Something unique to this village?’

[I don’t know. We’ve had no real information from this area in sixty-five years. Not since –]

‘Yes,’ Samara pauses. ‘What have you told them?’

[Nothing. Only how to care for you.]

‘I will have explanations to make. Back to my question about energy. What is the problem?’

[The village has no high-density batteries. The nearest city where you may be able to print something is Calabar. And don’t ask, the connect runs through the northern part of it. Dangerous to visit.]

‘Options.’

[There is only one I can see at this stage, considering how far north we are from our target. We need to cross about 400 kilometres of oil. The ocean currents in the Bight push the oil zone into the coast. It is very thick here. We will need to double energy output and potentially use a small wing to plane over the surface, but only to cross the Bight. From there we should be fine.]

‘How long to make the journey?’

[Eight days to travel to Calabar, print the battery and return. Then two and a half to get home. We need to concentrate on solving the battery problem immediately. First, though, eight days to exercise and heal.]

‘Very well.’

[Something else. A griot came through here almost a week ago.]

‘Anyone we know?’

[They call him Balladeer, but he sounded like Ismael to me. He sang a song that I could just hear which seemed to be for you.]

‘Let me guess, we are fallen?’

[Something like that.]

‘He has a funny sense of humour, that man. It would be good to see him again.’

[Yes, maybe in Calabar. I gather that is his next destination. The paralysis has worn off.]

‘Time to go.’

Samara opens his eyes.

7

Edith is late and flustered as she arrives to look in on her patient. She also has a bag of unanticipated oranges. She is flustered because she takes her responsibilities seriously, and late because Abishai has a way of unsettling her unexpectedly.

She is young and has little experience of intimacy. When she sees Abishai, though, she feels a confusing sense of emotion that she does not understand. An overly warm embarrassment and sudden clumsiness.

It seems like only minutes ago that she left the home she shares with her parents. As she turned into Calabar Road, towards the market, she had seen Abishai talking to a man. She barely noticed him, but Abishai. Her route would take her right past her. She had ducked behind a stall, pretending to inspect the fruit piled up there. She did not even notice what it was.

‘You buy my oranges,’ said old man Ejimole, filling a bag as he spoke.

She tried refusing, but between the invisibility of the orange and juice cart, and the exposure of walking past Abishai, she was trapped. Yes, of course, she appreciates how difficult it is to grow oranges on the equator. It is impressive what those young geneticists at the university get up to. I am sure they are lovely, but they are quite expensive. And, oh no, would you look at the time?

In result, she is late, flustered and carrying a bag of oranges. Hardly the state to be in for what she will see next.

There is no light on in the small room and, as she opens the door, sunshine lances across the floor. Spotlit, in the act of standing up, is her patient.

He is naked, his skin an even matt titanium, darker shadows as he moves, making him seem carved out of a single solid piece. His skin appears to be absorbing the light, sucking it down. Something she struggles to describe.

His hands and feet, ideal forms. He has no sex, merely a smooth mound at his pubis.

All this she has seen before, as he lay comatose, but now – awake, alive – he looks like a young god, fallen to earth.

His eyes, as he stares at her, glow gold.

She stifles a scream, then, ever professional, says, ‘Good morning, sir. Please, could you wait? I will fetch someone to help you.’

He nods. Then, in accentless Efik, ‘Thank you. Would you have something I could wear?’

‘Oh, I am so sorry, of course, I will bring something,’ she stammers, then turns and flees, leaving the door open behind her, her oranges clasped safely in one hand.

Outside, he can hear a ripple of fear and excitement following the girl as she scrambles through the village. ‘He is awake!’

[That went well.]

‘None of that. What must I look like to them?’

[Scary. Like the dead come to life.]

‘Hmm.’

[Put them at ease. Use that famous grace and charm of yours.] And there is gentle laughter somewhere in the back of his mind.

He sits on the chair where the nurses usually keep watch. Now it starts.

A tall, straight-backed man enters. Behind him, Edith has a wrap, which she passes through.

‘I am Joshua,’ says the man. ‘Please,’ he motions with the fabric, ‘you may wear this until we are able to arrange clothes that fit.’

Samara takes it and quickly knots it in place after the fashion of the villagers, around the waist and tied at the shoulder.

Joshua nods. ‘You know our people and our language?’

‘No, but I have access to your sphere.’ He puts out his right hand. ‘I am Samara Adaro, of Achenia.’

Joshua grips his hand firmly.

‘I wish to thank you and your people for the care you have taken of me,’ he says. He smiles over Joshua’s shoulder. ‘Special thanks to you, Edith. I am grateful.’

‘He knows my name!’ her eyes morbidly wide.

One plans and then one still is not ready, thinks Joshua. What next?

‘You will have many questions. I am not able to answer all, but I will tell you what I can,’ says Samara.

Joshua nods. ‘There will be much interest. Are you strong enough to talk to the village?’

‘The village?’

Joshua hesitates, then gently places a hand on Samara’s shoulder and steers him out of the room. Thousands have arrived, filling the streets as far as they can see. Half the village is here.

‘This is a small community. There is no space for secrets, and they have all had a part in keeping you safe.’

[Oh dear.]

‘Of course. Where do we go?’

‘We will go to Ekpe.’ Turning to a man at his side, he says, ‘Sound the drum.’

The man nods and races away, threading through the crowd.

‘We are not sure of your recovery. Can you walk?’

[With care and assistance.]

‘Yes, but I am still weak. If it is no trouble, I may need to lean on someone?’

‘Certainly. Do you need nourishment?’

[Fish broth. Three litres.]

‘If I could have three litres of fish broth, please?’

Edith nods and disappears into the crowd even as Joshua and Samara start walking. They make their way through the side streets to Calabar Road, towards the market, around the ring of Market Road to the apex, and then Ekpe Road.

Now they hear a deep boom. A drum has been struck.

It sounds again. The percussive burst carrying out and across the village, into the fields and jungles beyond, where birds take fright. The acoustics channelling the resonance through everyone within hearing.

Ekpe Road is the widest and shortest in the village, almost a village square. It is tree-lined, with a short pillar upon which is a carved wooden box in its centre. The road is packed with people all watching expectantly.

Samara’s eyes close and he stumbles.

Joshua catches him, almost collapsing under his weight, but Samara wakes immediately and recovers.

‘My apologies.’

They arrive before a deep amphitheatre. Below, at the far end behind the stage, is a long, open-sided structure. The roof is of palm-frond thatch and it is held up by two massive brass pillars. The shelter is positioned narrow-side on to the amphitheatre and appears to be about twenty metres long and five metres wide.

Between the two pillars is suspended a colossal carved tree trunk. It is a slit drum and a figure strikes it now, sending out another epic boom. It is the last, and the figure withdraws.

Joshua leads Samara down into the bottom of the amphitheatre and then up a short flight of stairs to the stage in front of the structure. Closer, Samara sees that the building has sufficient space inside for at least fifty people to gather. Today, however, the meeting will be in the amphitheatre for the entire village.

The Ekpe House is at the crest of the town. It provides an unobstructed view from the high ridge in the centre of the village, over a cliff and down to the river and jungle below.

Chairs are brought and placed in the shade at the edge of the roof. Joshua motions for Samara to sit, worrying that it may not support his weight. It does.

They wait as the amphitheatre fills. A profusion of coloured wraps, umbrellas and peculiar things that people happened to have with them as they were going about their day. Groups of children of all ages arriving from a long building to the west of Ekpe Road are herded in by what must be their teachers.

[They appear more prosperous than I would have expected.]

‘Your population estimate appears about right.’

[Yes. But. Something unusual.]

‘Yes, I see what you mean.’

In time, the people settle and there is silence.

‘I call Ekpe,’ says Joshua, his normal speaking voice magnified and carried to all parts of the amphitheatre by embedded amplifiers.

‘Our visitor is Samara Adaro, of the sky people.’

A moment of thrilled conversation as people repeat the name to each other. To have someone who lives in space visit their tiny village, it is very exciting. ‘I will lead questions and then, as is our custom, any of you may ask as well. Please, though, our guest is still very weak. If we have to draw Ekpe to a close prematurely, we will resume when he is stronger.’

Edith appears with a large pot filled with warm broth, and a decanter. She has assumed that a bottle will probably work better under the circumstances. She remains in the shade behind Joshua and Samara, prepared to refill his bottle as the village meeting continues.

Joshua now sits and faces Samara directly. ‘Ekpe is our village gathering. Laws are passed here. This is where we discuss matters of importance and make decisions. Ekpe does not always need to involve the whole village, but, today, you can understand the interest.’

The formality is strange to Samara, but he can see the intensity with which Joshua is staring at him and the depth of emotion of the people gathered to listen.

‘I understand, and I accept Ekpe.’

‘Very well. There are two things of immediate interest: how you came to be here, and whether your being here threatens our village.’

[We expected these. Remember, charm. Oh, and I’ve located the sphere.]

‘Where?’

[It is on the short brass post we came past in the centre of that square before the amphitheatre. They have it under a box, for some reason.]

‘My name is Samara Adaro of Achenia. I understand your questions. There is danger, but it is not here,’ he says, addressing the amphitheatre.