On the Steel Breeze (48 page)

The lander had never been properly weightless until this moment and there were yet more systems tests to be performed – long minutes of waiting while Chiku could do nothing except fret, and console herself that none of these system check-outs were frivolous or inessential. Finally, the normal CP drive was deemed safe to engage – this alone unleashing structural loads and thermal stresses which would easily have wrecked the lander without due precaution. The CP engine spooled up to one gee of thrust, much less than it was capable of, and already the lander was pulling ahead, starting to outrace
Zanzibar.
Chiku’s viewpoint hopscotched between public eyes to keep up, until she had no option but to watch
Icebreaker
diminishing ahead of them, riding the bright spike of its engine. The lander could accelerate no harder if she were to stand a chance of catching up with it in one of the shuttles.

‘Tell me,’ she asked Noah, who was monitoring developments around the local caravan. ‘Has all hell just broken loose?’

‘Not yet – I don’t think any of them expected you to be
this
ready. Oh, wait – something’s coming in now. Priority transmission, maximum urgency.’ Noah’s voice deepened as he recited the statement. ‘“On order of
the Council of Worlds, holoship
Zanzibar
is instructed to abort launch event and recall the unidentified vehicle immediately. This action is in express contravention of the terms of the inspection” – and so on.’

‘Do they seriously think we’ll recall
Icebreaker
now?’ said Chiku.

‘I suppose they have to look as if they’re still in control of the situation.’

She felt the tug in her belly as the train decelerated sharply and drew to a stop at their destination.

‘I don’t know which order to ask these questions in, but is there a shuttle ready for me, and are Mposi and Ndege at the airlock?’

‘Yes and nearly yes, but we’ll be cutting it fine. Given
Icebreaker
’s current acceleration, you have about ten minutes before it’s going to be difficult to make rendezvous and have enough fuel left in the shuttle to allow it to return– any longer than that, and we’ll need to hold
Icebreaker
back or consider the shuttle expendable.’

She turned her attention to the visualisation of the incoming vehicles. Twenty minutes, according to the estimates, before they would be at
Zanzibar
– based on the assumption that none of them had accelerated since
Icebreaker
launched.

The train had brought them close to
Zanzibar
’s central axis, so they had much less than their usual weight when they disembarked. Constables and Assembly staff were on hand to assist them to the boarding lock, beyond which the shuttle was waiting. The rest of her volunteers were already aboard, the shuttle primed for immediate departure as soon as she joined them.

‘I can’t believe I’m going through with this,’ she said to Noah, her voice trembling. ‘It feels like I’m about to put my head in a guillotine or something.’

‘It’s not too late to change your mind. We could still call
Icebreaker
back.’

‘That won’t make any difference at this point – as far as the Council’s concerned, the crime’s already been committed just by launching the ship. Travertine’s punishment for going against
Pemba
was harsh, and ve was just one person, working on vis own. Can you imagine what they’d do to our entire administration?’

‘It wouldn’t be pretty.’

‘Show trials, mass executions – why not? I can easily believe they’d go that far.’

‘We won’t allow it,’ Noah said, with a firmness that surprised her. ‘Even if we have to declare complete independence from the rest of the caravan. We’d do it.’

‘Tread carefully, won’t you?’

‘I’ll do my best. Now put your brave face on. They’re bringing in Mposi and Ndege.’

‘How long have I got?’

‘I’ll tell you when it’s time.’

They came in, accompanied by constables, and she felt her spirits dip to depths she had never experienced. All of a sudden they looked much younger than their years – Ndege no longer the self-assured nineteen year old she had grown into, but the twelve year old who had entered skipover. Mposi looked like the little boy who made bubbles in their garden.

Their expressions were full of fear and doubt – small wonder, she supposed, given that they had been ripped from their normal routine by constables and then brought to this strange and unfamiliar part of the holoship, far from the normal gravity of the community cores. Mposi and Ndege had never left
Zanzibar,
so had no experience of weightlessness or near-weightlessness.

‘Thank you,’ Chiku told Noah and the constables. They nodded and retreated, leaving her alone with her children.

‘I have to go now,’ she said.

From the look in their eyes it was clear that they did not understand. ‘For how long?’ Mposi asked.

‘I don’t know.’

Ndege said, ‘What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know?’

‘All I know,’ Chiku offered, ‘is that it’ll be at least eight years, possibly quite a bit longer.’

Eight years. Her words impacted them like a slap. Eight years was an eternity to an eighteen year old – nearly half the time Mposi had been alive.

‘Why?’ Ndege asked. ‘Why do you have to do this stupid, pointless thing?’

‘There’s an important job that needs to be done so that we can all arrive safely on Crucible, like you’ve been promised since you were small. I’m doing this for you, first and foremost, but I’m also doing this for everyone aboard
Zanzibar,
everyone in the local caravan.’ Feeling that this was insufficient, she added: ‘I need to make sure that everything the Providers have built for us is the way we want it, so we can be happy when we arrive, about ten years later.’

‘But why do
you
have to do that?’ Ndege asked.

‘Because . . . because I have to. Because it would be wrong to ask
someone else to do it in my place. We all have to be brave about that – not just me, but you as well. Both of you.’

‘You can’t go,’ Mposi said, on the edge of tears – she could tell – but keeping them in check.

More in anger than distress his sister added, ‘You never asked us how we’d feel about this.’

‘I couldn’t. And I really have no choice, not if I’m going to be a good citizen. But you mustn’t worry. Noah . . . your father . . . will take care of you, and if you want, you can spend some of the time in skipover, the way we did before.’

‘The way
we
did,’ Mposi corrected her. ‘You were awake, even though you said you wouldn’t be.’

‘I was awake some of the time, but I only ever wanted to do the best I could for all of us.’ She glanced at Noah, certain her time must be up, but he nodded for her to continue. ‘I know my choices and actions have been difficult for you to understand, but know that I have always loved you. Always. And I won’t stop loving you after I get on the other ship. I don’t want to go, but sometimes we have to do things we would rather not, and this is one of those times.’

‘We can come with you,’ Ndege said suddenly. ‘Me, Mposi – Father. You can make room for us, can’t you?’

Noah came over from where he had been waiting and put a hand on Ndege’s shoulder while also meeting Chiku’s despairing gaze. ‘It’s time. I’m sorry, but they’re almost here and you need to be clear of
Zanzibar
before they arrive.’ Then he drew Mposi and Ndege close, daughter on one side, son on the other, and said, ‘Kiss your mother goodbye. Be brave and tell her you understand that she has to go away, that you love her very much, and that you can’t wait for her to come home.’

‘Why?’ Mposi asked, as if this was all some trick.

‘Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it for every waking moment of the next eight years of your life.’

And they did as he said, in their own fashion, and then Noah kissed her and wished her luck, and the courage to face whatever was ahead. Mposi and Ndege were crying by then – confusion and denial had given way, perhaps temporarily, to a provisional acceptance that there was nothing they could do to change their mother’s mind. They looked upset now, rather than angry at the world for forcing this situation on them.

Chiku found that her own anger also had no individual focus: she could not blame anyone for this, not even long-dead Eunice and
still-living Lin Wei for the things they had brought into being. They had not known what the consequences would be. No one could have known. She could not even hate Arachne for being what she was – it would be as futile as hating a snake for being a snake, or the weather for being capricious.

‘Farewell,’ Noah whispered, when the moment of parting finally came. ‘And return.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

The moment she was in the shuttle, the doors closed and the docking clamps released, and the shuttle shifted into
Zanzibar
’s bright central shaft, the spinal void that had once contained the bulk of the partly disassembled CP drive. Chiku manoeuvred herself silently to one of the acceleration couches and buckled in. The other occupants were quiet, and she had no words for them.

The shuttle had been authorised to light its engine while still inside
Zanzibar.
Through the windows the surrounding shaft sped past at ever increasing speed. They were moving fast by the time they emerged into clear space, but were heading in the wrong direction relative to
Icebreaker.
The shuttle rolled and commenced a hard turn, squeezing Chiku even deeper into her couch than during the launch. She watched stars wheel dizzyingly for a few moments and then
Zanzibar
came back into view, still huge but offset now by the diameter of the turning arc the shuttle had just completed. And still they were accelerating.

The shuttle was flying itself – neither Chiku nor any of her volunteers were pilots, and the shuttle could fly itself more competently than its current human crew. She voked a three-dimensional map of the surrounding space, centred on the moving focus of the shuttle. They were sliding past
Zanzibar
now, about thirty kilometres from the hull. The shuttle was still accelerating relative to
Icebreaker,
and Chiku was relieved when the distance between the two vessels started decreasing rather than increasing. She let out a breath she had not known she was holding –
Icebreaker
was still within reach.

Then the outer boundary of the projection volume was pricked by the vectors of the inspection party’s ships. They were coming in very fast, delaying deceleration as late as possible. Of the eighteen vehicles in the first wave, twelve remained on course for
Zanzibar,
while six had peeled away to attempt rendezvous with
Icebreaker.
Of those six, two now made a late course adjustment, moving as a tightly coordinated pair in an attempt to close in on the shuttle.

What are they hoping to achieve,
Chiku thought,
beyond intimidation?
They were moving much too quickly to dock or grapple on, if that was their intention.

‘This is Noah. Can you hear me?’

‘Go ahead,’ she answered.

‘We’ve been issued with a general ultimatum – pull in all our ships or face sanctioned force, whatever
that
means. They want you to slow down, show that you’re giving up the chase – I assume you’re not about to have a sudden change of heart?’

‘We’ve come too far for that. Politically, we’ve already handed them the noose, so we might as well see this through to the end.’

‘It could be a bitter one.’

‘You don’t think they’re actually going to try attacking us, do you? Surely they wouldn’t escalate so much, so quickly?’

‘If it suits them, and they think we’re not going to be expecting it – well, I wouldn’t bet against it.’

‘But we’d know if they’d equipped a whole squadron of shuttles with weapons. Wouldn’t we?’

‘Maybe not. We’ve been quite successful at protecting our own secrets, haven’t we?’ Noah was silent for a moment, then added: ‘We have long-range imagery on the inspection craft, including the two closing in on you. They look like normal shuttles – we’re not seeing any hull-mounted guns or energy devices . . . That’s interesting, though.’

‘What?’

‘One of them has an open airlock, as if they’re preparing to EVA.’

‘Just the one?’

‘We only have a clear view of one shuttle. There’s a suited person at the airlock now, which is pointed at the second ship, but we can’t see the back of the second ship from here.’ Noah sounded distracted, fielding too many questions at once. ‘Just a moment, Chiku – we’re trying to lock on to imagery from
Icebreaker
– it might give us the angle we need.’

‘They’re moving too fast to attempt a forced boarding.’ She was studying the schematic, forcing it to skip forward in time. The mathematics told the story, cut in stone. There was nothing she could do to alter the shuttle’s own vector if she still wanted to rendezvous with
Icebreaker.
‘They’re going to
ram
us, Noah. Could they be minimally crewed? Would they consider two whole ships expendable?’

‘Surely not – that would be a massive escalation.’

‘They can’t slow down now. They’re going to be on me in about thirty seconds!’

‘Hold your vector.’

‘They’re peeling off,’ Chiku said, surprised and suspicious. ‘Opposite vectors – they’ll pass either side of me.’

‘I think I know what they’re up to. Assume full manual control, Chiku – do you have it?’

‘Y-yes,’ she stammered, hands trembling as she took the helm, her seat offering her a selection of basic control inputs – thrust, steering, hull orientation. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘Remain on course. When I give the word, do something. Anything. But only when I give the word.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I’ll explain in about fifteen seconds. Are you ready? Make whatever evasive manoeuvre you can – there’s nothing you can do that the shuttle can’t undo. Here it comes. Now, Chiku.
Now.’