‘What did you seriously hope to achieve in just a few days?’
‘I don’t know. Put some wheels in motion, maybe, to make sure we were in a better position by now.’
‘In a few days.’
‘I know it wasn’t very realistic. But after I heard the news, I couldn’t return to the vaults.’
‘Staying awake was more important than keeping the promise you made to your own family?’
‘How do you expect me to answer that?’
‘Truthfully.’
‘All right, then. Yes. Staying awake was more important. I love you and the children more than anything else in my universe – you know that, don’t you? But for that reason alone I had to act. I couldn’t love you and stand back once I knew something was coming that would hurt you, hurt Ndege and Mposi. That’s what love is – sacrifice. Sacrificing everything, our marriage if necessary, out of love for you. Can’t you see that?’
‘What about trust? You trusted me once, remember? I’ve seen the Tantors.’
‘Please,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me – I keep my promises.’
She looked down. Her fingers looked wrong to her, as if at some point they had been surgically swapped with those of a much older woman.
‘I’ll tell you exactly what happened. The news from home was bad, Noah – unimaginably bad. It was imperative for the survival of the entire caravan that we concentrate our efforts on the slowdown problem. With Utomi dead – he was killed in an accident before I woke up – and Sou-Chun out of the way, I had a chance to influence a change in policy. But it couldn’t be done overnight. Even then, I was only thinking in terms of years. Two, three . . . five at the most. I never meant to become Chair. One thing led to another and . . . it just happened.’
‘So what happens now?’ Noah said, his tone perfectly reasonable, but cold. ‘I don’t feel as if I’m talking to the woman I married – just some distant politically ambitious acquaintance of hers. Chair Akinya, for god’s sake!’
‘I came to the vaults to see you, over and over, wishing for the day when you could join me. Check the clinic records if you think I’m lying.’
‘If it mattered so much, you’d have joined us.’ Noah paused. ‘I did check the clinic records. Before the day we were scheduled to wake, you hadn’t been down in nearly three years.’
‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘There’s a mistake in their bookkeeping. It was never that long.’
‘Eighteen months before that, a year before that. The intervals were growing longer. At the start, you used to come down every few months. But that didn’t last.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I never meant—’
‘So am I,’ Noah said. ‘Truly sorry. You should have trusted me. Everything would have been all right.’
He was making to leave. ‘Please,’ she said.
‘I’ll arrange for Mposi and Ndege to see you – they’re going to find all this quite difficult to process.’
Did he mean to keep the children from her? If she put the possibility into words, would she make it an inevitablity?
‘Don’t blame me,’ Chiku said, with the flat resignation of knowing nothing she now said would count in her favour. ‘I only ever did what needed to be done.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Time swallowed itself like a snake. Suddenly Icebreaker was not years or months from being ready, but weeks. Prickly with anticipation, Chiku visited the berthing chamber as often as her administrative workload allowed. While the lander was being prepared for the expedition, it had been crusted over with a dense plaque of scaffolding and pressurised support structures. Now most of that had been dismantled or swung away, leaving only a handful of vacuum-suited technicians still working on the final details. The three-hundred-metre-long lander had been gutted and stuffed with enormous fuel tanks, giving the craft’s clean lines a swollen, bee-stung look. Even a Post-Chibesa engine needed fuel, and lots of it.
Once in a while, from some hatch or service port, stuttered the hard blue flash of a welding torch or laser. Even there, they were down to the last few tweaks. Inside, too, the bulk of the work had been completed. In the tiny nucleus of the ship that would be filled with air and warmth, the skipover caskets had been installed and tested.
After much deliberation, the final complement of crew would be twenty. Chiku had quietly pushed for fewer, but there were limits to what she could achieve. The rest of the Assembly thought twenty could not possibly be enough to handle the survey – surely there should be room for soil specialists, botanists, geologists, oceanographers and so on? Chiku made a show of agreeing with them in principle, but she also pointed that a larger crew would require more skipover equipment, and supplies, and more space to move around in when they came out of hibernation. These factors would mean trading fuel for life-support volume, which would make the ship less nimble, thereby delaying their arrival.
‘I’ve run simulations until they’re coming out of my ears,’ she said. ‘More than twenty and the mission parameters become unwieldy. Fifteen would be better, twelve ideal. We don’t need specialists for every contingency – we’re going on ahead to pave the way, not to establish a self-sustaining colony of our own.’ And all of that was true, in its way, but a far more pressing consideration was that she did not want to lie to more volunteers than she absolutely had to. There was, too, a darker corollary: if she needed to start silencing people, the fewer the better.
Prior to departure, secrecy remained paramount and a shipwide announcement of Icebreaker’s existence had yet to be made. This had complicated the already delicate task of identifying and approaching possible crewmembers.
Half of the candidates were straightforward selections. Daunting technical expertise had been required to develop, construct and install the new engine, and the key figures working on the project were already sworn to secrecy. It made sense that those among them fit enough for skipover should be considered for the mission itself. Of those who were approached, two-thirds declined, which did not surprise Chiku in the least. The crewmembers would not be able to take their families with them on the decades-long expedition, so it was no easy burden to accept. The net was widened slightly, and slowly but surely sufficient volunteers agreed to the terms.
One obvious candidate, in Chiku’s eyes at least, posed a particular headache.
Travertine knew the stakes. When the Assembly finally dropped any pretence – among themselves, at least – about the mission about going ahead, and thereby authorised Chiku to inform Travertine and suggest that ve join the expedition being readied, ve simply nodded and countered with some minor demands of vis own. A pardon. Removal of the biomedical cuff, followed by a battery of emergency prolongation measures.
Ve had to try, of course, but Travertine knew as well as Chiku did that the Assembly would not go anywhere near that far.
One afternoon, just under fifty days from launch, a black car approached the Assembly Building. Constables helped the ageing scientist from the vehicle. Ve was accompanied by a bulb-headed chrome mannequin imported from somewhere else in the caravan. Originally, the robot had tailed Travertine clandestinely to prevent ver from taking vis own life. Now the new robot accompanied ver openly, an arm under Travertine’s elbow to help ver from the car and up the front steps. There was something almost kindly and touching in its ministrations, Chiku thought.
She was waiting for ver indoors, one hand clenching and unclenching as if she had a tennis ball in her fist. She nodded as the party conveyed their guest into the lobby.
‘Thank you for coming, Travertine.’
‘I had a choice?’
‘Yes, and I hope my staff were clear on that.’ Chiku nodded at the constables – they were not needed now, although the robot could remain. ‘Come – I’ve reserved a room. Our discussion won’t take long, and then you can be on your way.’
‘This is all very official. I thought we did all our best business in your kitchen.’
Chiku smiled tightly. ‘Those were the old days. It’s a different world now. You look well, by the way.’
‘And you’re a very bad liar. I look like the thing I am, a monster walking the world. That’s the point of me, isn’t it? A dark warning to other potential sinners?’
‘You make too much of it. I see older-looking people whenever I’m in the community cores. Anyway, I didn’t call you here for an argument.’
‘Another problem with your secret new toy?’
‘Please,’ Chiku cautioned. ‘I really don’t want to have you marched back to that car. It wouldn’t look good for either of us.’
They reached a sealed chamber, two constables flanking the door. Chiku waved Travertine and the bulb-headed robot inside ahead of her. Her own warped reflection wobbled back at her from the robot’s reflective head as she followed them into the room. Chiku gestured to a pair of seats.
‘Have it help you sit down, then dismiss it.’
‘Your own Assembly provided that robot. Are you really that concerned about privacy?’
‘You have no idea.’
‘Ah. So I was right – there is a problem with the ship. That’s a shame. I know how much you’ve staked on it. Your life, your family . . . all sacrificed for this one thing.’ The robot helped Travertine into vis seat, then ve shooed it away as one might an over-attentive servant. ‘Go. Wait outside.’
‘Wouldn’t an exo be easier on your joints?’ Chiku said as the robot departed.
‘They wouldn’t let me have one – I think they were worried I’d turn it into a tunnelling machine or something.’
‘Where would you go?’
‘Exactly. Anyway, I don’t really mind the robot. They used to worry about me hurting myself. Now they’re more concerned about lynch mobs and lunatics. People throw rocks at me sometimes. It’s fascinating to be the focus of mass hatred. It’s very grounding. Everyone should try.’
‘Anyone who hurt you would be punished to the full extent of the law,’ Chiku said, as if that would be a comfort to Travertine if ve had been stoned to a pulp. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with the ship, by the way.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ve been thinking of it as my insurance. As long as you didn’t know how to make the thing work properly, you needed me. That was why those people used to come, with their idiot questions. Why you agreed to adjust the cuff, to hold me at this level of decrepitude.’ Ve nodded at the black ring around vis wrist, with its still-blinking status light.
‘You’re still valuable to me.’
‘I doubt it. You have your eager little experts now, and more time than you really deserve.’
‘To be honest, the work would bore you. When we launch Icebreaker and reveal ourselves to be in direct contravention of the Pemba Accord, all hell will break loose. There’ll be serious consequences – it’ll be the worst intra-caravan crisis since your trial. I believe the old political term is shitstorm. We could even lose our autonomy.’
‘And this is supposed to be encouraging?’
‘I hope so. On the day Icebreaker launches and we reveal that we’ve built the new engine, we’ll also terminate your punishment.’
‘Terminate,’ Travertine said. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘The cuff will be removed – or reprogrammed to work therapeutically, to correct some of the harm the years have already done. You’ll stop ageing and start improving each day.’
Travertine fell into a profoundly contemplative silence. Ve appeared to be gazing through dozens of metres of solid rock at something located outside Zanzibar. The moment stretched uncomfortably. Chiku dared not speak.
‘What’s the catch?’ Travertine said eventually.
‘You have to volunteer for the mission,’ Chiku said. ‘I need you anyway, but you’ll benefit, too. On the ship, you’ll be isolated from the inevitable political repercussions.’
‘What about the reversal therapies I bargained for? How do they fit in?’
‘They don’t,’ Chiku said simply. ‘We’ll carry a single physician with us, Doctor Aziba – you know him. There’ll also be a medical robot and a small surgical suite for emergencies. If any of us gets seriously ill, we’ll be put back into skipover until we’re reunited with the main caravan. That’s the best we can hope for.’
‘But aren’t your crew going into skipover from the moment of departure.’
‘Once we’ve cleared Zanzibar and run some engine tests.’
‘So basically you’re offering me . . . nothing. The cuff will have no effect in skipover, so when I wake up at the other end of the journey, I’ll be exactly the way I am now!’
‘Except the cuff won’t be making you any worse. Beyond that, you’ll have the promise of an official pardon and all the reversal therapies we can throw at you when the caravan arrives, which will be about ten years after we get to Crucible.’ Chiku took a deep breath, convinced she had only this one chance to make her case. ‘This is the best I can do. There isn’t time between now and the launch date to put you through any useful therapy – it’ll be difficult enough to prepare you for skipover. I wish I could give you everything you want, everything you deserve, but I can’t. I still need you on Icebreaker. I can’t begin to tell you how much I need you on that ship.’
Travertine leaned towards her. ‘What do you know that no one else does? What brought you here? What are you not telling everyone?’
‘I just need you on that ship.’
‘You love your children. How old are they now?’
Chiku had to think for a second. ‘Mposi is eighteen, Ndege a year older.’
‘So they’re young people now, entering adulthood. You’ll be taking them with you, right?’
‘No. It’ll be better for them if they stay here, with Noah.’
‘And if you could take all three of them? If you could persuade them, or force them?’
‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Whatever’s driving you – you’ve already put it before your marriage. Now you’re ready to step away from your children as well?’
‘It’s not like that. If there was some other way—’
‘But there isn’t.’
‘No.’
Travertine nodded slowly. ‘Tell me one thing. Will all be revealed once we’re on the ship and away from Zanzibar?’
‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what we’ll find until we get there.’
‘That’s nonsense. We all know what we’ll find. Haven’t you been to the Anticipation Parks? They even let a horror like me walk around those. What don’t we already know about Crucible?’
‘Everything,’ Chiku said, and on that single word, perhaps the most important of her life, balanced almost more than she could begin to grasp. Not just Zanzibar, not just holoships and caravans, but the fates of worlds and civilisations. More than love and death.
Travertine moved to raise verself from the seat, then winced. ‘I’ll need the robot, I’m afraid.’
Chiku nodded. But instead of summoning the machine, she moved to assist her friend. ‘This decision I’m asking you to make . . . when can I expect your answer?’
‘Silly you, Chiku. You already have it.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
No one dared call it launch day. Even now the prospect felt unreal, impossible to square with the ordinary trajectory of her morning so far.
She had risen as normal and met with Noah and the children just before they set off for college, exchanging the usual strained but cordial small talk. Then she shared a transit pod with Noah, back to the administrative core, both of them acting as if nothing of consequence lay ahead of her that day. Two eager mid-level functionaries rode with them in the pod, clotting the air with maps and diagrams of Zanzibar’s interior while they debated vital matters of resource allocation. Noah and Chiku wisely said nothing.
Later there would be tears, she knew that. In the last few hours before the launch, before their secr
et was revealed to the rest of the caravan, Ndege and Mposi would be pulled out of college. She would meet them again and attempt to explain herself – attempt to make them understand why she had to do this baffling, cruel thing to them.
They would not understand, of course – not here and now. But she could give them words to carry with them after she was gone, and at some point they might come to understand, if not forgive.
When they arrived at their destination, Chiku and Noah quickly took their leave of the other politicians and functionaries who had shared the same pod. They made their way out of the transit terminal, down the long approach to the Assembly Building. Citizens and journalists watched her pass, but none approached her. Something in Chiku’s stride and determination, projecting a hard repulsive field the way a planet deflected solar radiation.
‘On Earth,’ she told Noah, ‘Chiku Yellow had to run into that building to escape a war machine. Inside, there were wild cats – panthers, I think they were, black and very powerful. The Mechanism was malfunctioning somehow, which made them more likely to attack. They hunted us deep inside the household.’
Noah lengthened his stride to match hers. ‘This is the first time you’ve talked about that incident. Why the change of heart?’
‘If not now, when? I’m grateful that you never pushed, never used what you knew against me.’
‘You might not have trusted me, Chiku, but I always trusted you to do the right thing, in your own fashion. Have you seen her lately?’
‘Nowhere near as much as I’d have liked. She’s fine, though – much better than she was, actually.’
‘And she’s . . . fully in the picture?’
‘Absolutely. I talked everything over with her, ran almost every decision I took past her for a second opinion. You can dump some of the blame on her, if you like.’
‘Seems a bit pointless.’