Poseidon's Wake

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‘What’s he doing?’

‘I wish I knew. Talk to me, Swift.’

‘It is rather serious,’ Swift answered. ‘We are drifting further from the Watchkeeper, which is encouraging, and there has been no further attack — but equally the evidence points to severely compromised guidance and propulsion capability. I am attempting to persuade the ship to let me stabilise its tumble.’

‘Persuade a bit harder, then.’

‘Do not blame Icebreaker, Kanu — the ship is doing its best. It knows it has been badly damaged and it is wisely protecting us. I will do what I can. I have some thruster channels open to me now — would you mind if I augmented their effect with the selective venting of internal air and water pressure?’

‘And bleed us dry?’

‘Volatile gases can be mined and the reserves replenished once we locate a suitable resource. Besides, only a small percentage will be required — say five to ten, depending on circumstances.’ Swift pushed on, apparently taking Kanu’s consent for granted. ‘There — we are already regaining some control. When we are properly stable, we can think of ways to assess the extent of the damage.’

‘There’s only one quick to way to do that,’ said Kanu. ‘I’ll need to go outside to see how bad things really are.’

‘With the ship caught in this tumble?’ Nissa asked. ‘You’ll be flung into space the moment you make a mistake.’

‘Then I’d better make sure I don’t. I think Swift can help with that, can’t you?’

‘If you will allow me a little more time to do what I can from this position, then we shall attempt it together.’

Slowly the tumble reduced until Kanu felt confident that he could move around inside Icebreaker without immediate injury. He instructed Swift to leave things as they were, then rose from his seat. It would still be a challenge to reach the suit locker, let alone take care of himself in vacuum with the ship still tumbling like a thrown bone, but he had to assess the damage.

‘You’re leaving me here alone?’ Nissa asked.

‘The ship’s programmed to answer to you if something goes wrong. In the meantime, we’ll still be able to talk.’

After he had struggled into the suit — Kanu would never find it a quick or easy process, despite his years on Mars — he cycled through the airlock closest to the damage, which brought him to the brink of space. He pushed his head and upper body out into true vacuum, taking in the view. The hull stretched away on either side of him — sometimes feeling as if it were a ceiling, at other times like a floor or the sheer side of a cliff. Much of it was smooth, but here and there handholds and footholds had been provided, and with some concentration he could plot a route that would take him to the damaged area, which was presently out of sight.

‘Can we do this, Swift?’

‘With care, Kanu. I will let you take the initiative until I feel the need to intervene. Maintain three points of contact at all times, and do not be distracted by the huge planet dominating your field of view.’

‘Thank you,’ Kanu said, with all the false sincerity he could muster.

But it was one thing to see Poseidon on-screen, and quite another to view it with his own eyes. Its lit face was turned to him, wrapped from pole to pole by a smothering deep ocean. As tall as the worldwheels were, they were too narrow in cross section to be visible from this distance. As he watched, a splinter-like sliver moved across the planet’s face with the perfect Newtonian slide of a dead eye cell. It was the remains of a Watchkeeper, perhaps even the one that had attacked them. He felt no anger towards the alien machine, sensing that there had been little or no intent behind the attack.

Kanu brought his whole body out of the lock, nervously grasping for a handhold, then another, until his feet could find purchase. He was not standing so much as spreadeagled on the hull, and the ship’s slow tumble made it feel as if it wanted rid of him as he spidered along. Slowly, adrenalin flooding his veins, his hands trembling with nervous concentration, he began to traverse away from the lock. His first few reaches were awkward, but he forced himself to pick up the pace, to trust to the limbs and senses that had never failed him before. The tumble was not in itself the problem — he was perfectly strong enough to hold on despite it. His real enemy was fear.

As he began to work around the hull’s curve, the lock fell away out of sight. Poseidon swung in and out of view — too large to ignore, since it was always bright and blue in his peripheral vision. He felt the world’s scrutiny on him, as if it were taking a particular interest in his fate.

Ahead was a recess in the hull, a trough a few metres deep. There was no way around it that would not take precious minutes and bring its own hazards. Crossing the trough would require a longer reach than he was used to making, but Kanu saw no practical alternative.

‘Keep your eye on me, Swift — if things go wrong out here, they’ll go wrong fast.’

‘My eye is never not on you, my friend.’

Kanu stretched across the gap, fingers grasping for the handhold on the other side. But as he pushed out into the void, his heart jumped in his chest.

‘Fuck!’

‘What is it?’ Nissa called out sharply.

‘Fuck.’

‘Calm down, Kanu,’ Swift said. ‘Having a seizure will avail neither of us.’

‘Kanu?’ Nissa called, with real concern in her voice.

‘I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to find a corpse here.’ He was staring at it, his pulse still racing. It was tucked into the space, sheathed in baroque and cumbersome armour, squatting and compressed as if ready to spring out in ambush. ‘One of the Regals,’ he went on. ‘I don’t know whose side they were on.’

‘A Regal? How in hell did a Regal get here?’

‘They must have been stuck on the side of the ship since before we left Europa. Maybe they were trying to break into the ship, or use it as a hiding space.’

‘That’s horrible.’

‘I doubt they survived more than a few seconds after we broke through the ice. Maybe there are more. We’ll have to search the whole ship at some point, I expect.’ He shivered inside the suit. He had been close to very few corpses in his time and the experience was still unpleasantly novel. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told the dead warrior.

‘Sorry for what?’ Nissa asked.

‘That I did this.’

‘You didn’t make this happen. You heard the Margrave — things were breaking down on Europa before we arrived.’

‘I certainly helped them along.’

‘Then I’ll take my share of the blame, too. I’d have ended up there even if we hadn’t met in Lisbon.’

He left the corpse, having noted its position, and approached the edge of the damage zone. Finally, his confidence improved — the corpse had pushed him over some horizon of fear into a startling sort of calm — and Kanu risked standing upright, with his toes planted firmly into footholds. Overlooking the damage, he was momentarily silent.

Although he kept telling himself that they were lucky to have survived the Watchkeeper attack at all, the impact area was worse than he had feared. It was an open wound dozens of metres long and almost as deep, cut with cruel disregard into the ripe, vital organs of his starship. Gases were venting from numerous ruptured pipes, coiling out in glittering blue-grey nebulae.

‘Can you see this, Nissa?’

‘Yes, I have a feed from your helmet. It’s not pretty. I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s going to be a five-minute repair job.’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘It’s worse than we thought,’ Swift said, then after a moment, he added, ‘We haven’t merely lost propulsion control. That area of the hull also contained your main directional antenna. With the exception of short-range communications, we are now without the means to send or receive transmissions.’

‘I’d say that was a catastrophe,’ Kanu said, ‘but no one was talking to us anyway.’

The hull was blackened in a wide area beyond the obvious limits of the wound itself, suggestive of a massive concentration of energy. He risked stepping nearer to the edge of the damaged section. Gas was still geysering out from multiple locations. It aggrieved Kanu to see any kind of pressure loss. Darkly, he began to wonder if this sort of damage was even repairable at all.

‘I need to take a closer look,’ Kanu said.

He bent down, preparing to resume his spidering progress, when something flashed white. There was no pain, and barely enough of an interval of lucidity before the coming of unconsciousness for him to register one simple truth.

He was no longer attached to anything.

He was falling into ever-darkening waters, each layer colder and heavier and stiller than the last. He was on his back, his face turned to the receding surface. He could still see some evidence of the sun, its radiance chopped into pieces by the waves, its light further diminished by the oppressive mass of water that now lay between him and the air. He reached out, trying to claw his way back to the light, but for all his slow thrashing he could not arrest his descent. He knew how to swim; that was not the problem. He was simply too heavy now, and the pull of the deep layers too powerful. He glanced beneath him, but could see nothing below except steadily mounting blackness. A little daylight still found its way to him now, but soon he would be down to a few struggling photons, feeble as glow-worms, and after that there would be nothing but darkness. An endless succession of moments in which he did not figure.