Alastair Reynolds - Poseidon's Wake

‘Is that where we’re headed?’

‘You’d think so, and it would be a good guess if you didn’t know about the superterran. Remember the waterworld — Poseidon?’

Goma nodded — she recalled trying to clutch the pure blue ball in her fingers, to steal it from the Knowledge Room.

‘There are artificial structures rising from its waters. Not another Mandala this time — something different, but just as fascinating. Anomalous-looking moons, too, in orbits you wouldn’t expect to occur naturally. All very odd, all very enticing. I’m inclined to rate it as a higher priority than the second Mandala. After all, we already know quite a bit about one of those.’

‘Not as much as we’d like.’

‘True. But then there’s also the signal — aimed directly at us during our approach.’

‘From Poseidon?’

‘No — not from Paladin, either, or even the rock orbiting it. The point of origin is Orison, another one of the planets. Based on its characteristics, we think it likely that the sender is the same one who transmitted the original signal — which is the reason we’re here at all. See what you make of it.’

Vasin looked to the wall next to the gloomy painting where a scramble of geometric forms, a hash of numbers and symbols, gave way to a matrix of pixels assembling into a blocky, low-resolution mosaic of a human face looking back at them. Goma squinted, blurring the pixels together.

‘Eunice.’

‘Yes. Easy enough to check against the records, but it helps to have you confirm it.’

Now the face was speaking.

‘I wondered what was keeping you. Is half the speed of light really the best you can do?’ The question was clearly rhetorical, for the face continued its monologue after only the slightest of pauses. ‘Well, good that you’ve finally arrived, even if you’re not the first. Things have reached a pretty pickle and now you’re part of it. Under no circumstances respond to any transmission from Paladin or go anywhere near Poseidon. Come to me instead. Lock on to the origin of this transmission and adjust your course accordingly. I have amenities and technical know-how you may find useful. Above all else, I have knowledge. If you want to know what happened to the Trinity, I’m the one to talk to.’

The pixels rescrambled into the same blitz of numbers and symbols, then it recommenced.

Vasin permitted it to play a second time, then dulled the sound while allowing the visual to continue cycling.

‘It carries on like that — a repeating transmission, sent out in bursts every six hours. She must have set up some kind of automated send, waiting for us to answer. What do you think she means, that we’re not the first? We’ve sent no other expedition, and our government was careful to limit disclosure of the original signal. How could someone else be here before us?’

‘A ship from another system?’

‘But how would they know to come here? That transmission was aimed at us, Crucible — no one else.’

‘We assume.’

‘Rightly, I hope. That’s only the start of my worries, though. She’s expecting an answer, and we need to get off on the right footing.’

‘I should speak for us,’ Goma decided.

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s only fitting that an Akinya should make the first formal response — for what little good it will do us. Do you like the painting, by the way? Death and the Maiden .’

Goma was attempting to read Ndege’s notebooks, trying to make some sense of the hash of symbols and connecting propositions, when Doctor Nhamedjo called to say that she should come to the medical suite as quickly as possible.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Quite the contrary, Goma. Ru is on her way back to us, and I thought you would like to be here when she awakens.’

Goma snapped the notebooks shut with no small measure of guilty relief. She was in the medical suite in less than five minutes, equally relieved that she had not arrived too late. Ru was surfacing to consciousness but had not yet woken fully. Dr Nhamedjo was at her side, another of his medics — Dr Mona Andisa — on the opposite side of the bed. Neither appeared unduly concerned by the progress of their patient.

‘It worked, then,’ Goma said.

‘It counts in her favour that she is strong,’ Nhamedjo said. ‘It’s rather a severe case of AOTS, but she compensates very well. As a matter of interest, how did she ever suffer such extreme exposure? I treated one patient who was lost north of Namboze, wandering the jungles for weeks with nothing to protect them from the oxygen — a flier had gone down with a faulty transponder — but that was a very unusual set of circumstances.’

‘Self-neglect,’ Goma said. ‘Too many field trips, not enough time thinking of her own safety compared to the elephants. I’d have watched over her, but the harm was done by the time we met.’

‘She must have been fiercely dedicated to her elephants to think so little of her own well-being.’

‘They get into your blood.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard as much. Almost like an illness?’

‘I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it that way.’

‘Well, I dare say medicine is no different. We all have our magnificent obsessions.’

‘And what would yours be, Saturnin?’

‘The sanctity of human life, I suppose. The ever-unfolding challenge of doing more good than harm. But I would not pretend to share Ru’s dedication to a single cause. She will be frail for a little while, Goma. You will need to take even better care of her than usual, but I do not think that will be a problem.’

‘No, it won’t.’

He nodded towards the neural displays. ‘She is approaching consciousness. We will let you have some time alone together — you’ve earned it, both of you.’

Goma eased next to Ru and stroked the side of her face, the merest touch.

‘Come back to me, love.’

Ru woke. Her eyelids fluttered, opening to narrow slits. She was still and unresponsive for several seconds. Goma snatched a glance at the neural display, wondering if there could have been some mistake — some dreadful brain injury that had somehow escaped notice.

But then Ru said, ‘Am I awake now?’

Goma grinned. ‘You’re awake.’

‘It feels like I’ve been trying to wake up for centuries. Floating under ice, trying to find my way to the air.’

‘That’s not far from the truth. You hit some problems in skipover but you’re better now.’

‘Tell me you’re really Goma and not a figment of my imagination.’

‘I don’t feel like a figment.’ She squeezed Ru’s hand where it poked out from beneath the bedsheet. ‘It’s me — warts and all. We’ve come through. We’re here, in the other system. We all made it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened to me?’

‘The AOTS complicated your revival, but there’s no lasting damage. You’ll just need to take it easy for a few days.’

‘You’re supposed to be the centre of attention, not me.’

‘Don’t worry about that — I’m sure my time’s coming. There’s so much to catch up on! I want to tell you everything now, in one breathless rush. But there’s time. You need to wake up at your own speed.’

‘I could use a drink.’

‘My pleasure.’

Dr Andisa gave Ru a beaker of amber fluid, some kind of medicinal restorative, which Goma in turn offered to Ru’s lips. Ru sipped slowly, then eased herself into a sitting position on the bed. Goma was encouraged by this show of determination and strength.

‘Thank you,’ Ru said, taking the beaker from Goma. ‘How was it for you, coming out?’

‘I thought it was bad until I saw you.’

‘That really lifts my spirits.’