Alastair Reynolds - Blue Remembered Earth

She did not appear upset by his tone of address. ‘I knew Memphis, Geoffrey, as well as anyone. He was an old man, but he still loved life. Whatever happened out there… it could only have been an accident.’

‘After all the years he’d been helping me? Why then and there?’

‘You don’t still believe Lucas and Hector were behind it, do you? Not now.’

‘No,’ he said, and it was true; he didn’t. Even though that realisation slammed one door and opened another, revealing an alternative no more pleasing to behold.

‘Memphis had a lot on his mind after my death,’ the construct said. ‘Too much, for one man. When things started to get complicated, and when you started asking tricky questions… I think he found it difficult to focus on everything. That was all it was: the understandable carelessness of a man under pressure.’

‘Then exactly whose fault was that?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘Mine, and mine alone,’ Eunice said. ‘I’m willing to accept that responsibility, if you accept yours.’

He kept having to remind himself that this version of Eunice was at least hazily cognisant of his grandmother’s true history. Before his arrival at Lionheart, Sunday had already integrated the contents of the helmet with her own version of the construct. The file she had uploaded to Summer Queen had been stripped down, but there was no reason to assume that this version, the one haunting him right now, was not the most complex iteration to date. Provided that he dismissed all knowledge of the artilect.

‘He never said a word about his past,’ Geoffrey told her.

‘There was no need. He’d shed it, moved on. Would it have changed anything, if you’d known Memphis was more than just a caretaker? Would you have respected him more?’ She shook her head, answering for him. ‘Don’t say “yes” because then you’d disappoint me, and I’d rather you didn’t. He was a good and loyal man, and he served this family well, and raised you and Sunday when your parents were halfway to Neptune, and neither of you turned into monsters, and that’s enough . That’s all anyone could ever ask.’ She touched her ghost hand against the back of his chair. ‘The scattering is tomorrow, isn’t it? I’d like to see it. Would that offend you?’

‘You don’t have to ask my permission,’ Geoffrey said. ‘You can be there whether I like it or not, and I wouldn’t even have to know about it.’

‘That’s exactly why I’m asking,’ Eunice said.

The next day he took an airpod out to the basin, grateful when no one else had made any overtures about accompanying him. Under other circumstances he might have put that down to their lack of interest, and been suitably offended by it. He doubted that was the case now. Sunday, Jitendra and Jumai knew he had matters of his own to attend to, and they were giving him the privacy he needed.

He flew low and fast, trying to empty his mind. It was easier said than done. Though the rains had come in force, greening land that had been parched in January, he knew the old landmarks too well for it to look truly new. He had put down too much of his life here, scratched too much of his history into the terrain. Every waterhole, every copse of trees, every trail had some personal significance, however slight. He had travelled far but he hadn’t broken the ties to this tiny part of Africa. Or the ties hadn’t let him escape.

He circled his usual study areas, relying on his own eyes to pick out the herds and lone males. It was trickier with the increased tree cover, but he’d had enough practice to be sure of not missing much. He knew the elephants’ seasonal movements, their habits and customs and favoured meeting places, and his eyes and brain were attuned to picking out shapes and associations that might have eluded the less experienced.

It did not take him long to locate Matilda and her clan – they were less than half a kay from where he’d assumed they would be – and a quick series of looping inspections established that the M-group had suffered no losses since his last survey. Indeed, there were a couple of babies calved while he was away. There’d been several pregnancies in the group at the time of his departure, so that wasn’t surprising. From the movements of the calves it was impossible to tell who the mothers had been – the babies ambled playfully from one adult to another, sharing in the overall protection and nurturing environment of the M-group.

He made one low pass, to let the elephants know he was arriving – or that someone was arriving, anyway, as they’d normally associate him with the Cessna, not an airpod – and then selected a landing site within easy range of the group. Thick lush grass buckled under the airpod’s skis. He opened the canopy and climbed out, grunting as his shoulders protested with the effort. His muscles and bones were still aching after the prolonged period of weightlessness aboard Summer Queen and Lionheart, but not so much that he felt in need of an exo.

The day was hot, dry and windless. There were no clouds and that was a propitious omen for the scattering. He had learned of the plans and approved of them, although there was still a tiny twinge of doubt at the back of his mind. Memphis had never been one for the attention-seeking gesture, and perhaps he would not entirely approve of the arrangements. But then, if the Akinya family wished to honour him, wasn’t that their prerogative?

That was for later, though. Geoffrey had other business now.

He sealed the airpod and strode through the undergrowth towards the herd. After a few paces he found a stick and grabbed it to beat the ground ahead of him. He carried nothing with him – no monitoring equipment, no sports bag stuffed with pencils and paper. Just the clothes he had on, which were already beginning to stick to his skin. He had made a mental note to allow himself time to change before they all went out from the household – Sunday wasn’t going to get a chance to accuse him of smelling of dung this time. It wasn’t the heat making him sweat, though. Geoffrey was nervous.

‘It’s me,’ he called, as he always did. ‘Geoffrey. I’ve come back.’

He pushed through the trees and bushes, whacking the ground with the stick and calling to announce his approach. From close ahead he heard the threat rumble of an adult female, and then he made out the humped forms of a couple of outlying herd members. He noted their shapes and ear profiles, recognising them as individuals. Still whacking the ground and announcing his arrival, he circled around the pair. He leapt a narrow brook and nearly twisted his ankle on landing. The stick had served its purpose, so he threw it away. He crossed behind another stand of trees and found a group of six elephants, with Matilda facing him. Behind the M-group matriarch stood Molly and Martha, two high-ranking females, both of whom had scarred foreheads, one tusk missing and heavily battle-damaged ears. Melissa, the young elephant that Memphis had helped Geoffrey inject with nanomachines, stood between Molly and Martha, her head lowered and her eyes brimming with alert watchfulness. Two yet-to-be-named calves moved among the larger elephants.

Geoffrey moved into sunlight. He walked slowly, but with all the authority and confidence he could muster. He didn’t doubt that the elephants were aware of his fear, broadcast through the chemical medium of his sweat. But at least he could look the part.

Matilda broke away from the group, taking a handful of lumbering steps in his direction. She emitted a rumble and flicked dirt with her trunk. Not at him, exactly, but a kind of diagonal warning shot across his bows. There was something dismissive in the gesture, as if he scarcely warranted more effort than that. Geoffrey raised his open hands and stood his ground. Such behaviour wasn’t out of character for Matilda. It didn’t imply hostile intent so much as a ritualistic reminder of her status, the way a queen might demand that her courtiers approach the throne bent double and suppliant.