Alastair Reynolds - Absolution Gap

Grelier leant over the Dean and began dabbing at the exposed whites of his eyes. She could see neither of their faces.

“You sound as if you have misgivings,” the dean said. “And yet all the evidence suggests you were rather keen on reaching the Lady Morwenna.”

“That was before I found out where it was going. How close are we to the bridge, Dean? If you don’t mind my asking.”

‘Two hundred and fifty-six kilometres distant,“ he said.

Rashmika allowed herself a moment of relief. She sipped another mouthful of the tea. At the crawling pace the cathedrals maintained, that was sufficiently far away not to be of immediate concern. But even as she enjoyed that solace, another part of her mind quietly informed her that it was really much closer than she feared. A third of a metre a second did not sound very fast, but there were a lot of seconds in a day.

“We’ll be there in ten days,” the dean added.

Rashmika put down her tea. “Ten days isn’t very long, Dean. Is it true what they say, that you’ll be taking the Lady Morwenna over Absolution Gap?”

“God willing.”

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Forgive me, Dean, but the one thing I didn’t have in mind when I came here was dying in some suicidal folly.”

“No one’s going to die,” he told her. “The bridge has been proven able to take the weight of an entire supply caravan. Measurements have never detected an ångström of deflection under any load.”

“But no cathedral has ever crossed it.”

“Only one has ever tried, and it failed because of guidance control, not any structural problem with the bridge.”

“You think you’ll be more successful, I take it?”

“I have the finest cathedral engineers on the Way. And the finest cathedral, too. Yes, we’ll make it, Miss Els. We’ll make it and one day you’ll tell your children how fortunate you were to enter my employment at such an auspicious time.”

“I sincerely hope you’re right.”

“Did Grelier tell you that you could leave at any time?”

“Yes,” she said, hesitantly.

“It was the truth. Go now, Miss Els. Finish your tea and go. No one will stop you, and I will make arrangements for your employment in the Catherine. Good work, too.”

She was about to ask: the same good work you promised my brother? But she stopped herself. It was too soon to go barging in with another question about Harbin. She had come this far, and either extraordinary luck or extraordinary misfortune had propelled her into the heart of Quaiche’s order. She still did not know exactly what they wanted of her, but she knew she had been granted a chance that she must not throw away with one idle, ill-tempered question. Besides, there was another reason not to ask: she was frightened of what the answer might be.

“I’ll stay,” she said, adding quickly, “For now. Until we’ve talked things over properly.”

“Very wise, Miss Els,” Quaiche said. “Now, would you do me a small favour?”

“That would depend,” she said.

“I only want you to sit there and drink your tea. A gentleman is going to come into this room and he and I are going to have a little chat. I want you to observe the gentleman in question—carefully, but not obtrusively—and report your observations to me when the gentleman has departed. It won’t take long, and there’s no need for you to say anything while the man is present. In fact, it would be better if you didn’t.”

“Is that what you want me for?”

“That is part of it, yes. We can discuss terms of employment later. Consider this part of your interview.”

“And if I fail?”

“It isn’t a test. You’ve already been tested on your basic skills, Miss Els. You came through with flying colours. In this instance, I just want honest observation. Grelier, are you done yet? Stop fussing around. You’re like a little girl playing with her dolly.”

Grelier began to put away his swabs and ointments. “I’m done,” he said curtly. “That abscess has nearly stopped weeping pus/‘

“Would you care for more tea before the gentleman arrives, Miss Els?”

“I’m fine with this,” she said, holding on to her empty cup.

“Grelier, make yourself scarce, then have the Ultra representative shown in.”

The surgeon-general locked the medical cabinet, said goodbye to Rashmika and walked out of the room by a different door than the one through which they had entered. His cane tapped into the distance.

Rashmika waited. Now that Grelier had gone she felt uncomfortable in Quaiche’s presence. She did not know what to say. She had never wanted to reach him specifically. She found the very idea distasteful. It was his order she had wanted to infiltrate, and then only to the point necessary to find Harbin. It was true that she did not care how much damage she did along the way, but Quaiche himself had never been of interest to her. Her mission was selfish, concerned only with the fate of her brother. If the Adventist church continued to inflict misery and hardship on the population of Hela, that was their problem, not hers. They were complicit in it, as much a part of the problem as Quaiche. And she had not come to change any of that, unless it stood in her way.

Eventually the representative arrived. Rashmika observed his entry, remembering that she had been told to say nothing. She presumed that extended to not even greeting the Ultra.

“Come in, Triumvir,” Quaiche said, his couch elevating to something approximating a normal sitting position. “Come in and don’t be alarmed. Triumvir, this is Rashmika Els, my assistant. Rashmika, this is Triumvir Guro Harlake of the lighthugger That Which Passes , recently arrived from Sky’s Edge.”

The Ultra arrived in a shuffling red mobility contraption. His skin had the smooth whiteness of a baby reptile’s, faintly tattooed with scales, and his eyes were partially concealed behind slitted yellow contacts. His short white hair fell over his face in a stiff, foppish fringe. His fingernails were long, green, vicious as scythes, and they kept clicking against the armature of his mobility device.

“We were the last ship out during the evacuation,” the Triumvir said. “There were ships behind us, but they didn’t make it.”

“How many systems have fallen so far?” Quaiche asked.

“Eight… nine. Maybe more by now. News takes decades to reach us. They say Earth is still intact, but there have been confirmed attacks against Mars and the Jovian polities, including the Europan Demarchy and Gilgamesh Isis. No one has heard anything from Zion or Prospekt. They say every system will fall eventually. It’ll just be a matter of time until they find us all.”

“In which case, why did you stop here? Wouldn’t it have been better to keep moving outwards, away from the threat?”

“We had no choice,” the Ultra said. His voice was deeper than Rashmika had expected. “Our contract required that we bring our passengers to Hela. Contracts mean a great deal to us.”

“An honest Ultra? What is the world coming to?”

“We’re not all vampires. Anyway, we had to stop for another reason, not just because our sleepers wanted to come here as pilgrims. We had shield difficulties. We can’t make another interstellar transit without major repairs.”

“Costly ones, I’d imagine,” Quaiche said.

The Triumvir bowed his head. “That is why we are having this conversation, Dean Quaiche. We heard that you had need of the services of a good ship. A matter of protection. You feel yourself threatened.”

“It’s not a question of feeling threatened,” he said. “It’s just that in these times… we’d be foolish not to want to protect our assets, wouldn’t we?”