Blue Remembered Earth (49 page)

So he was in trouble, unquestionably. But he still had every reason to distrust the cousins, every reason to think that they would not waste a moment in erasing Eunice’s legacy.

Still in his room, with the door ajar, he used Truro’s secure quangle path to ching Tiamaat.

‘There’s been a development,’ Geoffrey said, when the smooth-faced merman had assumed form.

‘You’re referring to the disposal plans?’ Truro, who was half-submerged in pastel-blue lather, gave a vigorous blubbery nod. ‘I assumed that would have come to your attention as well. There’s no timescale for the operation, but we can safely assume it will be sooner rather than later, now that permission has been granted.’

‘There’s something else. I’ve just done something . . . impetuous. Or stupid.’ Geoffrey lowered his gaze, unable to look at the Pan directly. ‘I confronted the cousins.’

‘Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.’

‘And I tried hitting one of them.’

‘Ah,’ Truro said, after a moment’s reflection. ‘I see. And this . . .
act
– was it—’

‘The Mechanism intervened.’

‘Oof.’ He blinked his large dark seal eyes in sympathy. ‘Painful, I’ll warrant. And doubtless fairly humiliating as well.’

‘I’ve had better mornings.’

‘Any, um, history of this kind of thing?’

‘I don’t routinely go around trying to hit people, no.’ But he had to think carefully. ‘Got into a fight when I was a teenager, over a card game. Or a girl. Both, maybe. That was the last time. Before that, it was just the usual stuff we do in childhood, so that we understand how things work.’

‘Then I doubt there’ll be any lasting complications. We’re animals, at the core, even after the Enhancements: the Mechanism doesn’t expect sainthood. All the same . . . it does complicate things
now
.’

‘That’s what I was thinking.’

‘Usual protocol in this situation would be a period of . . . probationary restraint, I think they call it – denial of aug and ching rights, restricted freedom of movement, and so forth – until a team of experts decides you aren’t a permanent menace to society and can be allowed to get on with your life without further enhancement . . . with a caution flag appended to your behavioural file, of course. The next time you’re involved in anything similar, the Mechanism won’t hesitate to assume you’re the initiating party . . . and it may dial up its response accordingly.’

No bones: the Mechanism would kill, if killing prevented the taking of an innocent life. Just because it didn’t happen very often didn’t mean that the threat was absent. Geoffrey’s crime put him a long way down the spectrum from the sort of offender likely to merit that kind of intervention. But still . . . just being on the same spectrum: he wasn’t too thrilled about that.

‘What do I do?’

‘We need to get you to Tiamaat before probationary restraint kicks in. A human has to be involved in that process, probably someone with a dozen or so pending cases already in their workfile. That means we may have an hour or two.’

‘Once I’m in Tiamaat, how does that help?’

‘We have . . . ways and means. But you need to get to us, Geoffrey. We can’t come to you now.’

He looked around the little room, underfurnished and impersonal, like a hotel he’d just checked into. He realised he wouldn’t miss it if he never saw it again. Other than a few knick-knacks, there was nothing of him here.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Make haste,’ Truro said. ‘And speed. Haste and speed, very good things right now.’

Jumai was swimming lengths, cutting through the water like a swordfish, all glossy sleekness and speed. She made this basically inhuman activity appear not only workable but the one viable solution to the problem of moving.

‘I thought we might take a flight, around the area,’ he said vaguely when she paused for breath at one end of the pool, elbows on the side.

‘Is there stuff you need to deal with, to do with Memphis?’

‘Nothing that can’t wait.’

‘You all right, Geoffrey?’ She was looking at his trousers and shirt. ‘Why’ve you changed?’

He offered a shrug. ‘Felt like it.’

She shrugged in return, appearing to accept his explanation. ‘Mind if I do a few more lengths?’

He nodded at the clear blue horizon. It was untrammelled by even the wispiest promise of clouds, the merest hint of the weather system they’d flown through around Kigali. ‘There’s a front coming in. I thought we’d try and duck around it.’

‘A front? Really?’

‘Revised weather schedule,’ he offered lamely.

‘And this can’t wait?’

‘No,’ he said, trusting that she’d understand him, read the message in his eyes that he couldn’t say aloud. ‘No, it can’t.’

‘OK. Then I guess it’s time to get out of the water.’

She changed quickly, hair still frizzy from being towel-dried when she rejoined him. Geoffrey was anxious, wondering when the iron clamp of probationary restraint was going to slam down on him.

‘What’s up?’ she asked him, sotto voce, as they headed towards the parked airpods.

‘Something.’

‘To do with me being here?’

‘It’s not you.’ He was answering in the same undertone. ‘But I need you with me.’

‘Is this about the job?’

‘Might be.’

He beckoned the closest airpod to open itself. Jumai climbed in confidently, Geoffrey right behind her. It was only as he entered the cool of the passenger compartment that he realised how much he’d been sweating. It was drying on him, cold-prickling his forehead.

‘Manual,’ he voked, and waited for the controls to slide out of their hidden ports, unfolding and assembling with cunning speed into his waiting grasp. A moment passed, then another. His hands were still clutching air.

‘Manual,’ Geoffrey repeated.

‘I’m afraid that manual flight authority is not available,’ the airpod said, with maddening pleasantness. ‘Please give a destination or vector.’

Jumai glanced at Geoffrey. ‘You’re locked out?’

‘Take me to Tiamaat Aqualogy,’ he said.

‘That destination is not recognised,’ the airpod replied. ‘Please restate.’

‘Take me to the sea, over the Somali Basin.’

‘Please be more specific.’

‘Head due east.’

‘I’m afraid that vector is not acceptable.’

‘You’re not allowed to take me
east
?’

‘I am not permitted to accept any destinations or vectors that would involve flight over open water.’

Geoffrey shook his head, confounded. ‘Who put this restriction on you?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not permitted—’

‘Never mind.’ Geoffrey clenched his fists, giving up on the airpod. He cracked the canopy, letting out the bubble of cool, scented air, letting the African heat back in. ‘Fucking Lucas and Hector.’

Jumai pushed herself out. ‘They’ll have locked them all down, won’t they?’

‘All the airpods,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Not the Cessna.’

It was parked at the end of the row of flying machines, already turned around ready for taxi. ‘Engine start,’ Geoffrey voked before they’d even got there. The prop began to turn, the hydrogen-electric engine almost silent save for a rising locust hum that quickly passed into ultrasound. That was good, at least: he didn’t think that the cousins had the means to block his control of the Cessna, but there was little he’d put past them now.

‘If you knew they couldn’t stop the Cessna,’ Jumai said, ‘why didn’t we—’

The hydrogen feed line was unplugged, lying on the ground next to the plane. Geoffrey had connected the line when he’d arrived, still focused enough to do that, but he had no idea when the cousins had come along to remove it.

‘Watch the prop-wash.’ Geoffrey opened the door and allowed Jumai to climb under the shade of the wing into the co-pilot’s position. He removed the chocks and joined her in the cockpit. Skipping the flight-readiness checks, he released the brakes and revved the engine to taxi power. The Cessna began to roll, bumping over dirt and wheel ruts on its way to the take-off strip. Only now did Geoffrey check the fuel gauge. Lower than he’d have wished, but not empty. He thought there was enough to make it to Tiamaat.

‘We’re running away, aren’t we?’ Jumai said, fiddling with her seat buckle. ‘That’s basically the deal here, right?’

Geoffrey lined up the plane for take-off. ‘I screwed up. I hit Hector.’

She said it back to him as if she might have misheard.

‘You “hit” Hector.’

‘Tried. Before the Mech intervened and dropped a boulder on my skull.’

‘Ho boy.’ She was grinning, caught somewhere between delight and horror. ‘Way to go with the conflict resolution, Geoffrey.’

‘I’m at war with my family. Escalation was the logical next step.’

‘Yeah. You know, I think that’s what they call pretaliation.’ She was shaking her head. ‘And now what?’

He pushed the throttle to take-off power. The Cessna surged forward, the ride bumpy at first until sheer speed smoothed out the undulations in the ground. ‘We’re on our way to Tiamaat.’

‘Too cheap to send their own plane?’

‘They can’t now I’ve got myself into trouble with the Mechanism. They won’t be rushing into a direct stand-off with the family, either.’

They were at take-off speed. He rotated and took them into the air.

‘Something about you has changed,’ Jumai said. ‘I’m not sure it’s good, but something’s definitely changed. You used to be boring.’

‘And now?’ Geoffrey made a steep left turn, bringing them back over the white and blue ‘A’ of the household.

‘Less so.’ Jumai loosened her seat buckle. ‘So – how far to the coast?’

‘About five hundred kilometres.’ He eyed the fuel gauge again, wondering if he was being optimistic. ‘Call it two hours of flight time. And then we still have to get out to Tiamaat.’ He patted the console. ‘But we’re good.’

‘We’d be better off walking.’

‘She’s an old machine, but that’s good – cousins can’t touch old machines.’

‘Maybe it isn’t the cousins we should be worrying about,’ Jumai said. ‘Especially if you’ve just pissed off the Mechanism.’

Geoffrey smiled. The household wheeled below. Two figures were standing by one of the walls, looking up at him with hands visoring their eyes. He waggled the wings and aimed for the ocean.

Not that it was ever going to be that simple, of course. They had not been in the air for more than ten minutes when two airpods closed in, one on each side, pincering the Cessna with only a wing’s width to spare. Geoffrey took his eyes off the horizon just long enough to confirm that it was the cousins. They were flying in the same two machines that had been parked on the ground near Memphis’s body: Hector to starboard, Lucas to port.

‘I think they want to talk,’ Jumai said. ‘Someone keeps trying to push a figment through.’

‘They can fuck off. We’re long past the point of reasoned discussion.’ He had been rebuffing figment requests since he had taunted the cousins from the air. There was nothing he wanted to hear from them now.

‘They’re getting pretty close. I know airpods can’t collide with each other, but . . .’ She left the sentence hanging.

‘Don’t worry,’ Geoffrey said. ‘If they do anything that even
looks
as if it’s an attempt to force us down, suddenly I’m not going to be the main thing on the Mechanism’s mind.’

‘That’ll be a great consolation as they’re scooping me off the ground.’

‘We’re not going to crash. Anyway, this should be a walk in the park for you, the queen of high-risk data recovery. You laugh in the face of explosives and nerve gas.’

‘Geoffrey,’ a voice said, cutting through his thoughts like an icebreaker. ‘I’m sorry to use this channel, but you’ve left me with no option.’

‘Get out of my skull, Lucas.’

Jumai looked at him in dismay, not hearing the cousin.

‘I would,’ Lucas said, ‘if I thought you’d accede to communication through a more orthodox channel.’

‘What’s happening?’ Jumai asked.

‘Lucas has found a way into my head,’ Geoffrey said, having to shout to drown out the voice that was still droning on between his ears. ‘Don’t know how.’

He didn’t. Even Memphis couldn’t reach him when he didn’t want to be reached, and there was no reason to suppose that the cousins had any secret voodoo that offered them a back door into Geoffrey’s mind. They’d have used it already if that was the case, when they were trying to contact him about Memphis being killed.

‘It’s simple enough,’ Lucas was saying. ‘You’ve fled the scene of a high-level intervention before a risk-assessment team had the chance to interview you. The Mechanism takes a fairly dim view of that. They’d shut you down again if there wasn’t a risk of endangering both you and your hostage.’

‘She’s not my hostage,’ Geoffrey said.

‘Tell that to the authorities, cousin. The Mech’s given me direct-access privilege because I’m kin and I might be able to talk you out of making this worse for yourself.’