The Fall of Tartarus (28 page)

They
set off before sunrise in the morning, the steady throb of the engine the only
sound in the pre-dawn stillness. Cahla seemed her normal self, and Jenner
refrained from questioning her about her sadness of the night before.

For
the next few miles the river was entirely overgrown with a verdant mat of
vegetation. They proceeded down a long, twilit tunnel in which the territorial
cries of birds and beasts echoed eerily. Makhabi seemed all the more alert
today. He sat bolt upright with his blow-pipe raised to his lips.

Cahla
explained in a whisper, ‘Here, bad haranga from trees drop. Quickly kill us,
eat. Careful. Careful must be.’

At
last they emerged from the covered stretch of river, the daylight blindingly
bright to eyes grown accustomed to the aqueous half-light. For the next few
hours they made good speed along a winding length of river free from algae and
weeds. Around noon, after a light meal, Cahla offered to take over at the
tiller. They exchanged positions, and Jenner made himself as comfortable as
possible in the bottom of the boat, and dozed.

He
was awoken by Cahla some time later. ‘Jen, Jen. Now wake up.’

They
were no longer moving; the engine was silent. Jenner sat up, working the aches
from his back. ‘Have we arrived?’

‘Nai,’
Cahla said. ‘Now long walk.’

He
stepped onto the bank of the river and between them they ferried the provisions
ashore. Makhabi unfastened his own boat, and tied both craft to the bole of a
tree. Then he spoke to Cahla.

She
translated, ‘Four, five hour walk, say he.’

They
divided the canisters of water between them and set off into the jungle along a
well-worn path, Makhabi leading the way and Cahla bringing up the rear. They
halted repeatedly to allow Jenner to rest and take water. Already his shirt was
rank with sweat, and he was feeling light-headed. After three hours he
exchanged positions with Cahla and watched the girl negotiate the uneven
surface of the jungle floor with swift-footed ease, effortlessly at home in
this hostile environment.

They
came upon the encampment of the Ey’an people without warning. One moment they
were striding through the jungle, identical to every other stretch they had
traversed, and then they were on the edge of a vast clearing, the absence of
trees allowing the sunlight to fall
en bloc -
so that for the first few
seconds the details of the camp were lost in a blinding dazzle. Jenner shielded
his eyes, made out a series of small, conical huts flanking the clearing; at
the far end was a long communal hut raised above the ground on stilts.

Only
then did Jenner notice the people. They stood about in one and twos; men, women
and naked children, all tall, tanned and fair, the males of the tribe daubed
with verdant stripes like Makhabi’s. They had ceased what they had been doing
to turn and stare at the sudden appearance of Jenner and his companions, and he
felt uncomfortable under the weight of their collective attention.

Then
he saw something which increased his pulse and sent a prickling sensation
across his scalp.

Across
the clearing stood McKenzie’s flier, its bulbous glass fuselage reflecting the
sunlight, rotors drooping.

Before
he could react, gather his thoughts and question Makhabi, a welcoming committee
of three Ey’an people, two old men and a woman, approached from the communal
hut and crossed the clearing. From somewhere, more tribes-people emerged. They
stood on the periphery of the clearing, a packed gallery of silent spectators.

The
three elders paused before Jenner.

Their
expressions were unsmiling, which in itself was not unusual. Even so, Jenner
thought he detected an air of hostility in their manner.

‘Jenner?’
the old woman said. ‘Come. Follow.’

Before
the three turned, Jenner asked, ‘McKenzie and Patel? Where are they?’

‘Later.
Now, come.’

Only
then did he wonder how the woman had come to learn English. He looked around
for Cahla, as much to see a friendly face as for some explanation, but in his
trepidation he could not make her out among the other tribes-people.

He
followed the three elders across the clearing, aware of a thousand pairs of
eyes monitoring his progress. He arrived at the communal hut and followed the
elders up a flimsy ladder lashed together from saplings.

The
interior of the hut was dim. From the entrance he was unable to see more than a
few metres before him. He could, however, make out the rattan walls on either
side, and two rows of silent, seated Ey’an people. The elders proceeded slowly,
with a certain ceremony, down the aisle formed by the tribes-people. Someone at
his side - he saw that it was Makhabi - touched his arm in a gesture for him to
follow.

As
he walked, the far end of the hut resolved itself. Two figures were seated in
front of him, cross-legged. The elders joined the seated figures, so that now a
phalanx of five Ey’an people confronted him. Makhabi gestured for him to sit
down. Stiffly, tired after the trek through the jungle, Jenner lowered himself
to the floor.

Later
he would look back in amazement at how the human mind could absorb so much
shock and still continue to function. He was surprised at how calm he was,
then, as he stared into the shadows and saw his wife.

‘Laura
. . . ?’

It
was
Laura - four years older, thinner, totally grey-haired now, but Laura
still. She was not smiling, but Jenner told himself that her expression
softened as she looked upon his confusion.

‘Jen,
welcome to the Ey’an-heth, the wise council of the Ey’an.’

She
was naked but for a loincloth, and her tanned torso was painted with green
slashes. The shock was making him dizzy. ‘Laura?’

‘I’ve
been rehearsing this meeting for a long time, Jen,’ she said softly, ‘dreading
the inevitable and knowing that it was necessary, for both of us. Listen to me
and try to understand. I know you will feel anger, resentment - those feelings
are natural - but try to control them, understand what I have to tell you.’

Jenner
cradled his head in his hands. ‘I don’t think I can understand anything now.
None of this makes any sense.’

‘Please,
listen to me. Four years ago I left you and the Station and found ... I found
what for years I had been looking for, without really understanding that I had
been looking for anything. It happens like that - you know what you have been
seeking only when you find it. And I found it among the Ey’an people.’

It
was all he could do to stare at her.

‘Ever
since . . . what happened to Rebecca, I was dissatisfied with what I had, with
what I could attain from the life I was leading.’

‘I
meant that little to you!’

‘It
was nothing to do with you. It was just ... I needed another life. A life of
simplicity and certainty, a life close to the earth.’

Jenner
interrupted, ‘You can’t be happy here, among
these
people . . . You’re
an intelligent woman.’

‘And
I thought you were an intelligent man, Jen. I thought you might possibly have
understood that even a so-called unsophisticated people can be wise and
compassionate.’

As
she spoke, Jenner recognised the Laura of old, the Laura he had loved — and he
wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, and in so doing erase the misery
of his loss.

She
was speaking. ‘I wanted to tell you all this, Jen - but it was not the reason I
asked you here.’ She paused, looked around at the elders. They gestured,
inclined their heads.

She
continued, ‘The Ey’an people want you to know that they are happy here and wish
to remain on Tartarus until the very end, that they do not wish to undergo the
evacuation you are here to oversee. The Ey’an worship the power and the
inevitability of the supernova, and will seek its salvation when the great day
comes. In the aftermath of the firestorm, we will be reunited with our
ancestors, and the ones we have loved and lost—’

He
stared at her. Slowly, understanding came to him. ‘You believe that by staying
here, Rebecca will be returned to you?’

Her
gaze was unremitting. ‘It is what my people believe. They crave reunion with
their ancestors, who have become Gods. Don’t you see that to remove these
people from here, from their very roots, would destroy them?’

He
gestured feebly. ‘Laura . . . it’s my duty to ensure the complete evacuation of
all tribal peoples from this continent. I . . .’

‘Let
me warn you,’ Laura said, strength in her tone, ‘that we do not intend to leave
Tartarus.’ She called out something in an alien tongue, and there was activity
behind the seated elders.

‘This
will serve as a warning,’ she said, and the brutality of her tone sent a shiver
of foreboding through Jenner. ‘We had to make a stand, a gesture of our intent.
I suggest that you take heed.’

As
she spoke, four Ey’an people carried two crude stretchers from the shadows, and
laid them between the elders and Jenner.

He
could only stare. He felt something freeze within him as he looked upon the
contorted bodies of McKenzie and Patel, at the long darts protruding from their
chests. The shadows within the hut concealed their faces, and for this he was
thankful.

‘How
could you . . . ?’ he cried.

‘If
it will persuade you of the wishes of the Ey’an people, then their sacrifice
will have been worthwhile. It was the only way we had of demonstrating that we
have the means to resist all your efforts to remove us. If you come for us in
future, we will be ready.’

‘You
don’t know what evil you’ve committed, in the name of your so-called freedom,’
he said. ‘Not only the deaths of McKenzie and Patel, but the genocide of the
Ey’an, the extinction of all future generations.’

He
climbed to his feet, sick with the heat and the turn of events. ‘If you think
you’ve heard the end of this—’ he began.

Laura
stood and faced him. ‘Is that a threat? Do you mean that you will return with
reinforcements, after tracing us with your trinkets?’

He
stared down at her. ‘How . . . ?’ he began.

He
was aware of the eyes of the Ey’an people, laughing at his bewilderment.

‘You
tortured—’ he said, gesturing towards the bodies. Before putting his friends to
death, had they tortured them to extract the information about the gifts?

‘We
tortured no one. They died swiftly and without pain.’

‘Then
how . . . ?’

‘I
thought you might resort to trickery to effect our evacuation. We fought like
with like. We had to know what you were planning.’

‘I
don’t understand,’ he said, his heart thumping with sudden dread.

‘We
had to have someone in the Station itself,’ Laura said.

Her
words filled him with disbelief. ‘Cahla?’ he whispered.

‘We
had to do it,’ she said, unsmiling. ‘It was the only way.’

‘How
. . .’ he managed, ‘how could you be so . . .’

‘We
had to save our people. All else does not matter.’

Jenner
cried openly. ‘She’s coming back with me! You can’t take her—!’

‘Jen,’
Laura said, something approaching tenderness in her tone, ‘please go now. Cahla
is one of us, and always will be.’

No!’
He wanted to argue, wanted to hit out at her, and at the same time wanted only
to be far away from the woman who had once been his wife.

Makhabi
gripped his upper arm and escorted him from the hut and into the clearing. He
shook himself free from the tribesman’s grip, calling Cahla’s name and dashing
like a madman among the Ey’an. Makhabi caught him with ease, strong arms
restricting his movement. A thousand pairs of eyes watched him as he stumbled
towards the jungle path. He stared into every face; if only Cahla could see him
now, witness the straits into which she’d cast him, then surely she would
return with him ... He wanted to find her, tell her that he forgave her for
what she had done, that he understood; he wanted to ask her if her affection
had been genuine, or nothing more than an act.

But,
though he often thought he saw her among the myriad Ey’an faces, he could not
be certain.

He
stopped defiantly at the edge of the clearing, looked back in an attempt to
make out the girl, if only to retain in his mind’s eye a last picture of her to
carry with him from the planet. The only face he recognised was his wife’s:
Laura was standing beside the ladder of the communal hut, staring at him across
the clearing.

Then
Makhabi took his arm and forced him into the jungle.

He
recalled nothing later of the long walk to the river, escorted all the way by
the tribesman - only the eventual sight of the sluggish river and the ball of
the setting sun. He climbed aboard his boat and started the engine. As he moved
slowly away from the bank without a backward glance, his speed impeded by the
surface weeds, he was overcome by the weight of a terrible depression at the
thought of the fate to which his wife had consigned herself, Cahla, and the
Ey’an people.