The Night's Dawn Trilogy (55 page)

She had acquiesced with bad grace.

The baby Kiint was about two metres long, its body more rounded than the adults’ and slightly whiter. The legs were a metre
high, which brought the top of the head level with Ione’s. It was clearly having a rare old time in the water. The tractamorphic
arms were formshifting at a frantic rate, first scoops, then paddles slapped about to raise sheets of spray, now bulblike
pods which squirted out jets of water. Its beak was flapping open and shut.

The parents were patting and stroking it with their arms as it charged about in circles. Then it caught sight of Ione.

Panic. Alarm. Incredulity. Thing has not enough legs. Topple walk. Fall over not. Why why why? What is it?

Ione blinked against the sudden wash of jumbled emotions and frantic questions that seemed to be shouted into her mind.

That’ll teach you to creep up on entities,
Tranquillity said drily.

The baby Kiint butted up against Lieria’s flank, hiding itself from Ione.

What is it? What is it? Fear strangeness.

Ione caught the briefest exchange of mental images that the adult Kiints directed at the baby, an information stream more
complex than anything she’d known before. The speed was bewildering, over almost as it began.

She stopped with her feet in the warm, clear water and gave the adults a small bow.
Nang, Lieria, I came to offer my congratulations on the birth, and to see if your child has any special requirements. My apologies
if I intrude.

Thank you, Ione Saldana,
Lieria said. There was a suggestion of lofty amusement behind the mental voice.
Your interest and concern is gratifying, no apology is required. This is Haile, our daughter.

Welcome to Tranquillity, Haile,
Ione told the baby, projecting as much warmth and delight as she could muster. It came easily, the little Kiint was so cute.
Very different from the solemn adults.

Haile pushed her head comically round Lieria’s neck, huge violet-tinged eyes looked steadily at Ione.
It communicates! Alive think.

There was another fast mental communiquÉ from one of the adults. The baby turned to look at Nang, then back at Ione. The tumult
of emotions leaking into the affinity band began to slow.

Formal address wrongness. Much sorriness. Greetings ritual observance.
The thoughts stopped abruptly, almost like a mental gathering of breath.
Hello Ione Saldana. Rightness?

Very much.

Human you are?

I am.

I Haile am.

Hello, Haile, I’m pleased to meet you.

Haile squirmed round excitedly, water frothed around her eight feet.
It likes me! Happiness feel much.

I’m glad.

Human identity query: Part of the all-around?

She means me,
Tranquillity said.

No, I’m not part of the all-around. We’re just good friends.

Haile surged forward, ploughing the water aside. She still hadn’t quite got the hang of walking, and her rear pair of legs
almost tripped her up.

This time Ione could understand the adults’ warning perfectly.
Careful!

Haile stopped a metre short of her. Warm breath exhaled from the facial vents smelt slightly spicy, and the tractamor-phic
arms waved about. She held her hand out, palm facing the baby, fingers spread. Haile tried to imitate the hand; her attempt
looked like a melted wax model.

Fail! Sorrowness. Show me how, Ione Saldana. I can’t, mine’s always like this.

Haile emitted a burst of shock.

Ione giggled.
It’s all right. I’m very happy with the way I am.

It is rightness?

It is rightness.

There is so much strangeness to life,
Haile said wistfully.

You’re right there.

Haile bent her neck almost double to look back round at her parents. The fast affinity exchange which followed made Ione feel
woefully inadequate.

Are you my friend, Ione Saldana?
Haile asked tentatively.

I think I could be, yes.

Will you show me the all-around? It has a vastness. I don’t want to go alone. Loneliness fear.

It would be a pleasure,
she said, surprised.

Haile’s arms hit the water sending up a giant plume of spray. Ione was instantly drenched. She pulled the wet hair from her
eyes, sighing ruefully.

You have no liking of water?
Haile asked anxiously.

I’ll have you know I’m a better swimmer than you.

Much gleeful!

Ione,
Tranquillity said.
The
Lady Macbeth
has just emerged from a ZTT jump. Joshua has requested docking permission.

“Joshua!” Ione shouted. Too late she remembered Kiint did have auditory senses.

Haile’s arms writhed in alarm.
Panic. Fright. Joy shared.
She shied back from Ione and promptly fell down.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ione splashed towards her.

Nang and Lieria came up and slipped their arms under Haile’s belly, while the baby Kiint coiled an arm tip around Ione’s hand.
She tugged.

Query Joshua identity?
Haile asked as she regained her feet and stood swaying unsteadily.

He’s another friend of mine.

More friends? My friend? I meet him?

Ione opened her mouth—then thought about it. Away at the back of her mind Tranquillity was registering a serene hauteur.

Ione closed her mouth.
I think we’ll wait until you understand humans a little better.

It was almost an infallible rule that to be an Edenist a human must have affinity and live in a habitat; certainly every Edenist
returned to a habitat for their death, or had their thoughts transferred to one after death. Physically, the bitek systems
integral to their society were capable of sustaining a very high standard of living at little financial cost: the price of
steering asteroidal rubble into a habitat maw, the internal mechanical systems like starscraper lifts and the tube carriage
network. Culturally though the symbiosis was much more subtle. With the exception of Serpents, there were no psychological
problems among the Edenist population; although they displayed a full emotional range, as individuals there were all extremely
well adjusted. The knowledge that they would continue as part of the habitat personality after bodily death acted as a tremendous
stabilizing influence, banishing a great many common human psychoses. It was a liberation which bestowed them with a universal
confidence and poise that Adamists nearly always considered to be unbridled arrogance. The disparity in wealth between the
two cultures also contributed to the image of Edenists being humanity’s aristocrats.

Edenism, then, was dependent on habitats. And bitek habitats were only to be found orbiting gas giants. They were totally
reliant on the vast magnetospheres of such worlds for power. Photosynthesis was a wholly impractical method of supplying a
habitat’s energy demands; it necessitated the deployment of vast leaf-analogue membranes, and the numerous difficulties inherent
in doing so from a rotating structure, as well as being unacceptably susceptible to damage from both particle impact and cosmic
radiation. So the Edenists were confined to colonizing the Confederation’s gas giants.

However there was one exception, one terracompatible planet which they settled successfully: Atlantis; so named because it
was a single giant ocean of salt water. Its sole exports were the seafood delicacies for which it was renowned across the
Confederation. The variety of marine life below its waves was so great that even two hundred and forty years after its discovery
barely one-third had been classified. A vast number of traders, both independent and corporate, were attracted to it; which
was why Syrinx flew
Oenone
there right after their navy duty tour finished.

Syrinx had decided to go straight into the independent trading business once her discharge order came through. The prospect
of years spent on He3 deliveries depressed her. A lot of voidhawk captains took on the tanker contracts for the stability
they offered, it was exactly what she’d done when
Oenone
started flying, but the last thing she wanted was to wind up in a rigid flight routine again; the navy had given her quite
enough of that already, a feeling the rest of the crew heartily shared (apart from Chi, who left along with all the weapons
hardware in the lower hull). Although some doubts lingered obstinately in her mind, it was a big step from the precisely ordered
navy life she was used to.

On seeing her daughter dithering, Athene pointed out that Norfolk was approaching conjunction, and spent an evening reminiscing
on her own flights to collect the planet’s fabled Tears. Three days later
Oenone
left the maintenance station dock at Romulus; new cargo cradles fitted, a new civilian registration filed, licensed by the
Confederation Astronautics Board to carry freight and up to twenty passengers, crew toroid refurbished, and crew-members in
a tigerish frame of mind.

It emerged from its wormhole terminus a hundred and fifteen thousand kilometres above Atlantis, almost directly over the dawn
terminator. Syrinx felt the rest of the crew observing the planet through the voidhawk’s sensor blisters. There was a collective
emission of admiration.

Atlantis was a seamless blue, overlaid with rucked spirals of pure white cloud. There were fewer storms than an ordinary world,
where continental and sea winds whipped up high and low air fronts in unceasing turmoil. Most of the storms below were concentrated
in the tropical zones, stirred by the Coriolis effect. Both the polar icecaps were nearly identical circles, their edges amazingly
regular.

Ruben, who was sitting in Syrinx’s day cabin in the shape-moulding couch beside her, gripped her hand a fraction tighter.
This was an excellent choice, darling. A true fresh start to our civilian life. You know, in all my years I’ve never been
here before.

Syrinx knew she was still too tense after every swallow manoeuvre, alert for hostile ships. True navy paranoia. She let the
external image bathe her mind, soothing away the old stress habits. The ocean had a delightful sapphire radiance to it.
Thank you. I think I can smell the salt already.

As long as you don’t try and drink this ocean like you did on Uighur.

She laughed at the memory of the time he had taught her how to wind surf in that beautiful deserted cove on a resort island.
Four—no five years ago. Where did the time go?

Oenone
descended into a five-hundred-kilometre orbit, complaining all the while. The planet’s gravity was exerting its inexorable
influence over local space, tugging at the stability of the voidhawk’s distortion field, requiring extra power to compensate,
a degradation which increased steadily as it approached the surface. When
Oenone
reached the injection point, it could barely generate half a gee acceleration.

There were over six hundred voidhawks (and thirty-eight blackhawks, Syrinx noted with vague disapproval), and close to a thousand
Adamist starships, sharing the same standard equatorial orbit.
Oenone
’s mass-sensitivity revealed them to Syrinx’s mind like muddy footprints across snow. Every now and then sunlight would flash
off a silvered surface betraying their position to the optical sensors. Ground to orbit craft were shuttling constantly between
them and the buoyant is lands floating far below. She saw that most of them were spaceplanes rather than the newer ion-field
craft. There was a quiet background hum in the affinity band as the void-hawks conversed and exchanged astrogation updates.

Can you find Eysk for me?
she asked.

Of course,
Oenone
replied.
Pernik Island is just over the horizon, it is midday for them. It would be easier to reach from a higher orbit,
it added with apparent innocence.

No chance. We’re only here for a week.

She sensed the affinity link to Eysk opening. They exchanged identity traits. He was fifty-eight years old, a senior in a
family business that trawled for fish and harvested various seaweeds then packaged them for transit.

My sister Pomona said I should contact you,
Syrinx said.

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,
Eysk replied.
We haven’t quite recovered from her last visit.

That’s my sister, all right. But I’ll let you decide. I’m sitting up here with a tragically empty cargo hold which needs filling.
Four hundred tonnes of the classiest, tastiest products you have.

Mental laughter followed.
Heading for Norfolk by any chance?

How did you guess?

Take a look around you, Syrinx, half the ships in orbit are loading up ready for that flight. And they place contracts a year
in advance.

I couldn’t do that.

Why not?

We just finished a Confederation Navy duty tour three weeks ago.
Oenone
has spent the time since then in dock having the combat-wasp launchers removed and standard cargo systems fitted.
She felt his mind close up slightly as he considered her request.

Ruben crossed his fingers and pulled a face.

We might have some surplus,
he declared eventually.

Great!

It’s not cheap, and it’s nowhere near four hundred tonnes.