The Revelation Space Collection (475 page)

‘No,’ she said, answering me finally. ‘It wouldn’t work. I’d upset the purity of the others, spoil the harmony of the neural connections, like a single out-of-tune instrument in an orchestra. I’d make everyone else start playing out of key.’

‘I think you’re being too fatalistic. Shouldn’t we at least try to find some other Conjoiners and see what they say?’

‘That isn’t how it works,’ she said. ‘They’d have to take me back, yes, if I presented myself to them. They’d do it out of kindness and compassion. But I’d still end up harming them. It’s my duty not to allow that to happen.’

‘Then you’re saying you have to spend the rest of your life away from other Conjoiners, wandering the universe like some miserable excommunicated pilgrim?’

‘There are more of us than you realise.’

‘You do a good job keeping out of the limelight. Most people only see Conjoiners in groups, all dressed in black like a flock of crows.’

‘Maybe you aren’t looking in the right places.’

I sighed, aware that nothing I said was going to convince her that she would be better off returning to her people. ‘It’s your life, your destiny. At least you’re alive. Our word still holds: we’ll drop you at the nearest safe planet, when we next make orbitfall. If that isn’t satisfactory to you, you’d be welcome to remain aboard ship until we arrive somewhere else.’

‘Your captain would allow that? I thought he was the one who wanted to leave the wreck before you’d found me.’

‘I’ll square things with the captain. He isn’t the biggest fan of Conjoiners, but he’ll see sense when he realises you aren’t a monster.’

‘Does he have a reason not to like me?’

‘He’s an old man,’ I said simply.

‘Riven with prejudice, you mean?’

‘In his way,’ I said, shrugging. ‘But don’t blame him for that. He lived through the bad years, when your people were first coming into existence. I think he had some first-hand experience of the trouble that followed.’

‘Then I envy him those first-hand memories. Not many of us are still alive from those times. To have lived through those years, to have breathed the same air as Remontoire and the others . . .’ She looked away sadly. ‘Remontoire’s gone now. So are Galiana and Nevil. We don’t know what happened to any of them.’

I knew she must have been talking about pivotal figures from earlier Conjoiner history, but the people of whom she spoke meant nothing to me. To her, cast so far downstream from those early events on Mars, the names must have held something of the resonance of saints or apostles. I thought I knew something of Conjoiners, but they had a long and complicated internal history of which I was totally ignorant.

‘I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did,’ I said. ‘But that was then and this is now. We don’t hate or fear you. If we did, we wouldn’t have risked our necks getting you out of the
Cockatrice.’

‘No, you don’t hate or fear me,’ she replied. ‘But you still think I might be useful to you, don’t you?’

‘Only if you wish to help us.’

‘Captain Voulage thought that I might have the expertise to improve the performance of his ship.’

‘Did you?’ I asked innocently.

‘By increments, yes. He showed me the engines and . . . encouraged me to make certain changes. You told me you are a shipmaster, so you doubtless have some familiarity with the principles involved.’

I thought back to the adjustments I had made to our own engines, when we still had ambitions of fleeing the pirates. The memory of my trembling hand on those three critical dials felt as if it had been dredged from deepest antiquity, rather than something that had happened only days earlier.

‘When you say “encouraged” . . .’ I began.

‘He found ways to coerce me. It is true that Conjoiners can control their perception of pain by applying neural blockades. But only to a degree, and then only when the pain has a real physical origin. If the pain is generated in the head, using a reverse-field trawl, our defences are useless.’ She looked at me with a sudden hard intensity, as if daring me to imagine one-tenth of what she had experienced. ‘It is like locking a door when the wolf is already in the house.’

‘I’m sorry. You must have been through hell.’

‘I only had the pain to endure,’ she said. ‘I’m not the one anyone needs to feel sorry about.’

The remark puzzled me, but I let it lie. ‘I have to get back to our own engines now,’ I said, ‘but I’ll come to see you later. In the meantime, I think you should rest.’ I snapped a duplicate communications bracelet from my wrist and placed it near her hand, where she could reach it. ‘If you need me, you can call into this. It’ll take me a little while to get back here, but I’ll come as quickly as possible.’

She lifted her forearm as far as it would go, until the restraints stiffened. ‘And these?’

‘I’ll talk to Van Ness. Now that you’re lucid, now that you’re talking to us, I don’t see any further need for them.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘Inigo. Is that all there is to your name? It’s rather a short one, even by the standards of the retarded.’

‘Inigo Standish, shipmaster. And you still haven’t told me your name.’

‘I told you: it’s nothing you could understand. We have our own names now, terms of address that can only be communicated in the Transenlightenment. My name is a flow of experiential symbols, a string of interiorised qualia, an expression of a particular dynamic state that has only ever happened under a conjunction of rare physical conditions in the atmosphere of a particular kind of gas giant planet. I chose it myself. It’s considered very beautiful and a little melancholy, like a haiku in five dimensions.’

‘Inside the atmosphere of a gas giant, right?’

She looked at me alertly. ‘Yes.’

‘Fine, then. I’ll call you Weather. Unless you’d like to suggest something better.’

She never did suggest something better, even though I think she once came close to it. From that moment on, whether she liked it or not, she was always Weather. Soon, it was what the other crew were calling her, and the name that - grudgingly at first, then resignedly - she deigned to respond to.

I went to see Captain Van Ness and did my best to persuade him that Weather was not going to cause us any difficulties.

‘What are you suggesting we should give her - a free pass to the rest of the ship?’

‘Only that we could let her out of her prison cell.’

‘She’s recuperating.’

‘She’s restrained. And you’ve put an armed servitor on the door, in case she gets out of the restraints.’

‘Pays to be prudent.’

‘I think we can trust her now, Captain.’ I hesitated, choosing my words with great care. ‘I know you have good reasons not to like her people, but she isn’t the same as the Conjoiners from those days.’

‘That’s what she’d like us to think, certainly.’

‘I’ve spoken to her, heard her story. She’s an outcast from her people, unable to return to them because of what’s happened to her.’

‘Well, then,’ Van Ness said, nodding as if he’d proved a point, ‘outcasts do funny things. You can’t ever be too careful with outcasts.’

‘It’s not like that with Weather.’

‘Weather,’ he repeated, with a certain dry distaste. ‘So she’s got a name now, has she?’

‘I felt it might help. The name was my suggestion, not hers.’

‘Don’t start humanising them. That’s the mistake humans always make. Next thing you know, they’ve got their claws in your skull.’

I closed my eyes, forcing self-control as the conversation veered off course. I’d always had an excellent relationship with Van Ness, one that came very close to bordering on genuine friendship. But from the moment he heard about Weather, I knew she was going to come between us.

‘I’m not suggesting we let her run amok,’ I said. ‘Even if we let her out of those restraints, even if we take away the servitor, we can still keep her out of any parts of the ship where we don’t want her. In the meantime, I think she can be helpful to us. She’s already told me that Captain Voulage forced her to make improvements to the
Cockatrice
’s drive system. I don’t see why she can’t do the same for us, if we ask nicely.’

‘Why did he have to force her, if you’re so convinced she’d do it willingly now?’

‘I’m not convinced. But I can’t see why she wouldn’t help us, if we treat her like a human being.’

‘That’d be our big mistake,’ Van Ness said. ‘She never was a human being. She’s been a Spider from the moment they made her, and she’ll go to the grave like that.’

‘Then you won’t consider it?’

‘I consented to let you bring her aboard. That was already against every God-given instinct.’ Then Van Ness rumbled, ‘And I’d thank you not to mention the Spider again, Inigo. You’ve my permission to visit her if you see fit, but she isn’t taking a step out of that room until we make orbitfall.’

‘Very well,’ I said, with a curtness that I’d never had cause to use on Captain Van Ness.

As I was leaving his cabin, he said, ‘You’re still a fine shipmaster, lad. That’s never been in doubt. But don’t let this thing cloud your usual good judgement. I’d hate to have to look elsewhere for someone of your abilities.’

I turned back and, despite everything that told me to hold my tongue, I still spoke. ‘I was wrong about you, Captain. I’ve always believed that you didn’t allow yourself to be ruled by the irrational hatreds of other Ultras. I always thought you were better than that.’

‘And I’d have gladly told you I have just as many prejudices as the next man. They’re what’ve kept me alive so long.’

‘I’m sure Captain Voulage felt the same way,’ I said.

It was a wrong and hateful thing to say - Van Ness had nothing in common with a monster like Voulage - but I couldn’t stop myself. And I knew even as I said it that some irreversible bridge had just been crossed, and that it was more my fault than Van Ness’s.

‘You have work to do, I think,’ Van Ness said, his voice so low that I barely heard it. ‘Until you have the engines back to full thrust, I suggest you keep out of my way.’

Weps came to see me eight or nine hours later. I knew it wasn’t good news as soon as I saw her face.

‘We have a problem, Inigo. The captain felt you needed to know.’

‘And he couldn’t tell me himself?’

Weps cleared part of the wall and called up a display, filling it with a boxy green three-dimensional grid. ‘That’s us,’ she said, jabbing a finger at the red dot in the middle of the display. She moved her finger halfway to the edge, scratching her long black nail against the plating. ‘Something else is out there. It’s stealthed to the gills, but I’m still seeing it. Whatever it is is making a slow, silent approach.’

My thoughts flicked to Weather. ‘Could it be Conjoiner?’

‘That was my first guess. But if it was Conjoiner, I don’t think I’d be seeing anything at all.’

‘So what are we dealing with?’

She tapped the nail against the blue icon representing the new ship. ‘Another raider. Could be an ally of Voulage - we know he had friends - or could be some other ship that was hoping to pick over our carcass once Voulage was done with us, or maybe even steal us from him before he had his chance.’

‘Hyena tactics.’

‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘Range?’

‘Less than two light-hours. Even if they don’t increase their rate of closure, they’ll be on us within eight days.’

‘Unless we move.’

Weps nodded sagely. ‘That would help. You’re on schedule to complete repairs within six days, aren’t you?’

‘On schedule, yes, but that doesn’t mean things can be moved any faster. We start cutting corners now, we’ll break like a twig when we put a real load on the ship.’

‘We wouldn’t want that.’

‘No, we wouldn’t.’

‘The captain just thought you should be aware of the situation, Inigo. It’s not to put you under pressure, or anything.’

‘Of course not.’

‘It’s just that . . . we really don’t want to be hanging around here a second longer than necessary.’

I removed Weather’s restraints and showed her how to help herself to food and water from the room’s dispenser. She stretched and purred, articulating and extending her limbs in the manner of a dancer rehearsing some difficult routine in extreme slow motion. She’d been ‘reading’ when I arrived, which for Weather seemed to involve staring into the middle distance while her eyes flicked to and fro at manic speed, as if following the movements of an invisible wasp.

‘I can’t let you out of the room just yet,’ I said, sitting on the fold-down stool next to the bed, upon which Weather now sat cross-legged. ‘I just hope this makes things a little more tolerable.’

‘So your captain’s finally realised I’m not about to suck out his brains?’

‘Not exactly. He’d still rather you weren’t aboard.’

‘Then you’re going against his orders.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘I presume you could get into trouble for that.’

‘He’ll never find out.’ I thought of the unknown ship that was creeping towards us. ‘He’s got other things on his mind now. It’s not as if he’s going to be paying you a courtesy call just to pass the time of day.’