"And exterminate Coeo's people in the process?" Karl said, refusing to use the settler's word "troll" in front of them, legitimise it. "The adapted are just that: adapted so that they can live on this world as it is. Raise the temperature much further and change the nitrogen-oxygen-CO2 mix, and you add genocide to your treatment of them."
"That's our decision to make!" Ragnar said.
"No it isn't," Karl said. "Not in isolation. You're subject to the laws of humanity, whether you like it or not, once a second sentient race is concerned." Karl wondered what their reaction would be if he mentioned the possibility that there might actually be shapeshifters, and who were sentient. He decided to say nothing, though. They have enough to contend with, just assimilating all this, he thought with a trace of pity.
"He's right, Pappi," Arnbjorn said, and added, to both of them: "Forget about who owes what to whom. This ship changes everything. Maybe it could be used in ways that don't harm the…" Arnbjorn groped for a name, "adapted."
Karl
, Loki said quietly,
the ship's datarealm has started
counter-measures that will eject me from control if we cannot
circumvent them. I have no idea what the ship would do in
that event.
Keep working at it, Karl sub-vocalised. We can't allow it to regain control, at least until we've sent the message off, and then only if it doesn't threaten our safety.
Karl turned his attention back to the others. Orn and Thorir sat with bowed heads, too over-awed it seemed to look up at the viewscreen that now showed Isheimur in all her white speckled with green and blue glory. Ragnar and Arnbjorn continued to talk about the various uses the ship could be put to use, from carrying supplies and orbital surveys, to cannibalising it for parts.
Karl found it hard to pay attention to the others. He was more interested in the mission. Ship mentioned the Hangzhou Relay, he sub-vocalised. Can you locate it for us to send a second Mayday?
Loki said,
I'll study the available data, see if I can
locate it.
Karl saw Coeo watching Arnbjorn and Ragnar intently, and nudged him. Coeo said, "There is much talking. What of?"
Karl explained and Coeo said, "If it's anyone's it is ours. Not theirs to take, especially to make our world unliveable. The old one is like all the others of their kind, preferring to kill us all than share the land. And I do not have trust for the younger one, though I may misjudge him…"
"It doesn't matter, anyway," Karl said. "We have the ship. They don't."
"And it should stay that way," Coeo said. "Surely your people will agree when they come?"
"Of course." Karl decided that now was not the time to explain fractious humanity's fragmented politics.
I've been analysing Isheimur's atmosphere,
Loki said.
Comparing it with the readings that the Formers took before
they left, and with what I was able to learn from the
datarealm before it went off-line. The trends are worrying to
anyone invested in the planet's viability. I have no idea
whether these are recent developments, or have been occurring
since the Formers left.
Tell me.
Atmospheric pressure is fractionally reduced, although
that's expected. The atmosphere will slowly leak into space,
partly through too-low gravity, partly through the Mizar solar
wind stripping the magnetic field. At point six-seven standard
gravities, Isheimur is just below what is considered viable to
retain atmosphere against leakage.
But that's not the whole problem?
No. What is truly worrying is what's happened to the ozone
layer. I'd discount the readings I'm getting now, were it not
that I've got access to the – admittedly limited – scans that Ship
ran. They all show that the planetary ozone layer has been re
duced by forty per cent in total, and the polar ozone layer has
been depleted by eighty per cent.
Are the settlers at risk? Karl said.
Perhaps
, Loki said. An image appeared in Karl's peripheral vision.
The first point, with the red square, is the
mean average temperature at the time of the Winter Song's
crash. Compare it with mean average temperatures when the
Formers started their project…
About the same.
Exactly. This is how much they raised it by – a third triangle
flashed up – and this is where it should be – a fourth triangle
appeared with a new line joining it to the graph – is what lat
est readings indicate that it is.
"But that's impossible!"
The others turned to stare at Karl, and he realised that he'd spoken out loud. He continued, sotto voce, "That's several Kelvin below what it should be."
Seven point one, to be precise: I have no logical theory – or
solution – at this point in time. Let me work on it.
Agreed. There isn't time to tease through all the implications now. It's more important that we set off a signal that will be noticed by others, rather than relying on just the Hangzhou Relay. However long it takes, outsiders have to be brought to Isheimur. Then we can act on your findings.
Karl noticed that Bera was trying to get his attention. The ship was reaching the planet's Karman-line, where space effectively began.
Bera watched Karl re-focus, wishing he would pay closer attention to their captives. Thorir had that shifty look that he got when he thought he was being clever.
She needed a break badly. She beckoned Coeo and indicated the prisoners. "Can you guard them, for five minutes?" She had no idea how much of her slow, precisely enunciated – but murmured – question he understood but he nodded, taking the sword.
Bera tapped Karl on the shoulder. "Back in five minutes."
"Hmm," he said, eyes glazed again.
"Karl, what is the matter with you?"
He blinked, seeming to see her for the first time. "Loki's struggling with the datarealm."
"I need to piss," Bera said. "I'll be back as soon as possible – but I have to go."
Karl nodded and she fled, acutely conscious of the pressure on her bladder.
It took her a couple of minutes to find the cubicle, which almost proved to be too long, but she just made it. When she returned, Karl seemed to be his old self again, for he winked at her. "Problem solved?" she asked.
"We think so," Karl said, turning back to Ragnar.
"Assuming what you say is true," Ragnar said, "you still have no right to decide the ship's fate, or hold us captive."
"I have every right." Karl beamed. "I'll use the same logic that you've always used, namely, I have the advantage, and Might is Right. One of the things that you'll accept if you wish to negotiate access to a starship is that your son-in-law stands trial for rape – assuming that you recognise such an enlightened concept."
"Karl, no!" Bera cried.
"What?" He gazed at her, bemused. "You don't want this bastard brought to trial?"
"This stays here," Bera said. "I can't face reliving all that."
"That's because it wasn't rape." Thorir smirked. "She came after me."
"You lying bastard!" Bera slapped Thorir. Straining every sinew, she at least had the pleasure of watching his head rock back.
"You see, spaceman," Thorir said. "She's unstable. No kind of witness." He suddenly seemed to remember that Ragnar was present, and adopted a look of injured innocence. "I was in my cups, I admit it. I'm sorry, Ragnar, it was a foolish thing to do."
"You bastard," Bera spat. It was hard to know which was worse – that it was in the open, but Thorir still seemed to be getting away with it, the look of doubt on Karl's face, or Ragnar's ashen visage.
"
You?
" Ragnar whispered, his whole attention fixed on Thorir.
"I'm sorry, Pappi, but–"
"I'm not your father, you maggot! Drunk or not, willing or not, you raped a girl?"
"I was not willing!" Bera shouted.
Thorir swallowed, seeming to realise for the first time that he might not be able to talk his way out of it. "Don't let them distract you from the ship. That's what this little diversion's about. Not a silly mistake I made last summer."
"A silly mistake?" Bera bellowed at Ragnar, her calm finally, belatedly, deserting her. "You were supposed to protect me, to look after me." She poked him in the chest to punctuate each word: "And. You. Did. Nothing! Nothing. Ragnar!"
Ragnar bowed his head.
Karl said, breaking the silence. "I think, deep down inside, Ragnar guessed."
He perfectly articulated her own thoughts. It would explain why you've been so angry, Pappi, and with Karl, who has never done anything to cause you harm.
The bridge suddenly seemed very small, very hot. The ship was climbing in a very shallow trajectory now, accelerating at barely a third of Isheimur's gravity so she could pace the bridge. One, two, three, four steps and she was most of the way across it.
She'd never spoken of the rape for precisely this reason. Any accusation would tear Skorradalur apart. Even if she were believed – and she wouldn't be. She must have done something to lead the bastard on, mustn't she?
Bera thought of all the times she'd laughed with Thorir when younger, never believing what he was possible of. But when she'd started to bleed, her breasts to bud, he'd cuddled her a second too long, or too closely, though it was so subtle she hadn't realised the first few times. When she'd looked uncomfortable he'd backed away, looking hurt, and she'd rushed to reassure him that she did still like him.
She meant as a friend or brother. He'd obviously thought that she meant something else.
Then there'd been that awful night. She still couldn't bear to think about it too much, had resolved instead to block it out, irrespective of the sleepless nights and panic attacks that followed.
But she hadn't expected that she would be so desperately, desperately lonely, nor had she expected the unrelenting ferocity of their condemnation when she had missed her period, and the realisation came that she was pregnant.
It all made sense now. They knew, maybe they didn't know that they knew, but deep down inside they had an inkling and to cover their guilt they made me the scapegoat.
Confronting it, she felt the blister of pain that she had borne for so long split and ooze, and wished that she could take Karl somewhere and show him that she was healing – that she was a woman where it counted – in the only way that she knew how. Her only experience was of humiliation and hurt, but she was sure that there had to be more to love than that. She looked away from Karl's long, slender fingers and the memory of him naked, sure that everyone saw the flush rising up her face.
To distract her from such thoughts she stared around at the others, who had fallen silent in the face of her fury. Their discomfort made her feel better as well.
Arnbjorn cleared his throat. "Loath though I am to agree with Thorir," Arnbjorn said, "now's not the time or place for this. We should defer it until we return to Skorradalur–"
Bera felt her weight abruptly leave her, and grabbed the nearest object, a strut to which a seat had once been attached. For all Arnbjorn's hi-jacking of her life – typical of them! – she wanted to sing out loud at this dizzying new sensation of freedom. I'm flying!
"We've achieved escape velocity, and cut the acceleration," Karl said. "But we should be able to simulate a little gravity by rotating the ship."
Bera wanted to laugh out loud at the way Coeo's fur corona-ed out, though he looked as inscrutable as ever. She quietly enjoyed the panic written across the captive's faces. She kept quiet, instead wondering how it would feel to cuddle Karl without weight holding them in thrall.
She was almost sad when gravity returned a few moments later.
Ragnar's men all breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
I get the distinct impression, Karl sub-vocalised, that once the novelty wears off, our passengers are going to find this voyage tedious, which may encourage them to mischief. I'm not sure that I entirely believe this new milk-and-water Ragnar.
Then it's a shame that they can't see the carnage in cyberspace, you replied. That would entertain them. The ship's datarealm had launched wave after wave of counter-attack to seize control of the power, the helm, even life support, directly or through back door channels such as the sprinkler and other fire-retardant systems. Fortunately you'd been alert enough to slam every door shut before it could gain a foothold, but the battle – a lethal version of three-dimensional chess – tied up more and more of your resources.
During a lull while the datarealm retreated off-line like a predator returning to its lair and you shored up your defences, you swept the Mizar B system with the spectographs and other external systems. There are signs of a recent conflict in the inner Mizar B system, you told Karl. The weapons signatures are identical to those that attacked Ship. But there's also debris which looks as if it's wreckage from them. It's a guesstimate based on the various pieces drifting around, but by assembling them into a cyber-jigsaw, I've established that it's possible, verging on probable that all or all but one of your attackers were destroyed.
That might be what those lights in the sky were a few nights ago, Karl said. Is there anything to confirm the timescale?
Nothing definitive, you said. There are also traces of plastic, metal and other wreckage that look artificial, but don't fit that pattern. If you give me some time, I'll correlate the scatter back to a common origin point and extrapolate. The hours that passed in cyberspace as you fitted, took away and reassembled again and again the billions of pieces of debris into a starship-shaped jigsaw puzzle took mere micro-seconds in real-time, but even so, you noticed Karl become aware of a growing tension among their captives.
It looks, you said, as if the ships like those that attacked you were destroyed in turn, either by Aye ships, or by an unknown third party – more likely the former option. In turn based on one scatter point and the flotsam, there is an eighty-six per cent possibility that one or more of the Aye ships was destroyed.
So hypothesise, Karl said. Could Ship's mayday have led to the skirmish?
Possible. Perhaps some other factor was involved, but Occam's Scalpel suggests excluding any possibility other than that human and Aye ships fought and destroyed each other.
How does this affect the possibility that Ship's Mayday might be answered? Karl asked.
It makes it more likely that it will attract attention, you answered. But those receiving Ship's Mayday may assume that it was generated by one of the combatants recently destroyed.
Leading them to assume that there's nothing left to search for? Karl said.
Exactly, you replied.
In which case, we need to send another message. I think that I have an idea. Get me the reactor schematics.
Not now, you said. The datarealm has just launched another incursion, this time through the life-support back-up objects, which it's just taken off-line. Fortunately the main activity is unaffected.
You paused. You may wish to give Bera and the others your attention. Something is developing.
