Clavain shivered, as if the thought of this was easily the most frightful thing he had ever imagined. “We weren’t supposed to put down roots, Scorpio. Ararat was intended to be a temporary stopover. Even the name is a bad joke. You don’t settle a planet with a bad joke for a name.”
Scorpio decided that now was not the ideal time to remind him that it had always been the plan to leave some people behind on Ararat, even if the majority of them departed.
“You’re dealing with humans,” he said. “And pigs. Trying to stop us breeding is like trying to herd cats.”
“Clavain turned his attention back to Vasko. ”And what do you do?“
“I work in the food factory, sir, in the sedimentation beds mostly, cleaning sludge out of the scrapers or changing the blades on the surface skimmers.”
“It sounds like very interesting work.”
“In all honesty, sir, if it were interesting work, I wouldn’t be here today.”
“Vasko also serves in the local league of the Security Arm,” Scorpio said. “He’s had the usual training: firearms, urban pacification, and so on. Most of the time, of course, he’s putting out fires or helping with the distribution of rations or medical supplies from Central Amenities.”
“Essential work,” Clavain said.
“No one, least of all Vasko, would argue with that,” Scorpio said. “But all the same, he put the word around that he was interested in something a little more adventurous. He’s been pestering Arm administration for promotion to a full-time position. His scores are very good and he fancies trying his hand at something a tiny bit more challenging than shovelling shit.”
Clavain regarded the young man with narrowed eyes. “What exactly has Scorp told you about the capsule?”
Vasko looked at the pig, then back to Clavain. “Nothing, sir.”
“I told him what he needed to know, which wasn’t much.”
“I think you’d better tell him the rest,” Clavain said.
Scorpio repeated the story he had already told to Clavain. He watched, fascinated, as the impact of the news became apparent in Vasko’s expression.
He didn’t blame him for that: for twenty years the absolute isolation of Ararat must have been as deeply woven into the fabric of his life as the endless roar of the sea and the constant warm stench of ozone and rotting vegetation. It was so absolute, so ever-present, that it vanished beneath conscious notice. But now something had punctured that isolation: a reminder that this ocean world had only ever been a fragile and temporary place of sanctuary amid an arena of wider conflict.
“As you can see,” Scorpio said, “it isn’t something we want everyone to find out about before we know exactly what’s going on, and who’s in the thing.”
“I’m assuming you have your suspicions,” Clavain said.
Scorpio nodded. “It could be Remontoire. We were always expecting the
Zodiacal Light to show up one of these days. Sooner than this, admittedly, but there’s no telling what happened to them after we left, or how long it took the ship to repair itself. Maybe when we crack open the capsule we’ll find my second-favourite Conjoiner sitting inside it.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Explain this to me, Clavain,” Scorpio said. “If it’s Remontoire and the rest, why the secrecy? Why don’t they just move into orbit and announce they’ve arrived? At the very least they could have dropped the capsule a bit closer to land, so that it wouldn’t have cost us so much time recovering it.”
“So consider the alternative,” Clavain said. “It might be your least favourite Conjoiner instead.”
“I’ve considered that, of course. If Skade had arrived in our system, I’d expect her to maintain a maximum-stealth profile the whole way in. But we should still have seen something. By the same token, I don’t think she’d be very likely to start her invasion with a single capsule—unless there’s something extremely nasty in it.”
“Skade can be nasty enough on her own,” Clavain said. “But I agree: I don’t think it’s her. Landing on her own would be a suicidal and pointless gesture; not her style at all.”
They had arrived at the tent. Clavain opened the door and led the way in. He paused at the threshold and examined the interior with a vague sense of recrimination, as if someone else entirely lived there.
“I’ve become very used to this place,” he said, almost apologetically.
“Meaning you don’t think you can stand to go back?” Scorpio asked. He could still smell the lingering scent of Clavain’s earlier presence.
“I’ll just have to do my best.” Clavain closed the door behind them and turned to Vasko. “How much do you know about Skade and Remontoire?”
“I don’t think I’ve heard either name before.”
Clavain eased himself into the collapsible chair, leaving the other two to stand. “Remontoire was—is—one of my oldest allies. Another Conjoiner. I’ve known him since we fought against each other on Mars.”
“And Skade, sir?”
Clavain picked up one of the conch pieces and began examining it absent-mindedly. “Skade’s a different kettle of fish. She’s also a Conjoiner, but from a later generation than either of us. She’s cleverer and faster, and she has no emotional ties to old-line humanity whatsoever. When the Inhibitor threat became clearer, Skade made plans to save the Mother Nest by running away from this sector of space. I didn’t like that—it meant leaving the rest of humanity to fend for itself when we should have been helping each other—and so I defected. Remontoire, after some misgivings, threw his lot in with me as well.”
“Then Skade hates both of you?” Vasko asked.
“I think she might still be prepared to give Remontoire the benefit of the doubt,” Clavain said. “But me? No, I more or less burnt my bridges with Skade. The last straw as far as she was concerned was the time when I cut her in half with a mooring line.”
Scorpio shrugged. “These things happen.”
“Remontoire saved her,” Clavain said. “That probably counts for something, even though he betrayed her later. But with Skade, it’s probably best not to assume anything. I think I killed her later, but I can’t exclude the possibility that she escaped. That’s what her last transmission claimed, at any rate.”
Vasko asked, “So why exactly are we waiting for Remontoire and the others, sir?”
Clavain narrowed an eye in Scorpio’s direction. “He really doesn’t know a lot, does he?”
“It’s not his fault,” Scorpio said. “You have to remember that he was born here. What happened before we came here is ancient history as far as he’s concerned. You’ll get the same reaction from most of the youngsters, human or pig.”
“Still doesn’t make it excusable,” Clavain said. “In my day we were more inquisitive.”
“In your day you were slacking if you didn’t get in a couple of genocides before breakfast.”
Clavain said nothing. He put down the conch piece and picked up another, testing its sharp edge against the fine hairs on the back of his hand.
“I do know a bit, sir,” Vasko said hastily. “I know that you came to Resurgam from Yellowstone, just when the machines began to destroy our solar system. You helped evacuate the entire colony aboard the Nostalgia for Infinity—nearly two hundred thousand of us.”
“More like a hundred and seventy thousand,” Clavain said. “And there isn’t a day when I don’t grieve for those we didn’t manage to save.”
“No one’s likely to blame you, considering how many of them you did save,” Scorpio said.