CAPACITY

He gazed at the impossibly twisted shape of the Bottle and realized he was going to learn nothing here. The whole diversion had been nothing more than that-a diversion. A chance for Leslie and the EA to delay him.

He turned and pulled his way back along the thick white rope towards the flier. He ran up the exit ramp, calling instructions ahead of himself as he did so.

“Okay, ship. Take us up and get us back to the spaceport at maximum speed. We still have time to make the shuttle, right?”

“Only just,” the ship said.

The shuttle was a genuine antique and looked it. Everything about it spoke of its considerable age: the great wings that swept across the landing field, dwarfing the incoming flier; the clear spoon-shaped section of the flight deck; the scorched paint of the underside. The aerodynamics of the ship made it much more a thing of the air than the soulless shape of the flier as it simply moved from A to B. This was a vehicle that negotiated or, failing that, fought with the elements. This was the craft that would carry him off planet, up to the safety of the hypership.

Justinian felt quite giddy at the thought as he strode from the exit ramp of the flier into the shadow cast by one of the shuttle’s great sweeping wings. He carried the baby in one arm and his bag in the other.

The shuttle pilot was waiting for him, radiating an unease that Justinian could have picked up even without the lingering effects of MTPH.

“Hello,” he said. “All that time on the shuttle and we were never properly introduced. I’m David Schummel.”

Schummel was old: he looked to be in his sixties. He had chosen to let his hair grey and thin, possibly because that lent him a distinguished air. He was a tall man who retained his good looks, an effect enhanced by his maturity. He had warm creases around his eyes, nonetheless, the smile he gave as he shook Justinian’s hand seemed nervous.

“I got the impression you were avoiding me,” Justinian said coolly, noting Schummel’s uncomfortable reaction. “I’m Justinian Sibelius,” he added.

Schummel raised his eyebrows. “Sibelius. One of the old company names. Are you one of the company children?”

“I am,” Justinian said, effectively ending that line of conversation.

Schummel’s embarrassment at his tactlessness seemed slightly pathetic on a man of his age. The nearby lowered entrance ramp offered them both a view of the shuttle’s darkened interior, and yet Schummel made no move to lead Justinian inside.

“What’s the matter?”

Schummel looked at the ground; he seemed ashamed to speak. “Justinian, I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’ve pissed off the EA big time. I need to ask you not to leave the planet.”

Justinian stared at the man, all expression shutting down. He shifted his son in his arms and felt the baby’s little pink hands begin to play with the fur around his collar.

“This is my son,” he said. “Can you tell me why I should risk his life by staying here?”

A spasm of something almost like pain crossed Schummel’s face. “Look, I got the order to take off half an hour ago, and I refused. There were three fliers still not yet arrived here and, anyway, what was the hurry? The hypership isn’t due to depart for another six hours.”

“Thank you for waiting,” Justinian said with just a hint of sarcasm. Nonetheless, he suddenly became fully aware of the group of fliers that formed a rough semicircle in front of the spoon-shaped nose of the shuttle. All of them were pulsing with colors that showed they still contained passengers. No one was boarding the shuttle yet.

“And so the games began,” David Schummel said, following his gaze. He was looking in every direction but at the baby, Justinian realized. “I got another call about five minutes before your flier touched down, telling me to abandon takeoff. Apparently the hyperdrive on the hypership has developed an irregular fault and they need to move it out of orbit in order to reduce the effect of Gateway’s gravitational field.”

Justinian gazed at him. “That’s all bullshit, isn’t it?” he said softly, and already he felt the defiance of the last two hours draining away. Why fight the EA? It always won.

The captain leaned forward and touched Justinian on the arm. His lined face now looked very old; his voice was heavy with resignation.

“Listen, Justinian, I’ve seen this happen before. I flew a lot of missions in the Enemy Domain. You’re not the first person I’ve met who has tried to get away from a situation he didn’t like, only to be held up by a series of seeming coincidences. The only difference today is that the EA doesn’t have its usual web of senses covering Gateway. It can’t pick up the smallest nuances of your expressions; on this planet it doesn’t have the finesse to cause subtle effects to gradually unravel that lead you to places you don’t want to be. It has to employ a more direct approach.”

Justinian held his son close and gazed at Schummel, who looked away, embarrassed.

Justinian’s voice was low and firm. “It can be as direct as it wants. I don’t care. I’m leaving.” It was his last attempt to take back control of his own actions. The baby shifted in his arms, eyes closing; he was tired. Justinian felt tired, too. He pulled his son up and rested the baby’s little head against his shoulder.

Schummel stared at the grooved pattern set into the rubbery material of the ground and shook his head. A cold breeze stirred, carrying the scent of autumn soil. The whole planet smelled like that, like the land here was not so much on the verge of waking up but rather at the begi

Finally, Schummel looked up at Justinian, and his voice was gentle.

“Justinian, I know how you feel, but you’re not the only person on this planet. Look around you.”

Justinian kept his eyes fixed on David Schummel, but all around him he could feel the pulsing lights of the other fliers. Some of them had dropped their exit hatches. All around him were people standing in the shadows of their craft, trying not to stare in his direction.

“I want to go home,” Justinian said.

“So do they,” Schummel said gently. He reached out and laid his hand on the baby’s sleeping head. “Look, even if by some means you do get to be on the shuttle when it lifts, what will happen next? Will it develop a fault? Will the hypership hit a gravitational curve and find itself locked into a path around this planet? You know that the more you fight it, the less subtle the EA will become.”

Justinian wasn’t listening anymore. He knew now he was going to stay. There was no defying the wishes of the EA.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay,” he said softly.

David Schummel gazed at him. “Thank you.” He paused, looking towards the rear of the flier. Justinian turned to see that Leslie had just emerged.

“I’ll take the baby, shall I?” the robot said.

“I could take the baby with me,” said Schummel suddenly. “One of the astronomers space-side has brought her daughter with her; she’s about the same age as your son.”

“I know. Mareka,” Justinian said. “I met her on the way out.”

Schummel nodded. “I thought you might have. She’s nice, isn’t she? Good with kids. Your son would be in safe hands.”

Justinian looked sideways. He could see the shape of his son’s head as it lay against his shoulder, could feel the regular rhythm of his breathing. The thought of passing him to a stranger filled him with sadness.

“No,” he said. “No, I can’t let him go. He’s already lost his mother…”

The captain nodded again.

Around them, the shuttle was coming to shimmering life. Patterns of lights began to twinkle on the wings above them. Something awoke deep in its ancient engines. The occupants of the other fliers were already making their way past. Justinian heard the occasional muttered expression of thanks as they walked by. David Schummel tilted his head as he listened to something.