Under the Burning Clouds Page 14

  It was Lilith who gave Maliha most concern. After her initial exuberance and joy at the weightlessness, she tended to sulk more and became listless. Keeping her in her bed was not the trial that Maliha believed it should be for one so young.

  “Why don’t you let the doctor examine her?” said Constance on the second day of their confinement. It was late evening by the ship’s clock and the children were in bed.

  Maliha shook her head. “I know as much of disease pathology as he does.”

  “But you do not have his experience.”

  “He will not know what this is.” Maliha felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped them away with her sleeve. They would not roll down her cheeks but simply hung on her eyelashes.

  “She is going to die, Constance,” said Maliha. “And there is nothing anyone here can do about it.” She paused. “Nothing that I can do about it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you aware of the introduction of the eastern grey squirrel into England?”

  Constance shook her head. “What’s this got to do—”

  “Evidence is mounting that the grey squirrel is displacing the native red squirrel.”

  “But I don’t see—”

  “The rhododendron was introduced as a decorative plant into the gardens of England, but it escaped captivity and is now growing across the landscape.”

  “So everyone can enjoy it, not just the privileged few.”

  “It has no predators,” said Maliha patiently. “What’s to stop its spread?”

  “It’s just a plant.”

  “The grey squirrel is bigger and more powerful than the red; it can survive the winters better. What’s to stop it?”

  Constance looked blank. Maliha continued. “Kew Gardens closed an exhibit of Martian plants last winter when some moisture crept into the display of red weed.”

  The other woman brightened up at that. “Oh yes, I read about that in the paper.”

  “What if it had been raining?”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  Maliha sighed. The arrogance of humanity sometimes made her despair.

  “Look, Alice,” said Constance, carefully remembering the correct name. “I just don’t get your point at all.”

  “Our scientists, hunters, botanists, zoologists and just plain tourists bring creatures into environments in which they have no predators, nothing natural to control them, and then those things escape.”

  “You’re saying something has been brought in?”

  “What about the diseases that Westerners brought to indigenous races? Ones we knew how to handle but their bodies did not?”

  Constance glanced at Lilith on the bed. A wide strap held her gently but firmly in position.

  “She’s got a disease?” Constance looked scared. “You have me in here when she’s got a disease?”

  “It’s all right,” said Maliha. “She does not have a disease, but she has been infected with something and she is not contagious.” At least, not yet.

  “She should be in the Infirmary,” said Constance and began to fiddle with her buckle.

  “She cannot go to the Infirmary, Constance,” Maliha said calmly. “I know how to deal with it.”

  Constance glanced again at the child, as if she were a monster poised to pounce.

  “You should have told me.”

  “I just did.”

  “How bad will it be?”

  “I do not know the details.” Maliha remembered the dying child in the crib in the deserted diamond mine. Eyeless and whimpering but vicious, like a cornered rat. Her eyes burned once more as she thought of Lilith that way.

  Constance turned back to Maliha just as she wiped more tears from her eyes. She looked almost surprised to see them there. Most people think I am no more than an automaton, thought Maliha. Why?

  “Can we talk about something else?” said Constance. “Something more cheerful?”

  “Such as?”

  Constance looked away and her cheeks turned pink.

  Maliha sighed. “You want me to tell you about my lovers.”

  “I am so frustrated ... Alice, you have no idea.”

  Maliha wondered why it should be assumed that she had no idea what it was like to be frustrated in one’s physical desires. Valentine was kind and gentle, but he lacked skill. After the Guru and Françoise, that was frustrating.

  “Not here,” said Maliha, and Constance looked relieved, as if she would be glad to escape the room that contained the dying child. “Let’s go up to the dome.”

  Constance smiled. “Are you drawing out the anticipation to increase the enjoyment?”

  Maliha merely frowned and shook her head slightly. It was simply the best place to have a private discussion, since almost everyone would be confined to their rooms.

  She drifted across to the bed and checked the children to ensure their straps were properly fastened. Although the doctor had not ordered it, she had abandoned her support underwear and felt more relaxed.

  It was terrible to think that beneath Lilith’s dark-skinned exterior the fungus was growing and entangling itself around her nerves, as well as through her brain. The tears threatened to seep from her eyes again, but she had to school herself against it. She must observe everything she could; they could do nothing about the infection now, but perhaps in the future there would be a defence against it.

  She feared that was wishful thinking. It was a certainty the fungi of Venus had their own predators, but what damage would those do if they were introduced into our environment to deal with the first invasion?

  There were too many imponderables. She doubted it could be calculated even if they had a Babbage machine the size of St Paul’s Cathedral.

  “Come on, Alice.”

  Maliha went.

  ii

  They did not hurry as they floated in complete weightlessness along the companionways and up the shaft. They transferred to the second vertical passage to take them to the dome.

  The terms ‘horizontal’ and ‘vertical’, ‘up’ and ‘down’, had no real meaning any more, but humans had built their vessels with those concepts in mind, so if one saw a bench and table above one’s head and the stars at one’s feet, one would feel instinctively that one was inverted even without the sensation of gravity to enforce it.

  Maliha righted herself by grabbing the back of the bench and applying turning pressure. She and Constance did not sit on the bench but hung in the air. Maliha was not sure why she was acquiescing to the prurient curiosity of her friend. Was it because she had never been party to this sort of conversation when she had been at school?

  It seemed as if boarding school was a lifetime away, and yet it was barely two years since she had finished the examinations and taken leave of the terrible place. In that time she had done things she would have thought quite inconceivable. And gained the love of a good man.

  And lost him.

  Tears again. It was not that she was incapable of crying—she had done enough of it at school when there was no one to hear or see—but she seemed to be doing so much more of it. Perhaps she should not be surprised.

  She pushed against the bench with her foot and drifted towards the glass dome. If she squinted she could imagine there was nothing between her and the black, and she would drift out beyond the ship to travel on forever completely alone. There was something about the fancy that appealed to her.

  She cancelled her motion with a simple touch of her hand against the glass. Constance came up behind her. They were in near darkness, as the ship had already rotated and the Sun was now behind them. She searched for the Earth among the stars and found its pearl-white brilliance glowing in the Sun’s reflected glory.

  “Did you let the Guru touch you?” asked Constance.

  Maliha thought it was strange: the Guru had had so many women in his power and he had ‘touched’ them all. She and Constance had shared a man.

  “Yes.” Then Valentine had crashed in and killed him.


  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “I was there to force a confession from him, which I did.”

  “But did you enjoy it?”

  Yes. “He gave me physical pleasure, just the way he did for every woman he touched,” said Maliha. “So that he could gain information about your husband’s business from you.”

  Constance was silent for only a moment. “Why do you make it sound as if I’m being punished?”

  “I’m just stating the truth, Constance.”

  Maliha turned away and propelled herself along the dome, with the floor eight feet ‘below’ her. This was flying.

  The vessel was still rotating and the constellation of Orion floated into view. It was so much more vivid here than from Earth: Rigel, Betelgeuse, Bellatrix and Saiph at the shoulders and feet, all a hard blue colour, save for the red of Betelgeuse; Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka, the stars in the belt, and in the scabbard, the smudge of cloud that comprised the Nebula of Orion. So distant yet visible, and therefore bigger than the human mind could comprehend.

  “Who next? Valentine or your woman?” said Constance, catching up with her.

  “I drove Valentine away for killing the Guru,” said Maliha.

  “So this woman seduced you because you were lonely and in need?”

  “No, I kissed her first.”

  “You did?” Constance sounded both astonished and impressed. Maliha did not understand why. It had made perfect sense at the time. She did not regret it; she had learnt a lot. “And she didn’t object?”

  Maliha smiled. “Well, she was surprised, but that was only because she had been trying to find the right time to do it to me. She prefers women to men.”

  “And you took her to your bed?”

  “I was overwrought. I went to her and we comforted one another.”

  “Comforted? If you want to call it that,” said Constance. “What’s it like with a woman?”

  Maliha pushed off and glided smoothly up towards the apex of the dome, nearly thirty feet from the deck, though it did not feel that way. The electric lights were on and cast pools of brightness among the shadows. They were alone.

  “What’s it like?” demanded Constance.

  “Some of it was tender, but she was quite domineering, forceful like a man. Almost as if she had been born into the wrong body.”

  “But she felt like a woman?”

  Maliha turned and frowned. “Of course.”

  Constance whispered. “Did you achieve paroxysm?”

  “We both did several times that night.” Maliha smiled at the memory. For a little while Françoise had made her forget and that was the reason she had gone to bed with her, to achieve oblivion.

  “Several times,” repeated Constance, with a sad longing in her voice. Maliha wondered whether pandering to her friend’s curiosity was perhaps not a good idea after all.

  Constance’s next words were so quiet Maliha could barely hear them, and yet they were so predictable she almost did not have to.

  “Would you spend the night with me, Maliha?”

  Maliha looked out into the black onto which a myriad diamonds, sapphires and rubies had been sprinkled.

  “I cannot.”

  “I need you, Maliha, please.” Her voice cracked as she uttered the words.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Aren’t I good enough?” she said, her voice rising in volume. “You’ll bed some French bitch but not me?”

  “It’s not the same,” said Maliha. “I’m not the same.”

  “Please, Maliha, I’m going quietly crazy here,” she said. “This is why I went to the Guru in the first place. You just don’t get it.”

  “Can you not do it for yourself?”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Do you not have your device?”

  “That is not enough.”

  “What about one of the stewards?”

  “You expect me to fuck just anyone?”

  Maliha hid her surprise at the language, but they were discussing taboo matters that no one discussed so why should one not use forbidden words as well? “No, but...” But what? “What did you do before?”

  “I went mad with frustrated desire,” hissed Constance.

  “And you’re telling me that you did not indulge your sexual appetite?”

  Constance went silent for a few moments, looking deep inside. “You think I haven’t tried?” she said. “Yes, all right, I have been with men, lots of men, more men than I can even remember. Does that shock you?”

  Maliha would have shaken her head at the question but thought better of it.

  “But you know what men are like, they can’t think past their own needs, beyond their own pleasure.” Her words were pouring out in sobs that drifted out into the dome and disappeared into the dark. “You’re lucky if you achieve any pleasure in their hands.”

  It was something Maliha could not deny.

  Constance pointed accusingly at Maliha. “The only one who knew what to do was the Guru and you killed him.”

  “He was taking advantage of you.”

  “Do you think I cared?” Constance screamed and broke down in tears, her chest heaving with sobs. “He ... made ... it ... stop.”

  Using a steel girder for leverage, Maliha pushed herself in her friend’s direction and, as they bumped gently, she put her arms around her. She thrust against the glass dome with her foot, pushing them towards the exit.

  “I can’t stand it,” sobbed Constance. “You just don’t know what it’s like. My every thought is how to reach that point. My body aches for it. I would do anything. You’re the goddess, Maliha. Please make it stop.”

  iii

  Maliha had taken Constance back to her own room, but took care not to cross the threshold. She had the fear in the back of her mind that Constance’s desperation might cause her to force herself on Maliha. Her repeated attempts at inviting her in only confirmed that fear.

  Constance had given up finally, her eyes swollen with tears and holding a kerchief to her nose. Noses did not run; their contents oozed out. It was not pretty, but a crying woman never looks her best.

  Maliha returned along the passageways with her thoughts turning and twisting almost at random through her mind.

  The name Francis Gray kept returning to her. She had managed to hold it at bay for several days, but nothing further had happened on board the vessel. It was almost as if the deaths had really been a murder–suicide and nothing else would occur, as if everything she had thought was just her imagination.

  But it could not be. The Rileys had been aboard, released prematurely from prison. Constance was here too. If it had been just one of them, she might have accepted a coincidence, but both? No, she was not wrong.

  Which brought her to Francis Gray. Was it too much of a stretch to link the name with Françoise Greaux?

  Maliha’s second case after leaving England had involved the torture and death of an old school acquaintance. But Francis Gray was a man, the concierge had confirmed it.

  Maliha looked at her watch; it was 10:30pm ship’s time and they were still a few days from the beginning of the deceleration procedure. She had not confirmed the truth of the concierge’s statement. He might have been bribed, or Françoise might be dressing as a man. Given her sexual preferences, that was not entirely unlikely.

  Maliha needed Izak.

  With a purpose in mind at last, Maliha accelerated her motion and flew along the companionways and shafts until she reached the concierge’s station on her own deck.

  “How can I help, Miss Ganapathy?”

  “I need someone to sit with my charge, the girl, for an hour or two,” she said. “Can you arrange that?”

  He could. And it was a few minutes later that one of the female staff arrived, looking tired and a little out of sorts. It could not be helped. Maliha would ease her disgruntlement with a generous tip.

  She woke Izak, or, more accurately, discovered he was awake. “I stay awake when you leave, mother,”
he said. “For my sister.”

  She had him dress, then, out of earshot of the servant, she said, “I may need you to open a locked door.”

  He looked her in the eye and nodded with a serious face. “Is it the same as this one?”

  “A passenger cabin, yes,” she said. “What will you need?”

  “Hair pins.”

  Maliha collected them and placed them in her reticule, then added a couple of metal clips and a measuring tape—just in case they might come in useful.

  Leaving Lilith and the maid, they made their way back through the ship. It was now past eleven and the electric lights had been switched to night. Only every third one was lit and that had reduced brightness, so they floated like ghosts along shadowy corridors.

  They used the correct shaft to move up two decks because it was farthest from the concierge, then they went around the deserted companionways so as not to pass his station.

  At the door of Francis Gray, Maliha hesitated. She could not decide whether to knock first. If she was wrong then Francis Gray would be inside, either awake or perhaps asleep. If she knocked she could pass off her error as simply being on the wrong deck.

  If she was right the perpetrator might be inside. She shivered at the thought of what she would find.

  She pressed her ear to the door but could hear nothing. She examined the frame—even turning upside down completely to look at the gap at the door’s base—in an attempt to determine whether there was any light in the interior. She thought not. In the end she decided against knocking and indicated for Izak to break in.

  She moved away to give him space and kept her attention on the approaches from each direction. Sounds of two people talking filtered from somewhere. A man and woman arguing. Izak was hunched around the lock with his legs floating up behind him as he worked.

  He had looped the measuring tape around his wrist and then the door handle to stop himself from floating away as he applied pressure to his tools. The clunk of the door unlocking was ominously loud. Before Maliha could stop him, Izak took hold of the grip beside the door and opened it.