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Chapters (42)
  1. THE ARROWS OF TIME
  2. Note to Readers
  3. Contents
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. Appendix 1:
  39. Appendix 2:
  40. Afterword
  41. Also by Greg Egan from Gollancz
  42. Copyright

When they’d released the occulters from the Surveyor each one had been given preassigned coordinates, but if the composition of the rock proved unsuitable they were to try again at a number of adjacent sites. A pseudo-random algorithm varied the coordinates; knowing the seed for it they could match the sequence exactly.

After a dozen steps, Ramiro gave up. If the occulter hadn’t found a secure purchase by then, it would not have had enough air left to be of any use to them even if they could locate it.

‘One in five,’ Tarquinia said. ‘We can live with that.’

By the end of the day they’d set a dozen and three occulters in motion and given up on three.

‘If Giacomo had stayed in touch with us,’ Tarquinia mused, ‘he could have spared his people the trouble of planting three of those caches.’

Ramiro said, ‘Maybe. Or maybe we’ll fumble the pick-ups on three of the others and have to go back and use the ones that seemed superfluous.’

‘That’s true.’ Tarquinia reached across and squeezed his shoulder. ‘We’re doing well.’

Ramiro was exhausted. He stared across the room and tried not to think of the machines scuttling along the slopes; the more he visualised them, the harder it became to avoid picturing a cog jamming or a drill bit coming loose. ‘At the turnaround, all our biggest problems had been solved,’ he said. ‘Every traveller before us had put up with far more hardship and uncertainty than we were facing then. So how did it come to this? Why are we the idiots who could lose it all?’

‘Stop thinking about it.’ Tarquinia took him by the arm and led him through into the bedroom.

When they’d finished, Ramiro clung to her body angrily. He’d wasted half his life on this imitation of fatherhood. If he hadn’t wanted the real thing, why did he keep chasing this shadow? He was as much a slave now as if he’d meekly followed his uncle’s commands.

Tarquinia eased herself out of his embrace.

‘What happens afterwards?’ he asked her. ‘After the disruption.’

‘After the disruption,’ she said, ‘life goes back to normal.’

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