They went inside. Christopher Columbus came to greet them. Kepler guessed his age to be under 40 biological years. He was wearing a cardigan with elbow patches, and he smiled with what seemed to be genuine interest. Kepler had met him somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember what the occasion had been.
Columbus greeted Zhenyi first, bowing slightly.
“Who do we have here then?” he asked. “You must be Wang Zhenyi, if I’m not mistaken. They didn’t tell me you were here! Which makes it all the more of a pleasure to see you.”
“It’s a long story. I’m pleased to see you, too,” said Zhenyi. As she spoke, she held the Secretary’s hand longer than necessary.
Kepler felt a pang, but he knew she had to win Columbus over by any means necessary. If he recommended to the Convention that they terminate the Rescue Project, they had as good as won.
“And you, dear Johannes Kepler, I haven’t seen you for a long time either. How long has it been exactly?” asked the Secretary, offering his hand.
Kepler returned the gesture. The handshake was firm and warm. Columbus seemed to be an agreeable person. He started to feel more hopeful. “Far too long,” he replied. “My pleasure.”
“May I offer you anything?” asked their host.
“Just some water,” said Zhenyi.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Kepler.
“Then take a seat,” said Columbus, pointing to a sofa. In front of it was a low table flanked by two armchairs. Zhenyi and Kepler sat down. The butler remained standing and withdrew politely to the door.
Columbus tapped a blank wall and a bar folded out. He poured a colorless liquid from a crystal bottle into two glasses, then passed them to Zhenyi and Kepler. Water vapor condensed on the outsides of the glasses. Kepler took a sip and realized he was thirsty after all. The water had no taste, just the way he liked it.
The Secretary sat in one of the armchairs. Then he stood up again and helped himself from the bar, filling a glass to the brim with a brownish liquid. He sat down again and drank.
“What brings you here?” Columbus asked, leaning back.
“We’ve made an almost unbelievable discovery,” said Zhenyi. She leaned toward him as she spoke, showing off her décolletage. Kepler was surprised to see his ex-girlfriend now using this tactic. There was a time when she would have refused to, preferring to rely on her sharp mind.
Zhenyi reported what they had found in the unknown system. She neither named the coordinates of the star nor did she describe how she herself had come by this knowledge. Columbus listened attentively and asked the occasional astute question.
“So the only reasonable response would be for the Convention to completely redesign the Rescue Project,” said Zhenyi, concluding her story.
Columbus creased his forehead and folded his arms. “That’s quite a substantial request,” he said.
Zhenyi jumped up and paced up and down the room. “Humanity’s greatest dream has been fulfilled! We’ve found an intelligent species!”
“And humanity is supposed to perish for them? If we don’t solve our energy problems, these aliens will outlive us.”
“We can’t blame them for that!” said Zhenyi, resting her hands on her hips. “And we can’t let them die for us! That would be inhumane!”
“Let’s slow down for a moment,” said Columbus. “I’m prepared to present this story to the Convention. Of course, I can’t predict what course of action the full assembly will decide upon. We’ve already invested so many resources into the Rescue Project! Do we just accept that this has all been in vain?”
“There’s no other option left to humanity. We have to rethink the Rescue Project. Yes, it’ll provide less energy. But to exterminate an intelligent species in our own self-interest?”
Columbus shook his head. “I’m not saying I’m not sympathetic to your request, Wang Zhenyi. But you must admit there are a few inconsistencies.”
“To what are you referring, Secretary?”
“First of all, the fact that this dubious system isn’t in any of our databases. No one has seen this intelligence, other than you.”
“I have holo vids that show everything.”
“Those can be faked, you know that. Point two is your own person.”
Zhenyi stopped pacing. “What do you mean?”
“You were certified insane for one and a half kilocycles. Your consciousness was quarantined. At the time, you claimed to have found an exact copy of Terra.”
Kepler was hearing about this for the first time. It must have happened after he and Zhenyi separated. Had the separation been the trigger for the breakdown? Oh, Zhenyi! Now he understood why she was keeping her distance.
“I was unwell for a period of time, due to personal reasons. But I’m fully recovered.”
“You weren’t released. Instead, you broke out of the station and helped yourself to an artificial body. You received a suspended sentence for that and a large fine. I can tell you the exact figure!”
His ex-girlfriend was a convict? That was new to him, too. She had managed to break out of a quarantine station? Not bad! But wait a minute... something wasn’t right here. Zhenyi had been deleted from the database. The Secretary couldn’t actually know everything he was telling them, unless he possessed a phenomenal memory—or unless he had prepared a backup of Zhenyi’s data before the deletion. But that meant he must have had something to do with it. How could he alert her to this? Had she already realized? Or was he wrong? Had he missed something important?
“That’s not necessary,” said Zhenyi. “It was a long time ago. I’m prepared to demonstrate my psychological health. And anyone who doesn’t believe me can simply fly with me to the planet of the Herbae.”
“I’m your friend, Wang Zhenyi,” replied the Secretary. “And as such, I only want the best for you. That also means protecting you from potential harm. Your opponents will attempt to question your credibility. You have to be prepared for that. It could also be that the two planetary systems that will be destroyed by the Rescue Project belong to your enormous private fortune. So you could be accused of having a personal interest. Your wealth will protect you from the energy crisis for a long time, which means you would only stand to lose if the Rescue Project went ahead. I need solid evidence before I can present your story to the Convention. It’s in your own interests!”
Zhenyi shook her head and paced even faster around the room. Then the door through which they had entered was opened. The flickering hologram appeared. It beckoned the Secretary, who walked to the door, and the hologram whispered something in his ear.
Columbus turned around and came toward Zhenyi, smiling. “A new situation has come to light,” said the Secretary.
“Yes?” Zhenyi stood still and scrutinized him.
“A message has reached us from Dyson Sphere 7A.”
“Oh yes?” said Zhenyi, playing distractedly with a button on her blouse.
That took a while, thought Kepler. A message traveling at the speed of light actually should have arrived long before they did. They were being played!
“An unregistered ship attacked the sphere to steal dark matter, damaging it in the process. The damage is immense.”
“These pirates just keep getting bolder,” said Zhenyi.
“The ship lost several of its hydrogen tanks when it was hit by material from the star.”
“Yes, those tanks are very sensitive,” said Zhenyi. “We just found that out for ourselves. You only have to orbit too close to a star and they rupture. Very annoying!” She resumed her wandering around the room.
“There has been another incident,” said the Secretary.
“That’s interesting.”
“Interesting is the wrong word. Grisly or terrible would fit better. The architect Walter Gropius has been killed, or rather executed. He was busy at IRS 13 with preparations for the Rescue Project. IRS 13 is on the way from Dyson Sphere 7A to here. Without Gropius the Rescue Project could be delayed. It might even complet
ely fail.”
Kepler felt hot. Gropius, the famous architect, was dead! And it seemed the Secretary suspected them! Things were going horribly wrong! Zhenyi, you have to respond now. Say something, prove we had nothing to do with it!
But Zhenyi said nothing at all. She just kept walking faster and faster, as though that would change something.
“Johannes Kepler, I’m sorry that you’ve been dragged into something that’s bigger than yourself,” said the Secretary.
What? Something that was beyond his capacity? What was this stuffed shirt trying to insinuate? Anger bubbled in Kepler’s gut.
“But you must be able to see,” said Columbus, “that your dear friend here is a danger to society. Unfortunately I have to arrest her. She’s a flight risk, so it has to happen immediately.”
Then nondescript tubes protruded from the walls. They must be some kind of weapon. Zhenyi stood still. She turned around. Her face was ashen.
“You are free to leave at any time, of course, Johannes Kepler. You have served humanity well as an astronomer, and so far have had no conflict with the law. The Convention values your contributions. I’m sure Wang Zhenyi lied to you about her criminal background.”
“I... uh...”
What was he supposed to say? The accusations against Zhenyi were unfair. She was just standing up for the Herbae.
“I... uh, what you’re saying, that’s...” he tried again. He couldn’t just let it go!
“Just go, Johannes,” said Zhenyi. “You heard what he said. You’re free.”
“Your friend is right. It would be better if you left and spared yourself any unpleasantness.”
The door opened. Kepler was getting more than he deserved under the circumstances. He hadn’t prevented the attack on the Dyson sphere. And trying to pin a murder on Zhenyi—that was unacceptable. He nodded and slowly stood up from the sofa.
“I hope we’ll see each other again under better circumstances,” said Columbus. “You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you,” muttered Kepler. “I’ll find my way back then.” He groaned, as though his back ached. Then he bent down again to the sofa. Zhenyi’s handbag was standing there. “I’ll take the comb with me, okay, Zhenyi?” he asked quietly.
“Do what you want,” she replied.
Kepler opened the bag and rummaged in it. He pretended to be searching for the comb, but he had already found what he needed. Columbus was standing a few steps from the sofa, facing Zhenyi. Kepler lifted the bag with his left hand, leaving his right hand inside it, pulling a disappointed face. “I can’t find the comb,” he said.
The Secretary must think he was an idiot, making such a fuss about a comb in a situation like this, but he didn’t care. The man obviously thought he was an incompetent klutz anyway. He’d soon be proved wrong. Sometimes it was good to be underestimated.
“Can you have a look, darling?” he asked. He held the bag out in front of him. One step, two steps, three. Then he was standing behind the Secretary, who had no idea what was about to happen. Kepler felt mischievously elated. Wouldn’t this be a surprise! He pulled the gun out with his right hand and held it against the Secretary’s neck. Columbus froze instantly. It was strange—most people had never felt the barrel of a gun on their necks, but when it happened, they realized immediately what was going on.
“Not a word,” ordered Kepler, pleased at the hardness of his voice. He could be a proper gangster! Now he could only hope that the weapons sticking out of the wall didn’t detect the danger to Columbus. Or that they were stupid enough only to respond to clear instructions from the Secretary. It didn’t matter. Clever or stupid, but nothing in between, please.
Kepler was vindicated. He wasn’t penetrated by bullets, sliced through by laser beams or shocked by electricity.
“Turn around slowly and walk toward the door,” he said.
Columbus obeyed.
“Watch out he doesn’t try anything funny,” said Zhenyi. “I wouldn’t put anything past this guy.”
She could have just praised Kepler. Never mind, he’d praise himself. He had pulled this off really well.
He increased the pressure of the gun against the Secretary’s neck. “A bit faster if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Johannes Kepler, you’re making a grave mistake collaborating with this criminal.”
“Shut it, you scum,” he said. Hearing such aggression coming out of his own mouth was an uplifting feeling.
“Don’t overdo it, now,” said Zhenyi, but she smiled at him conspiratorially.
Thank you, Zhenyi. They stepped out into the corridor. The butler walked in front.
“You’ll lead us back to the shuttle now. And no messing around,” said Kepler.
“There’s a problem with that,” said the Secretary.
“I’m listening? ‘No messing around,’ I said.”
“The shuttle won’t be there.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“We... I ordered a two-seater for you and your butler. Zhenyi wasn’t supposed to leave the administration sector with you.”
“How did you know we were coming? Keep walking!”
“Obviously I wasn’t certain. But the raid on the Dyson sphere showed that you needed fuel. And where would you intend to fly with it? To the Convention, to ensure the Rescue Project would fail. And then when you killed the architect too, we were sure you were serious. But I was of the view that you were just along for the ride, Kepler.”
“Well, you were mistaken,” said Kepler.
Columbus had finally let the mask fall!
“Who’s we?” asked Zhenyi.
“We are a few people who want to implement the Rescue Project. Because it will save us. We can’t afford to take anything else into account.”
“You want to exterminate an entire species?”
“A few blades of grass on a single planet. You’ve been sniffing the grass too much, Zhenyi.”
Kepler hit the Secretary’s ear with the barrel of the gun.
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“You’re murderers, Columbus!” said Kepler.
“We’re rescuers! We’re saving humanity. If you succeed, you’ll have humanity on your conscience.”
Kepler was about to hit him on the ear again.
“Leave it,” said Zhenyi, “it doesn’t help.”
“How do we get to the airlock from here?” asked Kepler.
“I don’t know.”
“Well you’d better think of something, Columbus. Or I might forget myself.” He disengaged the safety on the gun. The Secretary turned around, shocked.
“My private vehicle, we can get across in that,” he said.
“How many seats?” asked Kepler.
“Four.”
“That’s perfect, room for all of us.”
“Or you could leave me behind. I won’t cause any trouble for you.”
“How stupid do you think we are?” asked Kepler. “Of course you’re coming with us. Otherwise the AI will never let us out of the sphere.”
The Secretary hadn’t lied. Half an hour later they were sitting in a kind of aircraft. It was much smaller than the shuttle. Its roof was made of a slightly milky, flexible plastic. Kepler was disappointed.
“Why is there no view of the outside in your private vehicle?” he asked.
Columbus looked at him. “Of course there is. It’s a cabriolet. We can fold the roof down. But it gets very windy in the back seats.”
Even though the air was so cold, that sounded tempting. They could put the butler and Columbus in the back. But then he would no longer be able to control the Secretary.
“Puppy?”
“What can I do for you, Johannes?”
“Can you handle a weapon?”
“I can handle any weapon.”
“If I give you the gun and instructions to put a bullet in the Secretary’s neck if he makes a false move, will you be able to fulfill the instructions?”
“Of course, tha
t’s not difficult for me,” said the butler. “I’m guaranteed not to get tired. You just have to define the term ‘false move’ more precisely.”
“Don’t you have a program that prevents you from harming humans?”
“No, Johannes. I’m an advanced AI—those kinds of prohibitions make no sense. I’m able to evaluate for myself whether an action is justifiable. Shooting the Secretary in the head is morally and ethically acceptable. After all, we’re talking about rescuing a species capable of reasoning.”
“Understood,” said Kepler. “You heard him, Columbus.”
“We need to have a talk about your moral compass again,” said Zhenyi. “But not until this story has had a happy ending.”
“A happy ending? You’re completely screwy. You’ve got the majority of humanity against you, don’t you realize that?”
“Should this utterance be interpreted as a false move?” asked the butler.
Kepler stiffened. The AI seemed to him to be a little too trigger happy. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to put a weapon in the hands of a program. But then he wouldn’t be able to fly in an open-topped cabriolet. What was more important? Columbus’s life or the experience that beckoned?
Kepler laughed to himself. He must be a real hardened criminal if he was asking himself questions like that. “Puppy, an acoustic utterance does not represent a false move,” he said. “Only issues of safety.”
The butler laughed. “That was a joke, Johannes, just a joke.”
“Good. Then can we go?”
“I’m ready,” said Zhenyi. “You’re the one that’s been standing here talking the whole time.”
“Then let’s go. But with the roof down!” he said.
Leaving the scene of the crime in a cabriolet—how cool was that? The wind should be tolerable up front.
Cycle ZR1.5, Convention
The cabriolet docked at the airlock station. Kepler had closed the roof again quite soon after they started out. The wind current had made it too cold even in the front seats, and in the back the butler had complained of deficits in his facial musculature.
The Death of the Universe: Hard Science Fiction (Big Rip Book 1) Page 16