The Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2)

by Matthew S Williams

  “Good morning passengers,” it said. “We’re traveling to Selket, capital of Ganymede. The local time is 1315 hours. Our expected travel time will be 40 minutes. Access to the Survey isn’t possible on Ganymede. Please review the laws and customs of this world before venturing beyond the spaceport. If you’re in need of added assistance, consult any one of the many information centers spaced throughout the colony. If you require more information, feel free to download a tourist package now.”

  “Now that sounds promising,” said Cheboi. “Do you think anyone’s going to take it up on that offer?”

  “I think I might,” said Gallego. If nothing else, some light reading (very light) might prove to be the distraction she needed. Pulling up an overlay, she accessed the ship’s materials and downloaded a copy of the info booklet for the Jovian system. Accessing it, she began consulting the information specifically for Selket.

  Colorful diagrams of the city layout and helpful pictures denoting key locations and sights unfolded before her eyes. While this wasn’t her first jaunt to the capital, she was once again impressed by the city’s structure. Beneath the dome that enclosed the crater, the entire town had been build according to a honeycomb-like configuration.

  It was rather Cytherean of them. Much like how the cities that floated above the clouds of Venus were based on a modular design, where each module had many of the same bits of infrastructure, the principle behind Selket was also that of constructive self-sufficiency. When the first hexagons went in, each came equipped with the usual necessities. Over time, as more and more modules were added, new and diverse patterns began to emerge, and different sections of the city also began to include certain luxuries.

  Of course, that was where the similarities ended. When it came down to the details - in short, what Cythereans and Jovians considered to be necessities and luxuries - things couldn’t be more different. For the people of Selket, necessities included water purifiers, green-houses, recycling systems, and basic tenements. For these people, food and basic goods were either grown or manufactured, not compiled or synthesized. And when it came time for distractions, they preferred holographic videos or spots, not simulated experiences or games that would be considered reckless or even lethal.

  Living in a post-scarcity and post-mortal society had its advantages. Then again, it also had its drawbacks. People who wanted for nothing tended to take things for granted. That was true of life too, especially when they could reverse aging and death.

  She broke from her diversionary discourse on sociological issues and consulted the map again. She noted the many information kiosks distributed throughout the colony. These were the places where people like her, Cheboi and every other Extro passenger could go if they were feeling out of place and confused by the locals and their primitive ways of doing things. If all else failed, she also noted the presence of embassies towards the center of Selket.

  Each world had its own dedicated delegation on this world, much as they did on every Outer World. But for a resident of the Inner Worlds, any one of these embassies would do in a pinch. Gallego could walk into the Martian or Terran embassy and feel immediately at home. She also knew they would receive her and treat her like one of their own. Among Extros, patriotism and jingoism counted for next to nothing. Their shared lifestyle had erased all boundaries of space, place, nationality or ethnicity a long time ago.

  Having reached the end of what she could gain from the document, Gallego closed it and opened the mission itinerary. The last time she had gone over it was back on Venus and the cryosleep had left her mind the slightest bit foggy. Rather than reading through all Elenko’s notes, she simply uploaded the file back into her neural loom and let the information course through her synapses.

  As soon as they landed and were situated, they had a meeting scheduled with the Constabulary in Selket. This entry in their itinerary was itemized, with time allotted to look over the evidence, survey the scene of the crime, and talk to the investigating officers. Gallego was somewhat amused by the way Elenko and her people had been so detailed, as if they could anticipate every move she and Cheboi would make. A few days’ time had been allotted for “additional inquiries”. It was here that Gallego imagined that any meaningful investigation would be taking place where they could follow any leads they’d uncovered - ones that Elenko could not have predicted.

  Once that was done, she and Cheboi had a flight booked for Europa. This portion of their mission was also quite detailed. Instead of scheduled meetings with the local authorities, Elenko had provided a list of underworld contacts and informants. On Europa, as with all the Outer Worlds, the Councilwoman still had sources that would remember Gallego from the old days. With any luck, they would be able to help her and Cheboi, or at least point them in the right direction.

  Once again, they would be making the trip using a commercial liner that wouldn’t draw any attention. Gallego understood the need for remaining inconspicuous. But one look around the crowded cabin made her long for the flexibility and privacy of a personal shuttle.

  Finished with their itinerary, Gallego closed the overlay. She looked at Cheboi, seated next to her. “How long did that take?”

  Cheboi consulted her own overlay for the time. “About two minutes,” she estimated. “Would you like to review the itinerary? Might help pass the time?”

  “Already did,” Gallego replied somberly. Cheboi nodded, also somewhat unhappily.

  “So, we have no choice but to engage in a strained silence, or make small talk,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d like to swap childhood stories?”

  Gallego hummed thoughtfully. “Not much to say. I was born on Venus, I joined the Cytherean Council once I was done with school. After a few years of working for them, I decided to travel. Which is what I’ve been doing since.”

  “You mean... you worked for Elenko.”

  Gallego looked at Cheboi. There was no sense in denying her version, so she nodded. “Yes, I was an attaché to her for much of my time with the Council. “

  “And you did things like this, going from place to place, gathering intel and meeting with people?”

  “Pretty much, yes. Like many others, I was the eyes and ears of the Council. The information I would gather would be used to draft policy recommendations and assess possible risks or changes of a geo-political nature.”

  Cheboi didn’t immediately respond. This prompted Gallego to look at her and notice the distant look and contemplative frown on her face. It took a second, but Gallego realized from the way that her eyes were clear that she wasn’t looking at an overlay. She was simply deep in thought.

  “What is it?”

  “I was told you did work for her,” said Cheboi, meaning Elenko. “They said you went off to become a do-gooder, building things for the larger habitats. The way they spoke of you, I got the distinct impression there was some kind of tryst going on.”

  Gallego blushed slightly, then laughed. “Who? Zee and me? Is that why you think I left? Because she and I were lovers who had a spat?”

  Cheboi looked at her with a smug, knowing look. “See? It’s things like that. The Councilwoman has pretty much everyone in the Cytherean Council walking around like they’re afraid of their own shadows. People are afraid to cough around her. But you have a nickname for her.”

  Gallego blushed again. She knew she wasn’t helping her case by responding as such, but it was something of a sensitive point for her. Her relationship with Elenko had always been difficult to define, but it never came down to anything as artless as sex. It would be more accurate to say they always had a type of bond, a special understanding that had grown over the years. It was obvious to many in the Council after her first two years that Elenko had come to rely on her and trust her more than any other attaché. Gallego knew that this had prompted some people to start looking at her with a combination of scorn and jealousy. People always resented the favorite one and assumed nasty things about their character.

  Honestly, the thoug
ht that people were speculating about her and Elenko had crossed her mind in the past. Even Burhan wondered sometimes. Gallego could tell from the way he looked at her sideways whenever the subject came up. But until now, no one had been bold enough to ask her outright. Rather than being offended, she felt like it was refreshingly honest.

  “I’m not sure how I can explain it, but it was never sexual,” she eventually said. “Elenko and I understood each other. She demanded the best of me and was able to motivate me to do more than I ever thought possible. But over time, that can kind of become burdensome. And I got to feeling before long like she expected too much of me and it would never be enough.”

  Cheboi stopped smiling. Her expression conveyed something entirely new. Her eyes, her face, and everything emanating from her conveyed a sense of understanding. “It’s funny, but I think I know exactly what you mean.”

  “You do?” said Gallego, somewhat surprised.

  “Sure. There’s always that someone in our lives who knows us too well, who expects you to be better than everyone else, and maybe even better than you’re. It’s not something anyone can tolerate indefinitely. Sooner or later, we all need room to fail and be ourselves. It’s simply not natural otherwise.”

  “That’s very... accurate.”

  Cheboi’s smirk returned. “You sound surprised.”

  Gallego raised a hand defensively. “No, it’s just that... people like us, in this line of work, are always looking for ways to become better and more than what we’re. It’s rare that someone understands that sometimes, you need to just... be.”

  A moment of silence followed between them. No more words were necessary. Gallego didn’t even need to explain that to Cheboi whom she was referring to when she used the word “us”. This was another thing that people of all the Inner Worlds understood, be they Cytherean, Terran or Martian. The idea of being human, and that being good enough. It was a rare attitude where they came from, which made it even more precious.

  Gallego noticed a slight change. Between a new found sensation in her ears, and a slight shift in the pit of her stomach, she was aware of how close they were to the surface now. “Oh, we’re entering the atmosphere.”

  Gallego said this just before the ship’s automated voice, sounding cheery as ever, made its announcement.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now entering the atmosphere of Ganymede and beginning our descent towards Selket spaceport. Please remain in your seats until the ship has completed its landing.”

  Cheboi looked at Gallego with a note of surprise on her face. “How could you tell? There’s been no bumps or turbulence.”

  “There’s the slightest shift when a shuttle like this one punches into an atmosphere like Ganymede’s,” Gallego said, feeling just a little bit impressed with herself. “It’s the same for any of the Jovians really. It’s quite subtle, but if you’re attuned to it, you can sense when the hull passes from the low-pressure environment around Jupiter to the tenuous atmosphere around its moons. You can also tell because it takes half a second for the ship’ systems to adjust to the local gravity. At first you feel nothing, then the slightest sensation of being pulled down.”

  Once again, Cheboi didn’t immediately reply. When Gallego looked at her this time, she was confronted by a look of sardonic amusement.

  “That reminds me of the other thing they told me about you,” she said. “They said you were classically educated and into poetry in a big way. At least they got that much right about you.”

  This made Gallego smile. Despite the interesting way in which they had been introduced, she found herself feeling increasingly comfortable with Cheboi. That would come in handy in time, when she might be called upon to keep them both alive.

  Gallego’s smile faded the moment she realized that so far, their sharing had been entirely one-way. Of all the conversations they had had so far, the woman who was ensuring her protection hadn’t said a single thing about herself. She was inviting Gallego to trust her but wasn’t reciprocating. Was it possible to trust someone without knowing anything about them?

  She’s a good fighter, Gallego thought. That, and a sense of humor, was about all she knew about the woman so far.

  NINETEEN

  HE WAS STANDING IN a tremendous garden, one that stretched as far as the eye could see. Where his feet touched the ground, a path of tiny stones was laid out before him. Each step he took produced a muffled crunching noise that was strangely pleasant to his ears. Emile paused for a moment and looked up at the domed sky. He drew in a deep breath of warm, scented air, filling his lungs with the fresh scent.

  Just beyond the path, a lush landscape of hibiscus, jasmine, orchids, birds of paradise, and breadfruit trees stretched into a hazy distance. To his right, he spotted another garden, one that was every bit as extensive as the one to his left. Except this one contained a separate microclimate that ensured less humidity, lower ambient temperatures, and plants that were suited to this. Throughout this temperate garden, red cedars, ferns, rhododendrons, snowdrops and purple camas flowers thrived and blossomed.

  It was a minor miracle that was nonetheless spectacular to behold. Thanks to systems that generated micro-climates and a dedicated force of robotic tenders, countless gardens had been made to thrive on the Martian surface. No genetic modifications were necessary, and the perennial nature of the gardens was a testament to the accomplishments of the settlers.

  This was that nature of the city Emile now stood inside. Anjuman was appropriately named, as it had always been a settlement dedicated to creating a garden on Mars. While Pavanopolis was the de facto center of Martian culture, commerce and assorted activities, Anjuman was its spiritual and administrative center. Whenever the Martian Council needed to convene to discuss matters of import, Anjuman was usually where it would happen.

  Emile looked to the distance and spotted the structure he needed to get to. Through the moderately humid air that passed between micro-climates, he could make out the intrusive walls of the Sanctuary complex. On top of them, arranged like temples on a mount, were the squat boxes that made up the capitol buildings.

  True to its inspirations, the Sanctuary had an unmistakable Indo-Aryan look about it. The columns that marked its edges or served as structural supports were carved to represent scenes from the earliest days of Martian settlement.

  Even though the technology was all available during the time of its construction, no nanomaterials or nanofabrication went into the construction of the Sanctuary. Its walls had been hewn from locally-sourced stone and sliced by diamondoid-tipped blades and impact hammers.

  It was strange, thought Emile. The structure had been built by the same people who had settled Mars. Even in those heady days, those colonists from some of the most advanced offshoots of humanity had been decidedly ancient in their sensibilities, when it came time to erect something in their honor, something that glorified their achievements. One look at the structure’s reliefs also spoke of a certain pagan ethos.

  Perhaps that was an artistic statement in and of itself. No matter how advanced their species had become, they still reached backwards to find the necessary symbols and messages to give their lives meaning.

  Coming to the main stairway, Emile paused to look up at the face of the wall. Up close, it was somewhat imposing and impressive, not quite like looking down at the Drift. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in significance. He also felt a small knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Walking into this complex, preparing to face the Martian Council, he had to assume that this was the intent. The lovely invitation that Fionn and his colleagues had extended wasn’t meant to be kind.

  Relax, he told himself. They have nothing but their suspicions and no basis for any accusations. Calling up an overlay, he looked at the report from Titan. Very soon, he would be conveying these details to them as well. Perhaps then, they could put this matter to rest, and then Emile could focus all his attention on the matter at hand. The one that was currently unfolding several light mi
nutes away...

  THE LIGHT NOW ENTERED in through several strategically-placed recesses around the walls. The outer dome’s filters made it look like something akin to sunshine on Earth - bright and clear, unhampered and colored by atmospheric dust. Emile stood at a pulpit that looked towards the long end of the building. Arranged before him in a crescent-moon formation, were the six seats of the Martian Council.

  Sitting in the third chair from the left, Fionn commenced their proceedings with a simple introduction.

  “Doctor Chandrasekhar, good to see you again. I appreciate you coming in person. We wanted this to be a face to face discussion, given the sheer importance of it.”

  Emile smiled at Fionn, who sat behind his pulpit. He directed a glance at all the other Councilors, some of whom were physically present, and others who had ported in from locations off-planet. It was hypocritical of Fionn to stress the need for Emile to come to them when some of his own weren’t willing to make the trip. But of course, he wasn’t about to say this. At least, not in those words.

  “How could I refuse?” said Emile. “I’ll accept any chance I can get to see this sacred place in person. I understand that some of the Council are currently engaged with other things, but I thank them for attending in virtual form.”

  The other councilors acknowledged his words with mechanical smiles. Councilwoman Devi Natalegawa, seated to Fionn’s immediate right, spoke next, using words intended to put Emile at ease.

  “We want to assure you this is an impromptu meeting. While it’s a matter of record, we simply want to share our concerns with you regarding recent developments. We know that you share these concerns, and it’s our hope that we can come to a mutually-satisfactory understanding.”