by Eric Flint
Despair.
31
Societies are dynamic things, feeding on inputs from outside. There is no such thing as a stable society any more than there is perpetual motion.
From: Elementary Societal Psychodynamics.
2089. James R. Grey (ed).
New Harvard Library (Pub.)
There was a knock on the door. Zoe went to open it. "We have some people who wish to meet your guest," said the elderly flier who was standing there. "Zoe, you know flight cooperative chief Gersholm of the Goshawks and flight cooperative deputy chief Karasoff of the Falcons."
Amber saw how Zoe's eye's widened. "Come in," she said. "What brings the heads of the two other biggest flight co-ops into Osprey sky?"
"I think you know the answer, test pilot," said Karasoff, waving a hand at Amber. "The Matriarchy of Diana wants her back. And we're not too sure we want any of them here in Icarus."
"That's too bad. You know they've fulfilled the basic requisites for citizenship, don't you?" said Zoe, putting a hand on Amber's shoulder. "They volunteered, in the presence of witnesses, to fly. No one has yet said it was 'too dangerous'. "
"Yes," said the older man who was plainly the senior Osprey. "I told them. But we're talking a lot more about practicalities than four-hundred-year-old idealism here, Zoe. The status quo isn't that bad."
Zoe exploded. "Like hell, Cremer! You know as well as the rest of us that the Icarus cooperative was formed to get out from under the 'status quo.' We're heading into our dream-dangerous and unpredictable times-they're less than eighty years off and suddenly you want to start living safe. Get out of here. I'm calling an Osprey general meeting and we'll vote ourselves a new MD."
"Calm down," said the third man. "I'm with you. And if Chief Cremer doesn't like it, I am formally mandated to give you and your guests entry to the Goshawks. I'm of the firm belief that your visitors should be shared among all the flight cooperatives, and not just Osprey."
The Osprey chief gaped at him.
He held up his hand soothingly. "Anyway. Just hear us out, please. Diana says they've got vat problems. You don't want people to starve, do you?"
"How do you know all this?" asked Amber suspiciously.
"There are comm lines in the cable," explained the Goshawk. "We have occasionally spoken to other habitats in the past, although we are not intended to. They were meant for major disasters affecting the whole train. We suspect that computer records of current status of all the beads are also sent to the last habitat, to be returned to Earth. They get their data on all of us serially, that way. Anyway, the Matriarchy picked up a radio broadcast on a frequency set onto a transmitter in your lab. They worked out that it could come from here. They're begging."
Amber bit a knuckle. "I'll tell you bluntly, there are at least five others in the Matriarchy that could do my actual job from the biochem or the micro side. If-and this is a big if-they have a real problem, it is likely to be engineering or computer support. I'm better with computers than most. I'm no engineer. I think they want me back for political reasons. But -I've got biochemical expertise that you need, and they are in no position to make you hand me over."
"We know that," said the Falcon. "They claim that you were kidnapped and that the others of your party are criminals. Is this true?"
Amber looked at the three: two men and a woman, and knew her future and her happiness hung in the balance. "No," she said. "If anyone was kidnapped by anyone, I kidnapped them. The others aren't criminals either-or at least they wouldn't be, here, by your laws. Howard-the big guy-his crime was wearing clothes and being out in public without a woman." That produced a stunned chuckle. "If you'll sit down, I'll tell you as much of the story as I know. Then you can decide for yourselves. To my mind, the best thing you could do would be help this poor alien to reach his ship."
They listened.
"These uThani-they want to invade? And you brought them here?" asked Karasoff.
"Be reasonable," said Amber. "What else could we do? And how practical would an invasion be? But they're going to be alone in space soon. At least this way… well, they have some idea what they'll face, and how to face it. Sending them out here was little more than genocide, actually. We ought to help them."
The trio looked at each other. "Actually, that seems to be the weakness of the whole Slowtrain," admitted the Osprey leader. "We all need some kind of help by now. Humans were designed to cross-pollinate, not to be self-fertile. Look, Dr. Geriant, I would be lying if I said the Osprey wouldn't like you to stay here, at least for some teaching-time. And as for the rest of your group, well, I'd say that if this is all true, the best we can do is, as you say, export them to the next bead. That might just be terminal, though. They've been lucky so far… but the next bead is another matter."
He grimaced. "Do you know that it was planned that the bead-societies would provide isolation buffers? The next bead is supposed to be a militant one. We're supposed to be untraversable. That's why the co-op got a reduced rate for our passage on the Slowtrain. We apparently couldn't afford anything nearer the tail. It has meant a long wait." He rubbed his chin. "Will you at least talk to the Matriarch? She genuinely seemed to be close to panic. Talked of sending a force out to fetch you if need be."
"The uThani would kill them… if they ever got that far."
"It does sound like it," said the Goshawk chief. "I might tell you that I envy you, Dr. Geraint. I'd like to see that place."
"You might be able to organize it. Going in uninvited would be fatal. I wish I could talk the Matriarchy out of this stupidity. I don't even know-without Kretz's ship-if we can get back. Going through the uThani habitat without their say-so would be impossible."
"We could organize comms right here," said the Osprey chief.
Amber nodded. "I suppose I'd better."
"You don't have to do anything for them," said Zoe firmly.
"I know. But a bit of talking might save some lives."
It didn't take very long. Nor did the Matriarch beat about the bush.
"Dr. Geriant, the Matriarchy needs you. We want you back. We're happy to let bygones be bygones. We're prepared to offer Matriarchal pardons to you and to all your associates, with any guarantees you want. Or name your terms." The woman cleared her throat. "I also have to tell you that Jean says she'd be prepared to try again."
A week ago that would have been all Amber Geraint needed to hear. Now all it said was that huge pressure had been brought to bear. She could-now-look at that last argument-and the ones that led up to it, and be dispassionate. It had all been about dominance, really. A relationship between two equals-both masters of separate fields and not competing-might just work better.
"Tell her she can sleep easy and alone. And then let me have a technical report on the problem. It sounds to me as if it's an engineering one, and we may just have a solution for you here. A real, long-term solution. One that actually doesn't involve me."
When the full report came through, Amber was pleased to see that her guess was right. The temporary answer Melanie had come up with was not a bad solution, really. But manual mixing of nutrients just wasn't going to work as well or in the long term. She showed it to Zoe who giggled a lot, and not just because she was being tickled. She couldn't show it to the Osprey, Goshawk and Falcon chiefs, because they had gone to meet the other travelers. Probably to see how their stories corroborated with Amber's. It certainly looked like the others would have their free passage soon.
"We will have to see what we can charge for fabrication and fitting," said Zoe.
"We should get the uThani to bargain for us about it. They're selling off feathers from some dead birds-that they would have thrown away-for a fortune."
Zoe winning the championship with her new tail mods, while sweet, was almost anticlimactic.
32
The trouble with a nanny state is that in the long run you're only going to have people who need a nanny. When you're pushing the frontiers you need attitude. Space is no
t for wimps. People who like danger-sports are not fools, nor, despite the risks we take, do we die often. That's because we learn PDQ what a nanny deprives humans of. Personal assessment. Learn it, learn it fast, or deck it.
–
Jean-Marie Signy, from her address to the Icarus cooperative founding meeting.
There were just four of them this time. Howard, Lani and two flier "apprentices"-no one who was in the least agoraphobic. From an early age, the fliers had all visited a lock that allowed a deep-space view, so a billion miles of nothingness was no shock to them. They also had a simple jet-pack-much less wasteful than venting oxygen-to "fly" the gap, and a reel of thin but strong cord and several powerful magnets with loops of cord. The fliers wanted to set up a Tyrolean traverse, whatever that was, and save fuel. They had major expansion projects that were just seventy-nine years off, and they weren't planning on being prodigal about their resources.
That was something Howard could admire about the Icarans. Actually, he found quite a lot to admire in them. Four hundred years was a long time to nurture a dream, to keep it fresh and strong. And their fabrication works were a place he could have been happy to fiddle in every day.
Crossing the gap, even while unspooling the line, was much faster this time. And they could all shriek with glee without offending anyone.
There was just one problem when they got to the next habitat. The craft Kretz had so painstakingly described to him…
Was conspicuous by its absence.
"And now?" asked Lani. "There is definitely nothing but standard walkways here."
Kretz's worried voice came over the radio. "It is possible that Derfel may have moved it. I suspect he may have been listening in.. . I suppose he could have dumped it into space. I do not believe that it could be taken into a habitat airlock."
"So what do we do now?" asked Lani. "Kretz's companion is stuck inside there. His ship isn't here and he hasn't got the air to come himself. Do we go in and deal with the perps, just the four of us? Howard is an army by himself, but he's a pacifist, you know. And, meaning no offense, but a stiff breeze will blow you flyboys away."
Howard's eyes narrowed. "We go on to the airlock, Lani. I need to see if I'm right."
They did-and found that the airlock would not open. Howard nodded thoughtfully. "I think we need to stop broadcasting on this radio device. Little pitchers have big ears. I believe that we can touch helmets and talk."
Lani knew him well enough to trust him implicitly. She toggled the radio off and touched helmets. "I don't suppose you wanted to tell me you loved me, privately," she said.
Talking through the helmets wasn't that effective. It was more like lip-reading. But she understood "other airlock."
It did make sense, she supposed. Unless the alien had left his "kingdom" completely, he had to have gotten back in. He could have still blocked the airlock after he did that, though. There was a trifling matter of a hundred-and-fifty-meter-high equatorial ridge between them and the next airlock. On the other hand, they had a long cable and some folk who liked to fly, even if they couldn't get into the ladder access. With all of them doing the trip at that speed-without having to lead Amber or any other panicky people-they had the air reserve to try.
It was a long way up and out, still. And there wouldn't be many reserves if they got it wrong. They began to climb up the bars enclosing the outside of the ladder. After a brief while the flyboy motioned that he wanted to turn on the radios. "Too slow," he said. "Give me the jetpack and you anchor here and feed cord."
Minutes later they had a line to the top. And the flyboy said cheerfully-obviously understanding the need to talk in riddles on the radio-"Jackpot!"
They "flew" over the ridge. That was scary, when you considered the fragility of that line. It was all very well knowing that the fabricators claimed that it had a ton and half breaking strain and that they needed the stretch-factor. Lani even understood why, but still, it was a thin cord between her and nothingness. She was glad to get back inside the bars of the walkways and back on her feet.
She was even more pleased to find out that the far airlock could be opened. They stopped there, to change air cylinders for fresh ones and also to talk-without the possibility of eavesdroppers.
"There is a chance he's booby-trapped the lifecraft, you know," said Lani, worriedly. "It's what I'd have done."
"We'll just have to look carefully," said Howard.
"That's all very well," said Lani skeptically. "Of course we can look for wires or such things… but electronic traps?"
Howard shrugged. "We will just have to trust in God. However we must also prevent this airlock resealing when we go."
"Why? I mean… that's dangerous to the people inside," said one of the fliers.
Howard nodded. "On the other hand, we don't want this one sealed against us too, and we don't want Kretz's craft lost, before we can get him here. The mad Miran may just decide to finally dispose of it. I know from prior experience that even a small obstacle will prevent the other door from being opened. Air leakage-if it happened-would be very slow. And we are planning to return, soon."
"But what would make the nutbag do anything like that?"
"We may need radio comms with Kretz when we get there, and we'll have to return to him with a rebreather unit-if this Derfel has not removed them."
"Okay. I don't like it," said the birdie-woman. "It's not space-safe. But I see your logic, I suppose."
"I don't like it either," admitted Howard. "But I have learned, in the course of this journey, that we have to do some things that we don't want to. The Miran who is in there is mad, and when he changes sex he will become homicidally mad. Kretz will die if we don't take these steps. His friends trapped in here and on the other ship need him. There are risks. But… Kretz has kept the faith with them. Our species has tried to kill him, imprisoned him, placed every obstacle in his path. He still has kept trying. Can we do less for him? This is a simple, relatively low risk act, if bad practice. It's a pragmatic step to make sure that his lifecraft is here, undamaged, when he gets here."
"You're a hopeless idealist, not a pragmatist," said the birdie-woman, grinning and shaking her head. "What do you intend to use?"
"This wire?"
She shook her head. "Might damage the seal."
"What about a piece of cloth?" offered Lani.
"That would be ideal if you've got something that you feel you can spare."
Thus it was that access was secured by a pair of panties Lani hadn't seen much point in anyway.
They approached the squat angular shape of the alien lander with trepidation. It did nothing, which they found quite worrying enough. Careful examination found a thin cable across the gangway. Lani cracked radio silence. "Kretz. Talk to us about Miran booby traps."
His voice came across the ether. "I have considered this since the ship was moved. The best answer is that there is an emergency exit on the upper surface, just behind the forward window. I think you could gain access there. It has a slitlike handle you turn clockwise. It is quite small."
"Out," said Lani.
They had to use Howard as a ladder. Fortunately, he made a good one, sturdy and very obliging about using his hands as rungs. Unfortunately, he also had delusions that he would go into Kretz's ship, just in case there were traps. It was a good thing that the emergency exit was just too small for him, or the argument might have wasted more air.
Lani felt very isolated when the little door closed above her; a few moments later she became the first human to walk inside an alien ship. It was remarkably like a dark, metal-walled human-built corridor might have been. Mindful of Kretz's irritating don't-touch-anything lecture-What did he think they were? Primitives?-she resisted the very human desire to explore and just concentrated on getting back down to the inner main door, where Kretz said the spare air cylinders for his rebreather were stored. With two of them in hand-just in case-she set off back, carefully not disturbing the tripod and possible weapon arrangement
just inside the door. Howard was waiting anxiously to haul her out.
Then it was just a long spacewalk back.
By the time they returned, Kretz was in a ferment of worry and guilt. Indecisive worry and guilt. What should he do? Had he sent a being-who had become a friend-to his death? Would he be able to help those who depended on him? Should he have tried a human suit, even if his feet would never have fitted into the boots? It was difficult to imagine getting anything remotely close to a fit, but should he have tried? Should he have let the engineers in this place loose on his existing tank to see if they could refill it?
He was almost furious to see them back, smiling and laughing. With this came a realization. They were no longer friendly aliens. They'd become the same as any other Miran in the way he perceived them-and it was apparent that Howard and Lani viewed him in much the same way. They put their arms around him.
Howard suddenly realized what he was doing. Holding a woman, and an alien thing-as if it was the most natural thing to do.
And then he realized that it was. "It's nearly over," he said regretfully. "We have your air tanks, and we'll have you back to your lifecraft in a short time."
He squeezed Kretz's shoulder "And you know what? I am going to miss you, Brother Kretz." He smiled. "To think that I was devastated to be chosen to go with you. Now… I don't know that I can go back. At least, not to stay. I'd like to go and open a few blind eyes. But it would be strange to worry about tomato-yields after this. I have seen space, I have read other books, which are not about religion. I have seen that other people work metals and make things without being cast into exile or worrying about hellfire."
"You are a rather different human than the man who worried about this female," said Kretz, looking at Lani. "What was it that you called her again, when you first met?"
"A painted Jezebel," admitted Howard. "I behaved like a narrow-minded fool, looking back, and got us into a lot of unnecessary trouble. Mind you, I still worry about her. And about myself. But I am beginning to accept that the Brethren have tried to make God into a very narrow image of man, instead of man being created in the image of God. Man was created in the image of someone loving, omnipotent and omni-cognizant, that understands human frailty and differences better than we can. We must try to include, not to exclude."