by J G Clements
It was a little over thirty minutes since the directional transmissions had started, but there had been nothing to see from the Swarm. No sign it had noticed them. But by Jim’s reckoning, the wide-beam transmissions should now be starting. The first inkling that something was different was the slow blink of the Swarm ship stopped. “Do I have your attention now?” Holding his breath, he watched, waiting to see what would happen. He checked his chronometer again. If everything was on schedule, the blinking ceased a minute or two after the wide-angle radio broadcast started. All his conclusions were provisional, but he was happy with the hypothesis that the directional radio message wasn’t noticed, but the wide-angle was. ‘They DO notice radio frequency!” Proof of that fact alone would be valuable to Earth and to everyone else.
Still drifting further away from his ship, he kept his eyes on the Swarm. Just as he had hoped, it was changing course. Its fusion drive was on, and Jim had no doubt it was moving to intercept his ship. He only had to wait till it got closer to visually confirm it. And closer it came. Within an hour, it had moved to within five or ten million miles of his ship. Though distances were hard to judge, he knew how far the ship had originally been, and this was the best he could estimate. Also, five million miles was only about thirty light-seconds away. Not close enough for a beam weapon to work on a target making evasive maneuvers, but close enough to fire a predictive burst toward where the target would be in thirty seconds. Not much different than throwing a football to where the receiver would be when the ball got there.
Motionless, and mostly covered by a dark blanket, he just hung there and waited. Would the Swarm come to explore his ship up close? Were they curious what it was doing out here? Or just destroy it? These thoughts were competing in his head for which one would be the most logical. Before he could decide which one the Swarm would settle on, the choice became clear. A single burst from a beam weapon, probably less than three seconds in duration, obliterated his ship. The Ice casing on it might have delayed the inevitable for a second, but with no evasive action, the beam had put so much energy into his ship that its fate was sealed.
Flinching, he reflexively pulled his head deeper into his helmet as if trying to avoid the explosion. His eyes had become very light-sensitive over the last 2 months, and the blast momentarily blinded him. Pulling the blanket around him, he hoped that nothing on his suit reflected enough light to get the Swarm’s attention. Waiting almost thirty seconds for his vision to clear and the blast to subside, he peeked around the blanket.
Still blinking from the light of the explosion, his eyes adjusted enough to see the Swarm. Watching it for ten minutes, he was convinced it was moving away, back toward its original vector. Easy to follow now, its fusion engines were running at full power and making lots of light. If it had been burning like that before he first noticed it, it would have stood out like a sore thumb. Instead, he realized that it hadn’t been putting out any tail-pipe heat trails. It was only after the beam fired that it bothered to use its fusion drive. Jim thought about that for many minutes, then with a grim realization decided the Swarm had some sort of stealth drive that the Crekie didn’t know about. They only used the fusion drive when they didn’t care if they were being seen, like after discharging a beam weapon.
Over the next several hours, Jim had to watch for debris hurtling toward him, debris from his own ship. Mostly water since the ship had been mostly ice, but at velocities that could do him and his suit serious damage. With little adjustment jets, he might be able to get out of its way, but only if he saw it soon enough. After a couple hours, it seemed that all the high velocity debris had flown past him, and he stopped worrying. Instead, he hung there and replayed what he thought he now knew about the Swarm, facts that right now, only he knew.
Satisfied that he now understood everything that had happened over the last day, he found himself with little to do. He had five, maybe six days of drifting like this, then hopefully the Sisk would arrive, and if his suit radio was operating, they’d find him. He had a second’s doubt about his radio not working, and instead of being picked up, drifting till his suit ran out of energy. That thought sent a chill thru him, but he banished it as being non-productive. Instead, he wondered if he could get his lights to blink on and off if a visual signal was needed.
Left with nothing to do, he made every effort to save his suit power. Keeping his oxygen supply working and providing enough heat to keep him warm would tax it. With no sun close enough to provide any substantial amount of radiant heat, he had to rely on power packs, and to a lesser extent, his own biology to make heat. He thought about making use of the blanket, but couldn’t figure out what to do. His heat loss was due to radiant heat loss, not convection. If the blanket would have had a reflective side, he would have put it around him, facing in. That way, any heat trying to leave his suit would be reflected back toward him. The blanket , on the other hand, would just absorb the radiant heat and not reflect it back toward him. Or would it? If the blanket absorbed some heat, wouldn’t it have to reflect some of it back toward him?
With nothing else to do, he spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. Unable to make a decision on what was best, he settled on wrapping it around him, but kept it a little way away from touching his suit. It might not be any good at reflecting heat back, but he sure didn’t want it to be a heat sink.
He had attached the hand-held monitor that Sue had given him to his left arm before he left the ship, but it was outside his suit. Hooking the audio jack into his suit was easy, but he held the monitor outside his helmet and tried to turn it on. The screen seemed to light briefly, then faded as if its power was drained. It took him a second or two to figure out the problem: It was just too cold to work. Whatever the temperature specification had been, it didn’t include operating at something like minus two hundred degrees. He thought about this for a moment, and had an inspiration. Wrapping it in many folds of the blanket, but keeping the blanket from touching the monitor, he left just a small slit where he could see the screen. Then, he waited. Somewhere in it, the battery created a tiny amount of waste heat. If the waste heat could be kept in the device long enough, it would warm the battery some more, which in turn would create even more heat. At some point, the device would become warm enough to turn on. He hoped.
Grinning, as the monitor lit up and the menu appeared, he put the monitor and blanket over his helmet and after a few taps on the lower bezel, selected a movie. Over the next five days, he watched almost two dozen movies and no less than twenty-five baseball games. He also developed a theory on why sequels were so popular.
*****
The Sisk was not jumping. It was steaming under normal fusion reactors, and because of that, it was able to keep its eyes open the whole time. The ‘blind jumps’ that it made were always a bit nerve-racking since you never knew what you were jumping into. But in this case, it was climbing out of a gravity well and could look for Jim’s ship even while it was several hours away. Though no one said it, the way Jim’s radio communication had stopped made everyone uneasy. If the radio had broken, Jim had over five days to get it working again.
Jake and the Navigator knew exactly where Jim’s ship should be: They had gotten a very good fix on it when it had left their ship via the docking bay. True, he could have driven his ship somewhere else with the fusion drive, but the plan had been for him not to have used it. Because of that, Jake wanted to steam right to where Jim should be, then only after that would he look for him on a different vector.
As they decelerated to match what Jim’s speed should have been, and in the area where he should have been, Jake sent a questioning look at his Navigator. Keeping himself as business-like as possible, “No ship visible. Lighting up radar now.” A few seconds pause, though it would be almost a minute for the radar energy to reach its furtherest limit and then bounce back to the ship. “No silhouette.” Another pause, and Jake stole a look out of the corner of his eye at Sue. Her head facing her own controls in life-support. The
Navigator continued, “Full range scanned. No ship. We have cooling debris to starboard. Suggest intercepting it for analysis.”
Jake nodded to his Helmsman, and the ship changed vectors. Silence hung heavy on the Bridge. Jake considered relieving Sue of her station, then thought by keeping her here, she would know first-hand what had happened. He didn’t think she’d be satisfied with being told after the fact.
The Bridge crew did their job, each member reporting as required but without prodding.
“Helm is responding. Turning toward debris.
“Temperatures being scanned. Cooling debris consistent with a beam weapon. Ice shapes are globular. Metal debris consistent.” It was the communications officer, however, who broke the tension.
“Captain, we are being hailed. Source is four light seconds further downlane.” Turning to face the Captain, and to face Sue who was now looking at him. “Jim-88 of the McKinsie Fleet requests an immediate pickup. Power is low and he says he’s cold, sir.”
Jake smiled, and was sure he could see Sue’s shoulders relax. She had turned back to her console and Jake was sure she was composing herself. “Sue, please commandeer a skiff and a crew and see to the retrieval of Jim-88.” Without a word, but maybe with a quick head-nod, she was out the door and on her way. “Helmsman, drift downlane to rendezvous. Proceed with all caution.” Then under his breath, “He’s come too far to get run over now.”
Chapter 22. Crekie Constitution.
Ceres Report: Food
I came up with a system that helps me ration my food. I lay out my meals for the next twenty four hours all at once. Then I tell myself that it has to last for the whole day. It works. Mostly.
The other godsend to me was coffee. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I had instant coffee produced with most of the dietary supplements added to it. It didn’t really help the taste, but like I said, it was instant coffee. The best way to look at it…its the best cup of Joe within several million miles.
With almost two days to reach Earth, there wasn’t anything I had to do, so I did what I liked to do. I thought. This allowed me to stay in my cabin and take meals when I wanted. No one asked me to do any chores. Perfect.
Helen had wrangled the construction of a Spaceport on Earth, and that got me considering the long-term logistics. It was obvious to me that the Spaceport wasn’t just going to be for moderate trade, though I wondered if anyone else had figured that out. No, I was certain that she wanted lots and lots of humans off the planet. Like yesterday. I bet if she had her way, she’d be happy with half the population of Earth living anywhere else but on Earth. There were millions of ships all ready. And the Crekie don’t think small.
The problem would be, who gets to go? And if it took the Crekie long to decide how to accept applicants, it would mess up her plans. Three months to decide you’re acceptable, then you’re in orbit in about 30 minutes. That wasn’t going to work.
Laying on my bunk, I listened. I could sense Helen wasn’t in my mind. The Oddjob had a couple more days of steaming to reach Earth Orbit, so there was no hurry. I’m not sure if she can eavesdrop on me, but I wanted to think about all this without embarrassing myself. I wanted all these questions neatly tied off before I arrived.
Someone would have to screen the applicants. Clearly, there would be some who might be unstable, or not competent enough to learn how to operate a ship. Or some that were just true criminals. How does someone decide who goes? Mulling it around, I decided a dis-interested party could: Someone who had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose. But is there ever a truly disinterested party? Could that person really put any personal prejudices out of his mind? Or would he somehow see what he wanted to see?
“Helen, are you busy?” There was a moments’ pause as the word ‘wait’ formed in my mind.
“I was just getting off the phone with the French Prime Minister. He’s invited us over as soon as you land. Oh, he also wanted to know if we are allowed to accept a gift of wine. Is there some reason we shouldn’t?”
“Look up the definition of bribery.” I waited.
“Oh, so we can’t?”
“Do the Crekie have a law against it? I’ll take all the wine you can load onto the ship.” I was entertaining her, and was pleased she found our exchange to her liking. Then, just to bring the conversation back to something a bit more serious. “You know, there is someone on Ceres who would really appreciate a gift of wine.”
“I know. But can we discuss that another day? Your demands on what to do about the spaceports have completely consumed my efforts.” I never thought of Helen having finite abilities, and this sobered me a bit.
“Helen, I need to know what rules you expect Humans to live by in the Fleets. I know we can convince them to leave Earth, but it’ll be a blind leap of faith. I need to know more about what I’m selling. What sort of societies will await them working for the Crekie?”
“I’d like you to ask Kor or Ag. Wouldn’t they be better at explaining it?” Kor and Ag were on the ship, and I had had a number of conversations with them on all sorts of things. But at the end of the day, they weren’t human. I liked them, and sort of knew how they thought. But it wasn’t good enough.
“Maybe. But I trust you, Helen. They would tell me how they see it. You’ll tell me more about the intent.” She sent the emotion of ‘thoughtfulness’ to my mind.
“The Crekie believe that less government is better. Or that is, less is better for those that can govern themselves. For sentients who feel they can’t govern themselves, we do things differently, OK?” I nodded, physically and in my mind so Helen continued. “We believe that every person has the same rights, but we recognize that they may not all be equal in talent. Toward that end, each person must pursue his or her own destiny. We only make sure that each person has the same rights under our laws. OK?” Another nod that she couldn’t see, but she continued.
“The two most important rights are, ‘Every person has the right to communicate’ and ‘No person can enter a contract of more than thirty days.’” I felt her move away from my mind, giving me room to think about this.
“What about basics? Food, shelter?”
“Oh. Food, water, shelter, medicine and housing is free. But that’s all. Our society provides these, but on a very basic level. If they want to improve their lot in life, or have better food, or dine out, or do almost anything that requires something more than what we provide, they need to earn it.” I saw a myriad of questions, but even before she could answer, I had figured out most of it myself.
“The communication prevents one person from enslaving another, doesn’t it?” I saw all the implications of this and was dumbfounded. “No forced marriages. No one living in a situation without others knowing about it. No secrets. And the thirty day commitment means no one is saddled with long-term debt? They remain free to come and go as they choose? No one is trapped in a situation that is untenable?”
“Exactly. Now for a quiz. If a group forms a raftcity, how do you think its governed?” I puzzled that for only a second then saw it in a flash of insight.
“Anyway they want. But anyone there can cry for help, and anyone there can leave within thirty days. If the government sucks, there will soon be no one to govern. Right?”
“You’re re-inventing what took us a long time to figure out. What else?”
“If you provide for only the basic needs, food and the like, and in a subsistence approach…no one loses, but anyone who wishes can get ahead.” I paused for a second, seeing one implication I didn’t like. “What happens to someone who can’t work?”
“One aspect of your society that seems to have been lost is the idea of community. Almost anyone who CAN’T work is welcomed and treated well by their neighbors. Anyone who WON’T work is pretty much cast out. If I understand your current society, your government seems to not distinguish between these two groups?”
I had nothing to say about that. I’ve seen what Helen was speaking about, and she was right. There was no
progress being made at distinguishing these two groups. Undaunted, I kept examining her ideas looking for flaws.
“If no one can enter into a contract of more than thirty days, doesn’t that prevent long-term projects from getting completed?” I waited for her answer, and was surprised at how long it took her. Was she waiting for me to see it?
Instead, she supplied the answer, but slowly and thoughtfully…an adult speaking to a child. “This ship is a long term project. Every crewman is here voluntarily, and can give thirty days notice and quit. And during that thirty days can communicate his dis-satisfaction with his situation to other crewmembers, or anyone who will listen. Folks will come to their own conclusions. Some will support him, and some will think he’s a crybaby. After he leaves, he’ll need to decide if he wants to work again. Since the Captain owns this ship, having completed two years of duty, he can leave our service to go seek anything he desires. He’d then need to let all the crew know, and they’d be free to go along, or to remain in service with us.”
“But the two year contract to own the ship…isn’t that a way around the thirty-day clause?”
In my mind, merriment. She was enjoying this conversation immensely. “No. Each thirty-day contract he had with us during the two years allowed him to leave. If you want to think of the ship as a bonus for two years service, that’s fine.”
I was rapidly assimilating all this, but at the same time, looking for a fatal inconsistency to these principles of government. “Then couldn’t you have made his last couple of months very difficult? Hoping he’d fail and have to give the ship back to you? That would allow a…” I needed just the right word here, “disingenuous person to cheat someone out of his ‘bonus’?
With no hesitation. “Yes. It would. But he would be free to communicate that opinion during the thirty days…freedom of communication…and turn public opinion against us.” She waited, ready to spring her next trap. “Do you think once the word went out about our behavior, that we would be able to cheat anyone else?”