They all watched the screen as the fiery trace of asteroid five skimmed around the atmosphere of Ceres.
“Still on track!” shouted Genes, staring intently at his monitor. “Yes, yes … Dang!”
He sank back in his chair, utterly dejected. “They’re getting smart,” he muttered.
“Alien missile launch! Two of them!” announced Cobus.
Again Genes applied himself furiously to try to steer his asteroids out of the path of the missiles that were homing in on them. The rest of the crew in the control centre could only watch him, agonised, and hope, but it was an unfair contest.
“Asteroid seven down,” announced Cobus glumly. “Asteroid one down.”
Then, “Wait!” he yelled. “Incoming missile! Defence live!” Everyone heard the launch of the departing rockets as they rose to attack the intruder.
Seconds later there was a monumental crash and Prometheus juddered. A fire started somewhere in a data bank and the control centre began to fill with dark, acrid smoke. “Suits and helmets!” shouted Arlette. “Secure for loss of gravity. Sellick, kill the fire!”
Pandemonium briefly ensued as the crew snatched up their space helmets and secured themselves in their ergo-couches. A few minutes later the fire was extinguished and the smoke began to clear. Everyone turned their attention back to their monitors.
“Air pressure stable!”
“Induced gravity normal!”
“Skin integrity OK.”
“Power supply OK.”
There was a brief silence.
“Genes, propulsion?”
There was no answer.
“Genes?”
Genes was no longer there.
Sanam was carrying two cups of hot coffee and was thrown off her feet when the debris from the destruction of the incoming missile hit Prometheus. She crashed against a bulkhead and went down in a heap, blood streaming from a cut on her temple. “Oh, Sanam!” wailed Arun, rushing over and cradling her in his arms.
“Get off, you lump!” said Tim Cochran. “And go and get me a bandage!”
Arun stumbled off, accompanied by the other co-pilot, to find a first aid box.
When they returned, they sat around watching Tim Cochran do such an extravagant bandaging job that hardly a strand of Sanam’s rich black hair was visible.
“How am I going to put on my helmet with this on my head?” Sanam wanted to know.
“Get a bigger helmet,” was Tim’s helpful suggestion.
“What’s Genes Clayton doing in Lander 2?” Arun asked casually.
“What?”
“Genes Clayton. He was just closing the airlock when I got back. What’s he doing in there?”
They all turned towards the airlock just in time to see Lander 2’s boosters flash.
“My God!” said Arun. “He’s stolen our ship!”
When Tim Cochran reported the theft of Lander 2 to Arlette, she cursed herself for her utter stupidity in trusting a man for even a second who she knew to be a cunning and ruthless criminal. She assumed that Genes has taken the opportunity of the fire to steal the lander to save his own miserable neck. Her anger raged through her and she could not speak for several minutes. Finally it drained away and she was able to instruct Cobus to take over as motor man.
But Cobus was already tracking asteroid four and could see that it was being controlled.
“Asteroid four is on track,” he said. “It’s being controlled from a vehicle – that must be one of our landers!”
“Show me!” said Arlette incredulously.
The great screen focused in on asteroid four. It was being shadowed, and the shadow was immediately identifiable as Lander 2.
“What the hell is he doing?” howled Arlette.
“I would say that he’s guiding asteroid four to the target,” said Cobus. Everyone was riveted to the screen.
Genes was no stranger to the lander’s cabin, or its systems. Flying had always been his passion and he had trained in just about every vehicle used by the ISEA in the last twenty years. He tuned into the asteroid guidance system, did a swift pre-flight check, released the lander, turned her with the retro-rockets, and then fired the boosters.
“I will not fail,” he said, not just to himself.
He picked up asteroid four on the guidance system and then checked the position and course of Silver Streak. “In the window,” he breathed.
Genes made only one small course correction as asteroid four curved around Ceres before Silver Streak appeared on the horizon. He saw the flash of rockets as the great ship began to counter-manoeuvre, then his mind revealed to him the data he was certain was coming.
“2.3 degrees left in six seconds.”
He complied.
“1.2 degrees down in three seconds.”
He made the final correction.
Genes saw the asteroid pile into Silver Streak and the beginning of a cataclysmic explosion. Then Lander 2 was shredded into fragments by the blast.
The destruction of Silver Streak was the most fantastic spectacle that anyone on Prometheus had ever seen. The images, captured by the satellites put in orbit to track the invader, and slo-mo’d, showed the asteroid enveloping the spacecraft as its surface ice melted on impact, then the destruction of the ship as the rocky centre smashed through its body, and finally a huge explosion as the energy of the impact ignited everything combustible in it. Sadly, though, this was not all it showed. The elegant white form of Lander 2 appeared in the picture at the moment the explosion detonated, and it seemed to turn almost instantly into a cloud of white dust.
“There goes a very brave man,” said Henri into the silence that followed.
34
Shaping the Future
The enquiry conducted by the leadership team that followed found no evidence that Genes had not acted entirely on his own initiative. He had understood the limitations in the scope of control of the asteroids by the parasite systems and realised that the alien ship had correctly seen this weakness. All they had to do was move out of the way when it was too late for a remote signal to change the asteroid’s course any more. Genes had probably concluded that he would have to be able to steer the asteroid up to the last moment, and he had taken the only course of action open to him to achieve that end.
He was, then, a belated hero in the eyes of the Prometheus mission, and his attempts to take control of it earlier began to be seen as the sadly misguided results of his social convictions, rather than greed or the lust for power. This suited the leadership, who cared more and more about the cohesiveness of the mission, and less and less about accounting to Mission Control for their actions.
Hannah had been observing Arlette as the findings of the enquiry were delivered, and went to see her shortly afterwards.
“You miss him, don’t you?” she asked.
Arlette looked at her dolefully. “Yes,” she said. “Somehow I never doubted that he had greatness in him. I knew he was wild and a risk-taker, and he deserved no mercy for what he did, but he gave his life to save our mission. I can’t help being deeply affected by that.”
“How close did you feel to him personally,” asked Hannah.
Arlette looked away. “Nothing happened,” she said finally. “But it could have, in the right circumstances.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have raised the bar so high?” said Hannah. “You’re strong enough to follow your own instincts. Nobody would think any the less of you. You need physical contact and human warmth, you know. You’re not a zombie.”
Arlette looked straight into Hannah’s eyes. “Yes,” she said, “you’re right. I do regret it. I wish I’d let him charm me and that I’d taken him into my bed. I could have handled the consequences, but I was just too … proud. But what about you, Hannah? What are you doing for human warmth?”
Hannah laughed. “I have my Jafar back home,” she said, “and we have some very private exchanges on the video. I’m OK. I feel his love and that sustains me. How do you feel about Henri
these days?”
“Gosh, Hannah, you don’t pull your punches, do you?” said Arlette with a grin. “You know he’s fucking Julia, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Hannah lightly. “I think they enjoy each other’s company, intellectually and sometimes physically. Does it bother you?”
Arlette was going to say ‘No’ but changed her mind. “It does,” she said, “because there is unfinished business between us. I’m not jealous of Julia. I’m not like her and her relationships with men seem to be just, well … playful. I think she’s completely unaware about my relationship with Henri. I don’t think there’s any spite in her.”
“But?”
“But Henri and I should have had a long talk, and we haven’t,” said Arlette with a shrug.
“Well, you should,” said Hannah, “as soon as possible. And, if the mood takes you, you should take him to bed and then laugh with him about it afterwards. There’s tension there when you interact. It would be better if it was resolved.”
“Gee, thanks Hannah!” said Arlette, laughing. “I feel better already”
“Good,” said Hannah. “There’s something else. You’re preoccupied with this Omnipotence thing, aren’t you?”
“Well,” shot back Arlette, “aren’t you?”
“No,” said Hannah. “If it’s there, it’s there, and it’s always been there. We are going to do our best and live in accordance with our values. Don’t look over your shoulder; you cannot possibly second guess what is required of you. It should be enough to know that your instincts have served you well. You must do what you must do and take this mission where you believe it should go. We all see the complicity of Mission Control and we all know we are here to do a good job for humanity. Let’s continue with our internal debates, but be yourself and stop worrying about pleasing everybody.”
“Do I try to please everybody?” asked Arlette.
“No,” said Hannah, “but you worry about it.”
* * *
Cobus Vermeulen was charged with setting up an early-warning system to detect any fresh intrusion into the Omega 16 planetary system, and he deployed an extensive array of satellites encompassing all the planets to do so. With this underway, the focus on extending the colonisation of Ceres was increased. A substantial extension to the Orange House was commenced, with the objective of housing a population of 100, and the camp in the Lake Area was expanded and fortified.
The shipbuilding programme advanced slowly at first with the construction of an eight-seat motor-assisted sailing vessel, which allowed for modest one-day excursions that were more pleasurable than practical, but design work then commenced on a much larger ship with on-board accommodation. The construction and fitting-out of this ship became a favourite activity at the base, and extensive debates went on about the design of her facilities. The jubilation at her launch was somewhat tempered by the list she adopted in the water, but this was promptly corrected with ballast. When Arlette was asked to name her, she chose Orange Queen because her sails were, inevitably, made of the same orange parachute material that had proven so versatile in other applications.
The colony was yet to face a Ceresian winter, but satellite assessments of the weather patterns at the same latitude in the southern hemisphere of the planet indicated that frosts would be only a rarity, even at the depth of the long nights. They would remain dependent on the nuclear power plants that had been brought in Prometheus, supplemented by solar power for recharging the batteries of the vehicles, but coal deposits had been found close to the surface, so energy dependence was not a great concern.
The issue that really did concern the leadership was how to close the industrialisation gap for a population that was used to sophisticated products. They could make none of these for themselves, and to import all the equipment to manufacture a household item like a phone from its basic raw materials was completely impractical. The technology was of course available, but the manufacturing infrastructure was not.
Arlette was invited to give the opening address at the first Ceres development conference, which was attended by over 90 per cent of the colonists. Sensing the potential for social conflict, she chose her words carefully.
“We all understand, I’m sure,” she began, “that the pace of development of our settlement here is determined by what we have brought on Prometheus, what we can do ourselves, and what can, over a period of time, be delivered from Earth. Since we cannot produce or import all the things we were used to on Earth, we have to be highly selective. It’s your job to make those choices,” she went on, “but before you do, I recommend that you examine carefully our successes and failures so far. In judging them I suggest that we do not look only at material advancement, but also at their contribution to social cohesion. We are, largely I think, a happy, cosmopolitan community. If you compare that to the history of society on Earth over the last hundred years, that’s already an exceptional achievement. Let’s keep it that way.”
She got good-natured applause. She had resisted being directive; she trusted the judgement of her own team to participate and steer the process clear of calamity.
Freddy Jones then delivered a rousing presentation on agriculture. At the end he boomed, “Unlike the industrial sector, we are able to bring all the experience and nearly all the technology accumulated on Earth and put it to work on Ceres. We are not bound here by the mistakes of the past; we can use them to our advantage. We already know we have a wonderfully fertile planet, and in our sector we can all look forward to almost endless growth and success.”
The conference ploughed on through presentations and workshops on IT, medicine, construction materials, energy and a number of other topics, some stimulating, others sadly deficient, but, at the end of two long days, almost everyone had had a say in something and felt very much a useful part of the community and its future.
The topics that were not discussed were politics and leadership, and Arlette had been emphatic on that with her own team. “We have a command structure that was accepted by every member of the Prometheus crew before the mission began,” she pointed out, “and I’m not prepared to risk destabilising that at this early stage by holding elections of any kind. If anybody thinks that this leadership team is not working, then they should speak out and we’ll resolve it between us. Do we all agree?”
‘How could anybody fail to?’ thought Marcel a bit ruefully, but he did not disagree in principle.
The discussion that took place after the conference, however, had a rather different tone.
“There was a big issue in the discussion about constructing accommodation for a new shipload of immigrants from Earth,” reported Henri. “It’s dammed hard work cutting up blocks of stone, mixing concrete and building walls. People are prepared to do it for themselves and their colleagues, but not for a bunch of newcomers. Someone suggested payment in kind. It’s going to have to be a negotiation point with Mission Control.”
“That’s going to be tricky,” said Arlette. “Mission Control is assuming that we’ll get it done. They will be sending a lot of stuff with them.”
“Well,” said Julia, “we cannot afford to have anyone claim that we are using slave labour, so we’ll need to construct a nice little package that can be labelled ‘goodies for residents’ as opposed to the ‘for everyone’s general benefit’ stuff. We absolutely do not want to create any grounds for the residents to resent the newcomers.”
“OK, Julia, I see your point,” said Arlette. “Please take ownership of that one.”
“People also feel strongly about the skills of the newcomers,” went on Julia. “They want farmers, builders, plumbers, electricians, doctors and engineers with relevant experience. They don’t want any more theoretical scientists, and they certainly don’t want any politicians!”
“We’ll have to make that clear at the outset,” said Henri. “I suggest we get the right to vet the list. We have a delicate balance up here, socially and ethnically. Mission Control must understand that.”
>
“That should cause a lively debate back home!” chimed in Marcel. “‘New settlers grab immigration policy reins! Is the tail wagging the dog?’ I can see the headlines now.”
“I should imagine that the number of applicants will be huge,” said Arlette. “There’ll be plenty of scope. We’ll just need to negotiate tactfully.”
“OK,” said Julia, “but let’s be proactive on all these points. If we let General Lee make a proposal, it will be a hell of a job to move him. Much more effective if we send him a bright little message one day saying, ‘we’re ready, we know what the colony needs to thrive and grow and here it is. Bang!’”
“We’ve still got a lot of work to do on the list,” said Marcel. “The industrial group wants a Bessemer furnace and a steel mill. They say there cannot be any real progress without steel.”
“Oh, good grief!” said Julia. “How retro-industrial-revolution can you get? We’ll be wanting railroads and ocean liners next!”
“I sometimes wish we still had Genes around,” said Henri a bit wistfully. “He had an instinct for looking at things from an unconventional angle. It would not surprise me that an engineer, charged with designing a pocket steel mill for another planet, couldn’t come up with something workable.”
“Doesn’t that apply to just about anything we want?” asked Marcel. “Isn’t it more important that we define our priorities and challenge the folks back on Earth to meet them? Isn’t that what our conference was supposed to do?”
“It did,” said Arlette. “It just came up with a list longer than we can manage. Wouldn’t you rather have a microchip machine rather than a steel mill?”
“Not if I couldn’t get any raw materials for a microchip machine. Have you any idea of the weird elements that go into those things, and what it takes to extract and refine them? At least we know we have iron ore and coal here.”
“Well, we are going to have to make these choices, so we’d better sit here and decide how we are going to prioritise,” said Arlette.
Omnipotence: Book I: Odyssey Page 29