Earth Unaware

by Orson Scott Card

  “What’s impotency?”

  “Means I wouldn’t be able to have children. But I’m hoping that’s not the case. That’s why we’ve got the shields and water tanks. My point is, it’s not a party.”

  “But you’d be with me,” said Mono. “That would be fun at least.”

  Victor smiled. “Trust me, Mono. You’d get sick of me. I’m pretty certain that I’ll get sick of me.”

  Mono hung his head and began to cry. “I don’t want you to go, Vico. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  Victor set down his tools and floated over to Mono. “Hey, monkey brains. I’m going to be fine. I’m exaggerating everything. Isabella has all kinds of pills for me to take throughout the trip that will counter a lot of the discomfort. I’m not going to get sick. I may need some gym time once I arrive to get the muscles back up, but I’ll be fine.”

  “But what if the hormigas get you?”

  “The hormigas aren’t going to get me, Mono. They’re not going to get any of us. That’s why we’re hurrying to warn everyone, so that no one else gets hurt.”

  Victor wanted to tell Mono that he would return soon and that the two of them would be a team again when this was all over. Mono could continue as his apprentice. They’d learn the rest of the ship together. They’d invent things, build things, repair things.

  But Victor said none of that because he knew it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be coming back. Probably ever.

  “El Cavador needs you here, Mono. My father needs you. When I’m gone you’ll have to do more repairs around here. He’ll be counting on you for all the small-hand work. He can’t do it all himself. Listen to him. He’s the best mechanic in the Belt. He’ll teach you far more about this ship than I can.”

  “I don’t want anyone else teaching me about the ship. I want to be your apprentice.” Mono threw his arms around Victor’s neck and cried into his shoulder.

  Over the next few days Father ignored his work elsewhere on the ship and spent his time in the cargo bay helping Victor and Mono make final preparations for the ship. Mother found excuses to be there as well, doing small jobs to the quickship to make it as comfortable as possible. Father inspected Victor’s work and kindly pointed out a few flaws. The two of them then selected the appropriate tools and addressed the issues together. It reminded Victor of all the years he had spent as Father’s apprentice, following Father around the ship and handing him tools whenever Father needed them. Father had been indestructible then, as far as Victor was concerned. There was no machine in the universe Father couldn’t repair. And even now, with Victor older and all of Father’s weaknesses glaringly obvious, Victor still regarded Father with that same sense of awe—though now Victor’s respect wasn’t born from Father’s capacity to fix things; it came from Father’s capacity to love, his willingness to make any sacrifice for Victor and Mother and the family. Victor could see that now. Father and Mother were making the biggest sacrifice of their lives here. As painful as it was for them to see Victor go, somehow they knew that it would be more painful for him if he stayed.

  Victor left the following morning. Nearly the whole family came to see him off. The quickship was ready in the airlock, having passed Father’s meticulous inspection. All the supplies were boarded and secured. Victor’s modified suit, which several of the women had prepared under Isabella’s and Concepción’s instructions, fit him better than he could have hoped. He noticed the catheter and the other uncomfortable devices he had to wear, but he found them more manageable than he had expected.

  Isabella embraced him and made him promise he’d take his pills and follow the diet plan she had outlined. Victor carried his helmet under his arm, and Bahzím and the other miners knocked on it for good luck.

  Edimar hugged him. “Get to Earth safe, Vico. When humans kill all the hormigas, I want to know it was you who told them to.”

  Next came Concepción. “The data cube is in the ship,” she said. “Don’t let anyone ignore you because you’re young. Even though you have overwhelming evidence, it’s going to be tough to find anyone to listen to you. You’re a free miner. You’re space born. That’s two strikes against you on Luna. Don’t give up. Find someone you can trust and follow your instincts.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Victor said.

  Mother embraced him and gave him a small data card for his handheld. “This is from your father and me. Don’t watch it until you’re a month out.”

  Victor didn’t question her. “I promise.”

  “I love you, Vico. If you weren’t as smart and resourceful as you are I’d be scared to death. But if anyone can do this, you can.”

  “I love you, too, Mother.”

  Father wrapped him in his long, thick arms. “I’m proud of you. Don’t take risks. Your goal is to get to Earth alive. Be smart. Whenever you have to make a decision ask yourself what your mother would do and then do that. She hasn’t made a mistake yet that I know of.”

  Mother smiled.

  Small arms wrapped around Victor’s waist, and Mono looked up at him. “I’ll be waiting for you, Vico. When you get back, I’ll know this ship better than you do.”

  Victor smiled and tousled Mono’s hair. “I don’t doubt it, monkey brains.”

  He didn’t linger after that. He moved into the airlock and climbed into the cockpit. Two miners in suits removed the anchor harnesses, opened the airlock, and pushed him outside.

  All was silent. Before strapping himself in, Victor allowed himself one last look back at El Cavador. The airlock was already closed. As he watched, the ship began its slow acceleration toward Weigh Station Four.

  He was alone. He looked at the data card Mother had given him and slid it into the slot on the side of his handheld. The icon appeared on the screen, but he didn’t click it. He checked and rechecked his hoses and attachments. He did a sweep with the Geiger counter and found no signs of radiation, though he didn’t expect to, not this early in the trip. He put the gear away and buckled in. The gel cushioning of the seat was thick and malleable. Once the rockets engaged, he would be pressed against it like a fist into bread dough. He clicked through his handheld and found the launch program to Luna. He had watched the miners initiate the program countless times before as they sent cylinders on to Luna. The rockets would accelerate quickly, far faster than a human could withstand. Victor had already researched human tolerance levels and altered the program to decrease the acceleration and lessen the Gs. But as his finger hovered over the launch button, he wondered if he had pulled back the rockets enough. He needed to get up to speed as quickly as he could, but he needed to be careful, too. He hadn’t trained for this. His body wasn’t ready. He pulled back the acceleration setting a little more, just to be sure, then pressed the button.

  The program initiated. The rockets flared. The ship moved forward, slowly at first. Then the rockets went hot, and the quickship took off. Victor felt himself pushed back into the seat and knew immediately that he had misjudged. He should have pulled back farther. His face felt slack. His body felt heavy. He reached out for the handheld but his hand wouldn’t obey him. His vision began to tunnel. His windpipe felt constricted. He was going to die. Two minutes into his journey and he was going to die. He thought of Janda and wondered if he would see her after this life. Mother believed such things, but Victor wasn’t so sure. He hoped it was true, of course. He wanted nothing more than to see Janda again. Only, not now. Not yet.

  His mind went blank.

  Then all went black.

  * * *

  He woke sometime later, his body weightless. The ship was moving at an incredible speed, but it was no longer accelerating. No more Gs; this was a cruising speed. Victor shook his head and blinked his eyes, feeling foolish for his mistake. This didn’t bode well for a successful trip. I nearly kill myself right from the start. Brilliant.

  He blinked his eyes again. They no longer felt like they were boring into the back of his skull. His throat felt open and free. His whole body felt numb, as if al
l of his muscles were asleep from lack of circulation, which they probably were. His head pounded from a migraine. He felt nauseated and disoriented.

  I need a fail-safe, he realized. If I have to decelerate and accelerate, I can’t risk passing out and losing control again. He thought of the biometric sensors all over his body monitoring his vitals and wondered why he had never thought to connect them to the ship’s operations. That had been a foolish oversight. He quickly whipped up a simple program on his handheld that would tell the ship to decelerate if his heart rate or blood pressure dropped below certain levels. He next devised a program to ask him questions periodically, to identify a number perhaps or to retype a word. If he couldn’t, if he had lost his mental faculties for whatever reason, the ship would decelerate until he came to himself.

  But what if I don’t come to myself? he thought. What if I’m dead? If I die then the ship will decelerate and stay out here and never reach Luna. That wouldn’t do. It would be better if he reached Luna as a corpse with the data cube than never reach Luna at all. He altered the program so that if his heart monitor flatlined for at least twenty-four hours, the rockets would accelerate to maximum and get his corpse and, more importantly, the data cube to Luna as quickly as possible.

  Over the next few weeks, he occasionally accelerated and decelerated simply to train his body to withstand the forces, increasing the speed of acceleration and deceleration a little more each time. He blacked out often, but the ship responded well and decelerated whenever it happened, allowing him to come to himself quickly. Eventually he could stay conscious for two hours of fast acceleration. Then three hours. Then four.

  In other areas, he wasn’t doing as well. Eating had become a chore. Victor had assumed that he would eventually come to accept the vitamin mush over time, that eating it would become tolerable simply out of habit. But it didn’t. If anything, the mush became more unappetizing with every meal, and he had to force himself to eat it while suppressing his gag reflex.

  One of Father’s ideas turned out to be a lifesaver. He had suggested that Victor bring along a hatch bubble to inflate periodically on a flat surface inside the quickship. With Victor inside and with the bubble filled with air, Victor could get out of his suit briefly and clean the suit tubes and brush his teeth and sponge his skin and do everything else he needed to keep himself sanitary.

  The biggest challenge of the trip, even more taxing than the physical stress or the food or the cramped confines of the ship, was the sheer boredom of it all. He had assumed that loading his handheld with books and recordings and games and puzzles would be enough to stimulate his mind for seven months, but here he was wrong as well. His eyes strained from looking at the screen after a few days, and soon even listening became tedious. As he approached the month mark, his mind continually returned to the message Mother had left him. He considered opening it early—what difference would it make, after all?—but he always decided against it. He had made a promise.

  He was so eager for something different, so desperate for a break in the monotony, that he found it hard to sleep the night before the message was to be opened. Eventually he slipped into slumber, and when he awoke, he clicked on the icon. Father had installed a holopad attachment to his handheld, and Mother’s head appeared in the holospace. He lifted it and turned it toward him so that it was as if she were looking directly at him. Even before she spoke, Victor felt more alone and more isolated than he had ever felt in his life. He had six months more to go and already he hated this existence.

  “You’re a month out, Vico,” Mother said. “And by now you’re probably ready for this trip to be over. Hang in there, Viquito. Whenever you feel lonely watch this message. Know that your father and I are thinking about you and praying for your safe arrival. We’re proud of you, and we know you’ll be fine.”

  Mother paused to gather herself. Her voice had begun to break. She swallowed and sounded like herself again.

  “But that’s not why we’ve made this message. You’re my son, Vico. My only child, the light of my life, so know that what I am about to say I say because I love you and want the best for you. Don’t come back. Don’t return to El Cavador. Under your seat, you’ll find a disc with access codes to an account your father and I have set up for you. It’s not much, but it’s all we have. Concepción has donated all her savings as well. Use that money to enroll in a university on Earth after you give warning. Your mind is too valuable to waste in the Belt, Vico. You can do great things, but not here, not with us.” Mother was crying now. “I’ll always love you. Make us proud.”

  The message ended. Mother disappeared. They were releasing him. They were giving him a way to move on. He had wondered what he would do and where he would go after he had given the warning, and now he had his answer. The feeling of loneliness left him. He felt renewed, determined. He could endure six more months. For Mother and Father and Earth, he could endure it.

  CHAPTER 16

  Weigh Station Four

  Lem was on the helm at the window when Weigh Station Four finally came into view. At first it was just a distant dot in space, indistinguishable from the countless stars behind it. But the navigator assured Lem that it was in fact the outpost, and Lem made the announcement to the crew. They answered him with whistles and applause, and a few of the crewmen nearest him gave him a congratulatory slap on the back, as if Lem had built the thing himself.

  Lem didn’t mind all the positive attention. He had told the crew months ago that they would be stopping here for supplies and a bit of shore leave before pushing on to Luna, and ever since then the crew had treated him warmly, smiling when they saw him, nodding as he passed. Suddenly he wasn’t the boss’s son. He was one of them.

  Granted, supplies and shore leave weren’t Lem’s true motivation for the visit, and he felt a slight stab of guilt at all the celebration. The real reason for coming was to drop off Podolski so he could wipe El Cavador’s computers. But since everyone did in fact deserve a little break, no harm no foul.

  “Chubs, turn our scopes on Weigh Station Four and bring it up here in the holospace,” said Lem. “I want to see what amenities await us.”

  In the Asteroid Belt, weigh stations were enormous enterprises, with all manner of entertainment for miners desperate to escape the monotony of their ships. Casinos, restaurants, movie houses. One near Jupiter even had a small sports arena for zero-G wrestling matches and other theatrics. So when the image of Weigh Station Four appeared large in the holospace for everyone on the helm to see, Lem knew at once that it was nothing like what everyone was hoping for.

  The applause died. The whistling ceased. Everyone stared.

  Weigh Station Four was a cluster of old mining vessels and sections of retired space stations connected haphazardly together through a series of tubes and tunnels to form a single massive structure. It had no symmetry, no design, no central space dock. Retired ships had been added to it over the years in a seemingly random fashion, connected to the structure wherever there had been room. It was like someone had rolled up a space junkyard into a sad little ball and decorated it with a few neon lights. It wasn’t a weigh station; it was a dump.

  Lem could see disappointment on everyone’s faces.

  “Well,” said Lem, clapping his hands once. “I’m not sure which is uglier, a free-miner weigh station or free-miner women.”

  It wasn’t particularly funny, but Lem had hoped to elicit at least a polite chuckle. Instead he got silence and blank stares.

  Time to change the mood.

  “The good news,” said Lem, smiling and trying to stay chipper, “is that your stay at this delightful oasis of the Kuiper Belt is my treat. Drinks and food and entertainment are on me. Consider it an early bonus courtesy of Juke Limited.”

  As he expected, this news prompted another round of applause and whistles. Lem smiled. He had been planning to spring this surprise on the crew regardless of the station’s condition, and now he was particularly relieved that he had thought of it before
hand. He would sell a load of cylinders to pay for the expense, but again Podolski was the real motivation here. Lem needed cash to fund Podolski’s stay on the station and subsequent flight home, and he didn’t want to use any corporate account for the expenses. Giving everyone a bonus was an expensive, albeit effective, cover for getting Podolski cash.

  Lem ordered the crew to dock the ship near the depository, a massive warehouselike structure nearly as large as the station itself. Here free miners who didn’t use quickships dumped and sold raw minerals or cylinders to the station at below-market value. The weigh station then sent it all to Luna in quickships for a profit. Most established families and clans had their own quickship system and used the weigh station only as a source of supplies. But the newcomers and start-ups without the full array of equipment still sold their mining hauls here.

  Lem and Chubs left the airlock of the ship and stepped out into the docking tunnel. The drop master was waiting for them. He was a dirty little man in a jumpsuit and a mismatched pair of greaves on his shins who carried a holopad that looked like he had beaten it against the floor a few times. The air was warm and thick with the scent of rock dust, machine oil, and human sweat.

  “Name’s Staggar,” the man said. “I’m the drop master here. You boys are Jukies, eh? Don’t see too much of your type around here. Most corporates stick to the A Belt.”

  “We’re testing the waters, so to speak,” said Lem. “There are a lot of rocks out here.”

  Staggar laughed—a cackle that showed a train wreck of teeth. “Snowballs are more like it. If you can get through the frozen water and ammonia, you might find something. Otherwise, this is no-man’s-land.”