Meyer had orbited Neptune, often called an “ice giant” like Uranus, because of the higher levels of atmospheric ice. He’d found Neptune’s ring system less disturbing; while not as substantial as Saturn’s, at least the rings were parallel to orbit. He’d been amused to learn that its 13 moons were all named, like Neptune, after mythological sea gods; he’d been amazed to learn that the winds could be faster than Saturn’s — 2100 kilometers per hour, the fastest in the Solar System. Meyer wasn’t surprised to find Reege’s principle interest in Neptune was research, but he hadn’t expected Reege’s unbridled enthusiasm. Evidently, Neptune’s gravitational influence on the icy worlds of the deep-space Kuiper belt beyond the planet was as profound as Jupiter’s influence on the asteroid belt, completely dominating the belt and giving it shape.
“You’re on Earth now,” said a dark-haired male medtech flatly.
“Not Pluto?” asked Meyer, getting up.
The medtech started toward the door, motioning for Meyer to follow. “Pluto? Why would we be on Pluto? We abandoned that research station decades ago. It was only in operation for a few years, anyway, and it was a political struggle the whole time.”
“Because of its planetary status?”
“Yes. It started in the early 21st, when they reclassified it as a dwarf planet. A couple years later, it changed it to a plutoid — along with Haumea, Makemake and Eris, out in the scattered disc beyond the Kuiper belt. Some astronomers did not take kindly to this, and got it reclassified as a planet years later — that lasted for a decade, maybe. It’s changed so many times since then, I don’t even know what it is now. When Mr. Reege established the station, it was a planet; when it was reclassified again, he abandoned it. There’s nothing of interest on that desolate baked potato, anyway; nothing on any of its three moons, either. The only thing it has going for it is being the largest rock in the Kuiper belt.”
“I spoke to Mr. Reege orbiting Neptune,” Meyer offered. “He was very enthusiastic about exploring the Kuiper belt.”
The medtech chuckled. “It’ll be his great-great-grandchildren doing that; there’s just too much to explore, even at light speed. Until we figure out how to go faster than light, honestly, there’s nothing there that we can’t get from Neptune’s orbiter.”
The medtech admitted Meyer to Reege’s office and left.
“Mirror?” Reege pulled a hand mirror from his desk and offered it.
Shocked at seeing his Earth face — less the scar — Meyer stuttered, “M-my face?”
Grinning, Reege said, “A bonus for a job well done.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“I believe another me mentioned that we were retrieving some of your memories? That’s not the complete truth. You were also carrying confidential communications, encoded into your brain scans.”
Meyer felt a lump in his throat. “I was a carrier pigeon?”
Reege scowled. “That’s unpleasant. You were a trusted courier.”
“There never was an imposter, was there?”
“No.”
Enraged, Meyer stood with fists clenched, fingernails biting into his palms.
“Sit down.”
“Why? So you can manipulate me some more?”
“Sit down, please,” Reege said calmly. “Don’t force me to be impolite.”
Shaking, Meyer sat stiffly. “Do I at least get an explanation?”
“I devised this system decades ago. Certain … informational aspects of keeping my colonies running smoothly requires the utmost discretion. Waveguide communications are secure, but the medtechs can’t always be trusted. All ten of us need to be kept up to date in a timely manner — thus, the trusted courier system via squisher.”
Meyer counted in his head. “Including you, there were only nine.”
Reege smiled apologetically. “We chose not to bring you out of recovery on Pluto.”
“Pluto? Isn’t that abandoned?”
“The Sol Council thinks it is, but I couldn’t abandon it — not with what’s at stake there.”
Meyer thought for a moment. “FTL?”
Reege’s smiled faded; he punched a few buttons on his desk console, stood and offered a hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Meyer. I trust quadrupling your agreed-upon fee would ensure your discretion?”
Meyer considered this, stood and shook Reege’s hand. “Done.”
“Excellent,” Reege said, smiling. “You’ll find your account credited already. If you’ll please follow the medtech for debriefing….”
* * *
Squish.
© Daniel M. Hoyt
Jaiden’s Weaver
by Mary Robinette Kowal
I was never one of those girls who fell in love with horses. For one thing, on our part of New Oregon they were largely impractical animals. Most of the countryside consisted of forests attached to sheer hills and you wanted to ride something with a little more clinging ability. So from the time I was, well, from the time I can remember I wanted a teddy bear spider more than I wanted to breathe.
The problem is that teddy bear spiders were not cheap, especially not for a pioneer family trying to make a go of it.
Mom and Dad had moved us out of Landington in the first wave of expansion, to take advantage of the homesteading act. Our new place was way out on the eastern side of the Olson mountains where Dad had found this natural level patch about halfway up a forested ridge, so we got sunshine all year round, except for the weeks in spring and autumn when the shadow of our planet’s rings passed over us. Our simple extruded concrete house had nothing going for it except a view of the valley, which faced due south to where the rings were like a giant arch in the sky. Even as a twelve-year-old, angry at being taken away from our livewalls in town to this dead structure, I fell in love with the wild beauty of the trees clinging to the sheer faces of the valley walls.
The only thing that would have made it better was a teddy bear spider so I could go exploring on my own. I felt trapped by the walls of the house and the valley. I had this dream that, if I had a spider, I’d be able to sell its weavings for enough to install livewalls in my room. That’s not as crazy as it sounds; teddy-bear spider weavings are collected all over the colonies and sell for insane amounts of money.
I had a search setup so anytime there was news of a teddy bear spider or a new tube surfaced, I’d be right there, watching those adorable long-legged beasts. I loved their plump furry faces and wanted to run my fingers through their silky russet fur.
I wonder what goes through a survey team’s mind when they name things. I mean a teddy bear spider isn’t a bear and it isn’t a spider, but it looks like both those things. On the other hand, a fartycat looks nothing like a cat. They do stink, though.
Not quite a year after we’d moved, one of my city friends had forwarded an ad from a local board which set my heart to racing.
Teddy bear spider eggs: 75NOD shipped direct.
See, I’d been looking at adult or adolescent teddies which cost more than my folks had set aside for me to go to university. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could raise one up myself. My mindless yearning changed into purpose.
I slapped that ad onto a piece of epaper and ran into the kitchen. “Dad! Mom! Look at this.”
Dad glanced up from the eggs he was cracking into a bowl and pursed his lips the way he always did right before saying no. “Jaiden, that’s a lot of money.”
I waved the ad again as if it were a token to get me on a ride at the fair. ”We’d make back the money when the teddy started to weave. Please? I’ve seen their weavings in stores for hundreds of NOD.”
Mom ganged up on me. “That’s how much the store sells a weaving for, it’s not how much they pay for them. Even if it were, you’re not just talking the cost of the eggs. It’s the cost of feeding it, housing it, vet bills…”
I knew better than to keep arguing. Sometimes if I waited and tried again later, I could get them to change their minds. Still hol
ding the ad, I went outside and plopped on the log bench Dad had made for the front of the house. The broad silver band of the ring spanned the sky, blocked by only a few clouds. In school I’d read about Earth and how it didn’t have a ring at all, but it’s hard to imagine life without that constant band of silver in the sky.
As the days shortened, the sun was starting to skirt the edge of the ring and I could see the band of its shadow laying across the land to the south of us. It wouldn’t be long until we hit the Dark Days which signaled the end of autumn.
I know some people like the diffuse light when the sun is behind the ring, but I can’t stand the way the land feels perpetually overcast, particularly when you can see blue sky, which means that to the south or north of you, it’s a pretty day. It’s funny how solid the rings look from the ground the rest of the year. You have to wait until the Dark Days to see the sun filtered through the ring to remember that the ring is made up of rocks and dust. When I was little, my grandma used to tell me that the ring was a teddy bear spider’s weaving hung up in the sky to dry. Which, if I’d thought about it I’d have known was foolishness since a teddy’s weaving was golden and not silver.
The only good thing about the Dark Days, to my eye, was that it meant we’d exchange presents on Bottom Day, when the sun passed under the ring and we returned to full light again. It occurred to me that maybe, if I kept hinting, my folks might give me a teddy egg for Bottom Day. It seemed like that would be fitting and all.
* * *
The Dark Days fell on us about a week later and it hit me harder than it had ever done in the city. The artificial street lights and the hustle bustle of the city kept you from feeling the gloom so much. Not that it got full dark, even out where we were, but it was gray and dreary. The cold front that followed the shadow of the rings across the surface of the planet brought rain with it, which left me trapped in the house with my family.
Really, the rains only lasted a few days but when they passed, we were into the cold spell. It wasn’t as cold as full winter would be, but Mom made me bundle up anyway. My jacket was smart enough to regulate the temperature, but she also wanted me to wear the hat and scarf she’d knitted. They were clunky things of red wool that always needed adjusting. As soon as I was out of sight, I took them off and hung them on a tree branch, making a note to pass back the same way when I came home. Mom was so proud of having made something herself, that I’d hate to lose them.
I needed thin saplings so I could weave them into the sort of basketry nesting house that teddies liked. I’d downloaded the DIY instructions onto my handy and the multitool which Dad had given me last Bottom Day had a small handsaw on it. If Mom and Dad gave me an egg for Bottom Day I needed to make sure it had a home. Besides, showing them that I could build the nesting house would prove I could take care of a teddy.
I staggered into the house close to dinner time, leaves sticking in my hair and mud coating my rump where I’d slid down the hill, hauling saplings.
Mom picked a leaf out of my hair. “Where’s your hat and scarf?”
I winced. “I was hot so I hung them on a branch while I was cutting saplings for a nesting house.”
She rubbed her forehead like I’d pained her somehow. “If you can’t keep track of your things, I don’t know how you think you can take care of a pet.”
The air and everything tightened in my throat and my eyes burned, but I refused to cry. “I’ll go get them.”
I ran out the door before she could say anything else. Mom hollered my name, but I didn’t stop until I was at the tree where I’d left them.
The scarf was there, but not my hat.
I finally saw the bright red wool, way up in a tree. A fuzzywyrm had snagged it and was building a nest for the winter. With no way to get the hat, I took the scarf and trudged home. The pile of saplings looked like garbage.
* * *
That sense of despair lasted, oh, I’d say overnight. The moment I’d finished schoolwork the next day I was outside, putting the nesting house together. My folks said not a word about it the whole time I worked.
By the time New Oregon’s orbit brought our axial tilt around far enough for the sun to peek under the ring, I was well-nigh unto frantic. See, Mom and Dad went into town right before the end of the Dark Days. If they were going to get an egg for me, that was the time to do it.
Bottom Day morning dawned, and I do mean dawned, bright and clear. You don’t know how much you miss the sun until you’ve gone weeks without seeing more than a filtered spot in the sky. I bounded out of bed and stood in the sunbeam that angled in my window. It heated me through until sheer excitement sent me running to the kitchen. No one else was up, but the disc with our Bottom Day gifts was already laid out.
The piece of paper that held the clue about where to find my gift was the same pale gold as a teddy-bear spider’s egg. I was supposed to wait until my folks got up, but that was totally impossible, so I peeked.
“A bower of sticks you have made,
There you’ll find the gift we gave.”
I squealed when I read it. Down the hall, I heard one of them stirring, but I was halfway out the door by then. The morning dew soaked through my socks as I ran to the nesting house.
The hut of twisted saplings leaned to one side but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Dew coated it and each droplet shone like LEDs had been embedded in the wood. I ducked under the low doorway and there, tucked in the corner, was my gift, wrapped in the same pale gold as my clue. It was about three times larger than I’d expected and for a minute I thought they’d gotten me more than one egg, before realizing it was protective padding. As carefully as I could, I peeled off the paper.
Inside was a teddy bear spider toy, a plush confection, complete with its own “egg” for playing at hatching. It was a glorious toy and I hated it.
If you ever have children, don’t do this to them.
I had been so sure they were going to give me an egg that I felt as if I’d had one and lost it. I couldn’t even touch the thing.
Mom came out about then. “Jaiden?”
I screamed something, probably that I hated her, and took off running. Branches caught me in the face and snarled in my hair. I went down the mountain because it was faster than going up and all I wanted was to get away. If I had fallen, I wouldn’t have cared. I think some part of me wanted to fall, wanted my parents to understand how much they had hurt me.
Dad found me sitting on a little level spot. I don’t remember stopping.
He crouched beside me. “Honey, I’m sorry. I thought you’d like the toy.”
“Yeah. If I was six.” I wouldn’t look at him.
“I know how much you wanted a teddy, but we can’t afford one.” He sighed and inched closer. “You don’t think I’d disappoint my little girl if I had a choice, do you?”
Of course I did. And I didn’t, at the same time. I’d pretty much run myself out so I just shrugged.
We didn’t say much else, but I let him fly me home with the jetpack.
I don’t know if this makes sense to you. How you can want something so much, you make yourself sick. And when it looks like you’re going to get it, then to have it yanked away — no, not yanked away, for it to have never existed… Do you understand that?
* * *
The same way I tried to tear down the nesting house, I canceled all my searches for teddy bear spider news and tubes. But the yearning came back. If anything, stronger than before. And it occurred to me that I could earn the money and buy the teddy bear spider egg myself.
So at night after my folks had gone to bed, I pretended I was an adult — which is not as hard as you think — and did small Mechanical Turk jobs for people. Nothing shocking, just sorting data for a few cents at a time. The whole time I kept thinking about how much money we could sell its weavings for and how I’d make all this money back just from those. I pictured riding my teddy down the cliffs and how we’d cling to the side like it was nothing.
/> At the tail end of winter, the planet’s tilt made the sun pass behind the rings on its journey to the top edge. For some reason, this transit never seems as bad as when it drops under. I suppose it’s because you know spring is coming.
Now, I’ll tell you, I didn’t have much hope when Top Day came. My parents seemed to opt for a neutral gift rather than risking another outburst. They gave me a whole NOD, which, considering my allowance was 5 pence was an amazing display of largess. I thanked them and immediately tucked it away with my other savings.
Diamonds in the Sky Page 8