by MadMaxAU
Carl sighed. “You know the terms.”
“It’s not enough. We’re all losing body weight.”
For a nasty instant Carl was tempted to say, Try eating some of your kids. The ones you insisted you had a “right” to have. But he kept his face impassive and said, “We’re getting as much out of Hydro as we can, you know that. Look over the numbers.”
“But we’re growing, and the agreement doesn’t allow for that.”
“Those kids were your choice.”
“Look, we been over this,” Malcolm said evenly. “Normal people get sick easier. We got to keep a larger population in case there’s another plague.”
Jeffers, who had been chewing his lip all this time, burst out, “You just want to take over, is all. Couple decades, you’ll outnumber us Percells.”
Malcolm said stiffly, “The normal people will keep to our own zone.”
“We see you guys around in Three C—you movin’ m there? Jeffers asked.
“No.” Malcolm sniffed derisively. “We can’t stand the smell.”
“Delicate li’1 bastards, aren’t you?”
Carl said mildly, “Stop trading insults. We’ve got things to negotiate.”
“Those kids are bastards, y’know—you’ve got some kinda mass breeding program going, don’t you?” Jeffers asked sharply.
Malcolm reddened. “That’s no business of you Percells.”
“You treat women like breeding stock— “
“Cut it,” Carl said firmly. Malcolm was sensitive about the fact that their children were stunted, victims of Halleyform intrusions into the womb and development problems in low-G. They seldom lived long. Reproducing in such a hostile biological environment was simply a bad gamble, and the Orthos had lost.
He let the men stare sourly at each other for a moment and then went on, “We’ve got to do something about the slot problem. The medical inventory is even worse than I’d thought. There aren’t enough fresh crew left. Nowhere near enough to do the remaining work of setting up the Nudge.”
Jeffers asked, “How’s that possible? There’re hundreds— “
“Were hundreds.” In the first ten years they had cycled most of the mission crew through, before they got the green gunk and viroids really under control. If the thawed out ones got sick—and a lot did—they were popped back into the slots. For replacements they pulled fresh sleepers.
“Killing off normal people, that’s what you were doing,” Malcolm said.
Carl sighed. “Forget that crap. We did what we had to. Orthos got sick fast, that’s all.”
“Not the way I heard it. We— “
Jeffers spat out, “You unfroze twenty years after rendezvous! You know nothin’ about the hard time.”
“I can read records! And the oldsters tell us. I know you unfroze normal people more often than you had to.”
“Because the Ortho faction wanted to keep their numbers up. It was their idea,” Carl explained. “Look, I was there, you weren’t. Until Calciano handed things over to me, every commander was an Ortho. I’m not going to try to crack through that bonehead bias of yours anymore. Just listen, okay?”
Malcolm nodded reluctantly. The man kept a certain tattered dignity about him, despite his grimy uniform and matted hair. Usually he made some show of being clean and neat. The Orthos must be having a hard time of it lately.
There were internal disputes, too. The Ortho run tunnels had as wide a range of fanatics as the Percell zones, maybe more. Malcolm was hard to take sometimes, but he was the only one all Orthos trusted to speak for them—much the same position Jeffers served among Percells.
Carl could respect Malcolm’s position, but could only pity the stupidity of the people he had to represent. Many Orthos would never compromise with Percells now, after all that had happened, the wasted blood and bile. Very well—but cooperation on some tasks was essential.
We need more help to Hydro, Carl said. “Equipment keeps breaking down and the only way to make up is with labor.”
“You want more work from us?” Malcolm said resentfully.
“Right. But it can’t eat into the Nudge program.”
“Impossible. We’re stretched too far as it is.”
“Orbits wait for nobody,” Jeffers said. “We got to have the launchers ready by aphelion or else there’ll none of us see Earth again.”
Carl nodded. “And I doubt we could survive an extra ten years.”
Malcolm’s lean mouth set in a determined line. “I get it. You want to unslot a bunch of our people, then work them to death.”
“That’s not it at all.” Carl had anticipated this reaction, but not so soon. He’s edgy, suspicious. I don’t envy him, having to deal with Quiverian and Ould Harrad and the Arcists. Of course, Jeffers doesn’t have it easy either, coping with Sergeov and the radical Percells.
Carl said calmly, “I think we’ll get by if you simply stop trying to produce children. That will free more women to work full time.
“Uh uh. We got a right to reproduce.”
Carl thought bitterly, Now you understand how we felt about the EarthBirth Laws. He put the thought aside—a dim dispute from another life—and leaned forward earnestly. “Look, think this through. We have— “
The hatch clanged. Carl looked up in surprise to see Saul Lintz gingerly making his way into the center of the console banks. “Saul, this is a parley. You’re not invited. And frankly, I think you’re too weak to— “
“Nonsense. I heard where you were and decided to come have a look. You’re the, ah, Ortho leader?” Saul peered at Malcolm as if trying to place him from the past.
As the two made introductions, Carl thought. Could he use Saul to persuade Malcolm? Saul’s prestige in suppressing the Black Year plagues carried weight. How much did Lintz know of what had happened? He would have to step carefully here.
“Oh, I understand the problems,” Saul said to Malcolm. “I tapped into the running inventory, projections, the maintenance programs. What I want to know,” he said carefully, looking at Jeffers and Carl, “is why the Nudge Launchers have been reprogrammed.”
Damn. “It’s preliminary, since only a few of the launchers have been built yet. We’ve sharpened our analysis— “
“No, that’s not it. They’re set to bring us nowhere close to Earth, after the Jupiter slingshot.” Saul looked at Carl steadily.
“Look, I was going to sit down and go over this with you in detail as soon as you— “ Carl sighed. “Okay. Here, I’ll play the squirt from Earth, same as we got it years ago. You might as well have the full story.”
It wasn’t hard to find. He had replayed it incessantly, and so had many of the Orthos, he imagined.
The main screen glowed, fluttered. NEWS.
A burly announcer looked mirthful, shrugged comically, and said, “Remember that trag ex ed on Halley’s Comet? How they went balloka and started checking out from the bugs they found? Well, here’s how they looked when Orbital got ‘em in sights again.”
A dry chuckle. The screen showed a silvery profile swimming in blackness—the Edmund.
“Some of the nonbuggy ones jumped into their mother ship and flew home. Only nobody’s nonbuggy out there now, so Fed said—you know what Fed said, right?”
The leering, wide eyed face of the announcer swelled, smiled broadly with impossibly white teeth, then dwindled as down tonal sound effects rose and—the screen flared with brilliant blue light.
“Scintillatin’ sendoff, yes! All gone free for you and me, to keep bugs out of the hurly clime. Went up clean, too, one big fuse— “
Carl snapped it off. “Welcome to the coming new century,” he said sardonically.
“Good . . . Lord . . .” Saul was dazed. His gray pallor slowly reddened and he blinked rapidly. “They . . . they weren’t going to take any chances.”
Malcolm said bitingly, “Why should they? Even if Earth quarantined the Edmund, how could they be sure?”
Jeffers said levelly, “You sound lik
e you’re agreein’ with what they did.”
“I can understand it.” Malcolm eyed Jeffers with open dislike.
“Only good thing,” Jeffers said cuttingly, “is that Linbarger and those Ortho assholes all bought it.”
Saul gritted his teeth, as if swimming up from some personal memory that had overwhelmed him. Carl suspected which one: the old Zionist associations were broad enough to be triggered by anything like this.
“I expected some strong measures…but to…”
Carl said flatly, “You wanted to know—okay, there it is. We can’t go back to Earth. Ever. They’ll never believe we’re not disease carriers, and they’ll be damned right, too.”
Saul’s eyes seemed to swell in his papery, pale face, sensing possibilities. “Then . . . where can we . . .”
“That’s what we have to decide. We’re aiming for a close pass of Jupiter on the inbound, and we can slingshot ourselves just about anywhere from there.”
Saul said distantly, “I see.”
Carl watched Saul carefully during the rest of the meeting. The man listened mutely, lost in his own dark introspections.
Malcolm was balky, reluctant. He gave ground grudgingly, agreeing to a slight increase in the labor hours in Hydroponics, swearing he could give no more without consulting all the Ortho factions. Jeffers made similarly hedged promises on behalf of the Percell groups.
Carl himself spoke for the ex spacers—mostly Plateau Three types—and the Hawaiians. What would I do without those diehard idealists? he thought, watching the give and take of the meeting. There aren’t nearly enough of them . . . .
He moved into the verbal crossfire, working them around to a livable compromise. He used hard won skills to cajole Malcolm into doing what it seemed to him anyone rational would immediately agree to—but by now he was used to it, resigned to the obdurate mulishness of the human species.
And this was only a minor sticking point. Eventually they’d have to get Quiverian and Sergeov to sit down, too, representing the extremes. And all this bickering over mere Hydro, too the deeper issues of finishing the Nudge Flingers would be far worse. It resembled the never ending news from the Middle East. Even with Saul’s lost Israel broken into squabbling theocracies, the region was still rife with more microscopic factions, unending rivalry, bitterness, stupidity. Nobody could see beyond their noses. No, Halley was all too representative of humanity.
After the meeting he sat and watched the sun set in vivid ruby splashes over Hong Kong. He wondered idly if the place existed anymore; there had been reports of a small nuke war somewhere near there, twenty years ago. He would have to check sometime. Or maybe he didn’t really wish to know. The city simmering in its rosy sunset looked better if you thought it could still he there.
At last he roused himself and went down to sleep slot 1. The thawing was proceeding normally; he had kept track by remote throughout the day. Suited and encased, he came into the foggy kingdom of eternal chill. He did not rush into the prep room, though. The team was not quite through yet . . . .
Carl stopped. at Lani Nguyen’s slot. Frost filmed it and he checked the fluid lines automatically. He had come here often to stare into that blissful, milky, floating refuge—and to envy them all. He peered through the slowly churning fluids at the watery form inside. Did he see a face gazing out?
I miss you, Lani. I was a young idiot when I knew you. Not that an older idiot would do any better. That night after Cruz died . . . We know how it should have worked out, don’t we? He smiled wanly. You should sleep safely to the end. But we’ll need you soon, too. And pray that unslotting doesn’t give those plagues lying dormant in you the crucial edge they need . . .
He could contain his impatience no longer. He went into the prep room and stood aside as the technicians finished their hours of careful labor. His eyes followed every feeder line, each stimulating circuit, all the myriad details that spelled the difference.
She’s still as wonderful. Just looking at her makes my heart feel as though a hand is squeezing it.
He stood aside as they unwrapped the nutrient gauze from Virginia’s almond skin.
That luscious color belongs on beaches, not in ice.
He had waited so long for this .... And had thought a thousand times of violating his pledge, of reviving Virginia without Saul. What could they do about it except complain? He had even come down here once, at the nub end of a lonely, half drunken evening .... Invaded the realm of frost and started the warmup, let it run on for two hours before finally facing the fact that he couldn’t do it. Not merely because she would be enraged, would surely see through his invented explanations . . . but because he knew he could not live with having done it.
But now all that was past. The long years dropped away, done.
He stepped forward to see her again.
VIRGINIA
Long ago, Virginia had wondered what it would be like if she ever really succeeded…if ever she fooled them all, and actually made a machine that could think.
How would awareness seem to the new entity? Would it appear suddenly, as great Athena was supposed to have come into her wisdom, springing self aware from the brow of Zeus?
Would it be like a child growing up? A long, slow, tedious/thrilling process of rote and extrapolation? Of trial and error and skinned knees?
Or would it happen as humanity had done it—evolving by quirk and happenstance from the feral reflexes of microbes, all the way up to the hubris to challenge gods?
Most often of all, she had imagined that it would be like this. A slow gathering of scattered threads. A learning anew of what was already known.
An awakening.
All the blurry images came together into a single shape that swam in front of her eyes—a complete mystery. A blob.
Then, with no transition at all, she knew it as a face . . . one that ought to be familiar.
“Carl?” she tried to ask. But her facial muscles would only twitch a little, a promise of returning volition, but not much more.
The figure overhead blurred, unfocused, and finally went away. Virginia slept. And for the first time in a long while, she dreamed.
The white walls were sharp and clear when next she opened her eyes.
Recuperation room, she thought. I wonder how long it’s been.
There was a rustling tap tap tap of a databoard nearby. Virginia laboriously turned her head, and saw a man in a faded, threadbare hospital gown perched crosslegged on a webbing, looking intently into a portable display and rubbing his chin slowly with one hand. His eyelids were slot blue and he looked so thin.
“Saul,” she whispered.
He looked up quickly. In a single motion he put aside the databoard and was by her side, bringing a squeeze bottle to her lips.
She sipped until he drew it away. Then she worked her mouth. “H . . . h how. . . ?”
“How long?” Saul took her hand. “About thirty years. We’re getting near aphelion. Carl told me you left little watchdog programs throughout the data systems that kept popping up, promising bloody hell if you were awakened before me.”
Virginia smiled weakly. “I told you…I’d…m-manage it.”
He laughed. “And I’m so very proud of you.’
The richness of his voice made her blink. Saul was still only partially recovered from his own slotting, and yet something else was different about him.
Her preslotting memories were coming back clearly. There was a little more gray at Saul’s temples, maybe, and yet could it be an illusion that he actually looked younger than before?
Oh, I must be a mess, she thought. I had better do some hard eating to put some meat back on, after three decades.
But if slotting drops years off you, I must learn to conquer my fear of it!
“How am . . . I . . . doing?”
“A doctor’s joy.” He grinned. “A marvelous piece of womanly engineering. Recovering nicely, and soon to be put to work, by orders of his Grand Poobah dom, Commander Osborn.”
>
Virginia shook her head.
“C commander. . . ?”
Saul nodded. “Lieutenant Commander, actually. Commission from Earth. They had to. Only two officers left alive, and they hardly count. Ensign Calciano’s in the slots after a ten year shift in which he seems to have become convinced he was the Flying Dutchman. Ould Harrad’s resigned his commission and gone off to join the Revisionist-Arcists over in Gehenna . . . .”
At Virginia’s puzzled expression, Saul squeezed her hand.
“It’s a different world, Virginia. So much has changed. Back on Earth, things have gone from very bad to better to incomprehensible. And out here they’re . . . well . . .” He shrugged. “Outs here they’re just plain weird.”
“But Carl... ?” She started to rise, but he pushed her gently back against the pillow. Even Halley gravity was a weight for her.
“Enough talk. Now you rest. Later I’ll explain what I’ve been able to discover. We’ll try to figure out a place for ourselves in this strange new world.”
Virginia let herself relax.
We . . . she thought, liking the way the word sounded in his voice. Yes, we will.
She was starting to drift off when she felt Saul gently pull his hand away. Virginia looked up and saw that he was fumbling with a handkerchief and staring into space with a screwed up, half-orgasmic squint. It ended deep inside the square of cloth in a muffled sneeze.
“Oh, darling,” she sighed. “Out of the slots only a few days, and already you have a cold!”
He looked at her sheepishly, then he smiled.
“So nu? What else is new?”
SAUL
Everybody seemed to be dying.
In fact, the more Saul learned about this aging colony, the more it seemed a mystery to him that anyone was left alive at all.
Oh people had adapted, found ways to cope. Human beings were good at that. Since thirty years ago, when Akio Matsudo had finally given firm orders and seen Saul strapped into his slot, the tools he had left behind had been added to, improved.