by MadMaxAU
“I . . . find that difficult to believe,” Quiverian said, suddenly uncharacteristically quiet.
“Is typical,” Sergeov said. “Earthside has been same always. Destroyed Edmund, poof!. Now us.”
Jeffers said sourly, “Yeah, askin’ us for guidance, tellin’ us to lead the package right down Shaft Three. An’ we woulda done it, if it hadn’t been for curiosity, makin’ us send out a mech to see what Daddy’d brought us.” He snorted derisively.
Carl said, “Earthside kept up their story all this time— for three years— when all along they’ve plotted to destroy us entirely.”
“To preserve their holy biosphere,” Saul said mildly as he approached.
Carl raised an eyebrow— How is she? — and Saul nodded reassuringly. Virginia had been unconscious when the med techs bore her away on a stretcher. Carl felt relief, but in Saul’s quietly pleased expression an unsettling confirmation: Somehow, he and Virginia were back together. The crisis had done that. His own chances— which he now saw he had allowed to build beyond prudent expectations— were zero again. Saul and Virginia seemed able to survive any buffeting that chance could deal them.
“— can expect a full explanation from Earth, I am sure,” Quiverian finished. Carl realized he had missed one of the man’s pontifical declarations.
“What?”
Quiverian’s face knotted with exasperation. “I expect we have been the victims of a political faction. Someone who, under cover of their allotted cargo, included a warhead. This does not mean all Earth is opposed to us. Once we inform high Earth authorities of how this humanitarian gesture has been aborted in a most foul way, I am sure the leadership will take measures to punish and silence this cabal of— “
“Bullshit,” Carl said vehemently.
Quiverian blinked, his lips pursed, but he said nothing. One of his lieutenants began, “Look, you can’t— “ but Carl cut him off.
“Look.” Carl said. “they don’t know what’s happened yet, right?”
Jeffers calculated in his head. “Lessee . . . ‘Bout two hours each way light travel time. We should be able to pick up what they were sayin’ when the thing blew.”
Carl nodded. “Let’s pipe into their transmission.”
Carl glanced toward a wall camera and nodded. JonVon was listening, as he suspected, and immediately the room filled with the hiss of solar static. Then a tinny voice said monotonously, “Cannot copy you here emm dot, Halley.”
Jeffers said, “They’re still sendin’ telemetry for guidin’ it in.”
The voice oscillated slightly, dispersed by its journey of three billion miles. “By our estimates, the package is nearing final matching RPX. Advise you now send it laser marker designation for Shaft Three. Automatic homing will then take over.”
Carl said “They’re still working on their approach.”
A steady blur of static. Then:
“Confirm docking? Negative on auto servo coupling pip, but we do show counter comm on reppledex four over, though. Await that marker pip for none in.”
The men and women listened to the words from a civilization now as distant in time as it was in space. The mission monitors Earthside, they knew, were trained in the jargon of 2060, to minimize confusions, but still odd terms and mannerisms from the more modern era slipped in. A glance at his thumbnail told Carl that three hours had passed since the explosion. It felt more like a year. He ordered refreshments brought in. The faction leaders listened sullenly, silently.
“Should come anytime now,” Jeffers said.
The wavering voice kept on. “Carrier cinch by reads nominal. Coded— “
A sudden pause. The sun’s own spiky popping seemed to flood the room, bringing a reminder of the warm regions they had left so long ago, the brooding eternal voice a pressing presence.
Then vague shouts, a commotion. “UV and visible flux! It’s gone off!”
“Too early!” Somebody else cried out. “By my estimate. . .”
A babble of talk, a distinct thump. “Get away from that! It might’ve already docked, we don’t know— “
An argument, voices shouting one another down. “See if those infect rejects are still transmitting. Goddam, I knew we shouldn’t have safe-armed the bastard.”
Another thump. “Neg, Fred. They’re off the air.”
Faintly, someone yelled, “Those screamers are steam!”
Everyone’s eyes widened s a thin sound came, plainly from somewhere near the speaker— a hearty laugh, a cry of celebration, then the rolling sea sound of many hands clapping.
The men and women of Halley looked at each other for a long time, silently. There seemed very little to say.
Carl cycled the doors and stepped out through the crystalline refractions of the surface lock. It was eighteen hours later. He had conferred with envoys of various factions, won agreements, soothed as best he could. By all rights he should be holed up in his bunk, getting some rest.
But that would have meant crawling away and licking his wounds, something he might well have done a few decades ago .... Now it wouldn’t work, he knew. Too much had happened, too fast. If he brooded over it, he would just get depressed and accomplish nothing.
That was a standard he had slowly learned to impose on himself: What will you have when this is over? A memory of bitter ruminations, drunken attempts to forget? Recriminations against the hand fate had dealt you? That might satisfy something inside that wanted such sour fruit. But now he knew from experience that he would feel better in the long run if he threw himself into a job, built or fixed or moved something. Let the muscles work their own logic. Then he would be able to sleep, knowing that he had at least gotten something done, kept moving, shown the bastards.
A slight puff of air followed him onto the ice. instant billowing fog. He moved at a steady ground hugging, ice gripping lope toward the equator. He could hook on to the cable and jet over, but this way he got more exercise.
There had been a lot of craziness to contend with, and he was glad to be out here now. Where I belong. I’m still a spacer, goddammit!
Some pop eyed idiot had stopped him in a corridor, accused him of deliberately sabotaging the Care Package. Madness. People didn’t want to accept the cold clear reality— that their homeworld had sworn to erase them.
Well, okay. Just like I didn’t want to face the reality that nothing is ever really going to separate Saul and Virginia. It’s just a matter of scale…
The belt of launchers loomed above the horizon as he loped along, feet finding purchase on the crusty, speckled ice. They were like slender, elegant cannon, each canted at a slightly different angle from its neighbor. Weeks ago they had slowed and stopped Halley’s spin, to make alignment of their thrusts simple. Now the stars hung steadily above, and each launcher aimed exactly at the same point in the sky: Right Ascension 87°, Declination +35°.
— Yo, Cap’n. — Jeffers waved from atop Launcher 16.
“I’m not captain,” Carl said automatically.
— Might’s well be. —
“I’m just operations officer. That’s all the clans will tolerate.”
— Bunch of horses’ asses. —
“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting a promotion from Earthside now, either.”
Jeffers chuckled dryly. — Not much of one, I’d say. You through soothin’ ever’body? —
“Yeah.” Carl leaped up to the launcher cowling.
— Funny, how some of ‘em can’t believe what happened. —
“It was their Great White Hope.”
— Pretty rough, when Mother Earth offers you a tit and then— boom. —
Carl smiled despite himself. From here he could see many launchers, a dashed line sketching out Halley’s equator, as if drawn by a careful high school student for a science project. Their muzzles veered gradually to the north as his eye swept to the horizon. Each lay buried in an oil-hydraulic pad that absorbed the recoil and transmitted it to the all-too-fragile ice. Robos and mechs stood be
side each narrow tube, ready to unsnag any trouble with the conveyor-belt feeders.
—They agree down below? —
Distracted by the orderly march of launchers to the horizon, Carl could not understand for a moment what Jeffers meant. “Oh, about Earthcomm?”
—Yeah, ever’body agree to shut up? —
“Not exactly.”
—Who? —
“Sergeov. Quiverian.”
—Sergeov I’d expect few people to listen to, sure. He’s good ‘ol boy, straight-arrow Percell. Maybe li’l heavy-handed. But Quiverian? He’s murderin’ bastard! Who’d pay attention to—
“Some Arcists still think it must’ve been a mistake. They can’t picture Mom slaughtering her children, even if they are carrying diseases.”
—Craaaazy. —
“Right.”
Beneath the silent ebony sky these issues seemed petty, diminished. Carl could deal with them inside, encased in ice…but here, human problems and opinions seemed dirty, small, shameful. “So…I had JonVon take a few mechs and…knock out the microwave antennas.”
To his surprise, Jeffers laughed. —Damn right! —
“You…think so?”
—Course I do! We let Earth know we’re still alive, they’ll send another Care Package. Only this time they won’t tell us. —
“This will but us maybe a couple of crucial years. Maybe.” Carl nodded. “They didn’t fail utterly, of course. We lost a couple of people on the surface, and with our attention on the Care Package, we lagged a little on the nudge. We’re starting late.”
Jeffers nodded. —Damn near aphelion. Gonna be a big job, givin’ that much push to this much ice. —
“You’ve realigned the launchers already?”
—Just like you said. Gonna deliver big delta-V if we get started soon enough. —
At least the Care Package fiasco was behind them. While others mourned, Carl was relieved, in a way. It meant they had to break from Earth, ignoring their homeworld, even hiding from it for as long as possible…
Who could tell? In forty years new people might be in charge, back home. Or Phobos colony might have its independence by the time the cometary refugees came streaking in on their blazing aeroshells. Who am I kidding? Carl thought.
The tension in him wouldn’t go away. He needed something. Or someone, he thought, and shut away as quickly as he recognised it.
The launchers. They were ready, calibrated.
“You check the pin settings?”
Jeffers tapped on his board, nodded.
“Pressure manifolds? The magnet alignments?”
—All okay. —
“What are we waiting for, then?”
Jeffers looked up and slowly grinned. —Damned right! — He switched channels and spoke rapid-fire to the engineers.
Around Halley the belt stirred to life. Electromagnetic surges mounted, reached saturation, lay in wait for their release. And inside the ice, Carl knew, men and women were involved with their own lonely questions, doubts, despairs. They needed something to rouse them.
“Let ‘er fly,” Carl said.
He felt it through his boots. A trembling, a gathering rush, a sudden trembling release. From the muzzle of Launcher 16 came…nothing he could see. But he could feel each slug of coated iron flee down the electromagnetic gun, fevered pulses shaking the slender tube. Machine gun aimed at the stars. Against the black oblivion above they made no mark, merely arced into its nothingness.
It was a feather’s brush against a boulder, but over time the effects would mount up.
He turned to look down the row. Each launcher flung its shots steadily skyward, the electromagnetic fringe fields sounding as a faint but persistent rata-rata-rata-rata over the comm line.
He should call JonVon, he knew, put the picture on all TV monitors, alert the crew. But for the moment he paused and savored it for himself.
They were heading back, now. Homeward. Halley’s slow sluggish orbit would blunt, turn, warp. For better or worse, they would glide down the gravity mountain, toward a destiny they could not see. It was an end to their long, inert obedience to gravity’s rule. Halley had become a ship.
—At last we’re doin’ somethin’! —Jeffers called.
Carl shouted in sudden joy, all doubts banished. “Sun, here we come!”
PART 6
WITH THE FORCE OF A
STONE
Year 2100
What all the wise men promised
Has not happened,
And what the damned fools said
Hs come to pass.
—Melbourne
SAUL
He stared at the crack in the wall. The black opening snaked far back into the ice. “When did this happen?” Saul asked.
Two of his assistants—brown haired, with identical patterns of freckles on their faces—looked up from a lab bench nearby where they had been working. They answered together, in the same tones.
“There was a Halley quake, Pops,” they said in unison. “Two hours ago. A big one. It split the wall.”
“It certainly did,” he said, examining the damage. This would have to be attended to. Even this deep below the surface, it was foolish to let any chamber remain unsealable for long.
Some said it was the flinger launchers, stressing the comet core as they pushed it month by month, year by year, that were causing the quakes. Others blamed the war, now apparently lost for good by Quiverian and his Arcists.
Last month, Carl’s spacers, Sergeov’s Ubers, and Keoki Anuenue’s neutrals had joined together in a lightning raid on the Arcists’ south pole redoubts, and permanently crippled the remnants of the first set of flingers, and the hidden microwave antennas with which they had been talking to Earth. One result was that now the Arcists could no longer use those old launchers to interfere with the Nudge toward Mars. Unfortunately, during that brief but bloody skirmish, three explosions had rocked that end of Halley Core, worrying some that the integrity of the comet itself might be threatened.
Whatever the cause, the quakes bothered Saul. For four years, now, things had been going well for a change. They had picked up word from Earth’s faint data net that the odds makers were once more taking bets on the colony’s survival. The current rate was five to one against. But that was a vast improvement over the thousand-to one betting when he and Virginia had awakened from their thirty year sleep.
For now, at least, Sergeov’s Ubers, the various clans of survivors, and Jeffers’s Mars Boys were all working together. But the alliance struck Saul as being like a supersaturated solution of immiscible fluids—too unsteady to last for long.
They didn’t need these Halley quakes shaking up the delicate balance.
Saul was dressed in little more than a loincloth, robe, and ice-sandals, as he had only left the quarters he shared with Virginia for a brief visit to his lab. She had gone up to the surface to talk something over with Carl Osborn, so he had taken the opportunity to come down here and see how the experiments were going.
Everywhere in the lab there were glassed in chambers, like aquaria, in which mini ecosystems flourished or languished—where modified Earth lifeforms struggled to prove themselves worthy of inclusion in the new, synthetic cometary ecology that was only now starting to sort itself out.
Over by the left wall, some of his assistants tended the animals…birds without feathers and goats able to give milk in microgravity.
“Where is Paul?” he asked suddenly.
The brown haired twins nodded toward the crack in the wall, and shrugged.
“What?” Saul blinked. “I thought I told you to keep him here!”
They rolled their eyes in an expression he had seen countless times, over many mirrored years. “You told us not to let him out the door,” they reminded him smugly.
“Oh Lord.” Saul sagged. Was I ever like these two? So insufferably . . . immature?
They giggled together. Saul hesitated. He had to go after Paul, of course. The poor child might
be the size of a full grown man, but he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself out there alone.
I can’t take any of the kids with me, he realized, dismissing the idea of putting together a search party of his assistants. They’d
scare the hell out of people by emerging out in the halls in a swarm. He had not introduced them to anybody else yet, not even
Virginia. They were the most amazing development to come out of the union of Phobos technologies and his growing skill at clone symbiosis, but this time he wasn’t sure at all how to let the rest of the colony know about them.
Saul lope floated over to the hole in the wall. He picked up a glow ball of gene designed Halleyvirid phosphor. “When I get back we’re going to have a talk about responsibility,” he warned them. “Paul is still your brother even if he’s deficient in some ways. It was your duty to take care of him.”
They looked down, shamefaced. They weren’t bad kids, just inexperienced—very new to the world.
Two whirling, black sticks of fur leaped onto Saul, clambering over his shoulders. He gently unpeeled the midget gibbons.
“Not now, Max, Sylvie. I’ll be right back. Stay with the boys.” They stared after him, wide eyed, as Saul turned and dove into the dark gap alone.
Of course Paul probably wasn’t in any danger. He was immune to purple toxins, of course, and if this passage held air, so did everything connected to it.
If only I can catch up with him before he runs into people.
Sooner or later, of course, he would have to reveal what he was doing. Announce that he had finally found solutions to many of the problems of growth and development that had made child-rearing a near impossibility on Halley.
What he had learned might even be applied to helping the thirty or so children the Orthos and a few Percells had already produced. During the last year, improving the lot of those poor, warped creatures had been one of his highest priorities.