Jim Baens Universe-Vol 1 Num 6

by Eric Flint

  * * *

  Eric Flint is the author of many novels and some short fiction. He has also edited a number of anthologies. Dave Freer has written a number of novels and short stories.

  Newts

  Written by Kevin J. Anderson

  Illustrated by Lukasz Mrozek

  During what should have been the ring colony's Independence Day celebration, the mood in the family habitat was somber. Rex Hollings stared through the viewing window toward the pastel clouds of Saturn. Thanks to the mellowing influence of his implant, he wore a placid smile, aware of and yet immune to the misery and dread all around him. The others were incapable of being so stable in a time of crisis.

  Rex admired the planet's gentle beauty. The majestic ring arced up and caught sunlight, glittering with a spray of rocks where the tightly knit group of Worthies had built habitation modules, storage depots, greenhouse domes. All those artificial structures should have formed the backbone of a carefully engineered society. A magnificent colony. Standing alone, Rex considered the grand aspirations of visionary Ardet Hollings, who had founded the Worthies.

  Now there were three empty seats at the dinner table. All families had suffered similar losses in the recent space battle.

  As the emotional currents moved around him, Rex imagined himself as a rock in a fast-flowing stream, as in the library images he liked to view. Images of natural beauty were the only parts of Earth that Ardet had allowed them to see, claiming that everything else was too corrupt. He found the lovely landscape scenes very soothing, the rushing waters, the crashing ocean waves, the silvery waterfalls. Rex had never visited Earth, and he never would, especially not now.

  Though he could not personally experience extreme moods, he still recognized the agitation from his mother and his two sisters-in-law. It was like learning a foreign language. Even little Max was affected by the tension; the boy clung fussily to his Uncle Rex, who was two years younger than his father. Rex picked up his unsettled nephew, whispering soft words that soothed him. Max stopped crying, giggled once, then played with his uncle's hair. They both looked out the window. "See the planet? Isn't it pretty?" As a first-born, Max would never be subjected to the implant, or the operation. If Rex hadn't been so calm, he might have envied the little boy.

  Mother emerged from the kitchen unit, forcing a bright smile. She looked wrung-out and pale, overworked, overwhelmed, but not willing to surrender any ground to Fate. She would keep doing what she must, regardless of the circumstances. As the wife of Ardet Hollings, she had always been an excellent example for other Worthy women to emulate, filling her role, doing her tasks, never overstepping the boundaries. Rex thought she was perfect. Even knowing the terrible things that had happened to the colony, and what they could expect from the Earth military forces, her job was to manage their home and keep the family unit intact. Mother would die before she gave up any of those tasks, no matter what outside threat might be coming their way.

  "Today is our special day, so we have a feast. Twenty-one years ago today Ardet led us away from Earth and brought us here to form our model society." She said the phrases she had memorized. Her husband had written the original Independence Day speech, and the words had become canon. "We came here to find peace, despite the hardships we knew we would have to face and without interference from outsiders."

  Rex intoned the benediction along with his two sisters-in-law, "Peace despite hardship." He handed the now-happy toddler back to Ann, tapping Max on the nose and making him giggle one last time before the meal.

  Mother brought out platters of fresh vegetables grown in the greenhouse domes. At the end of his shift that day, Rex had brought home the best from the harvest, far more than they really needed to eat. There were ears of bright yellow corn, bowls of green beans, leafy salads dressed with spicy herbed sauces. Tofumeat added extra protein.

  With all greenhouse systems perfectly functional, at last, the productivity in the domes was enough to feed a population beyond even Ardet's greatest dreams—and now that so many colonists had died, there was extra food for the table. Silver linings. Rex smiled at the thought. He served himself sliced tomatoes so red they made the eyes ache.

  "There isn't much reason to celebrate," grumbled Ann as she took her seat next to one of the empty spots. When Max fussed, she set the toddler on her knee and absently shushed him. Rex offered to take the boy, but Ann shook her head.

  Mother would not let anything derail her purpose. "It is still our Independence Day. We have always celebrated it, and we'll do so again this year. Our men would want it that way."

  "Who knows what will happen next year?" Rex said, meaning to be optimistic. He let events flow toward him and accepted whatever came. He, like so many others of his generation, was kept on an even keel, cooperative, causing no trouble. Ardet had wanted it that way.

  Instead, his comment stung the others there. Rex could see expressions fall and felt their turbulent anxiety: grief for lost husbands, fear of the inevitable end of their way of life, anger at the enemy that had robbed the Worthies of their future. No matter how brave their deaths had been while standing against the invaders, the men were still dead.

  "I'm . . . sorry for what I said. It was insensitive."

  "That's all right, Rex. You can't help it," Mother said.

  Dark-eyed Jen, the widow of his brother Ian, took a seat across from Rex, moving as if in a daze. She had full lips, a lush figure, and a once-sparkling personality that had made her an extremely desirable mate. Ian had been the envy of many Worthies when she'd accepted his proposal of marriage, and Ardet himself had blessed the union. Rex had been very pleased for both of them, hoping they would have many children . . . but there hadn't been time. He could sense Jen's sorrow at that now, the suffocating weight of lost opportunities.

  It all flowed past him. He was a rock in a stream. That was as much as the implant, and his altered body, allowed him to be.

  Since Rex was the only "man" there, Mother asked him to say a brief prayer for Lee and Ian, as well as their father and all of the fallen heroes. Rex mouthed the memorized words in his thin, piping voice. Then they all joined in an uninspired but adequate recitation of Ardet's traditional Independence Day benediction. When he finished speaking, everyone murmured, "As Ardet said."

  Giving him a shy smile, Jen served Rex one of the ears of corn, took a smaller one for herself, then passed the plate down to where Ann was struggling with Max while scooping up some beans. Ann had a round face and curly brown hair. When her husband was still alive, she had kept herself beautiful for him, but in the months since Lee had fallen, she'd had little opportunity to do so, especially with caring for Max.

  Rex knew that Ann struggled to be strong, to follow Mother's example; Worthy women were groomed to be exceptionally competent in their well-defined areas of responsibility, and to rely on the men to fulfill their own duties. But not even Ardet, with his grand dreams and detailed societal models, had envisioned the possibility of an entire stratum vanishing practically overnight.

  Ann asked, "How soon do you suppose the DPs will be here?" She spoke as if it were casual mealtime conversation, though Rex could hear the tension, like brittle glass in her voice.

  "I'll have no such talk at the table." Mother passed the salad bowl around again and urged them to eat. "This isn't the time for it."

  "I'm afraid," Jen said in a small voice, looking directly at Rex. He glanced away, knowing what she wanted from him but unable to give it. He felt so sorry for her.

  The Democratic Progressives had dispatched a retaliatory force to crush them, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time. The Worthies had already sacrificed all their fighting men against the first small exploratory force that had come to Saturn. Ardet, Lee, Ian, and the other men in the Worthy settlement had defeated the enemy that day, but at incredible cost to themselves. The remaining colonists would have no chance when Earth's reinforcements arrived at Saturn. For months now, Rex had felt the uneasy panic wafting among the colo
ny survivors like the wind from a laboring air recycler.

  But he remained calm. All newts remained calm. Ardet had thought it for the best.

  After the meal, his belly full, Rex helped out in the kitchen unit, cleaning dishes, recycling scraps. Though Worthy men did not do such work, newts were allowed to perform some duties traditionally reserved for women. Besides, Rex had designed or refined some of the household recycling systems himself, and he knew how to keep them functioning at peak efficiency.

  Jen offered to help him while Ann and Mother played with Max in the main living area. One of Ardet's old recorded speeches played on the screen; crowds of exuberant new colonists cheered, giddy with their recent separation from Earth and assured of a bright future if only they followed the rigid Worthy plan.

  Jen stood uncomfortably close to Rex in the cramped kitchen unit. He used a squeegee to scrape food into a compost-recycler and stored the serving plates in the sanitizer, which used water reclaimed from the abundant ice in Saturn's rings. For a while, she made light conversation, though he could hear a deep and desperate huskiness to her voice, a longing and a need. After a long pause, Jen said in a very low whisper, "Rex, I ache every time I see you. Do you know how much you remind me of Ian? You look so much like him."

  "I am his brother. We've always looked a lot alike."

  She slipped her arms around his waist. "Face me."

  He felt awkward, interrupted in his work, but he dutifully turned. He looked at Jen's oval face, her delicate chin. Both of his brothers' wives were beautiful women, yet Rex felt no desire for his sisters-in-law. Still, he loved them deeply. Jen must have seen it on his face. He stroked her hair, trying to calm her, as he had done with Max.

  Growing bolder, she pressed her soft breasts against his chest, then tilted her face. She kissed him, at first tentatively, then ferociously. Her lips were moist and pleasant, warm, wanting more than he was capable of giving. "I miss him so much, Rex. I'm so lonely."

  "We're all lonely." He gently extricated himself, patted her on the shoulder, as a brother would, and reminded her of what she already knew. "I'm not entirely like Ian. I'm missing some of my parts."

  Though he had not intended to upset her in any way, he experienced her reaction like whitecaps crashing against a sea cliff. Another library image from Earth . . . Rebuffed, Jen backed to the door of the kitchen unit. He could not experience the same reactions, with all the highs and lows of passion clipped from him, but he very much wanted to understand. "I'm sorry," he said automatically, hoping it would defuse the tension simmering in her. "Don't be angry."

  Dark hair swirled around her as she tossed her head and looked at him with a flicker of . . . disgust? "How can you keep us safe from the DPs? They're coming! You know what they're like. They'll destroy us all."

  Rex blinked at her, struggling to quell the situation. Yes, he had heard Ardet's speeches on the evils of Earth, the manic greed and violence of the Democratic Progressives. Rex, born here in the new colony, had never experienced Earth except through his father's harsh descriptions, but he believed the stories of a lawless society in which no member knew his or her place. After great struggle and persecution, the Worthies had broken away from that, coming far enough out here into unclaimed territory that they could achieve their potential, following Ardet's social map. Rex was part of that; they all were.

  "We all have our tasks, Jen. I'm a newt. You know that being a fighter—or a lover—is not one of my duties." He offered a comforting smile. "I can do many things, Jen, just not what you're looking for right now." Rex squared his shoulders, as he had seen his brothers do. "But if we don't stay the course in our darkest hour, then we dishonor Ardet. He gave us our instructions. If we cast them aside now, then we are no better than the people from Earth."

  It was an intellectual argument, the kind Rex was best at, and he could see that it did not convince Jen's heart. After she left him in a swirl of anger and fear, he went back to finish the kitchen chores by himself.

  * * *

  The handful of intact Worthy men insisted they would go down fighting for their principles, their way of life. Rex was physically, and chemically, prevented from feeling the same passionate resolve, but he could admire their determination, their bravery, their refusal to give up. He was sure Ardet Hollings would have been proud.

  Shortly after their independence day, Rex and a dozen newts were removed from their daily assignments and sent out into the space rubble field with Commander Joseph Heron. Heron was old, scarred, and impatient, one of only twenty-three male survivors of the initial battle against the Democratic Progressives. Listening to him rail against Fate, Rex wondered if Heron had spent the last several months wishing that he too had died in the conflict. But if he had, who would defend the Worthies against the decadent and despicable DPs?

  From the time he was child, Rex had been trained how to suit up and how to perform outside functions. He was perfectly capable of performing tasks out in hard vacuum, as were his fellow newts. They were well-educated, even-tempered workers who remained unruffled in a crisis. They would complete their tasks as required, no matter how anxious and uptight Commander Heron and his desperate soldiers might be.

  Scouts had already combed the space battlefield for any wreckage they could salvage, but Heron insisted on trying again and again. The vagaries of gravity in the rings churned up new discoveries, like repressed emotions coming to the surface. Rex was sure nothing remained to be found, but the commander had nothing to cling to but dogged optimism. Rex was surprised, and pleased, when the searches paid off: Far from where anyone expected gravity and momentum to have carried it, they discovered a nearly intact DC ship.

  Leaving Heron in charge was yet another example of Ardet's great wisdom: No newt would have bothered to keep searching.

  "This is our greatest break yet, men," the commander said over the suit intercom as their shuttle approached. Heron allowed only a small touch of irony when he said "men." His voice held an edge, as if anger could inspire the newts to greater dedication, but the implants continued to keep them controlled, calm. It was the most reasonable way to get a tough job done. After the Worthies' early years of near-starvation, Ardet had based much of his plan on that basic idea. . . .

  Heron named the wreck Flying Dutchman after an old Earth ghost story. The Dutchman's hull had been breached in several places, venting its atmosphere and killing the small crew. When their shuttle circled the derelict, Rex studied the configuration, making mental notes about what needed to be repaired. Decades ago, when leaving their tainted planet behind, Ardet's followers had purchased brute-force commercial vessels to haul people and equipment on a one-way trip to Saturn. This DC exploratory ship was faster, its lines sleeker, its potential greater than anything the colonists had used.

  When the shuttle docked against the Dutchman's cold hull, Heron addressed his men and the newts. "Inside this wreck, there may be energy weapons, explosive projectiles, something we can use. It's my aim to get this vessel up and running. Then we'll have five ships, and we can make a good accounting of ourselves when the DPs come."

  "Can we even understand the systems, sir?" Rex asked. "This technology far surpasses what we're used to."

  The older commander turned to him. Behind the reflected glimmer on the curved faceplate, Rex could see his frown. "Just because you don't have any balls, doesn't mean you don't have any brains. I'm counting on you to figure this out, Rex. It's the only way we can survive."

  Rex didn't think they would survive in any case, but he made no further comment. The other newts waited to receive instructions.

  After they broke into the Dutchman, the salvagers separated into teams and methodically moved from deck to deck. They discovered the iron-hard bodies of six DC soldiers, expressions frozen as if surprised that a tiny group of isolationists had fought so bitterly against their impressive ship. Two of Heron's men let out defiant cries of triumph; the others were queasy and silent. The newts were put on corpse detail, gathe
ring and ejecting the dead soldiers. They didn't mind.

  On the bridge, Commander Heron and his men studied the dead ship's systems. Rex stepped up to the engine controls and navigation modules, and peered down to read the labels on each station. He knew how to fix familiar systems—recyclers, irrigators, and lighting—but these looked different.

  "Don't just stand there and make this place crowded," Heron said. "Not much time left!" The other newts spread out and began to make repairs.

  With so many unknown factors, the Worthies had no way of determining exactly when the retaliatory ships would arrive. After receiving distress signals from the battle in the rings six months ago, Earth should have taken at least a month to gather a new fleet, which would take five or more months in transit. But if the DC military had modified their engines, improved their speed or fuel efficiency, they could fly to Saturn more swiftly than expected.

  By any calculation, the DPs could be here any day.

  Rex used a circuit mapper and command-train isolator to check the station panels, one row after another. He documented which modules were functional and which needed to be routed around or replaced. Even if the Dutchman were completely repaired, though, the new DC ships were bound to be far superior.