Echoes of an Alien Sky

by James P. Hogan

  Their error over the virus might have been the supreme irony, but this was the final one. Having abandoned Earth to make that one last effort, and left behind them most of what had been provided to help toward making a fresh start, they themselves had already set in motion the destruction of whatever fragile toe-hold on Venus that they would be able to establish.

  I had been there all along, but wrapped in terms that had caused generations of Venusians to read it as meaning anything except exactly what it said. "The Legend of the Wanderers," Lorili recalled, when Kyal told her about the latest findings. "How did it go, again? The ancestors of long ago, who didn't like the ways of the world, went to the end of it. It got a bit garbled there, didn't it? The 'end' that it talked about was Terminus. And then they left to go and live on the Sun. Well, not on the Sun, but at another sun, I suppose. And wasn't there something about rising from the dead?"

  "Some versions say that," Kyal agreed. "But the more usual line is that they came eventually to the Place Of Death but escaped from it. We know now where that was: Providence." He went on, "When they returned, The Wanderers had annoyed the local inhabitants by frightening their dog away. So when they caught it again, they made it their watchdog in the sky, to make sure the Wanderers stayed home from then on."

  "And Froile was born out of hurricanes and floods, when the sky fell, and the seas moved over the land," Lorili completed.

  It all fitted.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Kyal and Lorili stood by the window wall of Sherven's office. Beyond the glass, exterior parts of Explorer 6 stood out as geometric shapes of reflected Earthlight against the slowly moving starfield. Sherven and Casello were in front of the curved desk with its side panel, sharing the view. Yorim and Mirine were there too, standing on the far side of the room, where screens flickered and glowed in the battery of displays alongside the arch leading through to the conference area.

  Below the superstructure, the Melthor Jorg was docked once more. The time had come to go home. Locating Providence had proved to be a short-lived task, and its further exploration was now in other hands. Kyal had a program of professional commitments to attend to following the later developments, and Lorili needed to tidy up family matters. They would return after being married on Venus. Their home, they had decided, would be in on the western coast of North America, somewhere near the rapidly growing town that the Regional Base was transforming itself into, and already referred to unofficially by its Terran place name: Pasadena. And if Lorili was going back, it was only natural that her assistant since the early days should be going too. At least, that was what Mirine said. Yorim and Mirine hadn't announced any definite plans, but the general feeling among the others was that Kyal and Yorim were as inseparable as the two women, and it wouldn't be very long before the four found themselves in close proximity again.

  In the meantime, Casselo would be returning to Rhombus after his sojourn on Explorer 6. Sherven was making no secret that he was wrapping up official duties and would soon be retiring to southern Europe. This didn't mean an end to his involvement with scientific matters concerning the Terrans, but on the contrary, a shedding of administrative responsibilities in order to be able to devote more of his time to them. Although they would all doubtless continue to communicate and meet from time to time over the years ahead, the moment was poignant in marking the end of an extraordinarily fruitful period of discovery from which they had all drawn, and to which they had contributed in that peculiar, mutually enhancing rapport that can be generated by unusually creative people working closely together. It was the kind of experience that graced the lives of a few privileged people perhaps once, and for most, never at all.

  The Venus that they would be going back to had undergone its own experience of transformation and realization too. The hardline following of the Progressive movement had wilted; at the same time, the traditional merit-focused establishment was broadening its stance and committing to re-examining some of its ways with a view to providing more in the way of helping hands toward the needy, or simply unlucky. The reactions from both sides were an expression of the universal horror that had come with the realization of what the extinction of the Terrans implied.

  Compared to Venus, the Terrans had been given a garden. But the knowledge that they had amassed through centuries of effort and dedication in developing their sciences and their industries, that could have carried them outward to plant other gardens among the stars in the ways some of them had dreamed, they had turned instead to their main preoccupation of destruction and killing. Aggression and a history of "settling" differences by organized violence—it never settled anything—had been the culprit. Venusians heard the same readiness to resort to force in the demands of the Progressive extremists. And the accessories had been the Terran hierarchies of power by which the few commanded the obedience and labors of the many. Venusians saw beginnings of the same thing in the institutionalized favoritism and privilege that were appearing in their own governing system. On both counts, they were resolved not to emulate the ways that had brought about the downfall of the Terrans.

  "It must say a lot for the people up in the mother ship that they not only waited, but sent down help," Lorili said. They were recapitulating on some of the outcomes from it all—a way of prolonging the moment before the two departing couples left to join the waiting ship.

  Sherven rubbed his chin. "Oh, I don't know that they could have done differently. Could you? After they'd been together all that time through the long voyage back?"

  "And from what I read of it, that elder, Zaam, doesn't seem like the kind they would lightly have abandoned," Casselo agreed. "He was the one who got them there."

  Sherven moved to the window and stood looking out with his hands clasped behind his back. Below, the bulk of the Melthor Jorg hung against the backdrop of void,

  lit up by the lights of supply craft and service platforms preparing the ship for its departure.

  "So it turns out after all that we are indeed the Terrans' direct descendants," he said. "The reason we're not comfortable on Venus is that it isn't ready for our kind yet." Kyal caught Lorili's eye and gave her an approving nod. She smiled but didn't say anything. Sherven went on, "Where Terrans came from in turn is an open question. I still think it's pretty clear that by its very nature and laws, the universe is preprogrammed to produce air-breathing, oxygen-fueled, carbon-based life on aqueous planets, very much like ourselves, wherever the conditions are right. How it came to be that way, and why, only Vizek knows. I don't believe this Terran fable of unguided matter being able to organize itself in such ways mindlessly, for no reason. In denying the universe its soul, the Terrans denied their own. That was what made them what they were, and what ultimately brought them to the kind of end that befell them."

  Sherven turned from the window to face the others again, spreading his arms sideways along the ledge behind him. "So let's, for a moment, consider some of the deeper implications that pertain to us directly. Many Venusians have admired what they perceived as the Terran spirit of self-assertiveness and their refusal to submit to injustices. Those are noble thoughts, and let's not belittle them. But I would urge an element of caution in taking their praises of themselves too literally, because we know that they habitually distorted reality to a degree we would find untenable when it suited their purpose." He ran his gaze briefly over the listening faces. "But having said that, I have to agree that there's a part of the heritage we owe to them that makes me proud."

  Nobody interrupted. Their faces were solemn. Kyal realized that Sherven was speaking for all of them. He had never expressed positive sentiments regarding the Terrans before.

  Sherven continued, "We seem to be a more stable version of what they were: more disposed to cooperate than to compete; to defend weakness rather than exploit it; mutually supportive, where they were adversarial. And I think there are good reasons why this should be so. Consider the two selection processes that occurred to produce very different populations
. The Terrans were descended from the few who survived its early catastrophes and its terrors, which they interpreted as the wrath of supernatural beings who judged human actions. Hence emerged a world driven by brutality, ferociousness, and cunning, stemming from irrational beliefs in gods. The result was thousands of years of bloodstained history, culminating in the use of horrific weapons that all but wiped them out." Sherven gave a slight shrug. "Well, as far as Earth was concerned, they did wipe themselves out."

  "But by this quirk that we now know about, a handful were saved to go through the saga that we have no doubt only glimpsed. They also constituted a selection from which a world would develop, but this time a world of a very different kind. For one thing, these were not technologically primitive like the early Terrans who gazed up, terrified, at the events and apparitions filling their skies. Their line was from what had been a socially selected elite to begin with, who went on to found a starfaring colony that endured, even if it was unable to flourish and spread. When they suffered the lesser calamity caused by Froile, they may have lost their technology and history, but they retained enough rationality not to be carried away by notions of magical gods dispensing retribution. Thus, they avoided the fear and superstition which lay at the root of so much evil on Earth.

  "And second, instead of resorting to conflict and rivalry to seize what they could of was left, they brought to their situation the tradition of a spacefaring community and colonizing venture, where the crucial qualities were cooperation and the ability to contribute—the values of life that the Venus we see today represents."

  "And which will flourish on Earth too one day," Casselo said. He glanced at the clock display above the screens and then pointedly at Sherven. It was time. Sherven nodded.

  He came forward from the window and moved from one to another of the four who were leaving, clasping the shoulders of each with both hands as a gesture of farewell. "A safe and a pleasant journey to you," he told them. "You have all played an invaluable part in work here that will never be forgotten. I look forward to the day when we will be able to welcome you back."

  "It won't be long," Kyal said. "And thank you for everything too, Director."

  "A life that adds one brick to making the world a better place than you found it is a life that was worth living," Sherven told them all. "Remember that we represent a unique and precious combination that the Terrans contributed to, but which they could never have equaled. That is why the recent trends back home disturbed me. Our culture has no room for the kind of divisiveness among ourselves that destroyed Earth. We have experience of governing our affairs in ways that they never knew. I believe we will command the wisdom to make things succeed this time, by working in combination instead of in conflict. That's as it should be, and has to be. The Universe is vast and dangerous, as our ancestors who tried to live at Eden discovered. Living well and securely with it will demand the best that all of us have to offer. Let us use our heritage wisely. One day, we will go back to the stars. And this time it will be to stay. It's a debt that we owe to those last children of Earth, who came here long ago."

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  They sat in the midships cabin on C-Deck of the Melthor Jorg, watching the disk of Earth the wall display screen, shrinking slowly and looking like a mottled blue-and-white marble. Its moon was partly visible behind, like a bright bump on one side.

  The paint on the cabin walls was new, and the floor had been resurfaced. It seemed long ago that Kyal had sat here with Yorim on these same seats, surrounded by a different circle of faces, looking at the same view. But it had been growing larger then. So much had happened since. Then, it had been an enigmatic world of unanswered questions, tragedy, and mystery. There would always be unanswered questions; but now it felt familiar, and in a way, friendly. It would be good to see Venus again, Kyal thought, but he was already looking forward to the day when they would return. The future Scientific Director designated as Sherven's successor was already talking about developing Luna as a construction center and experimental facility for long-range space exploration technology. There would be much to do.

  Yorim spoke from where he was sprawled in one of the chairs to the side, next to Mirine. "So what's first on everyone's list of things to do back home?"

  Kyal looked at Lorili, shrugged, and made a face. "I hadn't really made a list. We've been too busy. What's on yours?"

  Yorim waved a hand vaguely, as if he were raising an imaginary glass. "Oh . . . look up the old faces. See what's new in the neighborhood. Stay away from politics." He didn't seem to have any clear ideas either. Kyal watched his face, still taking in the screen. The look in his eyes seemed wistful. Kyal could almost read his thoughts: picturing Mediterranean beaches and ancient pyramids under blues skies, standing solid and immutable in the sun. He smiled faintly and felt inwardly reassured. Yorim would be coming back.

  "Well, one thing you have to do is meet my folks," Mirine told him. "They say they're organizing a big welcome home party. Our family has great parties."

  "Sounds good to me," Yorim said neutrally.

  "Do yo realize we've never been anywhere we could dance yet? And Kyal says you're a terrific dancer."

  "He did?" Yorim stared across. Kyal remained expressionless and kept his gaze averted. Lorili snickered to herself.

  "What's that place you were telling me about in Rhombus that had lots of parties and a bar, and dancing?" Kyal asked Lorili.

  "The Magic Carpet?"

  "That's the one. Amingas Quarles was telling me they're going to open something like that in Pasadena."

  "Oh, there are going to be all kinds of places opening up there," Yorim said.

  "Next to a lake," Kyal went on. "And they'll have a dining room over the water, with boats. They think the lake might be a bomb crater that goes all the way back to the Terran war."

  "A bar. That sounds like a good idea." Yorim looked more interested. "We're going to have something like twelve weeks to get through again. Fancy checking out the place up on E-Deck, and seeing if it's still the same? Remember that Korbisanian cocktail the guy used to mix on the way out? I wonder if he's still there."

  "You're making me thirsty. I'll try one," Mirine said.

  Yorim unfolded from the chair and sat up. "That settles it then."

  Kyal wasn't in a hurry. He and Lorili hadn't had a moment alone all day. Twelve weeks was twelve weeks. "You carry on," he told them. "We'll catch up."

  Yorim stood and helped Mirine to her feet. "See you there, then," he said. As they moved away, he said to Mirine, "You know, if we've got all this time on the way back, you ought to think about writing a piece for the magazines about those Terran corpses. . . ."

  Kyal sighed luxuriously relaxed back in his chair.

  "Nice to be alone at last?" Lorili said.

  "It's nice to have friends too. But sometimes . . ." He left it unfinished. Lorili shifted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. "Mm, you smell nice," he told her.

  "A scent that I got when we were in Europe. They make it in one of the settlements there. Plants that you don't see on Venus. They need lots of sun. And we're so much closer to it. Funny, isn't it."

  Something bright and metallic hanging from Lorili's neck was resting on the arm between their chairs. Kyal reached with a hand and turned it over. "Your mother will be pleased," he said. "Still wearing your katek."

  "Of course. Look at the good fortune that it brought me."

  Kyal studied it absently. Two converging lines spanned by a pair of bars. A sign from a vanished world, that had once meant Providence. The landing approach of an incoming spacecraft. "And it worked for her too," he said. "It's bringing you back going home."

  Lorili lifted the katek from his fingers, looked at it for a moment, and then took his hand. She turned her head and gazed at the image of Earth, still shining on the screen. "No, it will have worked when we come back again together, Kyal," she told him softly. "That's our home now. It always was."

  THE END
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