Ark

by Stephen Baxter

  Mel and Holle looked at each other for one second. There had been no warning of this. ′Move,′ he said.

  ′Yeah.′

  Mel ran for the shower.

  Holle grabbed their underwear from the closets, and their red and blue Candidates′ uniforms. ′What do you think he meant, ′′Bring only what you need?′′

  ′That we′re not coming back,′ Mel called from the shower.

  ′Shit.′ But she should have expected something like this. So the end game begins, she thought. She grabbed backpacks and started ransacking the room, seeking what was most precious to her - books, diaries, data sticks, hardcopy images, letters from her father, her Angel. What could she not bear to leave behind?

  She heard a growl of heavy engines, carrying even through the thick window glass. Looking down she saw armoured buses pulling up, ready to take them to the launch facility. She glanced at a clock. Five past seven. She threw stuff arbitrarily into the backpacks. ′Will you hurry up in that damn shower?′

  36

  There was a corridor of photographers, held back by lines of military, waiting to greet the Candidates as they came out of the building in pairs or threes, clutching their bags, their gaudy uniforms bright against the drab military shades. Flashes and spots glared in their faces. There was even a ripple of applause. Kelly, ever the showman, threw a handful of Ark key-rings from her gloved hand. People jumped to catch them. Holle, dazzled by the flashes, was aware of a sullen watching crowd beyond the well-wishers.

  The bus moved off from the foot of the building at seven thirty precisely, a tank-like vehicle with caterpillar treads and minuscule windows. It joined a convoy that rolled briskly out of the compound′s security fence, then along a short stretch of road lined with troops, shadowy in the uncertain morning light, heading for Gunnison.

  They slowed at a checkpoint at the Hinterland′s outer perimeter, a great circle of fences, ditches and watchtowers some eight kilometres in radius drawn around Gunnison. More spectators were waiting here, some applauding, mostly just staring. The security was heavy-handed, ferocious.

  Even once they were inside the Hinterland they bowled along a road lined with wire fencing and more armed troops. Beyond the roadside fence civilian workers were labouring, scraping holes and ditches in the open spaces and planting ugly metal eggs in the ground. They were laying mines, Holle saw, seeding death into the ground, presumably all across the Hinterland. Maybe even the road she travelled on would be mined once she had passed. Nobody else was to come in after them. That was the meaning of these preparations. She had the sense of great doors slamming closed behind her one by one.

  A kilometre from the Ark they were halted at another security fence around the Zone, the inner ground zero that contained the launch facility itself and the infrastructure that supported it. This time the buses were boarded, the occupants′ cards and biometric ID signatures checked over, and the buses moved on with armed troops aboard.

  It was five to eight by the time the buses rolled to a halt outside the big doors of the Candidate Hilton. Holle had spent so much time in this big training centre the last couple of years that it had come to feel like home. And here, in a few days, they would undergo their final preparations for launch. Now, as the Candidates spilled from their buses, chattering and nervous in their bright costumes, she longed only to get inside, to meet Gordo′s deadline. But even here the security clamped down hard, and they had to line up for yet another ID check before being allowed in.

  The light was brightening now. As Holle waited to be processed she looked around. It was remarkable to remember that within the last few years this whole launch facility had been set out from scratch, including manufacturing plants, propellant stores, test, assembly and integration facilities, this crew training and preparation building, the control centres. And all of it was focused on the ship itself, picked out by its spotlights and looming over the blocky buildings that surrounded it.

  This morning there was much activity around ramps that led up from the ground to the gaping doors of the twin hulls′ holds. Holle knew that the Svalbard vault was being loaded. This was a seed vault, containing around two billion seeds, established around forty years earlier deep inside a mountain on some Norwegian island - the seed that would help build a new world, on Earth II, once it was selected and reached. It was rumoured that the seed vault had been the price paid by Grace Gray′s sponsor, Nathan Lammockson, to get her aboard the Ark. There were already banks of zygotes stored deep in the Ark′s hold - the frozen embryos of animals, of dogs, cats, horses, cows, sheep, pigs, a variety of fish, and of a whole range of critters drawn from across the rich living tapestry of Earth, all loaded in not quite two by two. And Holle knew that equally precious but less tangible treasures were also being loaded aboard the ship today, via fibre-optic connections and tight beams: millions of books going back to the first Sumerian scratchings, music in sheet form and recordings, Library of Congress records, even the big genetic libraries the Mormons had built up - digital vaults containing the wisdom and collective memory of mankind, flowing into the Ark′s radiation-hardened memory stores.

  Even as the loading went on, cranes pecked at the huge structure like birds, spotlights glinted, welding torches sparked, and vapour hissed from valves, flaring bright white in the spotlights. It was said that the engineers wouldn′t stop building the ship until the moment it took off. It was impossible to believe that such a thing could fly at all.

  And it was also impossible to believe that of everything in her field of view, only the Ark itself would survive a microsecond after the very first of the thermonuclear detonations that would lift her into space.

  She and Mel got through the final security checks at two minutes to eight, and, following a sign, hurried to the Hilton′s big assembly hall.

  Gordo Alonzo stood on the stage, before a contraption of glass and plastic that looked like a lottery machine. Edward Kenzie was up there with him, and Liu Zheng, Magnus Howe and other instructors. Holle couldn′t see her father.

  The floor before the stage, cleared of the usual clutter of chairs and desks, was crowded with Candidates, swarming in their bright uniforms. She and Mel worked into the crowd, looking for their friends. There were plenty of strangers here too, young people of around Holle′s age, some in the uniforms of military, Homeland, police or National Guard, and some in civilian clothes, in AxysCorp coveralls or even just plain jeans. She spotted Grace Gray standing alone, looking detached from the rest; she must be one of the oldest here, and her pregnancy was clearly visible through the loose coveralls she wore.

  They soon found Kelly, who as ever was at the centre of others from their cadre: Susan with Pablo, and Venus Jenning and Wilson Argent, Thomas and Elle together, and Mike and Miriam, and Cora Robles who, heavily pregnant, had found time to put make-up on, and Zane Glemp, who looked the least agitated of any of them. Don Meisel was here in his DPD uniform and armour, standing with Kelly, the mother of his child. Holle′s heart went out to Kelly, who had given up her chance of a place on the Ark when she had chosen to bear her kid to term, little Dexter, now two years old. She had stayed with the programme, training with the rest to lend her expertise and experience, and here she was now with her old colleagues, right to the end.

  Holle pulled Kelly′s sleeve. ′Come to say goodbye? Where′s Dexter today?′

  Kelly just raised her fingers to her lips, and smiled.

  Holle glanced around. ′For sure there are a lot more than eighty people here. I guess the recruitment programme was always wider than we knew about.′

  ′Yeah. And I happen to know that there have been a lot of last-minute switchovers. Kids of military and politicians being forced on us. Just as well President Peery is a childless widower or we′d have a dozen of his brats on board.′

  Holle frowned. ′So how many of us made the cut?′

  The big doors at the back of the room slammed. There was a squeal of feedback, and on the stage Gordo Alonzo thumped a microphone
with his finger.

  Kelly whispered, ′I guess we′re about to find out.′

  Gordo Alonzo cleared his throat.

  ′OK. Welcome to the final crew selection process for Ark One, the culmination of Project Nimrod. This is going to be damn melodramatic, but it′s the best way we can figure to do it.

  ′Now listen up. I know my best crew. I have the final eighty stored in my head, up here.′ He tapped his forehead. ′That takes account of skill sets and diversity and all of that shit, and of the horse market that′s been going on the last few days. But we can′t just read out a list. Not everybody qualified even made it to this room. And some who made it here might not want to go, now we′re at the crunch. After all, this is a one-way trip.

  ′So we′re going to go through a decision process. We have a smart piece of software that at each stage is going to maintain a list of the optimal crew from the eligible candidates, small ′′c′′, remaining. It′s that expert system that will make the final individual decisions. Understood?

  ′OK, first stage. I want any of you who′s not a flyer to step back, go to the rear of the hall. That includes mom and pop and the sweetheart you′re leaving behind.′ He glared around. ′And that includes you, if after all you don′t want to go, even if you think you′re eligible, no matter how long you trained, or who paid for a seat for you on this scow. It′s your choice. Step back now.′

  The crowd began to shuffle, sorting itself out. Venus, Wilson, Mel, Zane and the rest all moved forward, towards Alonzo. Susan Frasier kissed Pablo - and, to Holle′s shock, stepped back with him, holding onto his arm.

  Holle grabbed her hands. ′Susan, what are you doing? This is what you trained for, your whole life. You even got yourself pregnant to boost your chances.′

  Susan just smiled a wide oceanic smile, and looked at Holle with brimming eyes. ′It just isn′t what I want, Holle. I don′t think I ever did. It got harder and harder for me to imagine leaving Pablo, for one thing. And I won′t want that kind of future for my baby either, not a whole lifetime in a tin can.′ She took a breath, and blood flushed her cheeks. ′I mean, even if he grows up on a raft at least he′ll have the sun and the sky and the sea … He′d have none of that on the Ark. You won′t. I think I′d die without it.′

  Holle was horrified at the thought that this sane, grounded woman would not be one of the eighty. ′We need you. I need you. Please, Susan.′

  Susan shook her head, her tears spilling over. ′I can′t. I′m sorry.′

  Pablo smiled at Holle, and drew Susan away.

  Holle, bewildered, turned back to Kelly and Don. Suddenly she realised she was facing more goodbyes, because Kelly couldn′t go any further.

  But Don was kissing Kelly, hard on the lips. When he pulled away his eyes were wet, though Kelly′s were dry, bright. Don said gruffly, ′So this is it.′

  Kelly cupped his cheek with her hand. ′It was so unfair how you were washed out, just a stunt by Gordo that first day. But you were never bitter. What incredible strength. I′ll remember that about you.′

  ′Christ, Kelly—′

  ′I′ll see you before the launch,′ Kelly said. ′Both of you, and Dexter. There′s time yet.′ She glanced around at the line that was forming on the stage, beside Alonzo and his lottery machine. ′Look, I need to go.′

  Don nodded. ′Go, go.′ He seemed on the verge of saying more. Instead he turned on his heel and marched away to the back of the hall, stiff, upright in his police uniform.

  Kelly was left standing with Holle. She took Holle′s hand. ′Come on - let′s see if we won the game.′

  But Holle, stunned, drew her hand back. ′Kelly, what are you doing?′

  Kelly stiffened. ′I need to explain? Look - a few months back, Alonzo asked me if I wanted my name to be restored to the active roster. I had time to think it over. I spoke to Don about it. I said yes.′

  Holle simply couldn′t understand. ′You said yes? But that means you′ll have to leave Dexter.′

  ′He has his father. My dad will take care of them both. He′ll live.′

  ′You′re his mother,′ Holle blurted.

  ′I won′t be the first mother in this drowning world to have left a kid behind,′ Kelly said harshly. ′I would have thought you would understand, you of all people. Christ, we grew up together, we got through that fucking Academy. But you really are a mouse, aren′t you? It′s not even a question of survival. It′s the mission. Holle, they offered me the role of commander of the trans-Jupiter phase! That′s a mission in itself. Then I′ll be in prime position to become captain of the interstellar phase. Come on, Holle, how could I turn that down? I′m meant to fly the Ark. I was born to it. I spent my life training up for it. There′s nothing else for me.′

  ′Not even your little boy?′

  Kelly just repeated, ′I thought you′d understand. Come on.′ She turned and led the way through the thinning crowd towards the stage, and Alonzo′s lottery machine.

  37

  People were called up in groups of eight or ten, and briefed by Gordo on the process. Holle watched Grace Gray going through. She touched her hand to a pad on the machine, which turned and produced a disc, like a coin, that Gordo handed to her with a smile. Grace took it incuriously, and moved on.

  Holle and Kelly caught up with Mel, Venus, Wilson, Zane, in the slowly moving line. In among them was a boy in an ill-fitting military uniform, who Holle hadn′t seen before. He looked uncertain, out of place, avoiding eye contact. It seemed to Holle that the regular Candidates in their uniforms made up no more than half the number lining up, half of this crowd of people all of whom thought they were entitled to a berth on the Ark.

  Mel came back for Holle. She grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

  He glanced at her. ′You OK?′

  She shook her head, compressing her lips.

  Kelly murmured to Wilson, ′Who the hell′s the kid in the army colours? I′ll swear he never wore that uniform before today.′

  Wilson whispered, ′Rumour has it he′s the son of General Morell. You know, the guy in charge of Zone perimeter security. He briefed us once—′

  ′Well, he′s no chance of making it onto our ship, whoever spawned him.′ Kelly′s face was hard, her eyes alive, every fibre of her being focused on the selection process. She didn′t glance once after Don.

  Zane paid no attention to any of this. His slight body clumsy in the bright Lycra uniform, he looked disconnected, as if barely conscious of what was going on around him - barely aware of the gravity of this moment, which could shape his entire life.

  They neared the selection machine, and the line ahead cleared. They were all in the next group of ten to be called forward and lined up before Gordo Alonzo. Holle noticed an armed man behind Gordo, and another by the machine, watching silently. Behind them senior figures like Edward Kenzie and Liu Zheng stood waiting. Holle glanced over her shoulder. There was still no sign of her father.

  Gordo faced them, uniform sharply creased, hands folded. ′OK, you people, time for the game show. By standing here you′re stating your willingness to serve on the Ark. Yes? Now we′ll see if you′re selected.

  ′You′ll each step up, in turn. You′ll place your right hand on this pad.′ He showed them how. ′If the machine′s uncertain of your identity you′ll feel a prick of your thumb, a blood sample. OK? And if you′re on the list you′ll be given a token.′ He held up a gold-coloured coin. ′Like this. Numbered one to eighty. Don′t lose it. Seems kind of crude I know, but once the tokens are issued you have your pass to the Ark come what may, even if we get hacked, even if the systems crash, whatever. Now, if you don′t get a token, you haven′t been selected, and we ask you to move on.′ The armed soldier beside him stiffened, cradling his rifle. ′Who′s first?′

  Zane stepped forward. He placed his palm where they had been shown, the machine rotated, and coughed out a token. Gordo handed it to Zane, who closed his hand over it without looking at it, and moved on.

&nbs
p; With no further trouble, Wilson and Venus both passed through. Venus was trembling; she looked hugely relieved to have made it and clutched her token to her chest.

  Kelly went next, striding confidently. When Gordo handed over her token she held it aloft and whooped, as if she′d won an Olympic medal. Her father, Edward, clapped his liver-spotted hands. Holle couldn′t believe Kelly could behave this way.

  The army boy, Morell, went forward next. He was shaking visibly. Gordo had to show him where to place his palm; the kid wiped his hand on his trouser leg and reached out nervously. But the machine produced a coin for him; he grabbed it and hurried on.

  ′I don′t fucking believe it,′ said Mel. He patted Holle′s shoulder. ′You next, hon. See you on the other side.′

  Holle stepped forward, alone. Suddenly she was nervous, her heart hammering, a feeling of lightness in her head. She was aware of Gordo watching her, the guard at his side, Kelly and the other successful Candidates waiting for her, Mel behind her. It was as Kelly had said. All her life she had been preparing for this mission. She would never know how much she had sacrificed for it, what kind of a childhood she might have had otherwise. And it all came down to this one moment, to a decision made by some intangible expert system cooked up by Gordo and the social engineers.

  There was no point hesitating. She slapped her palm on the pad. It was greasy with other people′s sweat. The machine turned. A token dropped into the slot with a rattle. She just looked at it for a long second, barely believing it. Then Gordo handed it to her, and she clutched it tightly as she marched over to join Kelly and the others. Nobody slapped her back, nobody hugged her - nobody grinned, save Kelly. It didn′t feel like that kind of moment. The Morell kid just stood there shaking, maybe more afraid that he′d made it than if he hadn′t.

  Mel approached the machine. He placed his hand on the pad. The machine turned, but no token emerged. Mel frowned, staring at the machine. He went to put his hand down again, but the guard stepped forward.