Ark

by Stephen Baxter

  Venus smiled, her face dimly illuminated by her glowing screen. ′Got to give people some kind of incentive to visit. By the way, when that hatch is locked the data feed to the rest of the ship is cut too. So we have a little privacy.′

  Holle stared. ′You cut yourself off even from Wilson?′

  ′Oh, our great leader gets a continuous feed.′ She winked at Holle. ′Which isn′t to say he′s fed the unvarnished truth the whole time.′

  ′You manipulate the data feed?′

  ′Wilson needs us, he needs what we do. As long as I′m no direct threat to him, I think he lets me keep my little secrets.′

  And there was an expression of the most basic tactic for survival on this Ark: to grab a bit of power and hold onto it.

  ′So you have a ′′little secret′′ today?′

  Venus nodded. ′I′ll tell Wilson about it when I′m ready. We need more data to establish the case. But—′

  ′You said there′s a problem.′

  ′With Earth II,′ Venus said. ′I think there′s a problem with our destination, Holle. I need you to help me figure out how to handle it.′

  ′Shit.′

  Venus grinned. ′That doesn′t begin to cover it.′ She swivelled a screen so it faced Holle. ′We have images of Earth II. Still rudimentary, but—′

  Holle was astonished. ′Wow. Images. And you kept them to yourself?′

  ′So far.′

  ′Suddenly I feel like Columbus.′

  ′More like the crew of Apollo 8,′ Venus said. ′Remember how Gordo used to claim to have met them all, Borman, Lovell and Anders? The first to leave Earth orbit, the first to see the world whole and complete …′ Her finger hovered over a key. ′Let me show you how we got the data.′

  Since going to warp, Venus and her team had continued to use the Ark as a mobile telescopic platform for inspecting the nearby stars and their planets, extending the depth and quality of the searches that had been possible from Earth, and from the Ark itself at Jupiter. It seemed remarkable to Holle that it was possible to perform such fine work from within a warp bubble, with the telescopes peering out through a wall of folded spacetime. But the lensing of the light was easy to unravel; you just traced the rays back along the paths they had followed, following solutions through the forest of relativistic equations that described the Alcubierre warp.

  Even now that they were out among the stars, the feeble light of a planet, reflecting a scrap of its parent star′s radiation output, remained difficult to detect. So Venus had her telescopes look for the subtle dips in a star′s light when a planet transited before its face - a technique that would only work if the orbit happened to be edge-on to the Ark. Or she looked for the wobbles in a star′s motion characteristic of it being pulled around by the orbiting bulk of planets. What struck Holle as the cleverest technique involved a pair of telescopes observing the same star but from some distance apart. Light acted as a wave, and waves when combined interfered with each other, constructively or destructively. The signals from the two telescopes were combined so that a destructive resonance occurred between the two feeds of the star′s own light - and with the star itself made invisible, any planets, each no brighter than a billionth or so of the star′s own luminosity, could be made out.

  With such techniques a planet could be observed closely, its mass and gravity estimated, the spectrum of its light analysed for signs of water and for such atmospheric constituents as methane and oxygen. Before the Ark left Jupiter these Earthlike signatures had been recognised of a planet of 82 Eridani, a star not unlike the sun.

  ′But,′ Venus said, ′we′re not just staring at Earth II the whole time. We′ve been looking further out, as far as we can see, across a sphere a hundred light years in radius, trying to map everything we can. Why not? Even if we make it to Earth II it′s going to be a long time before anybody else gets a chance to do any planet-spotting, and certainly not from a platform like this. There are limits to detectability, a base of astrophysical noise you can′t see through. But we′re easily sensitive enough to spot an Earthlike planet at an Earthlike distance from a sunlike star, for instance from stellar velocity oscillations of a centimetre a second or so. So we′re drawing up a catalogue, a legacy for future generations.′ She grinned, and the Venus that Holle had grown up with peeked out from inside the grave thirty-year-old woman. ′Besides, what else have we got to do all day? It′s this or scrub the walls.′

  ′I believe you.′

  ′So you ready for Earth II?′

  ′Hit me.′

  The screen before Holle lit up with a disc, a world. It was almost full, with only a crescent in shadow, to the left-hand side. And the lit portion, the right hemisphere, bathed in the sunlike light of 82 Eridani, was dominated by a shield of ocean that gleamed grey. Holle saw a dazzling highlight at the right-hand limb cast by the out-of-sight star. There was a swirl of cloud in that daylit hemisphere, a big storm system of some kind. Elsewhere she saw land, a thin grey belt across the waist of the planet, another landmass below it, a kind of archipelago above. The image was blurred, an artefact of the telescopy; no details much smaller than continents were visible.

  Venus watched her, grinning. ′Even Wilson hasn′t seen this yet.′

  Holle shook her head. ′It′s like a special effect in a HeadSpace game. And so Earthlike. No polar caps?′

  ′No, though the surface temperature isn′t much different from Earth′s. Well, there have been intervals in prehistory when Earth was ice-free.′

  ′Are these true colours? The landmasses are a little darker than on Earth maybe.′

  Venus nodded. ′True. Not so green as Earth. 82 Eridani is a G5 class rather than a G2 like Sol, and the light is subtly different. We suspect there′s some different light-gathering chemistry going on down there.′

  ′But there′s life.′

  ′Oh, yes, we think so. No chance of that oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere without it.′

  Holle peered at the scattered landmasses. Would the shapes of these strange continents become as familiar to the Ark′s children as Africa and America and Asia had once been to her own parents and grand-parents, before the flood covered them over? ′Venus, this looks pretty good to me. What′s the problem?′

  ′Watch this sequence. Earth II′s day is longer than Earth′s, about thirty hours. These images were taken a couple of hours apart.′

  It was like a crude, blurry animation, showing the world turning on a horizontal axis. That long central landmass moved downwards, and the other continent moved out of sight, under the belly of the world. The belt of shadow didn′t shift. The sun was out of sight, somewhere to her right …

  Suddenly Holle saw it. ′Oh. It′s a Uranus. The axis is tipped over, pointing at the sun.′

  ′Tipped through almost ninety degrees. Compared to, what, twenty-three and a half degrees for Earth? Actually we think it′s more like Mars, where the axis swings back and forth over periods of hundreds of thousands of years. Earth is stabilised by the moon; Mars lacks a big enough moon - and so does Earth II. The tipping seems to be tied into tidal effects from two big Jovians further out.′

  ′That′s why there′s no ice.′

  ′Yes. Each pole must be blasted by continual sunlight for half the year, while the other is in permanent shadow.′

  ′How could this come about?′

  ′Planets, and planetary systems, are common, Holle. We′ve learned that much - the sky is full of them. But the formation processes they go through are chaotic. They coalesce out of clouds of dust and ice, and then endure a hierarchy of impacts, from dust grains banging into each other up to the point where planet-sized masses collide. Not only that, there′s migration. Stars are born in crowded nurseries, and the remnant cloud is blown away pretty quickly by the light from neighbouring baby stars. But before then tidal friction with the cloud can cause worlds the mass of Jupiter to go drifting inwards through the system, scattering smaller worlds like birds. So there′s a lot of chance involv
ed in the process. Anyhow this is probably why we have discovered so few ′′Earths′′, in nice stable circular orbits just the right distance from their star. And if you put constraints on the kind of star you want, you′re looking at an even smaller selection.′

  Holle pulled her nose. ′I have this feeling you′re drawing me into an argument.′

  Venus sighed. ′Well, it′s an argument that was dead before we left Jupiter. Holle, we′ve found Earths orbiting other kinds of star, not like Sol at all. M-class red dwarfs, for instance. If you orbit close in enough, you get reasonable temperatures. Some of those M-Earths are better candidates than Earth II - even based on what we knew at Jupiter. But there was a faction at Mission Control who wouldn′t countenance going anywhere but a yellow sun.′

  ′I remember,′ Holle said. ′I tried to keep out of it. Gordo Alonzo put his foot down in the end, didn′t he?′

  ′Yeah. ′′I′m not sending this crew to the fucking planet Krypton!′′ Basically we took a bet that this candidate, from the restricted set we were prepared to consider, would pan out for us. Well, we lost. We′re doing some modelling of Earth II′s surface conditions. There are complex weather systems, quite unlike Earth. Evidently simple life survives there. But—′

  ′But it might not be a world for humans.′

  ′I don′t know. I hope it is. I fear not.′ Venus sighed, and shut down her image sequence. ′There′s a lesson here that just one astronomical parameter, in this case the axial tilt, may ruin a world from a human point of view. Which may be why we′ve seen no signs of intelligent life anywhere.′

  Holle stared. ′You′ve been looking?′

  ′Of course we have. Wouldn′t you? We′ve been looking the way we′re heading, and into the centre of the Galaxy too, where most of the stars are. We′ve seen nothing, Holle, no signs of off-planet orbital infrastructures - no Dyson spheres, no ringworlds - and no sign that anybody′s meddled with the evolution of the stars. And not a bit of organised data in the radio hiss. It′s a big, empty Galaxy. Empty save for us. And that′s spooky.′ Her voice was small, the pupils of her dark-adapted eyes huge in the soft light of her screen as she peered out at the stars.

  Watching her, Holle wondered what kind of long-term effect the contemplation of a silent universe might be having on Venus and her people. The Ark sure didn′t need any more crazies. ′Venus, I think we ought to start talking to people about this. Your doubts about Earth II. The sooner we start planning how we handle the issue the better.′

  Venus grunted. ′Sure. Start with Wilson, as he′ll be listening in anyhow. But keep it from the crew for now. No point stirring up negative reactions.′

  ′Thanks for the coffee. Umm, could you unlock the hatch?′

  69

  Holle put off going to see Wilson about Venus′s issues. She felt she needed time to think it through.

  Instead, back in Seba, she went down to Deck Ten where she was due to meet Doc Wetherbee and Grace Gray for an update on the progress of Zane Glemp′s therapy. Wetherbee said Zane was participating in a dream circle there today, and Wetherbee wanted to observe.

  Coming out of the airlock from the cupola Holle met Grace, and they crossed the deck heading for the downward stair. In the open area at the centre of the deck Grace had to pull Holle back, to avoid the hard body of a kid who went plummeting down the length of the fireman′s pole.

  ′Whee!′

  ′Jeez,′ Holle said, breathing hard. ′Nearly got me that time.′

  ′Yes. They get faster every day. They dare each other to see how far they can fall without grabbing the pole.′ They reached the ladders, and began their descent. ′I persuaded Wilson to put a net across the hole in Deck Fourteen, to keep them from smashing into the hydroponics at least.′

  ′Little bastards go crazy.′

  Grace, climbing down below Holle, grinned. ′It′s hard to control them twenty-four seven, Holle. I mean, my Helen′s seven years old now.′

  ′I listen to them speak sometimes. Even their language is different from ours. They play complicated games of tag, and they must have fifty words for ′′gotcha′′.′

  ′Yes. But no word for ′′sky′′, or ′′sea′′ …′

  They reached Deck Ten. More than a year after the fire the deck was still pretty much a ruin, with blackened walls and burned-out instrument racks. Even the flooring was a lash-up to replace the melted mesh panels. The whole of this hull had never really recovered, and had an air of shabbiness and age.

  The dream circle was just getting started, and a toll collector was having the dreamers press their thumbs to a handheld pad to collect their payments. Wilson had installed a new currency of credits, collected electronically and stored in the ship′s memory; you were paid for your work, and in turn you had to pay for everything save for air and water. You even had to pay for sharing your own dreams on a burned-out deck. And a slice of every payment went straight to the common treasury, which Wilson controlled.

  Among the dreamers was Zane, who looked shy, subdued. Holle wondered which alter was dominant today.

  Grace was still talking about the children. ′Kids just adapt to the place they′re brought up in, I guess. On Ark Three we used to deal with raft communities. Trading, you know. We encountered kids older than Helen who had spent their whole lives on the sea, who never saw dry land at all … They were happy, or could be. Wherever you′re born, you think is normal - all the world, all you ever need.′

  ′But they′re so different from us.′

  ′As we were different from our parents′ generation. They were bound to be. And I guess the next children, the colonists on Earth II, will be different again.′

  ′If we ever get there.′

  ′Sorry?′

  ′Oh, nothing. Hey, here′s Mike.′

  Mike Wetherbee came clambering down from the upper decks. He looked harassed, as he always did; his hair greying, he looked to be ageing quickly. He carried an emergency medical pack at his waist, and a small camera. He was here to film Zane′s participation in the dream circle. You never saw a camera nowadays save for such specific purposes.

  As Wetherbee took his place beside Holle and Grace, the dreamers began to listen to Theo Morell, who spoke first. ′I was trapped in this tunnel. Like being stuck behind an equipment rack, you know? I was all alone, everybody else was dead - no, they never existed in the first place. It was just me, I was shut in but I couldn′t breathe. Then somebody started banging on the outside of the hull, and I started shouting and I screamed, but my voice just echoed. Then I wriggled forward and I saw a kind of light …′

  The rest listened, spellbound. The dozen dreamers were a mix of the Ark′s various factions, Candidates and gatecrashers and illegals. Holle noticed that one girl was making notes on a handheld, a record of what was said. Zane just rocked back and forth, and he jabbed at his bare arm with a plastic toy, a kid′s screwdriver. Holle thought it was ironic that Theo Morell should be the one to start the sharing. He remained king of HeadSpace, but since Wilson had restricted access to the booths by the simple means of imposing a hefty charge on their use, the cheaper dream circles were flourishing.

  Mike Wetherbee murmured, ′Classic Ark dream. Confinement, claustrophobia, a fear of what′s outside, but a longing for release.′

  Grace whispered, ′Sounded to me like a memory of his birth. Like he was struggling to pass through a giant vagina.′

  Wetherbee grinned. ′Oh, yeah, that too. The dreams are always about sex.′

  ′No kids today,′ Holle murmured. Generally a few children took part in sessions like this. The transcripts showed how the kids recounted the visions that bubbled up inside their heads of Earth, fantasies of the planet for which they were evolved but which they could never see. Holle found them fascinating, but terrifically sad.

  ′No,′ Wetherbee said, ′but the kids like Zane. You′d think they′d fear him. They think he′s funny, or something, the different people that speak out of his mouth. He′s a no
velty, in an environment that lacks novelties.′

  Grace murmured, ′What are his dreams like?′

  ′Depends which alter is speaking.′ Wetherbee pointed. ′I think that′s Zane 1, the youngest. See he′s playing at self-harm with that plastic screwdriver? I gave him that to deflect him from doing it for real. At least he can′t break the flesh. Zane I has anxiety dreams, very sexual. Zane 3′s are the most disturbing, elaborate fantasies about rivers and serpents and hunters, in which nothing is real but just melts away when you look at it.′

  Grace shook her head. ′Do you think you have all the alters mapped out now?′

  Wetherbee looked pained. ′After three years I hope so. I continue to believe he has dissociative identity disorder - more than one personality inside the one head. These alters are spun off at times of extreme stress or pain.

  ′This one, Zane 1, was created when Zane was about seventeen, and was subject to sexual abuse by Harry Smith. Zane couldn′t stand the distress this caused him, the shame, the lying, the bullying response from his father. So he spun off Zane 1, who serves as a receptacle for all the pain. It′s a coping mechanism, you see.

  ′The next big crisis for Zane came when he was around twenty-four, as we prepared to go to warp at Jupiter. That crisis caused two splits, I believe. He was already guilty at being on the Ark because he was too ′′dirty′′ to be able to contribute his genes to the pool. Zane 2 was a receptacle for all that shame and remorse. And now he felt he wasn′t coping with his duties at that key time - which, if you think about it, was the crux of his whole life. So he created another entity, called Jerry - an older man, calmer, away from all the adolescent crises. Jerry comes out, often at night when Zane sleeps, to handle Zane′s work assignments. Zane just sort of wakes up to find everything done and sorted out, and he has no memory of doing it, no physical trace of the events save maybe lost sleep. Jerry is the sanest of the alters, if you can use that word. Pain in the ass to deal with, actually. There may have been other splits, other alters created at earlier points of crisis - the launch from Earth, for instance. I′m not sure.