The Tabit Genesis

by Tony Gonzales

  12

  VESPA

  She always opened her eyes at 04:45, fifteen minutes before the alarm was set. The rays of the Orionis sun would not warm the halls of Tabit Prime for another hour, yet this was her time, a calming peace before the day’s storm. For Chancellor Vespa Jade, waking from slumber was slipping from one troubled fog into the next, where a hundred possible futures emerged from a tenuous present.

  Sitting upright, she blinked at the blue iris on the ceiling, and said a word:

  ‘Record.’

  And then she began mumbling, falling asleep again briefly but waking with a jolt, recalling all the things she had seen. It took nearly an hour to describe every detail, including the ambiguous and impossible dream sequences, as these were necessary to isolate the influence of her personal life on the visions that came to her in the night.

  ‘Stop,’ she commanded, abruptly realising that last night’s dreams were new. Different. Darker.

  Something crucial had changed.

  Vespa learned long ago to not take them literally. There was time to discern their meaning by searching for clues in the present. Caution was paramount. Rather than dwell on unlimited possibilities, she would step away from the future and let her mind wander. Clarity would eventually strike.

  Blinking away the visions, she reached for a glass of water, wondering if it was originally the by-product of hydrogen reactors or distilled from a comet before reaching her lips. On Earth, water had come from rain, glaciers, streams, rivers, springs, aquifers, and wells – all plentiful once, until the wars made them vanish. Vespa appreciated these details because she believed there must always be someone in power who still did. Thousands of hours spent studying twenty-first-century Earth had instilled a nostalgic responsibility towards the people the Genesis ships had left behind. That hundred-year stretch of history was the turning point for humanity. Until then, not one generation considered water a precious resource. Those that came after killed for it.

  The thought reminded her of the dreams from last night, making her wonder: what am I taking for granted today? What could cause such darkness to spread over Orionis?

  Vespa stood up and walked to the full-length mirror. Her hair was long and light brown, with streaks of grey prominent enough to draw attention from the rest of her ageing features. Subtle wrinkles spread from the corner of her azure-blue eyes, and darkened skin filled the bags beneath them. The slightest gap separated her two front teeth, presenting a smile that lingered with any new audience. Thin and gangly, her angular features gave her an androgynous appearance.

  Vespa hardly recognised the person looking back at her. Such was the price of being Chancellor. On Earth, there had been mayors who ran cities as large as the entire population of Orionis. Her responsibility was colossally greater than theirs.

  The dreams began when she was just a child. Her twin brother Arturus had shared them, and they often stayed awake together to avoid the startling visions they had no context for comprehending. By day they were downtrodden outcasts, often seen mumbling to themselves, delirious with fatigue and prophecy. Children mocked them, adults shunned them, instructors pitied them. They were assumed to be the victims of bad mutations, perhaps afflicted with schizophrenia. Had they not been firstborns, they would have been ghosts with no future, destined for a short and cruel life.

  But their parents never gave up on them. Gabriel Jade was a political scientist; her husband Cyrus an intelligence analyst. Both worked for the government, and learned their trades from highborn parents who were experts in Earth history and helped write the Articles of Orionis – the founding charter of the colony. When they realised their children were experiencing dreams with a direct association to real events, they poured knowledge of human history into them. The more the twins learned, the more often they recognised the people and places in their visions. Soon after, Vespa and Arturus were ‘witnessing’ events that shaped the world they lived in, and then outcomes which had not yet occurred – but might well someday.

  All along, it was the Gift whispering to them, and it was theirs to master as best they could – for the price of a childhood, friends, a good night’s rest, and, even on occasion, a conscience.

  At 05:50, Vespa was dressed and walking through a long, winding hallway that connected the executive residence to the capitol levels. The cold metal walls and high ceiling were curved and perfectly smooth, interrupted only by lighting fixtures to help pedestrians navigate the former mothership. As she passed them, an automated tour began, explaining that heavy water rich with deuterium once gushed through these same passageways, bringing melted ice fuel stores to the fusion reactors far aft.

  In many ways, she travelled these halls each day to ignite her own political reactions. Once she understood what the Gift was, Vespa believed that history had reserved a place for her and her brother. She believed in it so fervently she began speaking of it as inevitable, sharing her plans for Orionis with Arturus and promising him a place at her side when her reign began.

  But one night, Vespa had dreamt that House Alyxander stole something precious from her. It was a nightmare, a horrible vision that left her gasping for air. When she sought Arturus for comfort, he was gone. It was the eve of their fifteenth birthday, and he had left in the deep of night without saying goodbye, abandoning her to follow his own destiny. The House, he would explain years later, spoke to him in ways she could never understand.

  Vespa was devastated. If not for her parents intervening, she would have ended her life. But with their help, she renewed her determination and continued her studies. By the age of sixteen, she was an expert on Earth culture subjects ranging from arts to political science to economics. When she was nineteen, she took her first position with the Orionis government as an analyst for the Commerce Department. Thus began an impressive career that would last four decades, eventually leading to her appointment as Vice-Chancellor to Donovan Mayce, the elected Chancellor of Orionis, in 2802.

  But it took a national tragedy to propel her to the highest seat of power. With three years remaining in his first term, Chancellor Mayce died in a freak accident. By law, Vespa assumed his powers as head of state, and would hold them until his elected term was complete in 2810. With the skill of a seasoned politician, Vespa cautiously guided the nation through a period of mourning, while delicately offering alternatives to the policies Donovan Mayce had championed.

  Vespa never doubted she would eventually become Chancellor, no more than she questioned the absolute necessity of removing Donovan Mayce from office. Her visions had foretold of systemic calamity throughout Orionis if he stayed a full term. His expulsion was essential for the survival of mankind, and so she had taken decisive action.

  Only Arturus knew the truth of what really happened to Donovan Mayce. The Gift was their secret. No one ever needed to know that it guided their judgment – or that her brother was providing the same prescient counsel to House Alyxander as well.

  Both siblings believed there were times when evil must be committed in order to do good.

  During the voyage from Earth, the bow of the Tabit Genesis had been an asteroid which had been hollowed and reshaped to protect the rest of the ship from interstellar particles crashing into it at half the speed of light. Today it sheltered Liberty Hall, the third habitation torus that rotated around the centreline axis of the former mothership. It housed the main seat of government, where all the senate hearings and voting sessions took place. Justice Hall, the main judiciary branch of the Orionis government, was on the other side. The third quadrant was reserved for the Commerce Branch, where all the economic activity of the colony was regulated.

  Vespa reached the main entrance at 06:11, greeted by the haunting memorial dedicated to Earth. A great plaque surrounded by a volumetric image of the planet as seen from space was inscribed with one of the last messages received by the Tabit Genesis:

  Genesis, our time has come.

  Live, brave voyagers, so our memory will persevere.
<
br />   Love, kindred souls, for we loved too little.

  Flee, precious survivors, and do not ever return.

  Remember Earth always, your home once, your family for all time.

  You are our Genesis now, our dawn and hope for Humankind.

  Farewell.

  Vespa always paused here to place her hand on the cold, polished titanium. The press was fond of capturing this moment, as she stood silently and meditated on those final words and the people who wrote them.

  Humanity was her responsibility now.

  It was 06:19, and the first rays of the Orionis sun were striking the hull of the former Tabit Genesis, its light guided though the kilometres of passageways on board. The ruined world of Eileithyia was glowing outside, a perpetual cloud of noxious atmosphere reflecting most of that light back into space. The mothership had anchored in a geostationary orbit, matching the planet’s rotational speed of one revolution every 26.5 hours.

  The station was beginning to stir. Bureaucrats, officials, lawyers, and legions of assistants began filling the halls.

  Another day of governing, and she knew it would not be easy.

  The morning briefings had been uneventful – there was nothing in the economic, political, or security landscape which might account for her disturbing dreams. After a brief conversation with her Chief of Staff and a conference call with the Finance Minister, Vespa was ready to begin a series of individual meetings with corporate executives. It was time to start campaigning under her own name for re-election.

  Unfortunately, that meant hosting the company of donors whom she genuinely disliked. In her experience, the best practice was to order meetings by the anticipated level of hostility. As such, Cerlis Tarkon always earned the day’s first appointment, and she arrived at precisely 09:00.

  ‘Good morning, Chancellor,’ the old woman said, as her two blonde escorts shut the door behind them. ‘I thought of you earlier, while passing a kidney stone. Happens too often at my age, and I’ll be fine, thanks for asking. But when the thing was suctioned down the privy it reminded me of the money I donated to Donovan Mayce’s campaign. Hope I’m not being too personal, but we’re both women here, least I think so anyway, and you’ve always struck me as someone I can be frank with. Ha! Who am I kidding, that’s true with everyone I know. So let’s just get on with it: how much are you asking for and why in hell should I give it to you?’

  ‘You are as … courteous as ever, Miss Tarkon,’ Vespa said, with a smile. ‘I thought we would maintain some decorum for a change.’

  Cerlis deliberately lowered herself into the couch opposite where Vespa was sitting.

  ‘It’s rarely a pleasant memory, these meetings. But I recall reaching an agreement last time we met, political interests notwithstanding, that you would support a certain bit of legislation that’s rather dear to me. You see, people just assume old folks can’t remember shit, but I’m told exercise wards off senility, and it so happens I’m laid often enough to remember deals I’ve struck with heads of state. But humour me anyway and remind me what the last cheque I wrote bought me.’

  Vespa began counting off the answer on her fingers:

  ‘Financing for three new biodome projects on Hephaestus, several government purchase orders for your freighters, lower taxes on food production revenues—’

  ‘Damnit, my head hurts,’ Cerlis interrupted. ‘You know why that might be?’

  ‘I have a few theories.’

  ‘It’s because I keep asking you to do something, and like some mentally challenged mutant, you keep telling me you’ll do it, but the instruction never fucking registers with the part of your brain that can actually execute it. Know what I’m talking about?’

  ‘Miss Tarkon, as I believe I’ve reminded you before, I won’t support extending the Heritage Act to amniosynths until corporations agree to share the cost we’ll incur for doing so.’

  ‘And I think I’ve reminded you before, that’s the goddamn dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard for not doing it. We can feed as many people as there’s demand for, Vespa.’

  ‘Can you? And who benefits when this government’s expenditures quadruple? Really, Cerlis, I’ve handed Vulcan enough money already. You don’t have the capacity to manage all that extra demand anyway.’

  ‘We’ll build more factories—’

  ‘Which would give you a convenient excuse to claim financial hardship and raise food prices even more. It’s extortion masquerading as capitalism. No thank you, Miss Tarkon.’

  ‘If money is the concern, then grow a pair and repeal the whole damn law,’ Cerlis offered. ‘Put firstborns and amniosynths on equal footing, and make ’em both pay their own way.’

  ‘It may not be fair for amniosynths, but to restore humanity to its former glory there must always be a population segment that is afforded maximum opportunity to thrive,’ Vespa explained. ‘Firstborns are our last real connection to Earth. We will continue to nurture them for as long as we can.’

  ‘What the hell would you know about nurturing?’ Cerlis fumed. ‘You do understand that amniosynths are human, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true any more with Obyerans, but point noted,’ Vespa said calmly. ‘In the interest of being solutions-based, all you have to do to convince me to repeal Heritage is share the cost. I want you to legally guarantee to provide every child born in Orionis with inalienable human rights. Imagine it: Vulcan Dynamics, the great benefactor, subsidising free food, healthcare, education, and employment for all.’

  Cerlis threw her wrinkled hands in the air.

  ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was talking to a bigot,’ she spat. ‘Heritage has done naught but drive a wedge between people. It’s why Brotherhood fell, why Ceti rules the Belt, why the Independence Wars happened and why the Outer Rim still points its guns this way. You’ve crafted an oligarchy that stands on everyone else to keep shits like you elevated in the world. Rubbing a monument every day doesn’t make you a humanist. The people know a fraud when they see one.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should support the opposition,’ Vespa said. ‘See how much more you’ll get from them than you already have from me. You have the Archangel, folly that it is. It’s made you and your colleagues a fortune for decades, all of it subsidised by this government. You have work contracts and orders to keep your factories and shipyards busy for years, plus all the tax incentives you’ve ever wanted, and all I ask in return is for a vote of confidence and for you to respect my opinion, as I do yours, even when we disagree.’

  ‘You have no empathy, woman,’ Cerlis muttered. ‘It’s something mothers tend to have. That’s the real issue here. You have no context for comprehending how obtuse you are.’

  ‘Cerlis, we would bankrupt ourselves extending universal privileges to every child,’ Vespa said. ‘Your intent is noble, but this utopian society you’re after is out of reach, at least for now. Heritage can keep up with natural firstborn population growth, not the amniosynth vaults of House Alyxander. The colonisation of Orionis is more tenuous than you think. Overpopulation leads to mass extinctions. We lost our homeworld because we grasped this too late.’

  ‘And all this time I thought Earth was lost to giant red insects,’ Cerlis sneered. ‘Maybe if you’d spent less time studying life and more time living it you’d actually understand human behaviour. You’re about as relatable to people as the Raothri are to kindness.’

  ‘You’ve got me there,’ Vespa mocked. ‘Now I’m sold on the idea.’

  The Vulcan Dynamics CEO bolted upright with startling ease.

  ‘You don’t have as many friends as you think,’ she hissed. ‘Be careful, Chancellor.’

  ‘Threatening a head of state is unwise,’ Vespa sighed, standing as well. ‘I appreciate your passion, but for the last time, the Heritage Act is the law of Orionis. However, I thank you for supporting my election campaign. I’m sure there’s another government contract in it for you somewhere.’

  Cerlis glared at her.

/>   ‘I rather miss your predecessor.’

  ‘We all miss him, Miss Tarkon.’

  ‘He was older than you, but more progressive. Open to new perspectives.’

  ‘An essential attribute for any Chancellor.’

  ‘Yet absent from present company. Are you getting enough sleep? Those bags under your eyes look like they’re packed for a long holiday.’

  ‘I’m sleeping just fine, thank you for asking. I hear it can be difficult for old people.’

  ‘And for those with a heavy conscience.’

  ‘As you say. One of Chancellor Mayce’s dreams was to reset relations with Outer Rim sovereignties. Put the past behind and pursue a fresh start.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I thought you might be pleased to hear that I’ve decided to honour his efforts by inviting House Alyxander to Tabit Prime.’

  Cerlis turned bright red.

  ‘You’re not that dumb.’

  ‘They’re bringing a host of a least a hundred ships, mostly freighters, to trade freely and join me for discussions on an open trade agreement,’ Vespa said. ‘They should arrive in a month’s time. And before you embarrass yourself with a political stunt, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs approved the measure, as did Admiral Hedricks.’

  ‘House Alyxander has ties with Ceti, whom we are at war with,’ Cerlis growled.

  ‘They come in peace. We engage with all those who recognise our government and respect our laws. I’m obliged to invite Vulcan Dynamics to attend, and your executive colleagues as well.’

  ‘Every single one of whom has lost life and property to Lance Alyxander.’

  ‘If the tales are true, none more than Vulcan.’

  ‘And you’re bringing them to our front door anyway?’