Prisoners of Tomorrow

by James P. Hogan

  December 31, 2080

  Distance to Chiron 1.9 billion miles; speed down to 1100 miles per second. Progressive phase-down of the main-drive burn was commenced, and slow pivoting of the variable-attitude Ring modules initiated to correct for the effect of diminishing linear force from the reducing deceleration. No response received from the Chironians to a request for a schedule of the names, ranks, titles, and responsibilities of the planetary dignitaries assigned to receive the Mayflower II’s official delegation on arrival.

  January 5, 2081

  Speed 300 miles per second; distance to destination, 493 million miles. Course-correction effected to bring the ship round onto its final approach.

  January 8, 2081

  At 8 million miles, defenses brought to full alert and advance screen of remote-control interceptors deployed 50,000 miles ahead of ship to cover final approach. Response from Chiron neutral.

  January 9, 2081

  Communications round-trip delay to Chiron, twenty-two seconds. Formal arrangements for reception procedures still not concluded. Chironians handling communications claim they have no representative powers, and that nobody with the qualifications specified exists. Mayflower II’s defenses brought to combat readiness.

  January 10, 2081

  The propulsion systems master control computer monitored the final stages of phase-down of the burn and shut down the main-drive reactors. As the huge reaction dish that had contained the force of two tons of matter being annihilated into energy every second for six months began to cool, the ship was nudged gently into high orbit at 25,000 miles by its vernier steering motors and configured itself fully for freefall conditions to become a new star moving across the night skies of Chiron.

  PART TWO

  THE

  CHIRONIANS

  CHAPTER TEN

  As the Mayflower II wheeled slowly in space high above Chiron, the outer door of Shuttle Bay 6 on the Vandenberg module separated into four sectors which swung apart like the petals of an enormous metal flower to expose the nose of the surface lander nestling within. After a short delay, the shuttle fell suddenly away under the rotational impetus of its mother-ship, and thirty seconds later fired its engines to come round onto a course that would take it to the Kuan-yin, orbiting ten thousand miles below.

  “Our orders are to . . . precede the Ambassador’s party through the docking lock to form an honorary guard in the forward antechamber of the Kuan-yin, where the formalities will take place,’” Sirocco read aloud to the D Company personnel assigned as escorts at the briefing held early that morning. “‘Punctilious attention to discipline and order will prevail at all times, and the personnel taking part will be made mindful of the importance of maintaining a decorum appropriate to the dignity of a unique historic occasion.’ That means no ventriloquized comments to relieve the boredom, Swyley, and the best parade-ground turnout you ever managed, all of you. ‘Since provocative actions on the part of the Chironians are considered improbable, number-one ceremonial uniforms will be worn, with weapons carried loaded for precautionary purposes only. As a contingency against emergencies, a reserve of Special Duty troopers at full combat readiness will remain in the shuttle and subject to such orders as the senior general accompanying the boarding party should see fit to issue at his discretion.’”

  “Ever get the feeling you were being set up?” Carson of Third Platoon asked sourly. “If anyone gets it first, guess who.”

  “Didn’t you know you were expendable?” Stanislau asked matter-of-factly.

  “Ah, but think of the honor of it,” Hanlon told them. “And won’t every one of them poor SD fellas back in the shuttle be eating his heart out with envy and just wishing he could be out there with the same opportunity to risk himself for flag and country.”

  “I’ll trade,” Stanislau offered at once.

  Sirocco looked back at the orders and resumed, “ ‘The advance guard will fan out to form two files, of ten men each, aligned at an angle of forty-five degrees on either side of the access lock and take up station behind their respective section leaders. Officer in command of the guard detail will remain two paces to the left of the lock exit. Upon completion of the opening formalities, the guard will be relieved by a detail from B Company who will position themselves at the exit ramp, and will proceed through the Kuan-yin to post sentry details at the locations specified in Schedule A, attached. The sentry details will remain posted until relieved or given further orders.’ Are there any questions so far?”

  The Ambassador referred to was to be Amery Farnhill, Howard Kalens’s deputy in Liaison. Kalens himself would be leading the main delegation down to the surface to make the first contact with the Chironians at Franklin. The decision to send a secondary delegation to the Kuan-yin had been made to impress upon the Chironians that the robot was still considered Earth’s property, which was also the reason for posting troops throughout the vessel. As a point of protocol, Wellesley and Sterm would not become involved until the appropriate contacts on Chiron had been established and the agenda for further discussion suitably prepared.

  The Kuan-yin had changed appreciably from the form shown in the pictures he had seen of the craft that had departed from Earth in 2020, Colman noted with interest as he sat erect to preserve the creases of his uniform beneath the restraining belt holding him to his seat and watched the image growing on the wall screen at the forward end of the cabin. The original design had taken the form of a dumbbell, with fuel storage and the thermonuclear pulse engines concentrated at one end, and the computers and sensitive reconnaissance instruments carried at the far end of a long, connecting, structural boom to keep them safely away from drive-section radiation. The modifications added after 2015 for creating and accommodating the first Chironians had entailed extensions to the instrumentation module and the incorporation of auxiliary motors which would spin the dumbbell about its center after arrival in order to simulate gravity for the new occupants while the first surface base was being prepared.

  In the years since, the instrumentation module had sprouted a collection of ancillary structures which had doubled its size, the original fuel tanks near the tail had vanished to be replaced, apparently, by a bundle of huge metal bottles mounted around the central portion of the connecting boom, and a new assembly of gigantic windings surrounding a tubular housing now formed the tail, culminating in a parabolic reaction dish reminiscent of the Mayflower II’s main drive, though much smaller because of the Kuan-yin’s reduced scale. The Mayflower II’s designers had included docking adapters for the shuttles to mate with the Kuan-yin’s ports, and the Chironians had retained the original pattern in their modifications, so the shuttle would be able to connect without problems.

  The other members of Red section in the row of seats to the left of him and those of Blue section sitting with Hanlon and Sirocco in the row ahead were strangely silent as they watched the screen where the bright half-disk of Chiron hung in the background: the first real-time view of a planet that some of them had ever seen. Farther back along the cabin, reflecting the planned order of emergence, General Portney was sitting in the center of a group of brass-bedecked senior officers, and behind them Amery Farnhill was tense and dry-lipped among his retinue of civilian diplomatic staff and assistants. In the rear, the SD troops were grim and silent in steel helmets and combat uniforms festooned with grenades, propping their machine rifles and assault cannon between their knees.

  Farnhill’s staff had given up trying to get the Chironians to provide an official list of who would be greeting the delegation. In the end they had simply advised the Kuan-yin when the shuttle would arrive and resigned themselves to playing things by ear after that. The Chironians had agreed readily enough, which was why the orders issued that morning had called for a reduced alertness level. Kalens’s delegation had met with an equal lack of success in dealing with Franklin, and had elected finally to go to the surface on the same basis as the delegation to the Kuan-yin, but with more elaborate preparations and c
eremonies.

  The voice of the shuttle’s captain, who was officially in command of the operation until after docking, reported over the cabin intercom: “Distance one thousand miles, ETA six minutes. Coming into matching orbit and commencing closing maneuver. Prepare for retardation. Kuan-yin has confirmed they will open Port Three.”

  The image on the screen drifted to one side as the shuttle swung round to brake with its main engines, and then switched to a new view as one of the stern cameras was cut in. Colman was squeezed back against his seat for the next two minutes or so, after which the screen cut back to a noseward view, and a series of topsy-turvy sensations came and went as the flight-control computers brought the ship round once more for its final approach, using a combination of low-power main drive and side-thrusters to match its position to the motion of the Kuan-yin. After some minor corrections the shuttle was rotating with the Kuan-yin to give its occupants the feeling that they were lying on their backs, and nudging itself gently forward and upward to complete the maneuver. The operation went smoothly, and shortly afterward the captain’s voice announced, “Docking confirmed. The boarding party is free to proceed.”

  “Proceed, General,” Farnhill said from the back.

  “Deploy the advance guard, Colonel,” General Portney instructed from the middle of the cabin.

  “Guard, forward,” Colonel Wesserman ordered from a row in front of Portney.

  “Guard detail, file left and right by sections,” Sirocco said at the front. “Section leaders forward.” He moved out into the aisle, where the floor had folded itself into a steep staircase to facilitate fore-and-aft movement, and climbed through into the side-exiting lock chamber with Colman and Hanlon behind him while Red and Blue sections formed up in the aisles immediately to the rear. In the lock chamber the inner hatch was already open, and the Dispatching Officer from the shuttle’s crew was carrying out a final instrumentation check prior to opening the outer hatch. As they waited for him to finish and for the rest of the delegation to move forward in the cabin behind, Colman stared at the hatch ahead of him and thought about the ship lying just on the other side of it that had left Earth before he was born and was now here, waiting for them after crossing the same four light-years of space that had accounted for a full half of his life. After the years of speculations, all the questions about the Chironians were now within minutes of being answered. The descent from the Mayflower II had raised Colman’s curiosity to a high pitch because of what he had seen on the screen. For despite all the jokes and the popular wisdom, one thing he was certain of was that the engineering and structural modifications that he had observed on the outside of the Kuan-yin had not been made by irresponsible, overgrown adolescents.

  “Clear to exit,” the Dispatching Officer informed Sirocco.

  “Lock clear for exit,” Sirocco called to the cabin below.

  “Carry on, Guard Commander,” Colonel Wesserman replied from the depths.

  “Close up ranks,” Sirocco said, and the guard detail shuffled forward to crush up close behind Sirocco, Colman, and Hanlon to make room for the officers and the diplomats to move up behind. Sirocco looked at the Dispatching Officer and nodded. “Open outer hatch.” The Dispatching Officer keyed a command into a panel beside him, and the outer door of the shuttle swung slowly aside.

  Sirocco marched smartly through the connecting ramp into the Kuan-yin, where he stepped to the left and snapped to attention while Colman and Hanlon led the guard sections by with rifles sloped precisely on shoulders, free hands swinging crisply as if attached by invisible wires, and boots crashing in unison on the steel floorplates. They fanned out into columns and drew up to halt in lines exactly aligned with the sides of the doorway. Behind them the officers emerged four abreast and divided into two groups to follow Colonel Wesserman to the left and General Portney to the right.

  “Present . . . arms!” Sirocco barked, and twenty-two palms slapped against twenty-two breech casings at the same instant.

  Through the gap between the officers, the diplomats moved forward and came to a halt in reverse order of precedence, black suits immaculate and white shirtfronts spotless, and finally the noble form of Amery Farnhill conveyed itself regally forward to take up its position at their head.

  “His Esteemed Excellency, Amery Farnhill,” the assistant one pace to the rear and two paces to the right announced in clear, ringing tones that resonated around the antechamber of the Kuan-yin’s docking port. “Deputy Director of Liaison of the Supreme Directorate of the official Congress of the Mayflower II and appointed emissary to the Kuan-yin on behalf of the Director of Congress . . .” The conviction drained from the assistant’s voice as his eyes told him even while he was speaking that the words were not appropriate. Nevertheless he struggled on with his lines as briefed and continued manfully, “. . . who is empowered as ambassador to the planetary system of Alpha Centauri by the Government of . . .” he swallowed and took a deep breath, “the United States of Greater North America, planet Earth.”

  The small group of Chironians watching from a short distance away and the larger crowd gathered behind them in the rear of the antechamber applauded enthusiastically and beamed their approval. They weren’t supposed to do that. It didn’t preserve the right atmosphere.

  “They’re okay,” Corporal Swyley’s disembodied voice whispered from no definable direction. “We’re making ourselves look like jerks.”

  “Shuddup,” Colman hissed.

  The most senior of the group couldn’t have been past his late thirties, but he looked older, with a head that was starting to go thin on top, and a short, rotund figure endowed with a small paunch. He was wearing an open-necked shirt of intricately embroidered blues and grays, and plain navy blue slacks held up with a belt. His features looked vaguely Asiatic. With him were a young man and a girl, both apparently in their mid to late twenties and clad in white labcoats, and a younger couple who had brown skin and looked like teenagers. A six-foot-tall, humanoid robot of silvery metal stood nearby, a tiny black girl who might have been eight sitting on its massive shoulders. Her legs dangled around its neck and her arms clasped the top of its head.

  “Hi,” the paunchy man greeted amiably. “I’m Clem. These are Carla and Hermann, and Francine and Boris. The big guy here is Cromwell, and the little lady up top is Amy. Well, I guess . . . welcome aboard.”

  Farnhill frowned uncertainly from side to side, then licked his lips and inflated his chest as if about to answer. He deflated suddenly and shook his head. The words to handle the situation just wouldn’t come. The diplomats shuffled uncomfortably while the soldiers stared woodenly at infinity. A few awkward seconds dragged by. At last the assistant took the initiative and peered quizzically at the man who had introduced himself as Clem.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. The formality had evaporated from his voice. “Are you in authority here? If so, what are your rank and title?”

  Clem frowned and brought a hand up to his chin. “Depends what you mean by authority,” he said. “I organize the regular engineering crew of the ship and supervise the maintenance. I suppose you could say that’s authority of a kind. Then again, I don’t have a lot to do with some of the special research programs and modifications but Hermann does.”

  “True,” Hermann, the young man in the white labcoat, agreed. “But on top of that, parts of this place are used as a school to give the kids early off-planet experience. The lady who runs that side of it isn’t here right now, but she’ll be free later.”

  “She got tied up over lunch trying to answer questions about supernovas and quasars,” Francine explained.

  “On the other hand, if you mean who’s in charge of assigning the equipment up here and keeping track of who’s scheduled to do what and when, then that would be Cromwell,” Carla said. “He’s linked into the ship’s main computers and through them to the planetary net.”

  “Cromwell knows everything,” Amy declared from her perch. “Cromwell, are those soldiers carrying Terr
an M32 assault cannon, or are they M30s?”

  “M32s,” the robot said. “They’ve the enhanced fire-selectors.”

  “I hope they’re not going to start shooting each other up here. It would be pretty scary in orbit. They could decompress the whole ship.”

  “I think they know that,” Cromwell said. “They’ve spent a lot longer in space than the few trips you’ve made.”

  “I suppose so.”

  The assistant’s patience snapped at last. “This is ridiculous! I want to know who is in overall authority here. You must have a Director of Operations or some equivalent. Please be kind enough to—”

  Farnhill stopped him with a curt wave of his hand. “This spectacle has gone far enough,” he said. He looked at Clem. “Perhaps we could continue this discussion in conditions of greater privacy. Is there somewhere suitable near here?”

  “Sure.” Clem gestured vaguely behind him. “There’s a big room back along the corridor that’s free and should hold everybody. We could all get some coffee there too. I guess you could use some—you’ve had a long trip, huh?”

  He grinned at the joke as he turned to lead the way. Farnhill didn’t seem to appreciate the humor.

  “Ahem . . .” General Portney cleared his throat. “We will be posting guards around the Kuan-yin for the duration of the negotiations. I trust there will be no objections.” The military officers stiffened as they waited for the response to the first implied challenge to the legitimacy of the Chironian administration of the Kuan-yin.