by Rick Cook
“Makes sense of a sort,” DeLorenzo said. “The energy cost of moving from one colony to another isn’t negligible. They aren’t in orbits around planets, most of them, so they can’t do the kind of gravity well maneuvers we use so much.” He smiled. “Planets are handy things to have around, even if you don’t live on them.”
“But they did originate on a planet somewhere?”
“Oh, yes,” Carlotti said.
“From what I’ve seen, I’d deduce the Colonists’ home system was a dwarf, possibly a high M,” Sharon put in.
“Their planet was probably close to it and it was almost certainly smaller than Earth.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know it, but it’s a good guess. The kind of light they prefer tells us something about the sun they evolved under. They keep their habitats at about one-third earth normal, although I suspect that may be less than the gravity on their home planet. Their air is thinner and colder than ours. There are a number of other things too.” She sighed. “It must have been a very atypical system to allow life to evolve.”
“Where is their home planet?” someone else asked.
“They’re unclear on that,” Father Simon said. “I suspect they simply don’t know.”
“Or they won’t tell us for security reasons,” DeLorenzo put in.
“No, I honestly don’t think they know. They settled this system from another where they lived in orbiting habitats and they settled that one from another where they did the same. They have been doing this for a long, long time.”
“How long?” someone asked uneasily.
Father Simon shrugged. “Again, that is unclear. Certainly for thousands of years and perhaps for hundreds of thousands of years.”
There was dead silence all down the table.
“They are a very old civilization,” Father Simon added half-apologetically.
Sharon Dolan caught up with the priest after the meeting broke up.
“I still can’t believe it,” she said by way of starting a conversation. “Even now, I just can’t believe it.”
“It is remarkable,” Father Simon agreed.
“It’s so mind boggling and it goes off in so many ways. Do you realize we’ve also found the answer to the Fermi Paradox?”
“You mean ‘Where are the intelligent aliens’?” Father Simon asked. “Why here, of course.”
“No, no I mean why we never found them before, or why they never found us.”
“That is a question,” the priest said. “Especially considering how widespread their civilization must be.”
“Yes, but we were looking at it from the wrong perspective, a planetbound perspective. These aliens don’t need planets. Do you know that except for some mining outposts on the surfaces of the larger moons of the gas giants there isn’t a single settlement anywhere on a planet in this system? It’s all space habitats.”
“And that has kept us from finding them?”
“Or them from finding us. Part of the Fermi Paradox was that we had calculated that even a slow rate of expansion at sublight speeds would send a culture to all the habitable planets in the galaxy in a galactic eye blink. But because we were thinking in terms of planets, our ‘slow’ expansion was much too fast. These aliens almost never have to go further than the next star to find suitable habitation. They don’t bother looking for Earthlike planets—or whatever their equivalent might be. They just colonize in orbit.
“More than that, because they exploit the entire resources of a solar system, not just the planets, a single system can support many more of them without crowding than it could if they were planetbound.”
“So they spread slower and they have less incentive to colonize,” Father Simon said. “I see. And since we’re the farthest out any human expedition has ever gone, we have finally run into them.”
“Farthest out and in the right direction.” Sharon agreed. “Precisely. And when you realize that they communicate within the system by lasers and over interstellar distances by very tight beam you can see why we never found radio emissions.”
“So we may have been neighbors for centuries and never known it. Remarkable.”
“It is remarkable,” Sharon agreed. Then her face clouded. “The question now is what do we do with our new neighbors?”
The steps stretched up before him, growing steeper as he climbed the end wall of the great cylinder. There were no transport lines reaching up to the Citadel. It had to be approached on foot, like a supplicant coming within the sacred precincts of a temple.
In some of the less advanced colonies, the Citadel was a temple. Their rulers claimed divine rights by virtue of their exalted position under Heaven. In 246, The Leader merely claimed to rule as the living embodiment of the will of the entire lineage. There was no longer a religious aspect to the Citadel. But neither was there a transit line.
Gravity lessened as he climbed, but it did not go to zero. The entire group of cylinders spun around a common central axis. This meant that not all the surface area inside each cylinder was habitable, but there were compensating advantages.
He looked up. Between the great windows running the length of the cylinder that admitted light from the central shaft, were dense mats of green. This close the Master of Forests could see workers suspended in harnesses moving among the hanging gardens, harvesting the vine crops and tending the plants. Production was up again, he thought approvingly. That will be something to tell The Leader if he asks.
He ascended to the terrace that ringed the Citadel and swept across it, past the guards and through the great open doors of the airlock. One of the functions of the Citadel was to protect its inhabitants even if the cylinder lost atmosphere in some barely imaginable catastrophe.
There were others there, the Master of Forests saw. The Masters who counted for most in the colony. The Master of Bounds, who dealt with relations with other colonies; the Master of Skies, who handled space transportation and engineering; the Master of Seas, who regulated the colony’s water and climate; the Master of Makers, who handled manufacturing and some parts of trade. As Master of Forests his concern was food and agricultural production.
The summons had said nothing about any others, but then The Leader’s summonses never did.
So it was to be one of those sessions, he thought. The Leader never gathered them to ask advice and seldom to issue orders. For those he saw them separately, often dealing by screen. The only time he talked to his subordinates in a group was to set out some new policy.
The Master of Forests felt a tingle of apprehension. What new plan did their leader have to announce to them now. He could see the others felt it too. The Master of Cities and the Master of Bounds seemed the most nervous. Were they privy to The Leader’s new policy? Or were they its victims?
An inner door opened and the Master of Masters, the head of his lineage, swept in. He moved with the too-springy stride of someone who had spent his formative years under the colony’s maximum gravity rather than the easy glide of one who was born to the Citadel. But there was power in his walk. He seemed to radiate an elemental force, unstoppable and unquenchable.
“We have come a great distance,” The Leader began. “When we started we were weak, disorganized and no one would have given us a chance to ascend to the Inner Grove.
“And yet, my brothers, here we are today.” He gestured expansively.
The Leader’s voice was not clear and pure as a herdmaster’s was supposed to be. Nor did it have the strength to carry great distances. A human listening through alien ears might have described it as “hoarse” or “reedy.” That did not matter. In a manner unmatched by any other elder in any colony, The Leader could catch and hold his listeners.
As we are all fliers fluttering in his net, the Master of Forests thought.
“Now Heaven offers us a new opportunity. A new species has entered our system in a faster-than-light ship of unknown and vastly superior design. It is less than one-twentieth the size o
f the faster-than-light ships we know.
“That ship is the key to 246 reclaiming her rightful place under heaven. I mean to seize it for our lineage.”
The Master of Forests went cold. Here was audacity indeed! This meant a direct confrontation with the Colonial Council and every other colony in the system. But The Leader kept speaking, as if what he had just proposed was a routine bit of business.
“With it we shall be great as no lineage has been before us. It is my unshakable desire that we shall learn the principles of this new alien drive before any other colony.”
“Perhaps easier said than done,” demurred the Master of Bounds, the lone member of the group who had not risen to position with The Leader.
“But it will be done! We will do it because it is my will that we do it. And our will is greater than that of any other lineage.”
He stopped and looked over the group.
“I do not claim this as special virtue for myself,” he said more softly. “I am the representative of the collective will of our lineage; a pawn, a puppet to be moved hither and yon as Heaven commands.
“And it is the Right Order of Heaven that our lineage be returned to its proper place. That the bonds placed upon us by our oppressors be loosened. To this end I have unshakably dedicated my life.”
He stopped his pacing and struck a heroic pose, a herd guardian looking out over the forest for signs of danger.
Not for the first time the Master of Forests wondered how much of this his leader actually believed.
“We know what the policy of the so-called Colonial Council will be. They will attempt to monopolize this thing as another prop to their illegitimate grip on the system. They will strive mightily to deny us the fruits of our rightful place in hierarchy of lineages.
The Leader relaxed and swept his gaze over the assembled group. Then his beak clacked like a gunshot and all his subordinates flinched away.
“No,” he bellowed. “It shall not be. They may plot and they may scheme. But we shall act. We shall smash their plots. We shall seize what is rightfully ours. We shall not be denied!”
He turned to the Master of Bounds. “Open negotiations for the star drive at once with the visitors.”
“The Council will forbid it.”
“The Council cannot forbid what they do not know. I said begin negotiations, not ask the Council’s permission. The Council has not yet decided upon a policy so we are not in violation. That makes it easier. Now at once!” The minister craned his neck submissively and bounded from the room.
“We stand on the threshold of a great new era, my friends. All that we need is the will to seize it.”
Father Simon and Sukihara Takiuji were playing go in the Cypress Lounge. Or more correctly, Suki was demonstrating a point.
“From here, this is joseki,” the Japanese said, laying down black and white stones in alternate order. “It builds strength to the outside.” He scooped up most of the stones and laid them down in another pattern. “This is also joseki, but it emphasizes the side of the board.”
Father Simon nodded and looked up from the board. Three of the walls showed a misty swamp with trees hung with moss looming out of the oily black water. A heron preened itself in a “nearby” tree, startlingly white against the gray mist. There was no sound, but then the picture didn’t call for any.
“A joseki is a gambit, correct?” Father Simon asked.
“Much like a chess gambit, yes. But there are many, many more of them. More possible combinations than chess, you see?”
Father Simon shook his head. “I don’t see how you remember them all.”
Suki considered. Behind the Japanese, the image of the heron took flight. “You remember them when the time comes,” he said at last. “The context of the game reminds you.”
“Gentlemen,” said a familiar voice behind them, “may I join you?” They looked up to see Andrew Aubrey.
“Please, sit down,” Father Simon said and Suki nodded amiably.
“I’m glad I found you both together,” Aubrey said briskly. “I need your help.”
“What’s the problem?”
“More an opportunity than a problem.” He turned to the priest. “Father, the Ship’s Council needs to work out details for trading the KOH drive to the aliens in return for their knowledge—assuming of course that they really don’t have it. Since you’re the only one who can speak to them yet and since Dr. Takiuji knows more about the drive than anyone on board, naturally we will need your assistance.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Father Simon asked.
“Wise?” Aubrey sounded surprised by the question. “We can learn an enormous amount from the aliens and I gather they want knowledge of our drive very badly.”
“Yes, but are we authorized to do anything of the sort? And is it in our best interests to do it?”
“As to authorization, naturally it would be better to consult with Earth. But Earth is months away. Sometimes the people on the spot have to make the decision.
“And as to our best interests, isn’t it in our best interest to establish friendly relations with these people?”
“What does the captain think of this?”
“This really isn’t the captain’s decision. It is a decision to be made by all of us, acting consensually.”
The heron was back, Father Simon noticed, sitting motionless on a moss-draped snag barely out of the water with its head cocked to one side.
“I don’t think we can form an intelligent opinion at this time,” Father Simon told him. “I think we at least need to know more before we start thinking about making a trade.”
“You say they want to trade,” Suki said diffidently. “How do we know what they will offer us?”
“A great deal,” Aubrey said. “I gather they want the drive badly.”
“But one person’s ‘great deal’ is sometimes very little to another person.”
“You sound as if you doubt their sincerity,” Aubrey said.
The Japanese looked down at the loose formation of stones on the go board. “I believe they are very sincere. But perhaps it is better to go slowly and avoid any possible misunderstanding.”
“Delay or outright refusal could also provoke misunderstanding,” Aubrey pointed out. “They might even think we mistrust them.”
The heron’s yellow beak flashed down, striking the water with a soundless splash. The bird jerked its head back with a fish flapping in its beak. With a practiced toss of its head, the heron started the still-wiggling fish down its gullet.
“It is a very difficult question,” Suki agreed. “But since we can barely understand each other, misunderstandings now are very possible, eh? Maybe in a little bit we can make sure of understanding.” He began picking up the stones and putting them back in their bowls. “Besides, it would be difficult to make such a trade with just the information we have here. It is incomplete. Completing it would be very time-consuming.”
Aubrey knew when to beat a tactical retreat. “You are the expert on that, of course, Dr. Takiuji,” he said. “I suppose we will have the opportunity to learn more about the aliens before we make a decision.” He smiled winningly. “I would appreciate if you gentlemen would think about this over the next few days. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” He got up and left the table.
“It is something to think about,” Father Simon said after Aubrey had left the lounge.
“Perhaps it is also something to tell the captain about,” Sukihara Takiuji said, replacing the last of the stones in the bowls. “It may be that he does not know what Dr. Aubrey is thinking.”
Behind him the heron flapped off into the mist.
The Pine Lounge was busy that night. The whole ship was buzzing like a hive of disturbed bees with the latest discoveries, so naturally the lounge was packed.
At the large center table Father Simon was hemmed in by nearly two dozen people who wanted to hear the latest report straight from him.
“Father, do you mean that w
e have discovered something that these aliens, whose civilization is ten times as old as ours have not?”
Father Simon shrugged apologetically. “It appears so.”
“But how can that be?” the questioner persisted.
“Easy,” Ludenemeyer spoke up from further down the table. “Our drive is not intuitive.”
“Well, not to humans, perhaps . . .” the other began.
“Not to anybody,” Ludenemeyer cut in. “At least not to anyone sane.”
“But there are many different ways of describing the universe; surely in some of them it is obvious.”
“Not if they’re sane. Look, Dr. Takiuji could probably explain all this better, but let me take a stab at it.
“The KOH drive only makes sense if you look at the universe in a pretty damn peculiar way. And if you look at the universe that way, almost nothing else makes sense, if you follow me. In the math that best describes the drive, a simple vector is damn near indescribable and indeterminate when you do describe it. You can construct a mathematical system like that, but unless you know about the drive it is useless.”
“Oh, come now,” MacNamara protested from the edge of the group. “Hawking suggested the foundation for the KOH drive nearly a century ago.”
“That’s the myth created by popularizers,” Ludenemeyer retorted. “There is some stuff in Hawking’s later work that sort of touches on the drive, but Hawking was as wrong as Einstein about it. Hawking was such a romantic figure—the Crippled Giant and all that—that those hints got picked up and turned into the precursor of Kerensky’s and Omo’s work. That’s why we call it the Kerensky-Omo-Hawking drive. But Hawking didn’t invent it.
“And the problem’s worse than that,” he went on. “Even if you think in Kerensky Spaces and Hawking Attractors, the drive is still hard to pin down. You have to make just the right choices and you need the right technologies to prove it out. Do it wrong and you don’t even get an interesting explosion. The drive just sits there and puts out a lot of heat.”