by Sarah Zettel
For the first time since coming to Venera, Vee felt trapped. There was a whole new world out there now, and she couldn’t reach it.
Nothing you can do about it now, unless you want to put the act back on and try to bully Failia and company to let you back down there.
Vee sat in the desk chair. No. That was not going to get her anywhere. But she couldn’t just sit here. She had to do something.
Almost idly, she flipped open her briefcase and accessed her drawing programs. She unclipped the stylus from her holder and opened the gallery. Maybe she could draw the scene from the accident, just to pass the time. She could begin with clips from the gallery. She had the backdrops she’d used for her simulations to show Angela, but they were strictly second rate. Might do for a base to build on. Needed color though, and a different scale.
Her mind’s eye brought the rescue scene back to the fore, and her hands started to move.
This wasn’t a real holograph; this was a computer-generated simulation. She’d have to unpack her holotank and film to make the real thing, but she could make a sketch for eventual transfer to real 3-D. She could show the dim shadows and black rock with the startling threads of lava creeping down the mountainsides. She could show the scarab, bent and crippled in a wilderness of stone.
And she could show the aliens. The gold wings that shimmered and sparkled in the dim light and thick air. The silver eyes. Those eyes, how could she render those eyes? How could she show the intelligence she had felt under the surface as this creature, no, this person from another world looked into her own eyes?
Vee zoomed in on the winged form and concentrated solely on it, the eyes, the lines along its skin, the curve of its torso and wings. She worked fast, trying to freeze the memory before it faded. The cameras from the suits and the scarab had surely captured the images, but how long would it be before she had access to them? This was her memory. This was her moment made real in light and code. This is what she’d show the world, all the worlds, so they would understand what had happened.
Water, promises, and time forgotten, Vee drew the first portrait of Earth’s neighbors.
Her door chimed, jerking Vee back into the present, where she became aware of a stiff back and ankles, a cramped hand, and a raging thirst.
“Door. Open,” called Vee, half-annoyed, half-grateful. She gulped half the water remaining in her glass.
Josh stood in the threshold.
“Hi,” he said. “You okay?”
“Oh yeah, fine.” She blanked her case screen. It wasn’t done yet. Not ready for anyone else to see. “Got caught up in a project. What’s going on?”
“Dr. Failia wants us all in the conference room to debrief about…what happened. I said I’d come get you.”
“Thanks.” Vee unbent her protesting back and legs. She got to her feet and drained her water glass. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Josh’s face shifted into an expression she hadn’t seen before. It was gentle, yet awkward. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Things got rough down there, and you were looking at Angela like…” He searched for words. “Like she was the only thing holding you together.”
“Thanks,” said Vee again, and she meant it. “It was bad for a bit. No question. We owe the aliens. Whatever they are, we owe them.”
“Yes, we do.” Josh shook his head. “Ever since you told me the base was a fake, I’d been gearing up for a huge disappointment. But then…” His words trailed off. “I don’t know what to think now.”
“Me either,” she admitted. “Yet. Let’s go get debriefed.” She crossed to the door and stopped. Something else needed to be said. Something she hadn’t needed to say for a long time. She turned back toward Josh. “Thank you for taking me seriously down there. For letting me help.”
“That was the real you,” Josh said. “I was glad you were there.”
“Yeah, well,” said Vee, unable to form a better response and kicking herself for it. “Let’s see how glad the board is.”
Vee and Josh walked to Conference Room One through a Venera Base that seemed abnormally tense. Vee was sure the rumor mill had been incredibly active all day, but from the sidelong glances people were giving them, she was also sure that Dr. Failia and the governing board hadn’t yet deigned to release any official information. If it had been Vee, she’d have been going crazy.
They were the last to arrive. The board clustered together at one end of the oval table. The passengers and crew of Scarab Five ranged around the rest of it. All the U.N. team who were not in the hospital were there. Terry sat next to her partner, Robert Stykos. Julia sat between Troy and Adrian, who was next to a shell-shocked Philip Bowerman. Vee picked the free chair beside Philip. Josh sat next to her. Vee felt absurdly pleased.
Helen Failia got to her feet. She looked determined, as if she was not going to let even this situation get the best of her.
But Philip did not give her the chance to speak. “Before we say anything else here”—Philip looked haggard. No surprise. His partner was lying in the infirmary with tubes in her arms and synaptic stimulators in her ears while all five medical doctors tried to work out how many nerve grafts she was going to need—“I want to know why our outgoing communications are being blocked.”
Our what? Vee straightened up. Now she could see why both Terry and Robert appeared particularly grim.
Helen gave a short sigh, as if this were a minor inconvenience. “Venera’s governing board has decided that, for the time being, all outgoing communication which contains references to this latest development will be held for transmission at a later time.”
“You cannot do this,” said Robert through clenched teeth. “You have no right to restrict free communication.”
“Venera Base reserves the right to refuse transmission of data which might include proprietary or unpublished information based on work that does not belong to the person requesting the transmission.” Dr. Failia said it like she’d memorized it. She probably had. It was probably part of the colony’s charter or some similar document.
Philip shook his head. “That is not an acceptable decision, Dr. Failia.”
“It is most definitely not acceptable,” said Terry. “This is the real thing. We need to get this out as soon as possible.”
“No,” said Helen flatly. “That was what was done with the Discovery. Now we know that was a fraud. Who knows what this latest phenomenon is?”
“I do,” said Troy, his voice husky with awe. Vee had heard that tone plenty of times down in the Discovery, but this was different somehow. Down there, she’d been quite sure it was all for show, a way to impress Lindi with his depth and give Terry good sound bits. Now though, she got the sudden impression they were hearing what he really felt. “They were saviors. Merciful saviors. They took gentle care of the crew of Scarab Fourteen—”
“They kept Heathe’s body,” cut in Dr. Godwin. “What’d they do that for? Merciful saviors? Maybe just morbidly curious?”
“We can’t know,” said Michael Lum. “Not yet. From what we saw we can’t even know if we can communicate with them.”
“Yes, we can.” Vee blurted out the words before she even realized she had spoken.
“What?” said Dr. Failia sharply. Everyone turned to face Vee.
“We can communicate with them,” said Vee, slowly this time, letting the ideas bubbling up inside her mind coalesce, giving herself a chance to see them clearly. “They can see.” Yes, there it was. The foundation. They could build from there. “One of them was watching me the whole time. Their eyes were made up like a human eye, or near as, which means it’s probable they can see in wavelengths we use and resolve images very close to the way we do.”
“And assuming you’re right?” said Dr. Godwin.
Vee felt herself smile. Ideas flowed through her. This could work. They could do this. “If they can see, we can communicate with them. I don’t know if they could hear a radio broadcast, but they might be able to read a letter.”
“You want to teach them their ABC’s? How?” Dr. Failia’s voice was suspicious but not dismissive. Good. Excellent
“Holographs,” Vee told them.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Dr. Godwin. “It’d take years to get a holograph setup that would work.”
Vee’s smile spread. She loved surprises. She loved the impossible, and this was the most impossible set of circumstances she’d ever been in. “It’ll take a week. The hard part’s already done.”
“What is the hard part?” asked Dr. Failia.
Vee leaned forward. “The hard part would have been getting a working laser in place, but we’ve already got one. Whoever built the Discovery took care of that for us. There is a laser down there that Josh says will work under Venusian conditions as soon as we jack it into a power source.”
“And you think you can talk to them?” Dr. Lum sounded half-afraid, half-hopeful.
“Maybe.” Her gaze turned inward while her mind lined up the things they’d need. “We build a holotank outside the Discovery where they can see it. Line it up with the laser. Wire the laser so it can be controlled from inside one of the scarabs. It’s got a double beam, so it can record and project once we get the tank in place. I’ve brought some of my rapid-replay film with me, so if we can set up some kind of cold-box for the tank to work in, we won’t have a problem there—”
“Wait a minute.” Philip got to his feet. “Figuring out the mechanics, this is good; we’ll need that, but this is not something we can do alone up here. This is not your decision. We need to contact the C.A.C. immediately and let them inform the Secretaries-General what has happened.”
“What do you want us to do, Mr. Bowerman?” asked Dr. Godwin. “Let the aliens sit and twiddle their thumbs for weeks until the S.G.s decide which end’s up?”
“That’s not my decision.” Philip planted one hand on the tabletop. “And it’s not yours.”
“Yes, it is ours,” said Dr. Godwin. “This is our home, not yours.”
Philip’s face tightened. “This involves all of humanity, not just Venus.”
“We owe it to all of humanity to give them an accurate picture,” said Dr. Lum quietly. “If it is proven the Discovery is a fraud, then we already screwed up once, and look what we started. We can’t risk doing that again.”
“I appreciate your scientific rigor—”
“It’s not science, it’s survival,” said Dr. Lum. “We are not talking about a few holes in the ground anymore. We are talking about living beings with who knows what capabilities and who knows what reasons for being here. Before we panic the entire range of humanity, we have to know what they can and cannot do and why they’re doing it.” Dr. Lum let his gaze sweep the entire gathering. “If we don’t have some answers when people ask ‘what do they want,’ we’re going to have an upheaval like nothing we’ve seen since the twentieth century.”
“One week,” said Dr. Failia. “Dr. Hatch said she can make contact within a week. We will then at least see how they react to our attempts to talk. We can take that to the U.N. It will be better than nothing.”
Philip shook his head. “It’s unacceptable. This is not your decision.”
“Unfortunately, it is,” said Dr. Failia. “We’re here and so are they. We have to decide what to do about that. Here it is.”
Philip said nothing. Vee didn’t miss the struggle on his face, though. He was going to try to contact his superiors again as soon as he left the meeting. The board certainly knew it. Despite his determination, however, he was also obviously aware he was a long, long way from any kind of backup.
“Dr. Hatch.” Dr. Failia turned to Vee. “I need an honest assessment. Do you believe you can initiate some kind of contact with…our neighbors in one week?”
“Yes,” said Vee without hesitation. “I’ll need Dr. Kenyon’s help, but we can do it.”
“Please proceed after the meeting then,” said Dr. Failia. Vee nodded.
“And for those of us who don’t agree with the one week holding period?” asked Robert coolly.
“All outgoing communications are being monitored,” said Dr. Lum. “Nothing will be released without authorization.”
“I see,” said Philip. He looked at Godwin. “It’s nice to see separatist principles being applied evenly as always. The U.N. tries to regulate your communication, you howl at the unfairness of it all. But you regulating the U.N.’s, that’s just fine.”
“You are not the U.N.,” said Dr. Godwin softly, but his satisfaction with the statement was unmistakable.
“I am a U.N. employee, just like every other Terran member at this table. What you are doing is not legal and not acceptable.” Philip stood and walked out the door.
“You’ll excuse us as well,” Terry also got up and left, followed by Robert.
As the door swished shut, Dr. Lum woke up the tabletop screen in front of him and touched a few command keys. Vee itched to know what they were, but there was no way to ask.
Dr. Failia sighed as if resigning herself to something unpleasant and focused on her remaining audience.
“Josh, if you could tell us what you know about the accident and what happened afterwards, please.”
Josh glanced around the table and then at the door. “For the record, I don’t agree at all with censoring communication. That said”—he sighed and folded his arms—“this is what I saw.”
They each talked in turn. Four versions of the same experience made a collage that mostly resolved into a single story. By the end of it, Vee had heard the experience repeated so many times it began to feel a little dreamlike. But all she had to do was think about the bodies on the airlock floor and it hit her all over again—the waiting, the fear, the cries of pain. Oh yeah, it was real.
And nothing would ever be the same again. Vee pictured the person hovering in front of her on golden wings and felt herself start to smile again.
She would find a way to talk to the ones with golden wings.
Then the universe would open up wide.
The door closed behind the U.N. investigative team as they left the meeting, cutting off both Veronica Hatch’s rapid-fire suggestions to Josh Kenyon and Troy Peachman’s continued awed murmurings to whoever would listen.
“Well that’s done,” said Helen, smoothing her scarf down. “I do hope our new neighbors appreciate what we’re going through for them.”
Ben smiled faintly at her attempted joke, but Michael’s face remained serious.
“There’s one more thing,” he said quietly.
There was no question as to what he meant. Helen wished there could be. She sighed. “Your people have them?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to ask the yewners to be there for the questioning?” asked Ben in as mild a voice as he owned.
That would be your first priority, Ben, wouldn’t it? “No.” Helen shook her head. “I would prefer we handle this ourselves for as long as we can.” She’d gone down with Michael to arrest Derek. She remembered the hurt on his face, the bewildered betrayal, as if he didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
“But you’re still going to send them back to Mother Earth for trial?” Ben’s face was flushed, but his eyes were cold.
“What else are we supposed to do? No”—Helen held up her hand—“I don’t want to hear it. We are sending them back to Earth, eventually.” She rested her fingertips briefly on the table. I do not want to do this. Please understand, Ben, even with all they are about to bring down on us, I do not want to do this.
She straightened up. “I don’t want them paraded through the halls. We’ll go down.”
“You don’t have to do this, Helen,” Michael told her as he stood at her side. “I can bring you a report.”
He’d said the same thing during the arrest. He was a good boy, Michael. His attempts to shelter her were well meaning. This was even a fairly decent out. No one would question it or think that there was another way to do this.
No one b
ut Helen herself. “No. We all let this happen and we’re all going to be made to pay for it, one way or another. Look at this as the first installment.”
Remember the others, Helen told herself as she led the board out into the corridor and toward the elevator bundle. Remember what is real. Our neighbors have saved more than a scarab crew, simply by being there. They have saved us from the worst this fraud accusation could bring.
It was a strange thought to be having at this moment, but it kept her going as they descended to the administration level and walked in single file into the back of Michael’s security area. Murmured conversations started up as they passed, and Helen imagined the waves of whispering spreading out like ripples in a pool. Whispering about how the entire governing board marched in to see the Cusmanos brothers and endless speculations about what they talked about, spreading and merging to join with the speculation about what really happened to the scarab crews.
She’d have to make an announcement soon. But first they had to try to find out who else needed to be held. Michael was certain the Cusmanoses had not acted alone, and Helen trusted him.
Venera’s brig was the only cramped place on the base. Little cells, little questioning rooms, all decked with big cameras, it was exactly the opposite of the free spaces. Not torturous, no, but disquieting, especially for long-term residents.
The brig had actually been an afterthought. Helen, for all her careful planning, had not envisioned the need for such a place in her original design. But scientists and academics were human, with their share of the human fallibilities, and house arrest did not suffice for everyone.
Two of Michael’s security team brought the brothers into the interrogation room, where the governing board waited for them. Derek, troubled but defiant, and Kevin, hollow-eyed and tired, sat at the end of the table as far from the board as they could get. Derek slumped his shoulders and looked anywhere in the room except at the faces of his accusers. Kevin sat up straight but bowed his head, studying the smooth, wired plastic surface of the table.