The Sunspacers Trilogy

by George Zebrowski

  “But they may not come for centuries, even thousands of years. We’ll have time to prepare.”

  “True. Or they may have already come, and this is an old warning. We don’t know on what time scale the nurturers, if we may call them that, are trying to warn us. Centuries may be only moments to them. We’ll have to go out and learn what we can.”

  “How many people are going?” she asked.

  “There are already some four hundred people inside the small hollow asteroid. More are on the way on this and other ships. We’ve tried to pick a cross section of the best student and professional minds.” He looked at her intently. “You will be given a chance to go home if you change your mind before we move the station into its outward course. You’ll be asked to keep silent. As far as anyone knows, the asteroid is leaving on a routine exploratory mission into the outer solar system. Nothing of our suspicions must get out until we know more. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go tell your colleague, Susan Falleta, what I have told you.”

  “Susan’s aboard?” Lissa asked, feeling glad.

  “Yes, she just made it.” He stood up, the door opened, and he was gone.

  Lissa leaned back in the bunk and imagined what was going to happen. She reached out mentally and saw the great darkness of outer Sunspace, where the Sun was only a bright star, where countless dark worlds circled the Sun in slow orbits. The cometary halo was a great reef around the solar system, the last barrier before the ocean of interstellar space.

  Something had put a transmitter out there, to whisper a warning across the short radio distance to the islands of life that were the inner planets. That someone or something had chosen radio to conceal its act of mercy. Radio was enough for such a short astronomical distance, ensuring that the signal would be noticed by a civilization that as yet had no other means of communicating across light-years.

  Another idea came to her, like a friend with a warning. If this was all true, she thought, then something out in the galaxy may not like us, while something else thinks enough of us to want to help. And this was probably the first time in human history that a warning of this kind had not fallen on deaf ears.

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  12

  “Of course, this may only be a routine warning,” Dr. Shastri said as they ate dinner at the Captain’s table. “We know that the solar system has to weather passage through the clouds of the galactic disk, which may be enough to slow up comets in the halo and send them Sunward. This signal may be a normal storm warning set up wherever a solar system seems to be harboring a young civilization.”

  “I can’t quite accept such thoughtfulness,” Captain Ruark said gruffly.

  Lissa ate her food slowly. Susan Falleta sat across from her. Dr. Shastri sat across from the Captain. Jerry Dubin, the First Officer, sat at Lissa’s right. Whenever she glanced at him, he smiled playfully, annoying her. Susan gave her an occasional look of sympathy.

  “You’re claiming, Doctor,” Dubin said, “that billions of Earthly creatures perished in these cometary strikes?”

  Dr. Shastri nodded. “It seemed to happen once every thirty million years or so.”

  “Then what have we to worry about?” Dubin asked.

  “This is probably the first time Earth has held a civilization capable of understanding this form of catastrophe,” Dr. Shastri replied. “It’s possible that a passing body, a dark star or something else, can also affect the cometary halo. Maybe it already has, and disaster lies only decades ahead. We must find out what kind of danger we are being warned about, if possible.”

  “I see what you mean,” Captain Ruark said soberly. “We may be entering a cloud that will affect the orbits of the comets in our halo.”

  “Or a black dwarf, a brown dwarf, even a black hole, might have sideswiped the halo. It doesn’t take much to shake it. Imagine a Christmas tree—anything can shake a bauble loose. Even a small change in a comet’s orbital velocity may be enough to send it Sunward.”

  “But fortunately it will take years for a comet to reach the inner solar system,” the Captain said.

  “I’ll bet it’s an old signal,” Dubin added, staring at Lissa. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “We have to make sure,” Susan said firmly.

  “Young man,” Dr. Shastri continued, “the Earth and Moon are peppered with large asteroid strikes. Earth doesn’t show it because of weathering and erosion, and for most of our history we didn’t know enough to notice. But look at the Moon. Luna is our memory. Now imagine literally millions of bodies coming into the inner solar system. We would have no defense. Even if this might happen centuries from now, that would not be enough time to prepare to deflect each object.”

  “What if it’s ten thousand years or more from now?” Dubin asked.

  “It would still be worth knowingaccurately what the danger would be, and such knowledge would have to be passed down from civilization to civilization.”

  “Ten thousand years from now we’ll be out among the stars,” Dubin said. “Earth will be worn out. We’ll have mobile habitats and new worlds to settle.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Lissa demanded, glaring at him. “The danger may be nearer than that, and words won’t decide what’s true!” He stared back at her, trying to make her angry. She looked away.

  “That’ll be enough, Dubin,” the Captain said. “Our job is to get these people where they need to go and maintain security.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After dinner, Lissa relaxed in her bunk, listening to the distant drone of the ship and the white noise of the air ventilation. She knew that the ship’s path to Mars would be pretty nearly a straight line. Torch ships didn’t have to drift in unpowered orbits, counting on the momentum of an initial boost to bring them to their destination, as had the ships of the last century. A continuous nuclear torch could boost in time to meet, or even catch up with, a planet in its orbit. Halfway to Mars the R-20—the vessel had only a number, she had learned—would begin to decelerate, until the ship’s velocity was just enough to let it fall into an orbit around Mars. From there it would maneuver into the Phobos docks.

  Lissa’s door buzzed. “Come in,” she said, then sat up nervously, afraid for a moment that it might be Dubin.

  Susan came in. “May I visit?”

  “Sure,” Lissa said, making room for her at the other end of the bunk.

  “I want us to be better friends than we were back on Earth.”

  “I’d like that,” Lissa replied, smiling.

  Susan sat cross-legged on the bunk. “That officer, Dubin—he came to my cabin a few minutes ago.”

  Lissa nodded. “I almost thought he’d come to annoy me”

  “He’s right out of the Stone Age, isn’t he?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Not bad-looking. Just so sure of himself he can’t imagine everyone doesn’t see it. How old do you think he is?”

  “Late twenties,” Lissa said. “But let’s not waste breath on him.”

  Susan grimaced. “I agree. Are you glad you came?”

  “I think so.”

  Susan looked at her carefully. “You miss Alek, don’t you? And you still wonder what happened to you with him, don’t you?”

  “A little,” Lissa said, feeling a flush in her face.

  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t show. You were all he would ever talk about, especially when he thought it was hopeless that you’d like him.”

  “Really?”

  Susan smiled wistfully. “I was just a standin for you.”

  Lissa felt a twinge of concern for the dark-haired girl. “Were you hurt badly?”

  Susan shrugged. “Only a little. He was kind. I got over it. But it’s going to be tough on you.”

  Lissa sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll feel differently in a month, maybe I won’t.”

  “You can send cleared letters, I think.”

  “I don’t want anyone reading my letters.”

  “I think Dr. Shastri
understands more about your problem than you think.”

  “Does he have anyone?” Lissa asked.

  “If he does, its very private. I’ve never been able to find out, not even in the official bio references.”

  “Do you think Alek ever wanted to come to the Institute?” Lissa asked.

  Susan wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. He never mentioned it. He’s smart enough, but I got the feeling that he might have done other things. He said he didn’t like the usual colleges, even the best, so he decided to try something different, even if he didn’t know how he would fit in. Maybe I didn’t understand him, but that’s what I think he said.”

  “You learned more than I did,” Lissa said sadly.

  “But heloved you,” Susan whispered, looking straight into her eyes. Lissa looked away.

  “Oh,” Susan said after a moment. “You were never in love before. You don’t mind my asking?”

  “It’s okay,” Lissa managed to say.

  “First time?”

  “Not really,” Lissa said vaguely, “but the first time with someone I cared about, and who cared back.”

  “Kid, you’ve got it as bad as I’ve ever seen. You’ll need a friend, even a jealous one.”

  Lissa smiled. “Okay.”

  “I’ll say this—you’ve got great control. I know the tears are there, but you’re putting them away real well. What do you do, swallow them?”

  Mars grew larger on the screen over Lissa’s bunk. She read a few assigned texts and tried to relax, keeping to herself, even asking for meals to be sent to her cabin rather than endure First Officer Dubin. Susan came and ate with her sometimes.

  The R-20 reached maximum speed, using up the light-minutes to the red planet. Lissa would look at the stars on her screen, imagining that each one was singing a silent song of its own. In a sense that was true. Each sun sent out the song of its spectrum, its pulsing magnitude, its own light-history. And around some of those far stars were other intelligences, singing their own histories—their hopes and fears, successes and failures.

  The day arrived when Mars took up the whole screen. Phobos was just ahead as the ship drifted toward it. Lissa was in her bunk as the asteroid-sized moon came up. Mars was a giant red disk behind it, partially dark. Monorail train lines crisscrossed the surface, suggesting the canals once imagined by astronomers. Cities twinkled on the nightside, reminding her that nearly three million people lived on Mars and that the number was growing as more agridomes were built and plans went forward to terraform the desert planet. One day people would walk unprotected on the surface and breathe new air. Grass and forests would cover the land, and there would be rivers, lakes, and seas—and real Martians would go swimming.

  Phobos covered Mars as the R-20 slipped into the gaping tunnel and was drawn into its dock cradle. Mars, she realized, would be especially vulnerable to strikes by comets and large meteors, since it had a very thin atmosphere; and being more distant from the Sun, it would very likely be struck sooner than Earth. A coldness went through her as she imagined the death of a world that was still struggling to be born.

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  13

  Dr. Shastri, Susan, and Lissa hurried to board the small tug that would take them to the Institute’s remote station. A small tube car rushed them to the tug’s bay, and they entered through a circular side lock. Lissa and Susan struggled to use their feet in the slight gravity of Phobos. Dr. Shastri seemed used to it, skipping gracefully off surfaces as he gave them a hand and pulled them inside.

  They made their way up to the control room, where they strapped into couches near the bulkhead. The small craft had no other accommodations for passengers.

  “At least we’ll be able to see everything,” Lissa said as she adjusted her restraints.

  The pilot came in, clanking on the steel deck with his magnetic boots. He was a short man, somewhat stocky, with black hair and a day’s growth of beard. Lissa took him to be in his middle thirties.

  “Hello, folks, I’m Harry Lipsky,” he said. “I make this pile of junk behave. Doctor, good to see you again.” He sat down with his back to them, facing the screen.

  The screen lit up. Harry punched in their course, and it appeared as a red diagram.

  “It’s all automatic,” he said, “but I’m here to smooth out the rough spots and make repairs when the magic fails.”

  “What rough spots?” Susan asked suspiciously, looking at Lissa.

  “Usually there aren’t any, young lady. This tug could take you there by itself, once you put in the course. Oh, by the way, we’re running a bit late. Do you mind one point one g?”

  Lissa looked at Dr. Shastri, who nodded his approval.

  “I guess not,” she said.

  “Here we go.”

  Lissa felt a tug. The flat screen showed a dark tunnel. The small vessel moved forward. Stars showed in the opening as she gripped the armrests and put her head back. The engines made a whining noise, and she felt vibrations in her feet, but after a moment everything quieted down.

  Phobos was falling away on the screen. Mars grew behind it, and Lissa thought of a large potato falling into a red fire.

  “So it’s back to the old listening post, eh, Doctor?” Harry asked. “And you’ve got two new students.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Shastri replied. “This is Lissa Quintana-Green-Wolfe, and Susan Falleta. Both are very talented.”

  “You’d have to be,” Harry said without turning around. “I have two daughters down at Wells myself. That’s a small town at the end of the rail line out of Marsport.”

  The course chart appeared on the screen again. A small green dash crawled over the red curve, showing that the tug was on course.

  “How long before we arrive?” Susan asked.

  “Tomorrow this time,” Harry replied.

  Lissa sniffed the air, picking up the odor of human sweat.

  Harry’s head turned slightly. “Sorry about that, but the old boat just doesn’t have a way to clean itself up completely.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lissa said.

  “We’re at one point two g now. How does it feel?”

  “I can’t really tell,” Lissa replied.

  “Well, you won’t have to walk around much in here.”

  Lissa looked over at Dr. Shastri. He was asleep.

  The remote station looked very much like Phobos, except that the potato shape was only two kilometers long and a half kilometer across. It had been mined out nearly forty years ago. The Institute had bought it, sealed up the cracks, landscaped the inner surface, and put a half-g spin on it. It orbited the Sun just beyond Mars, and few people knew much about what kind of work was going on there.

  Lissa noticed the large attachment at one end. It looked like a railroad car held in place by massive rings.

  “That’s the tachyon device,” Dr. Shastri said.

  The other end of the asteroid held two massive globes. Dr. Shastri did not say what these were.

  Harry lined the tug up along the asteroid’s long axis and came in toward the dock just below the railroad car.

  “We’re here,” he said, sitting back as the tug crept into the tunnel. “And on time.”

  Lissa felt a small bump as the tug was secured inside.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lipsky,” Dr. Shastri said. He unstrapped and floated upright. Lissa did the same, feeling a bit queasy.

  They pulled themselves down the tunnel to the lock, which was already open.

  “What’d you think of Harry?” Lissa asked Susan as they floated out into another passageway. Dr. Shastri lagged behind.

  “Kind of cute, in a smelly way.” She laughed. “I’m glad we’re out of there,” she said, holding her nose.

  “Keep going!” Dr. Shastri called from behind them.

  The tunnel ahead was filled with yellow light. Lissa pulled herself forward on the guide rail. Her feet drifted down as she neared the end, until finally she was able to walk the rest of the way. Even though
the pull was gentle, it was enough to indicate that they had moved off the central axis of the asteroid, giving the centrifugal spin a chance to work.

  They came to a circular opening and looked out into the hollow. The curving landscape was very plain. Dr. Shastri caught up, and the three of them gazed out at the gently rolling grassland. It covered most of the inner surface. Barracks stood in groups of a dozen on the curving land of the small world, connected by dirt roads. A small sun mirror stood at the other end of the asteroid, two kilometers away. There were few trees.

  “We’d better go,” Dr. Shastri said.

  Lissa stepped out first. A small vehicle of some kind was coming up the road toward them.

  “It’s not a large hollow,” Susan said, looking at the land overhead, “but it looks much bigger than it is.”

  “It’s comfortable-looking,” Lissa said, breathing the fresh air.

  “How many people are here?” Susan asked.

  “With you two,” Dr. Shastri said, “five hundred and two.”

  “A very small town,” Lissa added.

  The small open car pulled up to them. “Welcome back, Dr. Shastri!” a lanky young man called out from behind the wheel. He smiled at Lissa and gave Susan an appreciative look.

  “This is Dr. Repplier, our youngest double doctorate,” Dr. Shastri said proudly. “May I present Susan Falleta and Lissa Quintana-Green-Wolfe.”

  “Call me Mike.” He smiled and brushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes.

  “How old are you?” Susan asked, smiling back.

  “He’s just nineteen,” Dr. Shastri said. “He also went to the Institute.”

  Susan was being a bit pushy, Lissa thought, but she wished her luck.

  They took their places in the back of the vehicle.

  “Barracks A,” Dr. Shastri said as Mike turned around and drove down into the hollow.

  As the air blew across her face, Lissa looked straight up. A half kilometer above her, a barracks complex was stuck to a green sky; yet it all seemed natural. Opposite points were much farther away from each other on Bernal One, but this wasn’t too different. There were no clouds in the great central space. Lissa concluded that the ecological balances were still very simple here. She wouldn’t even be surprised to learn that oxygen generators were needed to keep the air breathable.