The Songs of Distant Earth

by Arthur C. Clarke

  “Sometimes,” Loren said. So Kumar doesn’t know; the secret was still between the two of them.

  At least I will see my son, Loren thought, if only for a few months. And then …

  To his horror, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks. When had he last cried? Two hundred years ago, looking back on the burning Earth …

  “What’s the matter?” Kumar asked. “Are you thinking about your wife?” His concern was so genuine that Loren found it impossible to take offence at his bluntness – or at his reference to a subject that by mutual consent, was seldom mentioned, because it had nothing to do with the here and now. Two hundred years ago on Earth and three hundred years hence on Sagan 2 were too far from Thalassa for his emotions to grasp, especially in his present somewhat bemused condition.

  “No, Kumar, I was not thinking of- my wife –”

  “Will you … ever … tell her … about Mirissa?”

  “Perhaps.Perhaps not. I really don’t know. I feel very sleepy. Did we drink the whole bottle? Kumar? Kumar!”

  The nurse came in during the night, and suppressing her giggles, tucked in the sheets so that they would not fall out.

  Loren woke first. After the initial shock of recognition, he started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Kumar said, heaving himself rather blearily out of bed.

  “If you really want to know – I was wondering if Mirissa would be jealous.”

  Kumar grinned wryly.

  “I may have been a little drunk,” he said, “but I’m quite sure that nothing happened.”

  “So am I.”

  Yet he realized that he loved Kumar – not because he had saved his life or even because he was Mirissa’s brother – but simply because he was Kumar. Sex had absolutely nothing to do with it; the very idea would have filled them not with embarrassment but hilarity. That was just as well. Life on Tarna was already sufficiently complicated.

  “And you were right,” Loren added, “about the Krakan Special. I don’t have a hangover. In fact, I feel wonderful. Can you send a few bottles up to the ship? Better still – a few hundred litres.”

  38. Debate

  It was a simple question, but it did not have a simple answer: What would happen to discipline aboard Magellan if the very purpose of the ship’s mission was put to the vote?

  Of course, any result would not be binding, and he could override it if necessary. He would have to, if a majority decided to stay (not that for a moment he imagined …) But such an outcome would be psychologically devastating. The crew would be divided into two factions, and that could lead to situations he preferred not to contemplate.

  And yet – a commander had to be firm but not pig-headed. There was a good deal of sense in the proposal and it had many attractions. After all, he had enjoyed the benefits of presidential hospitality himself and had every intention of meeting that lady decathlon champion again. This was a beautiful world; perhaps they could speed up the slow process of continent building so that there was room for the extra millions. It would be infinitely easier than colonizing Sagan 2 …

  For that matter, they might never reach Sagan 2. Although the ship’s operational reliability was still estimated to be ninety-eight per cent, there were external hazards which no one could predict. Only a few of his most trusted officers knew about the section of the ice-shield that had been lost somewhere around light-year 48. If that interstellar meteoroid, or whatever it was, had been just a few metres closer …

  Someone had suggested that the thing could have been an ancient space-probe from Earth. The odds against this were literally astronomical, and of course such an ironic hypothesis could never be proved.

  And now his unknown petitioners were calling themselves the New Thalassans. Did that mean, Captain Bey wondered, that there were many of them and they were getting organized into a political movement? If so, perhaps the best thing would be to get them out into the open as soon as possible.

  Yes, it was time to call Ship’s Council.

  Moses Kaldor’s rejection had been swift and courteous.

  “No, Captain; I can’t get involved in the debate – pro or con. If I did, the crew would no longer trust my impartiality. But I’m willing to act as chairman, or moderator – whatever you like to call it.”

  “Agreed,” Captain Bey said promptly; this was as much as he had really hoped for. “And who will present the motions? We can’t expect the New Thalassans to come out into the open and plead their case.”

  “I wish we could have a straight vote without any arguments and discussions,” Deputy Captain Malina had lamented.

  Privately, Captain Bey agreed. But this was a democratic society of responsible, highly educated men, and Ship’s Orders recognized that fact. The New Thalassans had asked for a Council to air their views; if he refused, he would be disobeying his own letters of appointment and violating the trust given him on Earth two hundred years ago.

  It had not been easy to arrange the Council. Since everyone, without exception, had to be given a chance of voting, schedules and duty rosters had to be reorganized and sleep periods disrupted. The fact that half the crew was down on Thalassa presented another problem that had never arisen before – that of security. Whatever its outcome might be, it was highly undesirable that the Lassans overhear the debate …

  And so Loren Lorenson was alone, with the door of his Tarna office locked for the first time he could recall, when the Council began. Once again he was wearing full-view goggles; but this time he was not drifting through a submarine forest. He was aboard Magellan, in the familiar assembly room, looking at the faces of colleagues, and whenever he switched his viewpoint, at the screen on which their comments and their verdict would be displayed. At the moment it bore one brief message:

  RESOLVED: That the Starship Magellan terminate its mission at Thalassa as all its prime objectives can be achieved here.

  So Moses is up on the ship, Loren thought, as he scanned the audience; I wondered why I’d not seen him lately. He looks tired – and so does the captain. Maybe this is more serious than I’d imagined …

  Kaldor rapped briskly for attention.

  “Captain, officers, fellow crewmembers – although this is our first Council, you all know the rules of procedure. If you wish to speak, hold up your hand to be recognized. If you wish to make a written statement, use your keypad; the addresses have been scrambled to ensure anonymity. In either case, please be as brief as possible.

  “If there are no questions, we will open with Item 001.”

  The New Thalassans had added a few arguments, but essentially 001 was still the memorandum that had jolted Captain Bey two weeks ago – a period in which he had made no progress at all in discovering its authorship.

  Perhaps the most telling additional point was the suggestion that it was their duty to stay here; Lassa needed them, technically, culturally, genetically. I wonder, Loren thought, tempted though he was to agree. In any event, we should ask their opinion first. We’re not old-style imperialists – or are we?

  Everyone had had time to reread the memorandum; Kaldor rapped for attention again.

  “No one has, ah, requested permission to speak in favour of the resolution; of course, there will be opportunities later. So I will ask Lieutenant Elgar to put the case against.”

  Raymond Elgar was a thoughtful young Power and Communications engineer whom Loren knew only slightly; he had musical talents and claimed to be writing an epic poem about the voyage. When challenged to produce even a single verse, he invariably replied, “Wait until Sagan 2 plus one year.”

  It was obvious why Lieutenant Elgar had volunteered (if indeed he had volunteered) for this role. His poetic pretensions would hardly allow him to do otherwise; and perhaps he really was working on that epic.

  “Captain – shipmates – lend me your ears –”

  That’s a striking phrase, Loren thought. I wonder if it’s original?

  “I think we will all agree, in our hearts as well as our mind
s, that the idea of remaining on Thalassa has a great many attractions. But consider these points:

  “There are only 161 of us. Have we the right to make an irrevocable decision for the million who are still sleeping?

  “And what of the Lassans? It’s been suggested that we’ll help them by staying on. But will we? They have a way of life that seems to suit them perfectly. Consider our background, our training – the goal to which we dedicated ourselves years ago. Do you really imagine that a million of us could become part of Thalassan society without disrupting it completely?

  “And there is the question of duty. Generations of men and women sacrificed themselves to make this mission possible – to give the human race a better chance of survival. The more suns we reach, the greater our insurance against disaster. We have seen what the Thalassan volcanoes can do; who knows what may happen here in the centuries to come?

  “There has been glib talk of tectonic engineering to make new land, to provide room for the increased population. May I remind you that even on Earth, after thousands of years of research and development, that was still not an exact science. Remember the Nazca Plate Catastrophe of 3175! I can imagine nothing more reckless than to meddle with the forces pent up inside Thalassa.

  “There’s no need to say any more. There can be only one decision in this matter. We must leave the Lassans to their own destiny; we have to go on to Sagan 2.”

  Loren was not surprised at the slowly mounting applause. The interesting question was: who had not joined it? As far as he could judge, the audience was almost equally divided. Of course, some people might be applauding because they admired the very effective presentation – not necessarily because they agreed with the speaker.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Elgar,” Chairman Kaldor said. “We particularly appreciate your brevity. Now would anyone like to express the contrary opinion?”

  There was an uneasy stirring, followed by a profound silence.

  For at least a minute, nothing happened. Then letters began to appear on the screen.

  002. WOULD THE CAPTAIN PLEASE GIVE THE LATEST ESTIMATE OF PROBABLE MISSION SUCCESS

  003. WHY NOT REVIVE A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLE OF THE SLEEPERS TO POLL THEIR OPINION

  004. WHY NOT ASK THE LASSANS WHAT THEY THINK. IT’s THEIR WORLD

  With total secrecy and neutrality, the computer stored and numbered the inputs from the Council members. In two millennia, no one had been able to invent a better way of sampling group opinion and obtaining a consensus. All over the ship – and down on Thalassa – men and women were tapping out messages on the seven buttons of their little one-hand keypads. Perhaps the earliest skill acquired by any child was the ability to touch-type all the necessary combinations without even thinking about them.

  Loren swept his eye across the audience and was amused to note that almost everyone had both hands in full view. He could see nobody with the typical far-off look, indicating that a private message was being transmitted via a concealed keypad. But somehow, a lot of people were talking.

  015. WHAT ABOUT A COMPROMISE? SOME OF US MIGHT PREFER TO STAY. THE SHIP COULD GO ON

  Kaldor rapped for attention.

  “That’s not the resolution we’re discussing,” he said, “but it’s been noted.”

  “To answer Zero Zero Two,” Captain Bey said – barely remembering in time to get a go-ahead nod from the chairman, “the figure is ninety-eight per cent. I wouldn’t be surprised if our chance of reaching Sagan 2 is better than that of North or South Island staying above water.”

  021. APART FROM KRAKAN, WHICH THEY CANT DO MUCH ABOUT, THE LASSANS DON’T HAVE ANY SERIOUS CHALLENGES. MAYBE WE SHOULD LEAVE THEM SOME. KNR

  That would be, let’s see … Of course – Kingsley Rasmussen. Obviously he had no wish to remain incognito. He was expressing a thought that at one time or other had occurred to almost everyone.

  022. WE’VE ALREADY SUGGESTED THEY REBUILD THE DEEP SPACE ANTENNA ON KRAKAN TO KEEP IN TOUCH WITH US. RMM

  023. A TEN YEAR JOB AT THE MOST. KNR

  “Gentlemen,” Kaldor said a little impatiently, “we’re getting away from the point.”

  Have I anything to contribute? Loren asked himself. No, I will sit out this debate; I can see too many sides. Sooner or later I will have to choose between duty and happiness. But not yet. Not yet .

  “I’m quite surprised,” Kaldor said after nothing more had appeared on the screen for a full two minutes, “that no one has anything more to say on such an important matter.”

  He waited hopefully for another minute.

  “Very well. Perhaps you’d like to continue the discussion informally. We will not take a vote now, but during the next forty-eight hours you can record your opinion in the usual way. Thank you.”

  He glanced at Captain Bey, who rose to his feet with a swiftness that showed his obvious relief.

  “Thank you, Dr. Kaldor. Ship’s Council terminated.”

  Then he looked anxiously at Kaldor, who was staring at the display screen as if he had just noticed it for the first time.

  “Are you all right, Doctor?”

  “Sorry, Captain – I’m fine. I’ve just remembered something important, that’s all.”

  Indeed he had. For the thousandth time, at least, he marvelled at the labyrinthine workings of the subconscious mind.

  Entry 021 had done it. “The Lassans don’t have any serious challenges.”

  Now he knew why he had dreamed of Kilimanjaro.

  39. The Leopard in the Snows

  I’m sorry, Evelyn – it’s been many days since I last talked to you. Does this mean that your image is fading in my mind as the future absorbs more and more of my energies and attention?

  I suppose so, and logically I should welcome it. Clinging too long to the past is a sickness – as you often reminded me. But in my heart I still can’t accept that bitter truth.

  Much has happened in the last few weeks. The ship has been infected with what I call the Bounty Syndrome. We should have anticipated it – indeed, we did, but only as a joke. Now it’s serious, though so far not too serious. I hope.

  Some of the crew would like to remain on Thalassa – who can blame them? – and have frankly admitted it. Others want to terminate the whole mission here and forget about Sagan 2. We don’t know the strength of this faction, because it hasn’t come out into the open.

  Forty-eight hours after the Council, we had the vote. Although of course the balloting was secret, I don’t know how far the results can be trusted: 151 were for going on; only 6 wanted to terminate the mission here; and there were 4 undecideds.

  Captain Bey was pleased. He feels the situation’s under control but is going to take some precautions. He realizes that the longer we stay here, the greater the pressure will be not to leave at all. He won’t mind a few deserters – “If they want to go, I certainly don’t want to keep them,” was the way he put it. But he’s worried about disaffection spreading to the rest of the crew.

  So he’s accelerating shield construction. Now that the system is completely automatic and running smoothly, we plan to make two lifts a day instead of one. If this works out, we can leave in four months. This hasn’t been announced yet. I hope there are no protests when it is, from the New Lassans or anyone else.

  And now another matter that may be completely unimportant but which I find fascinating. Do you remember how we used to read stories to each other when we first met? It was a wonderful way of getting to know how people really lived and thought thousands of years ago – long before sensory or even video recordings existed …

  Once you read to me – I had not the slightest conscious memory of it – a story about a great mountain in Africa, with a strange name, Kilimanjaro. I’ve looked it up in Ship’s Archives, and now I understand why it’s been haunting me.

  It seems that there was a cave high up on the mountain, above the snow line. And in that cave was the frozen body of a great hunting cat – a leopard. That’s the mystery: no one ever knew what
the leopard was doing at such an altitude, so far from its normal territory.

  You know, Evelyn, that I was always proud – many people said vain! – about my powers of intuition. Well, it seems to me that something like this is happening here.

  Not once but several times, a large and powerful marine animal has been detected a long way from its natural habitat. Recently, the first one was captured; it’s a kind of huge crustacean, like the sea scorpions that once lived on Earth.

  We’re not sure if they’re intelligent, and that may even be a meaningless question. But certainly they are highly organized social animals, with primitive technologies – though perhaps that’s too strong a word. As far as we’ve discovered, they don’t show any greater abilities than bees or ants or termites, but their scale of operations is different and quite impressive.

  Most important of all, they’ve discovered metal, though as yet they seem to use it only for ornament, and their sole source of supply is what they can steal from the Lassans. They’ve done this several times.

  And recently a scorp crawled up the channel right into the heart of our freezing plant. The naive assumption was that it was hunting for food. But there was plenty where it came from – at least fifty kilometres away.

  I want to know what the scorp was doing so far from home; I feel that the answer may be very important to the Lassans.

  I wonder if we’ll find it before I begin the long sleep to Sagan 2?

  40. Confrontation

  The instant that Captain Bey walked into President Farradine’s office, he knew that something was wrong.

  Normally, Edgar Farradine greeted him by his first name and immediately produced the wine decanter. This time there was no “Sirdar”, and no wine, but at least he was offered a chair.

  “I’ve just received some disturbing news, Captain Bey. If you don’t mind, I’d like the prime minister to join us.”

  This was the first time the Captain had ever heard the president come straight to the point – whatever it was – and also the first time he had met the PM in Farradine’s office.