Building Harlequin’s Moon (36 page)

“Liren, this is painful for me.” He cleared his throat,
shifting his gaze from Liren to the rest of the room, bringing it back to rest on her. “Your diplomatic record is excellent. Without your single-mindedness, we might never have escaped Sol system. On Selene, I have watched this same strong and narrow focus threaten everything we’ve worked toward. Your latest argument, your attempt to make us return Rachel Vanowen to Selene, is clearly out of proportion to her insubordination. She did not violate any rule we’ve ever told
her
. Rather, she showed caring for her friend and student. Her attitude should be fostered, not forbidden.”

No one, on the screen or in the room, said anything. Rachel heard her own breath in the silence.

The captain continued. “But this isn’t about Rachel, and I don’t want you to believe it is.”

Rachel sighed with relief. She did not want to be the subject of a High Council meeting. While her teaching wasn’t breaking any spoken rules, the subject matter she chose for night classes would raise Council eyebrows if they noticed. The captain’s voice drew her focus back to the screen. “I spent most of last night reviewing tapes of various events on Selene. In the past few years, the choices we allowed you to make”—another pause—“even though we therefore must share some blame”—the captain licked his lips—”have endangered our success here. The intent of having the Children was to create people who could do the work on Selene. Work we can’t risk doing ourselves; don’t have enough hands to do ourselves. It wasn’t to create slaves! But that’s what we’ve done—and slavery was abolished centuries before we left Sol. The Moon Born must be trained as citizens, like the Earth Born Colonists, and given more voice in their future.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “We all, every one of us, left because we feared what Earth had become.” The captain looked around the room, and even
though he was clearly looking at each High Council member in turn, it seemed that he was looking at Treesa, Rachel, Ali.

“We fled in fear,” he said. “But fear does not serve us here, not now. We need all of us to succeed: Moon Born and Earth Born to succeed here, and Earth Born to help us rebuild when we get to Ymir. I am convinced that you are not willing to change your views, and that it will be difficult for us to undo the damage your paranoia has done as long as you sit as Rule of Law.”

Treesa pulled the view back, showing all of the High Council once again, the captain and Liren now in profile. Liren’s face was still stony. The others all watched Liren, except for Rich, who watched Captain Hunter in evident confusion.

Rachel nearly jumped as Treesa spoke up from behind her, saying, “He’s too early. Rich won’t support him. I’m not sure he has the rest of them yet, and he’ll need two votes unless Liren is ready to step down on her own. He needs three votes out of the five.”

The captain continued. “We can offer you a good compromise. Step down voluntarily, and you can simply stay cold until we get to Ymir. When you wake, you can resume your duties as Rule of Law. We’ll appoint someone only for the interim.”

Kyu, to the captain’s right, showed no outward emotion. She had changed since Rachel saw her a few hours ago—she wore browns and blacks, with almost normal makeup; she looked authoritative, and none of her usual sparkle showed. Kyu’s voice was formal as she said, “Liren, High Council, I support this recommendation. It’s my belief that Liren means well. I am equally sure that her zealousness has made the situation on Selene untenable. We are risking our relationships with people we need. Moon Born, and more important, Earth Born.”

Rachel gasped. Even Kyu thought Earth Born more important?

Clare spoke. “Gabriel’s heroics saving Aldrin from the fire earned gratitude and respect for us on Selene. I say that we can’t afford to change the texture of High Council at this time.” Clare placed a hand on Liren’s shoulder, a gesture that Liren’s didn’t react to. Clare pitched her voice low, addressing Rich and Kyu as she said,
“If
there have been mistakes, as the captain has pointed out, we share some blame. We can always outvote any one member of our Council. Discipline must be maintained, here and on Selene. If Liren has erred, if we have erred, I think it is on the right side. I too think we must not lose control.”

“Divisiveness weakens us,” the captain snapped.

Only now did Liren speak up. “I call for a vote.”

“We need more discussion,” Kyu said.

“I exercise my right to call for a vote,” Liren said.

The captain’s lips became a horizontal line, and then he said, “This is a new experience. It’s a hard decision. It deserves more discussion.”

“You must honor her request.” It was the first thing Rachel had heard Rich say in the meeting.

A full beat of silence passed before the captain sighed. “Very well, for the record, I vote that Liren step down.”

“I also vote that Liren no longer sit as High Council Rule of Law,” Kyu said.

Rich’s voice dropped into the silence that followed. “This is an extreme action. I’m not willing to take it. I support Liren.”

Rachel counted up. If she assumed Liren would vote for herself, then Clare was the swing vote.

Clare cleared her throat. “Liren, I too feel events are not going as well as they must, and that your actions may be part of the reason for that. You are not to blame for fires or flares or the other delays. Only, perhaps, for supporting division
between us and the Children. The captain said it himself—we must take some of that blame as well. We must change how we act as a High Council—we cannot afford to continue to be so afraid of the Moon Born.”

Afraid?
Rachel wondered.
Afraid of what?

Clare kept talking. “The fire illustrated our vulnerability. We are, perhaps, in a fight with the moon Selene, not with the Children of Selene. Now we have unexpected work to do. We will need the cooperation of the Moon Born to finish building the refuge in the Hammered Sea.” Her voice dropped and slowed. She looked directly at Liren. “But I do not believe this debate will have no effect on you, Liren. I’m voting to retain you, and asking you to reconsider your more extreme positions. I also suggest that you spend some time on Selene.”

Liren spoke firmly. “I believe in my choices. Some won’t be tested until Selene has a larger population. I do not need to go to Selene to understand what occurs there. I have compromised, perhaps more than you know. I will continue to voice my concerns, and you are all free to voice yours. That is why we have five members on our Council.”

Clare said, “I support you, Liren. I may disagree more loudly in the future, but you have a role to play. Your efforts are—appreciated.”

Ali groaned behind Rachel, and Treesa said, “I didn’t want to be right.”

On screen, the captain called adjournment, his face a mask. Kyu stood, ramrod straight, the smallest High Council member, and headed for the door. Liren shrugged Clare’s offered hand away and followed Kyu, and the room emptied, as if everyone wanted to leave the discussion as quickly as possible.

Treesa closed the picture and sat staring at the blank wall. The parrots squawked, filling the sudden quiet, until Treesa got up and laid a black cloth over the cage.

“Wow,” Ali spoke into the restored stillness.

“They’re often noisy,” Treesa said.

“Not the parrots.” Ali looked at Rachel. “I think I’m glad you saw that. But you can’t tell anyone—it wasn’t meant for you. Or any of us. That was a closed meeting.”

“So how—”

“Treesa’s good with electronics,” Ali said dryly.

“I know.” Unsure how much Ali knew, Rachel held her questions. She stood and stretched, trying to understand the implications of what she’d just seen.

“If you get caught, you’ll confirm Liren’s fears,” Treesa said. “You will have to validate them eventually to succeed, but better later than now. Your work on Selene will be even riskier for a while. I wish the captain had tried this when people still remembered him as the hero who saved
John Glenn
. He has little power over a ship so long at rest.”

“Didn’t Erika save
John Glenn?
” Rachel asked.

“Saved us from becoming a cloud of plasma. The captain manhandled the carrier here, staying warm for hundreds of years, alone.”

Wow. Rachel turned to Ali. “How come you’re here? I didn’t know you knew Treesa.”

“It’s a safe assumption that we all know each other, Rachel. Remember, I was on Selene, and then iced, when you were here before. Treesa and I were friends on Earth. We share some beliefs.”

“Like?” Rachel prodded.

Ali looked at Treesa. “Where do we start?”

“She has been studying history.”

Ali asked, “So you know why we left Earth?”

Rachel hesitated, thinking carefully about what to say. “Mostly I’ve studied politics, and leadership, and what Gabriel did to rebuild the jungle on Earth. Treesa has suggested that older human history has more relevance to our situation on Selene than the events right before you left.
I’ve seen some film and news clips of the AI wars. I found a picture of Gabriel’s augmented brother, the mountain climber. You were afraid of technology on Earth.”

“That’s the surface explanation, and it’s as far as some people look,” Ali said. “But was the technology to blame? Or human nature? Is a smaller colony—like ours—better able to control its nature?”

Treesa chimed in. “The Council of Humanity tried to define what is human. That turned out to be slippery. They ended up defining what
isn’t
human, but to make that work they had to be pretty rigid. That’s how we ended up able to use medical nanotechnology to repair tissue—like we’re doing to Beth’s spine—fixing things that are already human. But we can’t give Beth a fake spine. So if hers weren’t fixable, then she would never walk again, even though on Earth they’d just . . . run a line of fiber optics, I suppose.”

As Treesa looked at Rachel’s face, her own face softened, and she reached over and patted Rachel on the knee. “Don’t worry, honey—Beth should be fine. We’ve gotten very, very good at the technology we allow. How do you think we’ve gotten so old?” Treesa pulled at her own gray hairs. “Ali was born a year before me, way back in Sol system. I’ve just lived more effective years.”

“Hey, I’m effective!”

“Yes, you are.” Both women were laughing.

They trusted her, both of them. And she needed them, desperately. But what did they want? Really?

“Technology is not the problem,” Treesa said. “But many Council believe it is. And in some ways, history supports them. We, after all, are still here. Earth has gone silent.”

Rachel said, “Our problem on Selene is Council and Council’s rules. Your rules.” She looked from one to the other. “The terraforming is going all right except for the fire and the flares. Things none of us control.”

Ali nodded, and Treesa leaned forward in her chair
watching Rachel carefully. Rachel continued. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. That’s only the surface problem.”

The parrots rustled in their cage. Rachel licked her lips. “The idea that you and
John Glenn
will leave scares me more. If you leave, and something like the fire happens, what will we do? We can shelter from flares, but it took Gabriel’s willingness to sacrifice a ship to put the fire out. If you leave, we will not have Gabriel or a ship.”

“Everyone fought the fire together,” Treesa said.

Rachel said, “And we need you to live here. We need your . . . power. Your knowledge. We must work together. But if you make us slaves”—Ali winced, perhaps at the word “slaves”—“it keeps us from sharing our strengths.”

“Well, you and Astronaut and I work together. And we are three very disparate beings,” Treesa said. “On Earth, that happened too. Many humans supported technology and worked with AIs, and many AIs were friendly to humans. The problems were as much in human nature as in technology.”

“Or the definition of human nature,” Ali added. “How do you think about Astronaut?”

Rachel blinked. “How?”

“Is Astronaut human?”

Rachel shook her head. “Of course not, he—it—doesn’t have a body.”

“It has a voice, it thinks, and I think it daydreams,” Ali said, twisting her long braid absently. “Like you, like me.”

“Do you trust it?” Treesa asked.

Treesa’s words reminded Rachel of her question to the captain the night before. Certainly she acted as if she trusted Astronaut—she took huge risks based on its requests. She said, “Yes; I have to.”

Ali cautioned: “Be very careful. Treesa’s taught me to be willing to talk to it, but I am still afraid of it. You can trust it to act within its own nature, and for its own goals. Which
are not human. Your first impression was correct. What do you think it wants?”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t get hungry, does it? Or horny”—and smothered a laugh—”or sleepy. Nothing hurts it. It can’t have children either, right? What could it want?” Rachel remembered being warmed: the feeling of well-being, the sharpness of vision, the clarity of sound—and she remembered playing with her new linkages after she’d been given access to the Library. “Better senses?”

“We don’t know either. Our guess is that it wants to live. It does not apparently want to hurt us. In fact, if we all die, Astronaut will eventually die as well. But we are biological—driven by very old imperatives to live, to have children, to mate . . . and our feelings are driven by our bodies. As far as we know,” Treesa said, “even on Earth where AIs had rights and protections, they did not
feel
in the ways that we do. Subtlety seems to be reserved for biological bodies. But AIs do have wants, and exhibit a will to live. They think faster than we do, have more raw intelligence. They have all been seeded, since forever, with initial conditions designed to make them care for humans, or at least to stop them hurting us. Astronaut was written to protect humans—it is, after all, a navigator for passenger spacecraft. And humans made AIs, like we made Selene. But we don’t fully control Astronaut
or
Selene, and it would be smart to remember that.”

Gabriel’s voice sounded in Rachel’s ear: “Rachel? Time to meet me in my office.”