Diamonds in the Sky (9 page)

“Believe it or not,” Reege said, staring out a window overlooking Jupiter, soon after the introductory formalities established him as the genuine Jovian Reege, “I don’t own the
entire
Solar System, as some maintain. I gave the colonies on Io, Europa and Callisto — the other Galilean moons — to friends years ago.” Chuckling, he turned to Meyer. “I kept Ganymede because it’s more
interesting
. Unlike the other satellites in the Solar System, Ganymede has its own magnetosphere,
and
it’s permanently embedded in Jupiter’s, which is 14 times larger than Earth’s — enough to protect all four Galilean moons from solar wind. There’s nothing else like it.”

Meyer found his biobod agile and graceful, considering Ganymede’s one-sixth-gee made for a huge biobod, even by Mercurian standards. Joining Reege at the window, he said, casually, “Your medtech claimed your office always faces Jupiter?”

Reege smiled and turned back to the window. “Ganymede is tidally locked, with this face always inward. You’re fortunate today to see the Great Red Spot — over there, just on the edge of the horizon. It fluctuates, sometimes disappears for a while, but it always comes back, spinning counter-clockwise, moving within an atmospheric band one way, while other bands around it move the other way. The time-lapse vids are spectacular.”

“I saw one in the squisher recovery room,” Meyer said. “I found it unsettling.”

“You probably get seasick on Earth, don’t you?” Reege headed for his desk without waiting for an answer. “That planet is
fascinating
, Meyer, worth every solcred it takes to study it. It has rings, you know, mostly dust and not even noticed until the late 20th century. It generates
more
heat than it gets from the Sun. It’s a giant gravity well, big enough to have helped shape the entire Solar System. Comets routinely collide with it, often enough that they used to call it the Solar System’s vacuum cleaner back in the 20th — they erroneously thought that passing cosmic bodies that weren’t pulled in were swept to the outer system and kept away from the inner system planets.”

Meyer was skeptical. “I know Jupiter’s big, but surely it’s not
that
big!” He took a seat facing Reege’s desk.

“It
is
, actually,” said Reege. “The gravitational field acts on a couple
thousand
asteroids, most of them as far away from here as Mars, some more like the distance to the Sun. They’re clustered in two so-called camps, the ‘Greeks’ leading Jupiter’s orbit and the ‘Trojans’ following it.”

The medtech spouted a lot of information Meyer wasn’t interested in — like that Ganymede was between negative 120 and 200, with an oxygen-rich atmo — but there was one thing Meyer didn’t quite believe. “Is it true that Europa orbits
exactly
twice for every orbit of Ganymede? And Io orbits
exactly
four times? That seems awfully convenient to be a coincidence.”

“It’s true; it’s called orbital resonance. And you’re stalling.”

Smiling, Meyer said, “Can we dispense with drugging me this time? Just take me to your lab and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fair enough,” Reege said, standing. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Squish
.

Meyer started to remember. He talked to Jovian Reege, an unexpectedly civil conversation; he followed Reege to a lab, where he was asked to sit down; they talked some more, and then … he was squished to Titan, the largest of Saturn’s 60 known moons.

With a one-seventh-gee biobod, Meyer thought at first that he was still on Ganymede and had just fallen asleep. The medtech in the squisher recovery room corrected him, and took him to Reege for their usual conversation.

Like Jovian Reege, Saturnal Reege’s office took advantage of Titan’s tidally-locked orbit for a magnificent permanent vidview of Saturn, with its unique ice ring system. Unlike Ganymede, Titan’s opaque atmo prevented a direct view; the image came from an observer craft Reege had put in geosynchronous orbit.

“It’s very similar to Jupiter in some respects,” Reege reflected, glancing toward the vidwindow from his desk. “It has atmospheric banding, although the winds are much faster, reaching 1800 clicks per hour. The most striking difference, of course, is from the planetary rings; they’re actually an uncountable number of individual particles, mostly ice, anywhere from dust to the size of a small ground transport vehicle. They even have their own atmo.”

Meyer soon tired of Reege’s dissertation, finding him somewhat dry and far less congenial that Jovian Reege. “I thought there were several colonies on Titan? This facility seems smaller than the one on Ganymede.”

“It is,” Reege said, with an annoyed twang. “There’s several dozen colonies, in fact. They’re very popular; once you clear the dense, nitrogen-rich atmo haze around a colony, you find that the ground features resemble Earth’s. But this particular colony is strictly research. We’re trying to replicate the kinds of conditions that spawned life on Earth.”

Stunned, Meyer stared. “You’re trying to create
life
?”

Reege offered a half-smile as an answer and rose. “I think you know the drill at this point. Let’s go.”

* * *

Squish
.

Meyer sat up and swung his legs over the chair. They seemed very much like his Earth legs. Rubbing his temples, memories flooded his mind.

He’d observed Uranus from Reege’s orbiter, noted its 27 moons named for characters from Shakespeare and Pope, and marveled at its 13 distinct ring systems — mostly ice, like Saturn’s, but up and down instead of across, due to Uranus’ odd axial tilt, almost perpendicular to its orbit. It made for some odd weather, which Reege was studying for some experiments in the asteroid belt. Reege was reluctant to give specific details, but Meyer got the impression he was attempting to terraform one of the oddly-spinning asteroids in the main belt.

Meyer had orbited Neptune, often called an “ice giant” like Uranus, because of the higher levels of atmospheric ice. He’d found Neptune’s ring system less disturbing; while not as substantial as Saturn’s, at least the rings were parallel to orbit. He’d been amused to learn that its 13 moons were all named, like Neptune, after mythological sea gods; he’d been amazed to learn that the winds could be
faster
than Saturn’s — 2100 kilometers per hour, the fastest in the Solar System. Meyer wasn’t surprised to find Reege’s principle interest in Neptune was research, but he hadn’t expected Reege’s unbridled enthusiasm. Evidently, Neptune’s gravitational influence on the icy worlds of the deep-space Kuiper belt beyond the planet was as profound as Jupiter’s influence on the asteroid belt, completely dominating the belt and giving it shape.

“You’re on Earth now,” said a dark-haired male medtech flatly.

“Not Pluto?” asked Meyer, getting up.

The medtech started toward the door, motioning for Meyer to follow. “Pluto? Why would we be on Pluto? We abandoned that research station decades ago. It was only in operation for a few years, anyway, and it was a political struggle the whole time.”

“Because of its planetary status?”

“Yes. It started in the early 21st, when they reclassified it as a dwarf planet. A couple years later, it changed it to a plutoid — along with Haumea, Makemake and Eris, out in the scattered disc beyond the Kuiper belt. Some astronomers did not take kindly to this, and got it reclassified as a planet years later — that lasted for a decade, maybe. It’s changed so many times since then, I don’t even know what it is now. When Mr. Reege established the station, it was a planet; when it was reclassified again, he abandoned it. There’s nothing of interest on that desolate baked potato, anyway; nothing on any of its three moons, either. The only thing it has going for it is being the largest rock in the Kuiper belt.”

“I spoke to Mr. Reege orbiting Neptune,” Meyer offered. “He was very enthusiastic about exploring the Kuiper belt.”

The medtech chuckled. “It’ll be his great-great-grandchildren doing that; there’s just too much to explore, even at light speed. Until we figure out how to go faster than light, honestly, there’s nothing there that we can’t get from Neptune’s orbiter.”

The medtech admitted Meyer to Reege’s office and left.

“Mirror?” Reege pulled a hand mirror from his desk and offered it.

Shocked at seeing his Earth face — less the scar — Meyer stuttered, “M-my face?”

Grinning, Reege said, “A bonus for a job well done.”

“I didn’t
do
anything!”

“I believe another me mentioned that we were retrieving some of your memories? That’s not the complete truth. You were also carrying confidential communications, encoded into your brain scans.”

Meyer felt a lump in his throat. “I was a carrier pigeon?”

Reege scowled. “That’s unpleasant. You were a trusted courier.”

“There never was an imposter, was there?”

“No.”

Enraged, Meyer stood with fists clenched, fingernails biting into his palms.

“Sit down.”

“Why? So you can manipulate me some more?”

“Sit down, please,” Reege said calmly. “Don’t force me to be impolite.”

Shaking, Meyer sat stiffly. “Do I at least get an explanation?”

“I devised this system decades ago. Certain … informational aspects of keeping my colonies running smoothly requires the utmost discretion. Waveguide communications are secure, but the medtechs can’t always be trusted. All ten of us need to be kept up to date in a timely manner — thus, the trusted courier system via squisher.”

Meyer counted in his head. “Including you, there were only nine.”

Reege smiled apologetically. “We chose not to bring you out of recovery on Pluto.”

“Pluto? Isn’t that abandoned?”

“The Sol Council
thinks
it is, but I couldn’t abandon it — not with what’s at stake there.”

Meyer thought for a moment. “FTL?”

Reege’s smiled faded; he punched a few buttons on his desk console, stood and offered a hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Meyer. I trust quadrupling your agreed-upon fee would ensure your discretion?”

Meyer considered this, stood and shook Reege’s hand. “Done.”

“Excellent,” Reege said, smiling. “You’ll find your account credited already. If you’ll please follow the medtech for debriefing….”

* * *

Squish
.

©
Daniel M. Hoyt

I was never one of those girls who fell in love with horses. For one thing, on our part of New Oregon they were largely impractical animals. Most of the countryside consisted of forests attached to sheer hills and you wanted to ride something with a little more clinging ability. So from the time I was, well, from the time I can remember I wanted a teddy bear spider more than I wanted to breathe.

The problem is that teddy bear spiders were not cheap, especially not for a pioneer family trying to make a go of it.

Mom and Dad had moved us out of Landington in the first wave of expansion, to take advantage of the homesteading act. Our new place was way out on the eastern side of the Olson mountains where Dad had found this natural level patch about halfway up a forested ridge, so we got sunshine all year round, except for the weeks in spring and autumn when the shadow of our planet’s rings passed over us. Our simple extruded concrete house had nothing going for it except a view of the valley, which faced due south to where the rings were like a giant arch in the sky. Even as a twelve-year-old, angry at being taken away from our livewalls in town to this dead structure, I fell in love with the wild beauty of the trees clinging to the sheer faces of the valley walls.

The only thing that would have made it better was a teddy bear spider so I could go exploring on my own. I felt trapped by the walls of the house and the valley. I had this dream that, if I had a spider, I’d be able to sell its weavings for enough to install livewalls in my room. That’s not as crazy as it sounds; teddy-bear spider weavings are collected all over the colonies and sell for insane amounts of money.

I had a search setup so anytime there was news of a teddy bear spider or a new tube surfaced, I’d be right there, watching those adorable long-legged beasts. I loved their plump furry faces and wanted to run my fingers through their silky russet fur.

I wonder what goes through a survey team’s mind when they name things. I mean a teddy bear spider isn’t a bear and it isn’t a spider, but it looks like both those things. On the other hand, a fartycat looks nothing like a cat. They do stink, though.

Not quite a year after we’d moved, one of my city friends had forwarded an ad from a local board which set my heart to racing.

Teddy bear spider eggs: 75NOD shipped direct.

See, I’d been looking at adult or adolescent teddies which cost more than my folks had set aside for me to go to university. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could raise one up myself. My mindless yearning changed into purpose.

I slapped that ad onto a piece of epaper and ran into the kitchen. “Dad! Mom! Look at this.”

Dad glanced up from the eggs he was cracking into a bowl and pursed his lips the way he always did right before saying
no
. “Jaiden, that’s a lot of money.”

I waved the ad again as if it were a token to get me on a ride at the fair. ”We’d make back the money when the teddy started to weave. Please? I’ve seen their weavings in stores for hundreds of NOD.”

Mom ganged up on me. “That’s how much the store sells a weaving for, it’s not how much they pay for them. Even if it were, you’re not just talking the cost of the eggs. It’s the cost of feeding it, housing it, vet bills…”

I knew better than to keep arguing. Sometimes if I waited and tried again later, I could get them to change their minds. Still holding the ad, I went outside and plopped on the log bench Dad had made for the front of the house. The broad silver band of the ring spanned the sky, blocked by only a few clouds. In school I’d read about Earth and how it didn’t have a ring at all, but it’s hard to imagine life without that constant band of silver in the sky.