Authors: Glenn Douglass
Tags: #adventure, #travel, #dog, #future, #space, #rescue, #supercluster
Law's End (27 page)
Chapter 22: "Horsing Around"
"Survival is a funny thing. It's a concept
tied closely to civilization and the almost certainly delusional
concepts of safety and security. It's not so much a fine line
between 'surviving' and 'thriving' as much as it is an imaginary
one reinforced by ignorance. In the end worrying about survival
negatively impacts our ability to survive, consuming resources
rarely with any return, so that the delusion of safety and security
may be a survival trait in itself."
-Excerpt from “Our Hard Road” Herself's
first autobiography
matching the Appaloosa to the spin on the enormous sphere's axis
and where the massive airlock doors were located. Efficient and
well practiced cycling operations soon had the big Lawship balanced
between thick mooring cables in the center of the airlock. As she
was processed through to the dockyards the Armhamon loitered a few
kilometers away; wary of another trap.
Anyone looking at the extensive facilities
stretching as far as the eye could see along the Mareville axis
could have been excused for thinking that the entire colony was
devoted to ship construction. Once past the airlock weightless
conditions made the sphere's axis ideal for the processed cargo
routing, docking, and shipyard activity that went on there. Even
the volume of noise from the incessant industrial activity could
barely be contained by the largest audio dampers commercially
produced. Without the need for yard crews to suit up for vacuum
conditions the shirt sleeve environment promoted efficient
productivity, but for all its extensive elaborateness this was only
the entryway for the settlement.
It took only seconds after the Appaloosa was
securely clamped into her birth for teams summoned from the local
PC&R to come aboard. In short order the medical professionals
had declared everyone who had been exposed to the environment
beyond Law's End as being under their protective custody. Before
anyone could object the science team in their automated medic pods,
Greene, Kassad, and a very reluctant Canis were being whisked
towards the Mareville's PC&R facilities.
Ordinary transit from the sphere's axis to the
living spaces at the equator was by monorail. Tracks followed the
sphere's interior curvature from the zero gravity industrial zones
to its equators where the living space was located. The pressurized
monorail cars connected key activity living, working,
administration, and shopping centers with the axis gateway.
Each monorail car had thick doors that were
actually two sets of doors that could function as a narrow airlock
in the case of emergencies. Nearly every building and vehicle in
the settlement could be sealed against possible loss of pressure
even though no significant breaches had occurred in living memory.
Even the long rows of greenhouses and hydroponic gardens were
capable of functioning in an air tight mode to protect their
precious contents from any disaster.
Overhead Mareville's sky full of weightless
industrial machinery was carefully concealed. Massive panels
covering the industrial heart of Mareville created an almost
perfect imitation of the preferred Terran environment. Able to
project anything from Terrestrial strength daylight, to a
scattering of imitation starlight, and a myriad of glorious shades
of azures and violets in between, they completed an illusion of
being outdoors that even the most claustrophobic could accept.
As soon as the cars arrived at the main
PC&R building each patient was instantly diverted to individual
care. Every test available was performed and the results were cross
referenced, analyzed, and compared to every record of past exposure
or condition that was even remotely comparable. The number of
specialists called upon for consultation was impressive, and in
turn the number of those experts who offered their advice
unsolicited was proportionately staggering.
Initial news of the Law's End survivors had
sent a thrill through the Mareville medical community at the
novelty and challenge these patients represented. Through the
instantaneous communications of Laniakea's quantum communications
network that excitement soon spread throughout the hundred thousand
galaxies. Idle curiosity and the dramatic nature of the story drove
an interest much amplified through speculation that quickly raced
ahead of hard facts.
Before long even specialists who hadn't been
called on to consult were clamoring to advise for the chance to
pour over the unique data generated by these cases. As a result
there was no shortage of treatment recommendations. The great cloud
mind of Laniakea's united medical community observed responses,
crunched the numbers, and in a matter of hours came up with a
program for rehabilitation. In a matter of days all of the
survivors would be responding, recovering, and coming to terms with
the attention their predicament had resulted in.
Even before the cure for what was rapidly
becoming known as Law's End Condition could be arrived at the
Laniakea's myriad media outlets had seized upon the story as well.
Of particular interest was the imagination capturing story of a
wife and her unrelenting efforts to rescue her husband in the face
of University opposition, long odds, and great danger. Before long
there were few who hadn't heard the story of the fated scientific
expedition even if the actual details were still mostly
obscure.
While Greene found herself an instant celebrity
with many doting admirers she had never met the other survivors
faced much different experiences. All of the science team members
were being kept under heavy sedation and out of the public light
entirely. Canis had been trained to behave with stoic indifference
to media attention making him a poor subject whose role in the
events beyond Law's End was quickly dismissed. Kassad on the other
hand found himself the subject of a campaign by a noteworthy
Lawship captain to paint him as a pirate intent on looting the
expedition's remains.
Morning found Greene in the chair she'd slept
in at her husband's PC&R bedside with one hand idly toying with
the man's dark brown hair. Around the room were bouquets of flowers
collected locally but purchased by admirers very distant. The room
itself was almost as perfectly generic a medical recovery room as
if it had come off a central assembly line; aside from the
settlements ubiquitous and only occasionally subtle equine themed
stylizations and decorations.
With a sigh of blissful contentment Greene
gazed out the private room's floor to ceiling window. Beyond the
recovery room rows of crystal clear greenhouses stretched away for
kilometers up the inner wall of the sphere allowing their greens
and browns flecked with yellows, blues, and reds to bask in the
artificial sun. As the artificial dawn grew in intensity automated
farm equipment and its organic handlers could be seen to toil away
at providing the necessities and pleasantries of life.
Everything was reassuring and peaceful. It was
pleasant, scheduled, and orderly. The warm embrace of the
artificial womb civilization had made for its peoples. This was
safety from the bitter howling wilderness surrounding them.
It was all so welcoming the only thing that
could pull Greene's eyes away from the visage was the opportunity
to check on the sleepy mumbling of her beloved. The sedation he was
under was heavy and he was not supposed to wake for some hours. It
was all part of a carefully thought out recovery program.
Utterly serious medical professionals had
assured Greene that healing the emotional damage from the stress of
the experience would be a long and ongoing process. The future of
the Greenes would include painful physical therapy and counseling
sessions, but it would be a future they could endure together. In
her heart and mind she knew they were together and that meant they
could overcome anything.
A tone from the doorway diverted Greene's
attention again. The doorway stood slightly ajar so the sound of
other humans moving purposefully about could filter in. Just beyond
the doorway a figure waited anxiously for an invitation to enter.
Where she had expected to see one of the medical authorities,
dispassionately and professionally aloof, there stood a more
familiar figure.
Shock and uncertainty at the figure's sudden
appearance stunned Greene into silent staring. Well into his
eighties the figure looked to be not much older than Greene
herself. With their matching eyes and hair color along with similar
bone structure they could have easily been mistaken as brother and
sister.
Taking an uncertain step into the room the
figure stopped inside the entry. "I hope I'm not intruding
here."
Glancing from the figure to her husband and
back again Greene shook her head, not knowing how to feel at the
intrusion. There was a roll of emotions at the arrival of her
father. In recent years they'd almost reconciled, although they'd
never been formally estranged. Greene had no doubt that he was here
while in pursuit of company interests, but he hadn't needed to drop
by.
Eventually Greene determined to be hospitable
by saying, "No, you're not intruding." As her father took another
nervous step into the room she remembered common courtesy, "Please,
sit with us. He'll be out for some hours yet. I suppose we should
talk."
Inwardly Greene cringed at her use of the word
'suppose' in spite of herself. Not long after word of the disaster
had reached her she'd determined not to waste effort assigning
blame. There was plenty of blame to go around and none of that
truly mattered.
Awkwardly nodding at the invitation Greene's
father moved to the stylized horseshoe backed chair on the opposite
side of bed. His mouth opened to speak and then closed again. They
were both quiet for a time.
After a while her father found the words to
speak. "I was so relieved that the research crew was rescued. I'm
very proud of you." Gesturing to the sleeping form he added, "I'm
very proud of you both." Another awkward silence descended and
threatened to extend but the figure found more words. "If there's
anything I can do, just let me know."
Greene was disappointed by her father's rote
apology, and irritated by the obligatory nature of his visit, her
determination to let the visit play out cordially disintegrated,
"Why didn't you tell me it was a weapons project? Why didn't you
tell us?"
"That's just not true. Simply because something
has military product applications doesn't make it a military
product." Her father almost continued but then stopped himself
realizing that his daughter had heard variations of the speech many
times before and started over saying, "I would never have gotten
you involved if I thought the research team would actually try to
utilize the information they gathered. Believe me when I tell you
that I was being honest when I called this a research program. They
weren't supposed to develop anything at this site. The hazards…
well, you saw what the hazards were."
Greene looked to her husband as she tried to
reign in her anger. "Well they certainly developed something didn't
they?"
Instinctively retreating into his long held
role as corporate spokesman her father said, "You don't know that.
I don't know that. Everyone who knows what happened is still
unconscious."
Sometimes Greene felt as if she were dealing
with a company product rather than a human being when dealing with
her father. "We might know if everything wasn't buried in company
secrets."
With a heavy sigh her father tried to explain,
"When I told you about the opportunity I was thinking this would
give us a reason to talk to each other again, or at least an
excuse. I admit I was being selfish. I never thought it was
dangerous, at least no more dangerous than any other deep space
work."
Roiling emotions only yielded to will with an
effort that Greene found she was too tired to exert for long, "It's
nice to hear you say that, but it's not necessary. Everything is
going to be fine now." Realizing that her words might have sounded
sarcastic she made an effort to sound more conciliatory. "I'm glad
you came to visit. I know you have to get to the hearing."
A bit too hopefully her father replied,
"There's still some time left." Realizing how desperate he must
have sounded he hung his head. "I know you must blame me for all of
this," he found some spot on his hands to focus his gaze on as he
talked "however you should remember that the company financed both
the project and the rescue. It's my job to look after corporate
interests, but you have to believe that I wouldn't have let any of
this go forward if I'd known what would happen."
As a girl Greene had heard variations of that
excuse often enough for it to have accrued negative associations,
and she bitterly threw another of her father's cherished sayings
back at him, "Anything else we might have done is in the past.
We're both going to have to live with our decisions and their
consequences."
"Survival is a funny thing. It's a concept
tied closely to civilization and the almost certainly delusional
concepts of safety and security. It's not so much a fine line
between 'surviving' and 'thriving' as much as it is an imaginary
one reinforced by ignorance. In the end worrying about survival
negatively impacts our ability to survive, consuming resources
rarely with any return, so that the delusion of safety and security
may be a survival trait in itself."
-Excerpt from “Our Hard Road” Herself's
first autobiography
matching the Appaloosa to the spin on the enormous sphere's axis
and where the massive airlock doors were located. Efficient and
well practiced cycling operations soon had the big Lawship balanced
between thick mooring cables in the center of the airlock. As she
was processed through to the dockyards the Armhamon loitered a few
kilometers away; wary of another trap.
Anyone looking at the extensive facilities
stretching as far as the eye could see along the Mareville axis
could have been excused for thinking that the entire colony was
devoted to ship construction. Once past the airlock weightless
conditions made the sphere's axis ideal for the processed cargo
routing, docking, and shipyard activity that went on there. Even
the volume of noise from the incessant industrial activity could
barely be contained by the largest audio dampers commercially
produced. Without the need for yard crews to suit up for vacuum
conditions the shirt sleeve environment promoted efficient
productivity, but for all its extensive elaborateness this was only
the entryway for the settlement.
It took only seconds after the Appaloosa was
securely clamped into her birth for teams summoned from the local
PC&R to come aboard. In short order the medical professionals
had declared everyone who had been exposed to the environment
beyond Law's End as being under their protective custody. Before
anyone could object the science team in their automated medic pods,
Greene, Kassad, and a very reluctant Canis were being whisked
towards the Mareville's PC&R facilities.
Ordinary transit from the sphere's axis to the
living spaces at the equator was by monorail. Tracks followed the
sphere's interior curvature from the zero gravity industrial zones
to its equators where the living space was located. The pressurized
monorail cars connected key activity living, working,
administration, and shopping centers with the axis gateway.
Each monorail car had thick doors that were
actually two sets of doors that could function as a narrow airlock
in the case of emergencies. Nearly every building and vehicle in
the settlement could be sealed against possible loss of pressure
even though no significant breaches had occurred in living memory.
Even the long rows of greenhouses and hydroponic gardens were
capable of functioning in an air tight mode to protect their
precious contents from any disaster.
Overhead Mareville's sky full of weightless
industrial machinery was carefully concealed. Massive panels
covering the industrial heart of Mareville created an almost
perfect imitation of the preferred Terran environment. Able to
project anything from Terrestrial strength daylight, to a
scattering of imitation starlight, and a myriad of glorious shades
of azures and violets in between, they completed an illusion of
being outdoors that even the most claustrophobic could accept.
As soon as the cars arrived at the main
PC&R building each patient was instantly diverted to individual
care. Every test available was performed and the results were cross
referenced, analyzed, and compared to every record of past exposure
or condition that was even remotely comparable. The number of
specialists called upon for consultation was impressive, and in
turn the number of those experts who offered their advice
unsolicited was proportionately staggering.
Initial news of the Law's End survivors had
sent a thrill through the Mareville medical community at the
novelty and challenge these patients represented. Through the
instantaneous communications of Laniakea's quantum communications
network that excitement soon spread throughout the hundred thousand
galaxies. Idle curiosity and the dramatic nature of the story drove
an interest much amplified through speculation that quickly raced
ahead of hard facts.
Before long even specialists who hadn't been
called on to consult were clamoring to advise for the chance to
pour over the unique data generated by these cases. As a result
there was no shortage of treatment recommendations. The great cloud
mind of Laniakea's united medical community observed responses,
crunched the numbers, and in a matter of hours came up with a
program for rehabilitation. In a matter of days all of the
survivors would be responding, recovering, and coming to terms with
the attention their predicament had resulted in.
Even before the cure for what was rapidly
becoming known as Law's End Condition could be arrived at the
Laniakea's myriad media outlets had seized upon the story as well.
Of particular interest was the imagination capturing story of a
wife and her unrelenting efforts to rescue her husband in the face
of University opposition, long odds, and great danger. Before long
there were few who hadn't heard the story of the fated scientific
expedition even if the actual details were still mostly
obscure.
While Greene found herself an instant celebrity
with many doting admirers she had never met the other survivors
faced much different experiences. All of the science team members
were being kept under heavy sedation and out of the public light
entirely. Canis had been trained to behave with stoic indifference
to media attention making him a poor subject whose role in the
events beyond Law's End was quickly dismissed. Kassad on the other
hand found himself the subject of a campaign by a noteworthy
Lawship captain to paint him as a pirate intent on looting the
expedition's remains.
Morning found Greene in the chair she'd slept
in at her husband's PC&R bedside with one hand idly toying with
the man's dark brown hair. Around the room were bouquets of flowers
collected locally but purchased by admirers very distant. The room
itself was almost as perfectly generic a medical recovery room as
if it had come off a central assembly line; aside from the
settlements ubiquitous and only occasionally subtle equine themed
stylizations and decorations.
With a sigh of blissful contentment Greene
gazed out the private room's floor to ceiling window. Beyond the
recovery room rows of crystal clear greenhouses stretched away for
kilometers up the inner wall of the sphere allowing their greens
and browns flecked with yellows, blues, and reds to bask in the
artificial sun. As the artificial dawn grew in intensity automated
farm equipment and its organic handlers could be seen to toil away
at providing the necessities and pleasantries of life.
Everything was reassuring and peaceful. It was
pleasant, scheduled, and orderly. The warm embrace of the
artificial womb civilization had made for its peoples. This was
safety from the bitter howling wilderness surrounding them.
It was all so welcoming the only thing that
could pull Greene's eyes away from the visage was the opportunity
to check on the sleepy mumbling of her beloved. The sedation he was
under was heavy and he was not supposed to wake for some hours. It
was all part of a carefully thought out recovery program.
Utterly serious medical professionals had
assured Greene that healing the emotional damage from the stress of
the experience would be a long and ongoing process. The future of
the Greenes would include painful physical therapy and counseling
sessions, but it would be a future they could endure together. In
her heart and mind she knew they were together and that meant they
could overcome anything.
A tone from the doorway diverted Greene's
attention again. The doorway stood slightly ajar so the sound of
other humans moving purposefully about could filter in. Just beyond
the doorway a figure waited anxiously for an invitation to enter.
Where she had expected to see one of the medical authorities,
dispassionately and professionally aloof, there stood a more
familiar figure.
Shock and uncertainty at the figure's sudden
appearance stunned Greene into silent staring. Well into his
eighties the figure looked to be not much older than Greene
herself. With their matching eyes and hair color along with similar
bone structure they could have easily been mistaken as brother and
sister.
Taking an uncertain step into the room the
figure stopped inside the entry. "I hope I'm not intruding
here."
Glancing from the figure to her husband and
back again Greene shook her head, not knowing how to feel at the
intrusion. There was a roll of emotions at the arrival of her
father. In recent years they'd almost reconciled, although they'd
never been formally estranged. Greene had no doubt that he was here
while in pursuit of company interests, but he hadn't needed to drop
by.
Eventually Greene determined to be hospitable
by saying, "No, you're not intruding." As her father took another
nervous step into the room she remembered common courtesy, "Please,
sit with us. He'll be out for some hours yet. I suppose we should
talk."
Inwardly Greene cringed at her use of the word
'suppose' in spite of herself. Not long after word of the disaster
had reached her she'd determined not to waste effort assigning
blame. There was plenty of blame to go around and none of that
truly mattered.
Awkwardly nodding at the invitation Greene's
father moved to the stylized horseshoe backed chair on the opposite
side of bed. His mouth opened to speak and then closed again. They
were both quiet for a time.
After a while her father found the words to
speak. "I was so relieved that the research crew was rescued. I'm
very proud of you." Gesturing to the sleeping form he added, "I'm
very proud of you both." Another awkward silence descended and
threatened to extend but the figure found more words. "If there's
anything I can do, just let me know."
Greene was disappointed by her father's rote
apology, and irritated by the obligatory nature of his visit, her
determination to let the visit play out cordially disintegrated,
"Why didn't you tell me it was a weapons project? Why didn't you
tell us?"
"That's just not true. Simply because something
has military product applications doesn't make it a military
product." Her father almost continued but then stopped himself
realizing that his daughter had heard variations of the speech many
times before and started over saying, "I would never have gotten
you involved if I thought the research team would actually try to
utilize the information they gathered. Believe me when I tell you
that I was being honest when I called this a research program. They
weren't supposed to develop anything at this site. The hazards…
well, you saw what the hazards were."
Greene looked to her husband as she tried to
reign in her anger. "Well they certainly developed something didn't
they?"
Instinctively retreating into his long held
role as corporate spokesman her father said, "You don't know that.
I don't know that. Everyone who knows what happened is still
unconscious."
Sometimes Greene felt as if she were dealing
with a company product rather than a human being when dealing with
her father. "We might know if everything wasn't buried in company
secrets."
With a heavy sigh her father tried to explain,
"When I told you about the opportunity I was thinking this would
give us a reason to talk to each other again, or at least an
excuse. I admit I was being selfish. I never thought it was
dangerous, at least no more dangerous than any other deep space
work."
Roiling emotions only yielded to will with an
effort that Greene found she was too tired to exert for long, "It's
nice to hear you say that, but it's not necessary. Everything is
going to be fine now." Realizing that her words might have sounded
sarcastic she made an effort to sound more conciliatory. "I'm glad
you came to visit. I know you have to get to the hearing."
A bit too hopefully her father replied,
"There's still some time left." Realizing how desperate he must
have sounded he hung his head. "I know you must blame me for all of
this," he found some spot on his hands to focus his gaze on as he
talked "however you should remember that the company financed both
the project and the rescue. It's my job to look after corporate
interests, but you have to believe that I wouldn't have let any of
this go forward if I'd known what would happen."
As a girl Greene had heard variations of that
excuse often enough for it to have accrued negative associations,
and she bitterly threw another of her father's cherished sayings
back at him, "Anything else we might have done is in the past.
We're both going to have to live with our decisions and their
consequences."
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