Vale of Stars (6 page)

“Yes?”

“It’s Jene. What’s the matter?”

“I had a call today on my biocomp. From the Council. They wanted me to talk to you and try to keep you out of their business, as they put it.” Renold’s voice was calm as always—and that angered Jene almost as much as the Council’s actions.

“Did they threaten you?”

“Not directly.”

“How, then?”

“They made it clear that if you were to continue in your public opposition to the Council, they would not be able to guarantee your safety from fringe elements.”

“Fringe elements?”

“Their term, not mine.”

“There aren’t any fringe elements in Ship. Not any, at least, that would get involved in this kind of thing.” Jene thought briefly of the Society of Life, which advocated that E.E. not be tampered with or terraformed in any way, but she could not see how such a group would cause her harm personally. Besides, they only numbered in the twenties and were largely harmless.

“I agree. As I said, the Council made their meaning clear enough,” Renold said evenly.

“This is because of the posting I made.” Jene had an impulse to ask, “Kuarta still at school?” She felt her pulse quicken.

“Yes.”

Again, a surge of rage at her partner’s stoicism threatened to burst out of her. Their daughter might be in danger, and he was just—

“I’ll go to the school and retrieve her,” Renold said. Jene let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“No, I will. I love you,” she said, surprising herself.

“And I, you. I will talk to you soon.” He disconnected.

Jene stared at the dead comm panel for a moment, then turned to go. As she did, a thought struck her. She couldn’t tell if the thought was merely a product of her growing concern for her family, and therefore ultimately groundless, or if it represented a real possibility:

What if the comm line had been tapped?

She had to admit, it sounded silly. Like one of the thrillers Gerd Taylur published on the Ship library every few months. But she also had to admit that the current Council was capable of such a feat—both from an engineering standpoint and an ethical one.

As if in a dream, she told her scheduling computer she would be off for the rest of the day. She had accumulated sufficient favors from other workers and from the computer itself to call some of them in now. With a growing sense of urgency bordering on panic, Jene left the hospital and, still in her uniform, grabbed one of the public bicycles.

The ride to Kuarta’s school was claustrophobic. Jene had never had an attack of the dreaded condition, but she had seen the effects on those unfortunates Renold had treated. He and his crew were far more worried about the condition of agoraphobia once Ship arrived and its colonists debarked. Jene was aware of the walls of Ship for the first time in a long while. She was aware of walls inside the hull of Ship—social walls constructed by the Council that were closing in on her and her family.

*   *   *

Her heart leapt into her throat when she arrived at the school to find three white-uniformed constables addressing the assembled student body on the outer lawn. In some corner of her mind, Jene realized it was some kind of presentation by the constables—nothing to do with Kuarta. But that was only a corner of her mind. Jene leapt off the bike before she had stopped. One of the constables looked behind him at the sound of the crashing frame. Jene hurried towards the assembly, slowing when she heard the presentation.

“…Why you must always obey a constable. So, one more time, children. Who are your friends?” Jene jumped when the assembled children, perhaps one hundred strong, shouted in unison, “The constables!”

“That’s right. And who is looking out for you?”

“The Council!” The treble voices of the school children were somehow more chilling than the presence of the law officers.

Jene saw the constable who was eyeing her smirk. “Can I help you, Doctor Halfner?”

“I came for my daughter.”

“Kuarta? Sure. She’s in the front row.” The constable turned and called to her. “Kuarta Halfner?” He said in a commanding voice. The entire assembly hushed. The constable hesitated just long enough so Jene was sure the worry was building up in Kuarta’s child brain.

“Your mother is here.” He moved aside to reveal Kuarta’s anxious face. She got up and ran to her mother.

“Mommy? What is it?”

“Nothing, dear. Just come with me.” Jene shot a glance at the constables. “And you…keep away from her.”

“Doctor?” the constable who had been presenting to the students said with mock confusion. “Have we done something wrong?” He and his two companions were snickering but had turned so that neither students nor teachers could see. Jene saw Tigh Penelost, Kuarta’s teacher, approaching her and the constables, concern on his face.

“Just leave us alone. Tell the Council to stay away from my daughter.”

“Why, Doctor Halfner,” came the affected response, “we were just connecting with the students here. Reminding them about the importance of civic obedience, respect for authority, that sort of thing. Children need to follow the rules that their elders set. Surely you agree?”

Penelost interrupted from behind, his soft voice breaking in. “Is there a problem, Jene?” Tigh’s kind face was wrinkled with concern.

“No, Tigh. I’m just going to take Kuarta for the rest of the day. I’m sorry. Can you arrange that?”

“Of course. Call me if you need anything.” Tigh looked fondly at Kuarta and shot an unreadable glance at the three constables. “Are you done here?” he asked somewhat coldly.

“Are we, Doctor?” one of the constables said.

Without another word, Jene took Kuarta by the hand and together they started the walk home.

“Greetings, shipmates. Our grand quest is nearly complete—the journey approaches its end. One hundred and one years ago our ancestors began the quest we will complete in four months. All of you have been working nobly to complete the massive task set before you—preparation of Ship for planetfall. We in the Council want you to know that
you
are Ship—you are the future of the human race. Your children and grandchildren will tame the first new planet humans have ever set foot upon outside our own Solar System. Many of your children and grandchildren will be born there. It is imperative we make every effort to strengthen and empower our children to survive what will inevitably be a pioneer existence. To that end we have developed a plan to ensure the well-being of the future.”

Jene snorted at that. She sat alone in her office at the hospital, watching Arnson’s smiling image pour forth its sickening bonhomie. When Arson made the comment that the Council’s views were not hidden, the information border around his face flashed the message, “Reference Council Directive 11.123.3.”

Arnson went on, “Our plan ensures the safety, health, and vitality of our new colony and all who live in it. Our vision for the future is bright and full of promise.” He paused, and Jene sensed a subtle change in the tenor of his comments was to come. “There have been objections to our plan, and while our home here in Ship has always been a polite one, recently these objections have caused turmoil to our once-stable community.

“Shipmates, I urge you to refrain from violence in this matter. Those few who oppose the majority view have the right to do so. I urge the rest of us to try to reason, peacefully, with those who do not yet see what must be done.”

Jene resisted the impulse to turn around and make sure there was no one else in her office and instead concentrated on the rest of Arnson’s message.

“Shipmates, the future is ours. There will be difficult choices to be made in the very near future, but we in the Council fervently believe we all have the strength to make them. Thank you for your attention.”

Arnson’s image disappeared from the comweb screen and was replaced with all manner of reference codes where viewers might follow up on the story. Jene noted without surprise that her own piece was not one of the cross-references.

She leaned back in her chair and thought. There was a hidden message in his words—one only she could hear. His appeal to Ship to “try to reason” with her sounded peaceful, but she saw through it. Politely, gently, and with great dignity, Arnson had declared her an enemy of the state and had enlisted the aid of the entire community to neutralize her.

Jene closed down her office and hurried home. Even on the darkened, empty streets, she felt eyes on her. The crowded conditions on board Ship had always been a source of comfort to her, but now, for the first time in her life, she wondered if she was completely safe.

When she finally reached her apartment, she sighed and entered the bedroom. Renold looked up from his book and nodded. “Hello, Jene. Everything all right?”

Jene told him what had transpired at the hospital and the school.

Renold leaned back in his chair in the couple’s tiny private room and hummed to himself. Jene looked at him expectantly.

“I think you are right,” Renold said softly. He had just finished watching Arnson’s broadcast and had listened to Jene analyze it. He hummed for a few more seconds, then said suddenly, “You’re sure the constables were at the school to scare you?”

Jene sighed. “No, I’m not. They could’ve been there as part of some routine field trip, of course, but…I don’t know,” she said, burying her head in her hands. She knew how she must look to her husband, but at that moment she couldn’t help herself. The walls of Ship, real and social, were still pressing in on her.

Jene started when she felt Renold’s hand caressing her shoulders. “I understand,” he said softly. “I feel the same way.” Jene was reminded of why she had chosen Renold as a partner and why she would stay with him. She reached over her shoulder and touched his hand. It was warm.

“Something’s going to happen soon,” she said quietly, almost calmly. “I can feel it. The Council…us…Ship. I hope….” She never finished her thought. Renold’s arms encircled her. He continued to hold her for a long time.

In the morning, she awoke to find Renold gone already. She sat up in bed, all traces of sleep gone, and found the notepad blinking with a message. She pressed the play button and listened to Renold’s soft voice.

“Dear, I was called on my finder in the middle of the night. There was fracas at Palmatier Square—several dozen people, I understand. They need my staff and me to counsel the combatants. I’ll call you when I can. I love you.”

Jene took a deep breath. She would be needed at the hospital. She started to pull on clothes, then stopped with one leg halfway in her pants. She checked the time on the message: Renold had recorded it three hours ago. If there was a major fight in Ship with dozens of injuries, she should have been called for emergency duty at the hospital.

Jene thought for a moment, then reached over and called the hospital. She wove her way through layers of secretaries until she got the chief of staff.

“Jene?”

“Yeah, Jyudi, what’s going on? I heard about the fight. Why didn’t you call me in?”

Jyudi hesitated, then said, “I’ve got enough staff here now. No need to bother you at home.”

“Bother me? Since when have you worried about that?”

“Well, I….”

Jene cocked her head slightly. Jyudi was not being as forthcoming as he could. “What’s going on?”

“I thought it would be better if you didn’t come in.”

“Why?” As soon as she asked it, Jene suspected she knew the answer.

“Your presence here might…make things worse, if you know what I mean. The fight started because of a disagreement involving medical policy. Kids, mostly. Nothing too serious. We can handle it.”

“I’m coming in anyway.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Jyudi, you’ve got a near-crisis on your hands. I promise, I won’t make trouble. Anyway, I’ve got the heart procedure today.”

Jyudi took a long time before he answered. His voice was faint as he said, “All right. But don’t walk through the trauma center when you arrive. Use the surgery entrance, all right?”

“All right. Bye.”

Jene took a deep breath and continued to dress. She would have to hurry to get Kuarta to school and leave her with Tigh.

*   *   *

“Doctor!” Jene looked up from the microscope, through which she had been performing a delicate procedure to repair a heart. Hoverd, one of her assistants, was at the door of the operating room, struggling to keep a white-clad figure out of the sterile environment. A constable. Jene’s eyes widened when she saw that the officer was holding a child in his arms—Kuarta was holding a blood-soaked bandage to her forehead and crying.

Jene stared to rise but sank back into the saddle before the microscope, torn in an agony of indecision. “Damn!” she said. She glanced back into the microscope display. The procedure was in a critical phase. She had perhaps an hour, hour and a half left before the heart she was repairing had to resume its work. The patient, a Class C child born not two weeks ago, could last on the artificial pump (which Jene herself had helped design) but the young heart itself needed to be returned to its normal work as soon as Jene finished the procedure.

“Doctor Halfner!” the constable shouted over Hoverd’s repeated commands to step back, “your daughter was hurt.”

“What happened?” Jene asked, glancing quickly at Kuarta but forcing herself to remain in the microscope saddle.

“Some kids at school threw rocks at me,” Kuarta sniffled.

“One of them hit her on the head. Lucky I was there to stop them,” the constable said.

“But…but you didn’t stop them!” Kuarta said.

The constable looked at Kuarta with menace but said sweetly, “Of course I did.”

“No, you watched them throw the first two rocks. You only stopped them when they hit me.”

“Quiet, now,” the constable said.

“I
saw
you. You were standing there. You didn’t do
anything!
”

Jene listened with mounting anger, her eyes locked to the microscope eyepiece. “Kuarta, dear, do you feel dizzy? Sick?”