Vale of Stars (8 page)

“What microbes have been found? Any macroscopic animal life that our telescopes missed? Trace gases in the atmosphere?” Long-range spectroscopy and laser interferometry had answered many of the questions about EE 3 long ago, but there were still so many other questions. The answers would dictate medical preparedness policy and could help incredibly with the panimmunity project. Jene felt her anger rise again at the Council’s decision to withhold the data. She changed her questions into angry accusations. “And how could you keep this a secret? We need to know these answers immediately!”

Arnson had listened patiently to Jene’s barrage of questions without visible reaction. Now, into the charged air left behind after Jene’s outburst he dropped his words carefully. “All medical and planetology departments will receive the appropriate data soon. I will, however, answer some of your questions now. EE3 is not as hospitable a place as we would have liked. The temperature is somewhat lower than our long-range scans and atmosphere models would have indicated. I am told that the probe estimates average equatorial temperature to be only eighteen degrees centigrade at midday, accounting for thermal lag. Nighttime temperatures are significantly colder—into the single-digit negatives.”

“That’s all? So it’s cold. We can adapt to that.”

“That is not all. The atmosphere contains a rather high degree of chlorine—high enough to be lethal in one or two dozen lungfulls, I am led to believe.”

Jene wasn’t disappointed. The odds had been long against a breathable atmosphere in any case—the mission had been prepared for unbreathable atmospheric conditions on EE3. “What about pressure?”

“As we predicted—somewhat lower than sea-level earth, but—”

“Microbes? Organic materials? We know there’s plant life, but what else have—”

Arnson chuckled. “Doctor, you are forgetting what I said earlier. All departments will receive detailed reports very soon. I have a proposal for you.”

Jene’s mind snapped back to the more immediate problem. She looked at Arnson with fresh eyes. For a while, when she was asking him about the probe data, she had forgotten all the injustices the Council was no doubt preparing to inflict upon her world. During the brief interval when the probe data had consumed her, Arnson had truly been another colonist. Now he was once again the enemy.

Arnson read her expression. “The probe gives us no reason to expect that the first two years on EE3 will be easy. As we predicted, life will be tough, harsh, and unforgiving. The strong will survive and the weak will, regrettably, perish. Supplies will be stretched to the breaking point—food and water will not be a problem, as the hydroponics section will be assembled quickly, and the probe has found many pockets of free-standing ground water that should be simple to purify—but other supplies, especially medical ones, will have to be rationed. We’ve been predicting this, and the probe data now confirms what we have been saying.”

“What’s your proposal?”

“I propose that essential personnel receive first priority for all medical services until such time we can provide all colonists with full access. I need not mention that the upper echelons of medical staff, such as yourself, will be considered ‘essential personnel.’ As will their families.”

“You’re bribing me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I am removing from your shoulders what would have been a difficult, perhaps even impossible, decision. Your…altruism would not have permitted you to privilege your own progeny, even when such privilege is clearly warranted.”

“Why must there be privilege at all? Why can’t we treat everyone as if they were vital members of society?”

“Because this is not a vague, hypothetical exercise in social engineering, Doctor. For EE3 to be a viable colony we must have a sound genetic base. We must therefore preserve those Gen Five children who are genetically superior over their unfortunate, flawed brethren.” He stared at her, and for a moment, she thought she saw through the politician’s mask to the human beneath. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its orator’s smoothness and had grown almost husky. “Don’t think I like this idea. I’ve been wrestling with the problem for years. I wanted the probe to send back data telling me we had found another Earth so this step would not be necessary. The thought of abandoning children to fend for themselves is…disgusting.” He straightened slightly, then said, “But it has to be done.” And his mask was back in place. He was a Councilmember once more.

Despite herself, Jene felt a portion of her mind agreeing with Arnson. It was that cold place in her mind that she did not care to examine closely—the place that cried out in terror of the dark and clawed with animal ferocity for a larger share of food than was rightfully hers. That part of her mind realized she could take Arnson’s offer and protect herself, Renold, and Kuarta forever.

Her mind suppressed the cold place. Civilization could not be run solely by the dictates of animal desires and base needs of humanity. Jene felt the cold place dim but not vanish. It was still there, lurking, as it always was, waiting for the civilized, transcendent part of every human being’s mind to weaken.

A thought occurred to her—Arnson had not completed his proposal. When she spoke, her voice sounded alien. “Why do you need me to agree? Aren’t you going to push this through with or without my help?”

Arnson stayed pleasant but the wolf was in his eyes. “You have stirred up more trouble than I think you realize, Doctor. A significant portion of Ship has been led astray by your…misguided views. It would be far more convenient, not just for the Council but for the mission as a whole, if you were to recant your position and convince your…followers to acquiesce to the Council’s wishes.”

For the first time in the conversation, it was Jene’s turn to smile. “A significant portion, you say? How many? Ten? A hundred? A thousand?”

Arnson shook his head slightly. “No point in revealing a figure—”

Jene felt jubilation. There were more than one thousand! Could she have convinced a majority of Ship? She searched Arnson’s face for the answer. He was scared—hell, he was terrified! There must be close to two, perhaps even three thousand who were firmly on her side, with another thousand or so who were undecided. The Council no longer had a mandate. Possibly as many as three out of five people agreed with Jene and thus were against the Council.

“You don’t have popular support, do you? It isn’t going to be just inconvenient to try and enforce your policy—it is going to be impossible. I’ve convinced the people to defy you. You have lost, Arnson.”

Arnson was curiously unperturbed. “An ancient Earth philosopher once said, ‘With the proper lever, one can move the Earth.’ I have such a lever on you, Doctor. You have indeed convinced the people, as you put it, that your views are worth listening to. But now, I think, you will convince them otherwise. Please, do not make me vocalize the nature of the hold I have on you. It is ugly enough that you have forced me into this regrettable act.”

A picture of Kuarta’s face swam in front of her eyes. She was digging in the dirt, that day she had discovered the true nature of the only world she had ever known. Mild surprise on her face, but no tears, of course. Strange that Renold did not come to her mind—no, that was not true. His intellect, his calm rationality was in her mind. It suddenly occurred to Jene that although Renold was a creature of reason without emotion, he believed in the same things she did. Unconsciously, she needed him to confirm her beliefs. The irony of the timing of the realization did not escape her. Arnson held her family hostage in return for her cooperation. She knew that her poor, intellectual husband would not be able to solve this dilemma with reason.

Arnson seemed to know precisely when Jene would fully understand the nature of his leverage. “The Shipwide band has been reserved for your speech. I do not expect you to speak extemporaneously—I have a prepared statement, written in your own style, of course.”

Jene interrupted him with a sigh. “No. I want to speak now. After I do what you want, I presume my family will be released?”

Arnson permitted himself a small smile. “I believe after you speak to Ship what little danger your family is in will vanish and they can be released from protective custody, yes.”

“Then let’s go. I want to see my daughter.”

“Of course, Doctor. This way.”

Jene, Arnson, and two constables swam out of the Council Chambers and entered the tiny comweb station elsewhere in the Panoptikon. The room had one broadcast station and a chair with a restraining strap for use in free fall. A technician floated behind a glass partition in the control room beyond. Jene saw a clipboard near the microphone; presumably, her prepared speech was already waiting for her.

Jene felt the gentle but firm pressure of one of the constables behind her. She floated into the transmission booth and settled into the chair.

“Very well. Doctor, Ship is waiting.” Arnson glanced at the technician in the control room and nodded. The man adjusted some dials and gave a thumbs-up. Arnson and the two constables stayed outside the small transmission booth, but their almost palpable menace pressed upon Jene as she sat and stared into the camera pickup. The technician rapped on the glass to get her attention, then showed her five fingers, then four, three, two, and one. Then he pointed at her.

Jene took a deep breath and silently asked for forgiveness from the people she was about to betray. She had spent her whole life with them, and now she was about to condemn them to a fate she could not begin to imagine. She glanced at the clipboard.

“Shipmates, this is Jene Halfner.” Her voice boomed out to the entire expanse of Ship simultaneously. The Panoptikon broadcaster had been used only twice in her lifetime. She knew that below her, virtually all eight thousand people who made up Ship’s population were listening. 

“I am speaking to you from the Panoptikon, high above you. If I were to look down from the Council Chambers I imagine I could see all of Ship, all of our works and achievements. We are about to enter into the most exciting and challenging phase of our mission to date—our arrival at EE3. As you know, I have been in disagreement with the plans of the Council regarding medical treatment of our children once we begin planetfall. I have counseled nonviolent resistance to their plan to prioritize resources toward genetically superior stock. I am now prepared to change my views.”

She resisted the urge to glance at Arnson, but she was sure he was smiling smugly just outside the transmission booth. Jene took another deep breath and willed her eyes to remain dry.
Forgive me.

“Shipmates, I recommend full and total resistance to the Council! Armed insurrection may be the only hope for our children and our colony!” Jene saw Arnson bolt into the control room and she knew she had only seconds more before she was cut off. As she spoke, she watched Arnson frantically shouting at the technician.

“The Council has taken my family hostage in order to pressure me to speak against my views. In a few moments, they will stop this transmission. They can silence me, but they cannot silence all of Ship if you rise up against them!” Jene saw Arnson look at her from the other side of the glass. He was no longer shouting, but looking icily at her. She stopped talking and folded her hands in her lap, waiting patiently for him to enter.

Arnson left the control room and came around to the transmission booth. “That was unwise, Doctor.”

“You should have made me record my speech first,” Jene said softly.

Arnson smiled without mirth. “I see that. I had hoped your love for your family would have been enough.”

Jene fought to keep her composure at the remark.

Arnson continued coolly, “Surely you must know that my security force can quell any uprising your transmission may have initiated. I am afraid that I cannot let you go now—you must agree that your inflammatory statements cannot be considered protected speech. You are hereby under arrest and will be confined to the Panoptikon. Constable, restrain her inside the observation deck then report to your precinct for riot control.” He looked back at Jene. “You’ll be able to see your petty revolution put down from up here.”

The constable grabbed Jene, none too gently, and shoved her ahead of him towards the observation deck. Arnson went the other way, toward the Council Chamber.

“Don’t give me any trouble, Doctor,” The constable said in a low rumble. “I know what you did to Jaq.” 

Jene stared at him until she realized what he meant: Jaq must be the constable she had shocked in the hospital. “How is he?” she asked with genuine concern. The guilt from that incident had been hovering in her mind for hours but had been deferred until now. This constable guiding her roughly to her jail had brought it to the surface.

“He’ll be fine. Burns here and there.” He looked accusingly at her. “He’s a good man. He didn’t want to hit the girl.”

“What?”

“That’s why he didn’t shoot you. That other doctor said if he missed and hit the girl being operated on, she might have died. I talked to him about it.”

Jene swallowed. “I…I’m sorry. Can I…can you tell him that for me?”

The constable shook his head. “He’s probably not in the hospital any more. He’s not supposed to be on active duty, but after what you just did, I expect they’ll call him up.”

Jene did not answer. She knew very well what must be happening below her. Shipmates who had supported her views and who were already inclined to hate the Council and its authority would unleash their hatred on the few constables who were on the surface first, then the pro-Council shipmates would try to stop the protests, and all would escalate. There would be assaults, some with fists, some with makeshift weapons. There would certainly be injuries, possibly deaths.

But the lives she was most concerned about were those of her partner and child.

“Look, Constable,” she said, stopping her progress just short of the observation room doorway by grabbing onto a guide rail, “I am truly sorry for what I had to do. I don’t want violence but Councilman Arnson left me no choice. I’m sorry your friend is out there in danger, but I put my friends and family in greater danger. Can you tell me where my partner and daughter are?”