Exiles of Earth: Rebellion

by Richard Tongue

  Nodding, she replied, “Hundreds of dead. A world in ruins. We don’t even know what the Challenger crew called it. They must have given it a name. Lost to history, along with all their artefacts, their relics. I’m responsible for the destruction of one of the greatest sites of astronautical archaeology ever found, and all I came up from the surface with is a scrap of paper.”

  “A scrap of paper that, as I understand it, tells us where we have to go next. If we can find the descendants of the people who visited here, or at least examine their records, then we can learn the answers to all of your questions.” A smile filled his face, and he said, “Think what their culture might have become, in decades of isolation. We’ve never had the chance to examine anything like that. A sociological petri dish. We could spend decades studying it.”

  “Assuming we don’t just find a collection of empty domes, a shattered colony ship, another hope destroyed. Then all of this really would have been for nothing.” Shaking her head, she said, “This was a mistake. It was my mistake, and people are going to die because of me.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to find empty domes,” he replied, pulling out a tablet, sliding his finger across the screen to activate it. “I don’t think we’re going to find that at all. I dug into the archives, found the original survey of the system. There was one probe pass, around the time of the Last War, and the records managed to find their way to Mars.”

  “I couldn’t find those files,” she said, peering at the display.

  “They were buried pretty deep in the system,” he replied. “It looks suspiciously like the Nationalist Powers weren’t the only ones thinking about fleeting the system. This was a military document I managed to get hold of, part of a collection of records of viable systems out beyond the Perimeter.”

  “A last redoubt,” she mused.

  “Probably. Let’s be honest, any smart man would have bet against civilization surviving in the Solar System during the Last World War. It was a miracle that any of the colonies survived, a greater one that they thrived, at least to a degree.” He grimaced, and said, “Though that can’t last for long. We’re on borrowed time. No new cities constructed in a century, anywhere in the system, stations wearing out. You realize we’re still using facilities that the Nationalist Powers constructed, back in the 21st century? Or copies, at least? There hasn’t been a major scientific breakthrough in a century.” He paused, smiled, and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that any sociologist analyzing our current civilization…”

  “You were saying about the files,” she prompted.

  “Yes, yes. They match the initial reports we’ve been working on, a world that’s a lot like Mars, but more suitable for life. Bigger, stronger gravity, denser air, the possibility of surface water.” Tapping the tablet, he said, “Chief Khatri was recalibrating the long-range sensors after the battle, something to do with new external feeds, and I managed to talk of the technicians into letting me pick the calibration target. Our star. Specifically, the planet we’re heading for.”

  “I’m surprised the Captain didn’t order that.”

  “Maybe he did,” he replied. “In which case, I’m not surprised he kept it secret. The readings have changed. Quite significantly.” Tapping the screen again, he brought up a comparative display, and said, “Pressure’s up. More oxygen. More water. Someone’s doing something to that planet, Cat, something that we have only dared to dream about. They’re not just settling that world and hoping to survive, to adapt themselves to the planet, they’re adapting the planet to suit them!”

  Shaking her head, she said, “That’s impossible. They’ve been talking about terraforming Mars for centuries, and nobody’s ever come up with anything even remotely like a viable plan.”

  “Mars isn’t that good a prospect for terraforming, though. Earth could probably have pulled it off, given sufficient time and interest, but we don’t even remotely have the resources we’d need for the job. Nor the political will, frankly. The current situation suits the government, helps them keep track of everyone. If Mars was habitable, how many people would stay voluntarily in the panopticon?”

  She looked at him, frowned, and said, “I keep forgetting that you were a political rebel.”

  “There’s a reason sociology is frowned upon as a subject of study. Done right, it’s a nice guide to how to reshape a civilization.” With a smile, he said, “They always thought I was pretty good.” Glancing up at the ceiling, he said, “This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion, though.” Tapping the tablet again, he added, “You realize what these readings could mean, I hope? That there is a world out there more advanced than us, more forward-thinking than us. We might have set out to learn about our past, but I think we’re going to find our future.”

  “Maybe,” Mitchell said, walking into the room. “For the immediate present, though we all still have a job to do, and I recall that you were seconded to assist Chief Khatri down in the lower decks.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I was just in the middle of my lunch break.”

  “Which by now must almost be over, and I can’t help but notice the absence of any food. Dismissed, Spaceman.” Nodding, Wagner walked out of the room, and Mitchell walked over to her, and said, “You’re going to be late for the funeral.”

  “I didn’t realize…”

  “All senior staff, and that includes you. Lieutenant Hoffman was a good man. I didn’t know him as well as I would have liked, but he’s earned our respect, especially given the sacrifice he made.” Turning to the door, he said, “Be careful, Doctor.”

  “Of him?” she asked. “He’s harmless.”

  “The Watchmen didn’t think so. He’s wanted on several serious charges, sedition among them. You could do your career at lot of harm by associating with him. I know that they brought him along as your assistant, but that wasn’t really intended to give him a role in the expedition. He’s too well known to throw into prison for making a few wild speeches, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.”

  “He’s one of the greatest sociologists of our time!”

  “Von Braun was an officer in the SS. Who used slave labor to build his rockets.”

  “That’s not the same thing at all.”

  “Isn’t it?” he asked. “I envy you your certainty, Doctor, but I don’t share it. You might want to talk to Lieutenant Romanova about that. Turns out we have something in common. We’re both Lunatics.”

  “What?”

  Cracking a smile, he added, “We both have Lunar ancestry. Though my forebears were a lot smarter than hers. We got out long before the end, settled on Deimos instead. The Mitchells have been spacers since the dawn of spaceflight.” He paused, then said, “You’ve been to Luna.”

  Nodding, she replied, “On a training mission, during my archaeological training.”

  “That’s all that’s there now. Just empty domes and abandoned cities. A century ago it was the home of a hundred million people, the vast majority of which died violently.” Stepping forward, looking at the planet below, he said, “I was on the Mars-Luna run for a couple of years when I was training, supplying the archaeological digs. It’s a job they rotate you out of pretty quick. It tends to do you some real damage, a psychological kick in the gut. I’ve been to the remains of Clavius City, Port Armstrong, Cernan’s Landing.”

  “I saw them,” she said.

  “But did you understand them?” he asked. “They thought they’d made it. Too many refugees managed to get off-Earth following the Last War, more than they could sustain, but they managed to drag themselves together, to build the makings of a civilization. Then the agitation began. Simple survival wasn’t enough anymore, now the people wanted more, wanted the luxuries they’d lost back home, wanted something better than the basic ration packs and work details.”

  “Didn’t they have that right?”

  With a bitter laugh, he said, “The universe doesn’t give a damn about people’s rights. Hell, the government
was despotic, a collection of technocrats, but they at least remembered something that the rebels managed to forget.” Pointing at the viewscreen, he said, “That is the most hostile environment that humanity has ever attempted to survive in. One breach in the hull, and we die. There’s no way to live off the land, no way to survive without the maintenance of a complicated technological infrastructure. If everything doesn’t work perfectly, it’s all over. Remember Sagan City? Wiped out in less than an hour by a maintenance failure. Thousands killed.”

  “You’re about to tell me that all of that happened on Luna.”

  “There was a General Strike, the labor unions demanding change. Now the leaders of those unions were no fools, they only restricted non-essential services, but their people demanded more. The government pushed back, and the fighting began. Fighting inside the domes, people destroying their homes, the very equipment they depended upon to die. We’ll never know just who cracked the protective dome over Clavius City, but he killed eight million people at once.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’ve been there. I walked the perimeter. There are still bodies scattered everywhere. Impossible to bury them all.” Looking at her, he said, “I’d like every damned rebel to get a guided tour, so they could see just what sort of a hell they’d be unleashing on us all!”

  “That couldn’t happen on Mars.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “Why not? What’s so special about us? Crack a dome on Mars, you still die. Very quickly, and very painfully. Do innocent children deserve to die because their parents don’t like the cuisine?” Grimacing, he added, “Don’t get the idea I’m happy with the way things are. I don’t anyone is. Even most of the ruling elite. It’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative, though. The cybernetic dystopia of Triton, perhaps, where the concept of independent thought is fading into history, and the Coalition is doing its damnedest to turn itself into some sort of crazy group mind. I doubt they can pull it off, but they can scramble the brains of millions of people in the attempt. You want that?”

  “And Professor Wagner…”

  “Spaceman Wagner believes that words and thoughts can overcome the harsh reality of our lives. In an ideal world, he might be right, but that world doesn’t exist. Look at Earth, for God’s sake. It will be thousands of years, tens of thousands of years, before our home planet recovers from our sins. There are still people living down there, after a fashion. Scrambling in the dirt and dying before they hit thirty. Is that the alternative.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Be careful, Doctor. There are ways to change the universe, without killing everyone.”

  “You really feel strongly about this, don’t you?”

  “Most people only want to live comfortably, and see their children grow up healthy and happy. For all its sins, our current system just about manages that. It’s a lot better than humanity has managed through most of its history.”

  “But what about their souls?” she asked.

  With a shrug, he replied, “What about them? You think the average man on the street cares?”

  “You do,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t, or you’d be down on Mars right now, not flying through eternity on this ship. You’ve spent your whole life on the frontier. Why?”

  “Now we’re getting personal,” he said, glancing at his watch. “And we don’t have time for that. If we hurry, you can change into your dress blues in time for the funeral. I’ll walk you there. Consider it an order.” Looking at the viewport, he added, “One thing I have learned. There’s always another new world out there. Always something else to see. Maybe that’s why I’m out here. I’m just a born tourist.”

  “No,” she replied. “There’s something more. Maybe one day, you’ll tell me what it is.”

  Chapter 20

  The cell door slowly slid open, Chief Khatri waiting outside, gesturing for DeSilva to walk out into the corridor. She rose to her feet, her muscles stiff, and followed him into the elevator, looking up with a start as the doors slammed shut. Khatri looked across at her, a frown on his face.

  “None of this is anything to do with me,” he said. “They just sent me down to let you out.”

  “And where I am going?” she asked.

  “Back on duty, in a few hours,” he replied. “For now, back to your quarters. All charges have been dropped, on the orders of the Captain. You’re free to go. Officially. Unofficially, you can assume that Security is going to be watching you like a hawk.” He paused, then added, “I’ve taken you off the shuttle gang. You weren’t working there much anyway, and now that we’re two birds down…”

  “What?”

  “The Coalition destroyed one, and the other was written off during the rescue. As I was saying, with only two remaining shuttles, Chief Nguyen is somewhat overmanned, so he’s traded you to me. I want you working in the lower levels, checking the communication systems. The whole circuit needs to be checked, and I think…”

  “Who will I be working with?”

  “Nobody,” he replied.

  With a sigh, she said, “I see. I’m going to guess I don’t have a roommate anymore, either.”

  “I’m responsible for sixty-one people, Spaceman. All of whom want to go home when this is over, none of whom want any suspicion hanging over their heads for the rest of their lives. This is nothing personal, but you’ve attracted a lot of, shall we say, special attention of late, and I’m going to make sure that my people aren’t…”

  “Contaminated,” she interrupted. “Why not simply throw me back in the cell or confine me to quarters for the rest of the trip.”

  “I suspect that was seriously considered, but I wasn’t in the loop for that decision.” Shaking his head, he said, “If it helps, I think you saved the ship, and I know a lot of others feel the same way. There was a lot of agitation on the lower decks when you were imprisoned, and that’s just one more reason why I want you to stay away from the rest of the crew. The last thing we need is some of them wrecking the rest of their lives out of some sort of insane scheme for change.” He cracked a smile, then said, “I have a feeling that Lieutenant Fitzroy isn’t going to want to walk the decks by himself for a while. He’s not popular.”

  “Was he ever?” she asked.

  “Perhaps not,” he replied. Looking up at her, he said, “It’s a hell of a thing to do to you, but I’ve got a lot of maintenance jobs that need a skilled engineer, out where not many people go. Normally I’d spread the load among the whole crew, but under the circumstances…”

  “What time is it?”

  “About midnight. I was just going off-duty when they called me down to spring you from the cell.”

  “And I go back on duty in two hours?” she asked. “Two until ten, way out of the normal shift rotation, and guaranteeing that I won’t run into anyone in the Mess. I didn’t think it would be this easy to segregate me from the crew.”

  “It took a little effort.” Looking around, he said, “Do a good job, and all of this will be forgotten. I’ll make sure you have as many chances to show what you can do as I can. Some of the jobs are tricky, and I want you to take the lead on a couple of ideas I’ve had about improving our life support system. I’m pretty sure that we can significantly increase our loading capacity. Pull it off, and I’ll see that you get the credit.”

  “I’ll do the job, Chief. You can keep the medals.”

  “You’ll have a future after you leave this ship…”

  “That remains to be seen,” she replied. “You don’t have to take me to my quarters, you know.”

  “Actually…,” he began, “I do. It was thought best that you shouldn’t have any opportunity to meet anyone without an escort. Lieutenant Mitchell insisted.” He grimaced, and said, “He’s really looking out for your best interests. If you were to run into the wrong group of people, Lieutenant Fitzroy would have you thrown back into the brig in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hadn’t arranged a welcoming party.”

  “Which is presumably why
we’re talking the long way around to my quarters.”

  His face reddened, and he replied, “Actually we’re taking the direct path. You’ve been moved. There’s a cluster of unused quarters down on Deck Seven, close to the primary power manifold. That’s where you’re going. At least you’ll have a room to yourself, and I made sure to pick the one with the best soundproofing.” Shaking his head, he replied, “It’s wrong, I know.”

  “I’m trading one prison for another,” she said. “Never mind my quarters. I’ve had enough time to rest already. Do you have any objection to my getting straight to work? Checking over all of those relays is going to take the better part of a week, and I’d just as soon get started as soon as possible.”

  “I thought you might say that,” he replied with a smile, rummaging in his pockets. “Here. A couple of ration packs. That should get you going, save you having to see what dregs are in the food distributors at this time of the night. I stuffed a case in your room. Nobody’s going to miss it.” He gestured down the corridor, and said, “You can start right there, Junction Thirty-Nine. One’s as good as another. We need a full spectrum test, maximum capacity loadout. During the battle, we had some problems with signal strength, even on decks where some bastard didn’t sabotage us.”

  “Old equipment, Chief.”

  “Yeah. We can do something about that. Fabricator’s working on replacements, but I don’t really want to have to pull them all. We’d run our raw materials stockpiles deeply into the red if we tried. Your job is to find out just how tough my job is going to me.” He cracked a smile, patted her on the back, and said, “You’re starting early, so feel free to finish early. Oh, and I got you additional access to the recreational databank. All piped through into your cabin.”