Vale of Stars

by Sean O'Brien

  She looked down at the constable and threw the weapon aside. He was still alive, and she knew the damage to his eyes was temporary and superficial. He would recover his eyesight as soon as he awoke in a few hours. The stun burns would heal, as well. Jene found herself automatically running through the treatment procedure in her head.

  Werner lifted her gently from the fallen officer. “I’ll handle it, Jene. You’d better go.”

  Jene stared at Werner for several seconds, noting for some reason the almost perfectly flat contours of his hair. She whispered “thank you” and darted out of the operating room. She had never pegged the conservative Gen Three doctor as one of her supporters, especially after their conversation a few days ago, but mentally revised her opinion of the man as she ran out of the operating room.

  Sooner or later, she knew, someone in the hospital would report the disturbance to the Panoptikon. She had many friends in the facility, but she could not expect a wall of silence about her attack to last for long. She walked briskly towards the trauma center and was almost there when she heard shouts down the corridor. Two other constables were charging towards her, drawing their p-guns as they came. Jene turned to leap through the doorway to the trauma center as the stiffening pain of a paralyzer bolt shot through her body. As every major muscle instantly tightened in agony, she realized she had not counted on the constable bringing backup to his mission. She crashed to the floor and lost consciousness, but not before she saw the white-clad legs and feet of the two constables stand over her. As she slipped away, she heard one of them mutter, “Now let’s get her kid and partner.”

  Again, the Council Chamber. Jene woke up unexpectedly sharply, her eyes snapping open and then squinting in the light. She had for a moment the terrifying sensation of falling, then her scrambled mind realized it was the null-g environment of the chamber that had triggered her vertigo. Her eyes focused on the smiling figure of Benj Arnson floating a few meters away.

  “How are you feeling?” he said, and for a split second, Jene thought his concern was genuine. Arson’s ability to project false sincerity was well-honed. The illusion only lasted a moment, however, and she soon saw through his carefully constructed countenance of worry. Dimly, she could make out not only the other Councilmembers, but three constables as well, floating in the chamber.

  “Damn you,” she croaked. “Where are Kuarta and Renold?” She fought back the mild nausea brought on by the aftereffects of the p-bolt.

  Arnson blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. “They are safe,” he said. “For the moment. I will not lie to you, Doctor Halfner; they are indeed in our custody. Furthermore, they are under the protection of the constabulary should any shipmates wish to do them harm.”

  “Harm? That’s a damn lie, Arnson. No one wants to hurt my family. No one down there, at least,” she nodded towards the huge windows through which she could see her world.

  “The incident at Kuarta’s school with the rock would seem to indicate otherwise.”

  “The rock? That was your doing, Arnson. You set that whole thing up.”

  Arnson leaned in close to her. “Do you think that I would do that? What kind of a monster do you think I am? I assigned constables to your daughter to protect her. You and I may disagree with each other, but I am a civilized, moral man.”

  Jene hesitated before answering. His forcefulness was compelling—for an instant, she found herself doubting her own convictions. The moment soon passed, however. “The constable called you after Kuarta got hit. Why else but to ask for orders?”

  “Yes, he did. And I ordered him to immediately get the child to Belgathi Hospital. The constable’s presence might have saved Kuarta from serious harm.”

  “She says the constable didn’t stop the kids from throwing rocks at her until one of them hit her.”

  Arnson spread his hands helplessly. “Perhaps he was not watching as carefully as he should have been. I wasn’t there, Doctor. But why do you persist in thinking I want to harm your family?”

  “You had three constables at the hospital when Kuarta was brought in.”

  “I suppose there is little chance of vigilantism against your family, but we do not wish to take even a small risk. In the meantime, suppose we talk.”

  “Not until you release them.”

  Arnson sighed mightily. “Doctor, they are not prisoners, except in the sense that we all are. And in four short months, none of us will be prisoners any longer. But for the time being, let us leave your family where it is and discuss—”

  She spat at him. It was an animal’s reaction, not unlike her sudden outburst of violence against the constable—as was the torrent of nearly incomprehensible anger that flooded out at him, at his ideology, at his casual arrogance and power. “You bloodsucker! You’re a despot who thinks he is in command of a whole world, sitting above everything, not wanting to dirty his hands in honest labor! You’ve done nothing but take away from Ship, Arnson. You and your petty Council exist only to further your own ends. You’re scared that once we reach E.E. we’ll realize that we have no need of you: that we never had a need for people like you!”

  Arnson absorbed the diatribe calmly and carefully wiped away what little saliva had hit him while she shouted. She paused for breath and for sense, eyeing the constables, who had started to swim over to her.

  They stopped when Arnson raised his hand and waved them off. “Doctor, I understand your anger, and I can easily forgive your impolite outburst.” He paused, then said, “Use your reason. What could I possibly do to your family? Kill them? You seem to think me capable of such an atrocity, so let us consider the logistics of the act alone. How could I possibly get away with that? I cannot hide nor shirk responsibility for the death of two persons under my care. By placing them in the constabulary, I have made any scenario involving treachery on my part impossible. If I really intended harm upon them, I would have let them stay below. Now, may we begin our discussion in a civil manner?”

  Jene’s grandfather mumbled inside her head for her to stay stubborn, not to let Arnson win. But the more rational part of her mind overrode him, reluctantly. There was no point in resisting Arnson in the matter of her family. He had them in custody, and it was clear he would not release them until he had had his say. So Jene nodded tightly and waited, her eyes focused on the curving wall of the chamber.

  “You have been causing quite a disturbance in Ship of late, Doctor. Attempting to stir the masses with your proletarian rhetoric over the comweb. I wish your cause was one I could follow—your passion is commendable.” He smiled patronizingly. Jene remained silent, not trusting herself to speak.

  “But you are hopelessly misguided. I will not speculate on the reasons—perhaps you place too great an emphasis on the influence of your grandfather, perhaps there is some latent guilt at your offspring’s having escaped genetic harm—”

  At that, Jene snapped her head up to stare at him. She opened her mouth to speak but found she had nothing to say.

  Arnson smiled. “Ah, the Achilles’ heel of the people’s revolutionary. Aristocratic blood in her veins, yes? But I should not mock you, Doctor. There remains a…proposal for you to consider.”

  “What proposal?” Jene croaked.

  “Flight Crew informs me that Ship is four months out from EE 3. As you may or may not be aware, telemetry from our first planetfall probe has been coming in for days now. The probe has done its job superbly—it managed to reach EE 3 with its automated systems intact and has started collecting all manner of planetary samples.”

  For a moment, Jene forgot about her predicament and her family. This news had not been released to the public. All Ship knew the probe had been launched some months ago, but no one, except apparently the Flight Crew and the Council, knew it had landed. Jene and the medical staff had been waiting for the answers to hundreds of questions that now burned in Jene’s brain. She could barely ask them fast enough.

  “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.”