by Nancy Kress
Then another voice sounded on the recording, and the probability waves in Jason’s mind collapsed into certainty.
“This is Dr. Marianne Jenner, from the Friendship. I’m a scientist; I worked in the Embassy with the original team for the spore cloud. My son Noah and nine others left on the Embassy for Kindred, and he is still there. May I speak to the president, or to his or her representative, or maybe to the UN? I also want to say that we have with us a virophage that counteracts Respirovirus sporii.”
No one spoke.
Then Jason said to Hillson, “Equip two FiVees. One goes to the ship with J Squad, to rendezvous at Point Tango Delta. Bring ten extra esuits. Pick up all star-farers for transport to the signal station, it’s closer. The other FiVee to transport me to the original station with doctors Ross and Yu. No, not Yu”—the chief scientist was too old—“Dr. McKay. Orders are that if anything impedes transport progress, shoot it.”
Major Elizabeth Duncan, Jason’s second in command, strode into the command post. Jason said to her, “Major, we have a situation. Brief you in a minute.” And to Hillson, “Go!”
“Yes, sir.”
It was the first time Jason had ever heard the veteran sergeant’s voice tremble. Jason hoped that his own had not. But—
A spaceship. And what did you say to a grandmother who left for the stars when you were eleven, twenty-eight years ago?
* * *
“Why aren’t they answering?” Branch said. “Why isn’t anybody answering?”
Marianne said wearily, “Are you sure you’re doing it right?”
“Of course I’m not sure I’m doing it right! None of us knows what we’re doing!”
Jane looked from one Terran to the other. They were tired—everybody was tired—and they did not have bu^ka^tel to guide their behavior, as any Worlder would. She said softly in her still-slow English, “You did this thing wonderful well by now. We are here, and they maybe will answer soon.”
Marianne smiled at her, a smile so full of anxiety and exhaustion that Jane longed to take some of the burden off the older woman’s shoulders.
They stood on the bridge of the vast Return, all ten of them. Mason Kandiss wore his armor and carried all his weapons, although Jane did not understand why. Kayla lay asleep on a mat in the corner. The five Worlders stood behind Marianne, Branch, and Claire, who clustered around a screen filled with a huge planet.
Terra. Blue and white, incredibly beautiful. And so much land! Thirty percent of the surface was land, Branch had said. Unimaginable room—except that it held an equally unimaginable and terrifying population of over seven billion people. Or by now, Marianne had said, even more.
Ka^graa said to his daughter, “What do they say?”
Jane translated. “They still try to greet Terra and do not understand why no one replies. Branch-kal wishes he understood more about how the ship works.”
Ka^graa, who did not understand it either, said, “Have they discovered why they see no city lights on the planet?”
“No.”
“Come in, come in, Terra. This is the World ship Return, Captain Branch Carter. We are the—”
“Captain Carter, this is Colonel Jason Jenner of the United States Army.”
Marianne made a small sound.
The voice continued, “Can you provide positive identification that you are who you claim to be?”
Branch said, “What kind of proof?”
Marianne stepped forward. “Colonel Jenner, this is Marianne Jenner. Are you Ryan Anthony Jenner’s son? I know Jenner is a common name, but—”
“Yes. Ryan Jenner is my father. Can you provide positive identification that you are actually who you claim to be?”
Marianne, her voice thick, said, “When you were a small boy, you had an ant farm that fascinated you. It broke and there were ants all over the house. Colin ate one.”
Silence. Jane had a sudden qualm. If this man was a soldier like the ones that had come to World, there were very strict rules about what you could and could not say. Jane didn’t understand those rules, but no one had ever spoken so informally, so naturally, to Lieutenant Lamont. Although they did, eventually, to Lieutenant Brodie. It was all very confusing.
“Jason?” Marianne said.
The unseen soldier spoke again. His voice was still formal, but Jane could hear emotion underneath. “World ship Return—welcome home.”
Claire Patel laughed, as much from relief as mirth. Then they were all smiling. But it was Ranger Kandiss who astonished Jane. His body held as rigid as ever, his lips moving silently—in prayer?—he let tears course silently over his face.
Both smiles and tears both stopped at Jason Jenner’s next words. “Return, we have a situation on Earth, developed since the Friendship launched twenty-eight years ago. You said that you are equipped with a drug that can counteract R. sporii?”
“Not a drug,” Marianne said, while Jane struggled to keep up translation for the other four Worlders. “A microbe, a virophage. It … why do you need a counteraction for R. sporii? When we left, Terrans were either immune or had already died from the original spore cloud, and a vaccine had been developed and—”
The voice cut her off. “Return, you must land now. You’ve been detected by the enemy. Latitude and longitude to follow immediately. When your ship touches down, do not—repeat, do not—attempt to emerge unless you have sufficient esuits for everyone aboard. Do you?”
Carter said, “Yes, but—what enemy?”
“Are your esuits the same as the ones we’ve made from plans left by World scientists on your previous expedition?”
“Yes, they are, but what enemy?”
“We are at war. Put on your esuits immediately, land, and cycle through your airlock to exit the ship. Do not let Terran air invade the ship or it will be contaminated. Stay under cover of trees, if you can. Troops will meet you and conduct you to safety. Go with them immediately. Now, Captain Carter!”
“But I’m not even sure if I—”
Some numbers, a burst of static, and then nothing.
“Do as he says,” Branch said. His young face had paled. “Go to the airlock and suit up. I’m going to land where he said.”
Jane ran with the others to the closest airlock. Did Branch know how to land the ship at a specific place? Would the ship help him? A war—why was there a war? With who?
Esuits lay on shelves in the vast room. Glamet^vor¡ and La^vor struggled to get Belok^ into his. He started to cry and La^vor comforted him.
The screen on the wall brightened, and the planet on it grew larger and larger until blue and white filled the whole screen. Suddenly a burst of red, eerie in its silence.
Kandiss said, “Enemy fire. We are under attack.”
Ka^graa grabbed Jane’s arm. “What did he say?”
“It is a weapon. It tried to hit us.”
The ship lurched. Somehow, Jane was more shocked by that than by anything else—the Return always flew sedately, even when it had launched, without perceptible motion. Belok^ cried out.
The screen now showed nothing but white—they were inside clouds. A moment later, the ground flew up at terrifying speed. Then they broke through trees—green trees, not purple!—and came to rest quietly on the ground.
Mason Kandiss activated the airlock.
“No, wait!” Marianne cried. “Branch!”
“Orders are to get you out. He can recycle later. Go now.”
It was, Jane realized numbly, the longest speech she had ever heard Mason Kandiss make.
He pushed them all into the airlock. Air, the good air of World, which Jane had probably breathed for the last time, was sucked out. The outer door opened and six soldiers rushed in. The leader’s eyes widened when he saw Mason Kandiss, but he didn’t slow. “Come with us! Now!”
They ran from the ship. There was no need to get under trees; a big cart waited, made of heavy metal. One man sat in a small housing in the front; the back was open. A truck, Jane remembered—it was
fueled in ways forbidden on World. A soldier picked up Jane and threw her into the back.
“Wait!” Marianne cried. “There is one more person coming! The captain, Branch Carter—”
“We’ll come back for him if we can. Orders are to get you out.” He threw Marianne into the truck. She landed on top of Jane.
Something exploded with tremendous sound and fire in the trees beyond. Wood, leaves, dirt, even rocks flew into the air. The soldiers leaped into the truck, the back closed, and it sped away—so fast! Unlike the ship, it lurched and bounced on the uneven ground, crashing through bushes. Jane hung on to metal protrusions in the wall. Belok^ never stopped screaming.
Over the din, Kandiss yelled, “Destination, sir?”
“Signal station. Close now.”
The truck drove past more trees toward a hill. A section of the hill opened and the truck drove downward into a cave and stopped. The hill swung shut behind them. Lights came on.
Abrupt silence. Even Belok^ stopped yelling.
“Decon is this way, and it’s also the airlock,” a soldier said, leaping down from the truck. She was talking to Kandiss. “Bring your people through in groups of five, that’s probably all that will fit. Esuits stay on at all times.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The soldier thought Kandiss was in charge. But since Marianne said nothing, Jane merely translated for the others, who nodded. Belok^ clutched La^vor with one hand and touched the truck with the other, his eyes wide and mouth open in a wide O.
Decon—Jane would have to ask what the word meant—was a small airlock abruptly bathed in violet light. When the far door opened, they walked into an underground room, windowless, with walls of wood and metal. One wall held a bank of strange equipment. Four men and two women, all in uniform, waited until everyone had come from the airlock. The room was not meant for so many.
One of the men, the only soldier in an esuit, stepped forward. Jane, shaken by the rough ride, the violence, the strangeness of everything, nonetheless felt another tiny shock. His eyes, clear gray flecked with gold, were Marianne’s.
“I am Colonel Jenner, commander of Monterey Base. Do not remove your esuits, not yet, for your protection and ours. You must have questions, and I think we have much information to exchange. Almost nothing on Earth is as you remember it. But first … again, welcome home.”
Jane had never heard a greeting so weary and regretful. Jason Jenner’s face looked like petrified karthwood at home, set in hard ridges instead of supple in the wind. And so formal—this was Marianne, his grandmother and surely the mother of his lahk! Although there were no lahks here—but there were “families.” He did not even look at Marianne.
She had expected things on Terra to be different from World, but not like this.
Quietly, keeping fear and sorrow to herself so as not to increase theirs, she began to translate for her father and the other three.
* * *
Zack had been designated the explainer, a role he did not want. Jenner was busy barking orders to the two signal officers in person and the Praetorian Guard remotely, presumably trying to save the ship and the station from drone attacks, if that was possible. Probably it wasn’t; Jenner was breaking radio silence, which of course had already been broken by contact with the ship, and New America would be tracking him through their comsat. Zack hoped that nothing stronger than a drone-carried missile would be fired at this underground bunker. During the Collapse, when Army bases were all charnel houses of the dead and dying, all sorts of organizations had taken over the bases. What eventually became New America had gained nuclear capability—and used it two years later, during the war. But if they had any nukes left, wouldn’t they have already used them? And wouldn’t they want to capture this ship from the stars, not destroy it?
It wasn’t as if the New America survivalists were as psychotic as the Gaiists had been. Just as evil, but not as deranged.
Zack sat on a hard, straight-backed chair—trust the military to think comfort unimportant—and waited while Dr. Lindy Ross examined the nine star-farers. No, not examined—she could hardly palpate anything through an esuit, let alone take blood samples. These people would have to be introduced, or reintroduced, to Terran microbes. Did Lindy have the means to do that at the base? Meanwhile, she passed her portalab over their hearts and heads, studied the results, talked to humans and aliens.
No. They were all human, including the Worlders. Zack, who had been five years old when the Worlders left Earth thirty-eight years ago, had of course seen pictures. At university he had studied the reports of blood and tissue samples. The Worlders—Denebs, Kindred, the names kept changing until the Collapse, when nobody was interested any longer—were human, brought from Earth to their planet 140,000 years ago.
By whom? Unknown.
Why? Unknown.
They looked human, with minor evolutionary adaptations. Copper-colored skin, like aged pennies. Coarse black hair, all of them. Tall and slender—was gravity less on World? Zack couldn’t remember what he’d read about that. The only strange thing was the eyes, much larger than Terrans, genetically selected to gather as much light as possible under a dimmer sun. He did remember that much.
One of the two young girls was translating. A fine-boned, very pretty face. The other Worlders were a scowling young man, an older man, and a large boy. The boy turned, clutching at the other girl. Zack startled—the boy’s features were unmistakable, even across cultures and light-years. Why bring a mentally challenged kid to another planet?
Marianne Jenner broke away from the group and walked over to the colonel. Zack was glad to not overhear that conversation. Her face went through changes: questioning, shock, anger. She stalked away.
What was that all about? It almost seemed as if they already knew each other. “Jenner”—were they related? It wasn’t that uncommon a name. During the hectic ride in the FiVee from the base to the station, the soldier in charge had refused to answer any questions at all: “You will be debriefed at the appropriate time.” Lindy had made a moue of disgust.
Now Lindy walked over to Zack and smiled wryly. “You’re on. Jason wants you to give them the abbreviated version of the past twenty-eight years. They’re all healthy as far as I can tell through esuits, but bewildered and upset, especially Kayla Rhinehart. She’s the one sobbing. One of the Terrans got left behind at the ship, Branch Carter. Claire Patel—she’s the Indian-American woman—is a physician and says they’re all asymptomatic from the virophage they’re infected with. She says that on Kindred, it counterattacked R. sporii.”
“Really? And they’re all infected?”
“So she says. We have to get them to quarantine stat, but Jason is still trying to save the ship from drone attacks. Apparently it’s not e-shielded. Everything’s all fucked up out there still. He—Shit!”
A direct hit on the hill. The bunker shuddered, but nothing fell from the ceiling and the station held. They were probably all right down here. Probably.
Lindy, who had nerves of titanium—and most likely needed them to have been married to Jenner—said, “You want me to stand by while you do the dismal?”
“Yeah. Thanks. About this virophage—”
“I don’t know any more than that,” Lindy said.
“Are the ali—the Worlders fluent enough in English to understand me?”
“Jane is, if you talk slowly. She’s the translator.”
“‘Jane’?”
“Apparently self-chosen. She seems very bright. Come on, they’re waiting.”
“Just one more thing—did you happen to see Susan and Caitlin before they brought you here?”
“No. But Caity will be fine, Zack. She’s learned to cope with her condition remarkably well for a four-year-old, and she’s getting better all the time.”
Zack walked across the underground bunker to the waiting star-farers. How did you explain in a few paragraphs what Earth had become? Especially to people who must have expected something far different.
“Yes,” Marianne said. “This is Dr. Claire Patel, Kayla Rhinehart, and Private … no, I guess he’s over there with … with the colonel.”
A catch in her voice. So she and Jenner were related. How? Zack said, “I’ve read your paper on mitochondrial haplogroups, Dr. Jenner. Seminal.”
She grimaced. Okay, a sensitive subject. It had, after all, started so much. She continued. “This is Jane, our translator. Ka^graa and Glamet^vor¡, both biologists. La^vor and her brother Belok^.”
He would never remember the names, which involved rising-and-falling inflections and, for one, a click at the end. Zack settled for a friendly nod. Jane murmured in low, musical translation.
“All right,” Marianne said, “tell us what happened that we need to wear esuits, that there are no city lights visible from space, that missiles are falling on California. Start at when the Friendship left Earth.”
Zack looked at her. Late sixties, maybe, although she looked older. Clearly braced for the worst, yet she asked, clear-eyed and ready to bear whatever she must. Admiration flooded him.
He plunged in. “After your ship left, climate change on Earth accelerated, even worse than had been predicted. Feedback loops became engaged. CO2 levels rose, ice at the poles melted, there was severe coastal flooding and increasing superstorms and radically decreased ocean phytoplankton—that was why the Friendship was originally built, wasn’t it? By that entrepreneur who thought we only had a few generations left and the best hope for humanity was to start spreading to the stars?”
“Yes.” Short and clipped—she didn’t want to talk about Jonah Stubbins. Zack could only remember part of that story; he would look it up when they got back to the base. If they got back to the base.
“Stubbins was actually right. The entire global ecology was on the way to destruction, or at least to being drastically altered. Then a group of environmental fanatics—”
