Analog SFF, July-August 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  I smiled, glad for the change of subject. “I did indeed. Talisker, a single malt Scots whisky.” I explained about aging, sherry cask wood, local grains and all, as I poured us a finger each.

  She took a sip. “Bruce, I can detect very faint echoes of some of the qualities you mentioned, but my overwhelming impression is more of ... of some kind of mouthwash. And my mouth burns.” She gave me a kind of wry little smile. “But it does make me warm."

  Her first reaction to Talisker, alas, was an all too frequent one for a novice to Scots whisky. I put my hand on hers and sighed.

  She made no move to remove it, but only shook her head. “I'm not sure what's gone wrong. Epsilon Eridani is a very young star system, and it's suffered some recent pathology. The planetary orbits haven't settled down; they're still eccentric and migrating. So it's very hard to tell what happened, or when. A passing star or rogue planet may have disturbed the system. Or the system may be disrupting itself chaotically."

  “Disrupting itself?"

  She shrugged. “Orbits evolve. Planets perturb each other. Eccentricities vary in cycles. A system may clank along alone like that for millions or even billions of years, then someday all the cycles match up the wrong way and two planets come too close to each other and there is a brief gravitational embrace, one gets ejected and the other moves inward in an eccentric orbit. Then they settle down, like Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto in our system. But it takes billions of years. In this case it's Loki swinging wildly in and out, flinging planetesimals out of the protoplanetary disk with its gravity at both ends.” She drained her glass. “This stuff does grow on you."

  I poured another round.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Must remember I'm on the record.... “Somehow she had moved near to me, her arm lightly touching mine.

  It burned where we touched, in a way I remembered from close dancing in the days of my youth. I mulled over whether she might welcome an invitation to become more intimate, or whether that would be too forward for now.

  “You're a professor of history?” she asked.

  I nodded and brought up pictures of Skye, Broadford, Portree, and the family on the wall screen.

  It was then that the terrible reality of what I'd done hit home. “It's just been a couple of days to me, but they've not seen or heard a thing from me for over a dozen years now. Like that star system you describe, all of a sudden things come together, then, boom, I'm off into the cold dark. History can be like that, do you know? The lives of those who have done things of note oft get a bit messy in the process. But I left no other complications behind."

  “Me neither. If you think about it, that's probably true of most of us on this mission."

  “Davra?” I asked.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I'd guess life is very simple and uncomplicated for people like her and Dagger. No need for anything deep or long term. No need to waste time. She can get what she wants out of any man. So we off and do something when we don't really know what we're dealing with."

  “Maybe you should have a talk with Weaver, privately."

  “We call him G. P., Bruce.” Emma looked into the bottom of her cup, then gave me one of those subtle but suave know-it-all looks that the English are so good at. “It's too late. Davra's already persuaded Dagger to go for her robotic solution and G. P. goes with a majority."

  “He has no view of his own?” I asked.

  Emma nodded and took another sip. “He can be disengaged at times. He's a widower—his wife was thrown from one of his horses. Awful thing and I imagine he blames himself."

  “Aye, that's a hard thing to get over."

  “Isn't it? This star will likely settle down and stay that way for twenty billion years. We don't die of natural causes anymore. So he may still be blaming himself twenty billion years from now."

  I shook my head, raised my glass, and smiled. “If in that time he dinna fall off a horse himself."

  Emma laughed slightly “The universe, I think, needs some stable people in it. Those that don't fall off horses."

  “Aye."

  We sat for what must have been minutes not saying anything, then she sighed and stood up. I missed the touch of her arm immediately, but couldn't think of a thing to do.

  “I enjoyed this, Bruce. We should talk again some time."

  “It's been a good conversation, yes.” I stood up. There was no walking her to the door, as it was only a meter or so from us. So she simply walked out the door, it closed, and I sat back on my couch. Two minutes ago a real woman had been sitting next to me ready for anything as far as I could tell, and I had not as much as put my arm around her. Sadly, such was typical of my history to that time, if the truth be known.

  I noted that we'd done in a quarter of a liter. With several years to go, I'd need to be a bit more parsimonious from here on.

  * * * *

  The next day, Dickson and Davra's plan was adopted with a few technical modifications. I had several more conversations with Emma, all in public places. I felt awkward and the contacts grew less and less. Meanwhile, I learned how to “touch the net,” to ask for information and send messages to people. I'd been perhaps too aware of the fears of how such communication would change us utterly, and was relieved to find them so very unfounded. It was no group mind or anything like that—much more like using a wrist comp without having to raise your arm to look at it or speak to it.

  I ran into Weaver at the canteen.

  “Morning, Macready. I hear this is becoming your work area."

  He said that with a grin on his face the likes of which put you in mind of a brilliant morning sun chasing the mists away from the bay at Portree, that or twenty-year-old Talisker. He affected some rustic crudeness, but he could cut to the chase faster than Broadford's chancellor did, which was saying something, indeed.

  “Aye, I suppose it is. It's a good place to meet people when they're not too busy and pump their brains. Now, since you're here ... I've scanned Davra's notes on the system feedback loops, and I wanted to fit it into the big picture, from your perspective."

  Weaver waved me to a seat and ordered coffee from his replicator. He turned back at me. “Coffee?"

  “Tea. Earl Grey with a bit of cream and sugar, if it wouldn't be a bother."

  He stepped over to the dispenser. “We're about three months behind where we should be, even with the habitat construction delayed. I reckon it's manageable, but it's worrisome.” He had the face of one who didn't need such worries.

  “The research crew stays frozen then?” I asked.

  “Until that habitat is ready, we've got nowhere to bunk ‘em."

  “Is there nobody in there with expertise that we might use, say in a brainstorming session?"

  Weaver looked me in the eye. “I've got what I think are the best experts on this already. The group is about the right size—I don't want too many cooks. And I definitely don't want any more politics. I also do not want there to be anything to encourage the politics I've already got. Savvy?"

  “I think I've been very careful not to take sides, Dr. Weaver."

  He looked at me and nodded. “We have a break in the solar weather coming up and Dagger's going to take a look-see at the habitat tomorrow, hoping to get some ideas to speed up construction. You up for the trip?"

  I'd not a thought about going off the ship, but the idea did arouse a bit of curiosity in me.

  “Huh? I dinna see why not."

  “You two might find a thing or two to chat about on the way.” Weaver grinned and clapped me on the back. “Let's mosey."

  * * * *

  I met Dagger at the lift leading up to the runabout dock.

  “You've been spending a lot of time with Emma.” He looked at me as if testing to see my reaction.

  I was duly taken aback and decided to avoid anything personal, at least for now. “I've learned a lot from her. We watched a big slagheap from the prograde feed path hit Epsilon Eridani yesterday. She's trying to detect any lasting spectroscopic evide
nce of the impact."

  “Like a star spot? The only star spots I know of come from huge magnetic fields, so I don't...” Dagger stopped speaking and held up a hand; the lift had arrived. We got on it and announced our destination.

  Dagger turned to me again. “Now, Bruce, you gotta keep in mind that this is a relationship with a woman, and there are some things that, well, naturally go along with that. Can't run away from that. Body won't let you."

  I shivered at his crudeness but resolved to not play the tyro. “Aye and then not aye. She's a wonderful person, but matches my reserve all too well, if you understand."

  To my surprise, he nodded quietly and sat for a moment, thinking. At last he looked at me dead in the eye and said, “So you both wait ‘till hell freezes over before either of you makes a first move. I figured something like that. So throw a line in another pond."

  “Aye ... Well, mine has never been all that needy, if ye ken."

  Dagger slapped his leg and guffawed out loud.

  “We're here. Let's check this bugger out, and I'll tell you all about it."

  I found that a bit rude at the time, but he was an American, after all.

  The runabouts were stored in the long hollow cones. When needed, they dropped out, i.e., away from the spin axis, flew up, and attached themselves to the docking port at their bellies. To me, the runabouts looked like half a transparent sausage lying atop a small version of Clarke's rectangular monoliths.

  A person came in through a lock in the bottom center of the rectangular part and entered the transparent half sausage. There were ten pairs of seats in this cabin, with an aisle down the middle. The ends were quarter-sphere domes. We floated in that way and strapped ourselves in at the front. Despite complete automation, Dagger looked over the boards very carefully.

  “Okay, let's go,” he said at length. The runabout detached itself, rotated, and jetted out toward the habitat with the slightest of acceleration.

  As the runabout approached the mammoth incomplete habitat, I felt like the fledgling leaving the nest for its first trial flight. Yes, I'd ridden in another runabout out to the starship from the station—it seemed like a million years ago now—and that had been exciting enough. But that was really a glorified taxi ride above Earth. Now here was an alien star system!

  “Bruce?” I turned to see Dagger staring at me with a big grin on his face.

  “Uh ... Wee bit new to this, is all. You were saying."

  “Just if it's not gonna work with Emma, it's not gonna work. Hedge your bets. Spend time with someone else."

  “Och! That would seem disloyal at this point."

  “Women, they understand that kind of thing. Sometimes I think that's about all they do understand. Look at this mess we're in. Emma did the astronomy and Davra did the robotics."

  “I'll not be traveling that road with ye, Dagger,” I said, shocked. “There were many, many other eyes on those plans and most of them men, I'd think."

  “But not since we started having problems. Things haven't gotten better, they've gotten worse. I don't think either of them has the big picture. They try to deal with it by intuition, and whatever it is, it's outside their intuition's box."

  “Aye, there may something to that. Not that anyone else seems to know either, mind you. I thought of suggesting to our chief that he might be getting a wee bit more help on this, and he nearly bit my bloody head off, so to speak."

  “Probably because I suggested the same thing. G. P. is a bit touchy when it comes to critiquing his leadership."

  A huge comet tail came into view just before we came around the edge of the half-finished habitat. I couldn't see the coma—indeed, it might have already hit the star. A pebble splashing in the sea, I thought, contemplating the relative nature of violence in the Universe.

  The edge of Epsilon Eridani came into view. In a blink, stars and comets vanished as my eyes adapted. The smooth gray surface of the half-finished habitat gave way to a latticework of aluminum beams extending out to where its equator would be. Our shuttle glided around this and finally gave us a clear view of the inside.

  “Take us across the diameter, for a first look,” Dagger told the runabout. “Then we'll fly back along the surface that's been built so far. Align our roll axis to the habitat sun line."

  The runabout performed the last of these maneuvers first, then canceled what remained of our sunward velocity, leaving us nose first to see a “full” habitat. A topography of sorts had begun to emerge. You could tell where a large lake was going to be. I could see the sculpting of the far end—what would become tree—and grass-covered highlands sloping down to the higher-gravity lowlands of its equator.

  “Tell me, Bruce, did you bring one of those kilts with you?"

  “No, but it would be easy enough to replicate; there are many patterns on file. Getting a bit warm?” The star on one side and the reflection from several square kilometers of unfinished habitat on the other were warming the insides of our transparent bubble rather rapidly.

  “Yes, a little. The fans will kick on in a bit. About the kilts, I always wanted to ask a Scot..."

  I laughed. “In my case, generally a well-used pair of walking shorts, as I'm not so fond of embarrassing accidents."

  Dagger laughed. “Well, you could make an exception for Davra...."

  Now that was the nature of the man.

  “I'd need to know her a wee bit better,” I replied.

  “She hasn't made a move on you yet?” Dagger seemed astounded.

  “No. I'm not very tall, my voice is a bit high, and I tend to lecture, so it's no surprise."

  “Hmm. She has a purpose in life and she knows what it is."

  “She's an excellent roboticist."

  Dagger shrugged. “That too."

  “Emma seems more my type."

  Dagger laughed. “Coward! Emma makes love like she writes a scientific paper. Everything precise and in its place and a soft little squeal if she gets something out of it. I asked her once what would happen if she let go. She said, and I think she meant it, that she was letting go."

  “You've been intimate with Emma? I dinna..."

  As so often happens, when you discuss someone, they pop up. The ship's attention tone sounded again and there she was on the console screen. She could not have heard our discussion, I had to remind myself, but guilt must have been written all over my face!

  “You look as if you've swallowed a canary, Bruce."

  “Good day, Emma,” I said.

  Dagger waved at the video pickup.

  “The habitat looks an awesome sight from where you are,” Emma said. “Pity we haven't finished the other half."

  When finished, the habitat would provide a decent living space once the rest of the passengers were defrosted. While our crew's work would be done in a few years, the people who'd come to study the star system might remain here for decades, perhaps permanently. The full kilometer from the center to the empty half-finished bed of the equatorial pond was a very impressive sight.

  “Real estate,” Dagger said. “I'm looking forward to making some wings. Maybe have the robots make me a little split level on a riverbank. You should see the slobber marks all over the canopy. Getting hard to see."

  “You'll find serviettes in the mess module. Now, there's a new prediction of particle flux hitting in about two hours. It might be more than the runabout can handle, so Captain Lee wants you both back at the ship before then."

  “Uh, right.” Dagger said. “Tell her I plan to be back aboard and on my back in bed by then. Unless, of course, she prefers it some other way...."

  “Message received, Emma,” I said. “Thank you."

  “Cheerio."

  “Let's hang out here a while,” Dagger said. “I want to pick out a place for my geraniums."

  “Deceleration in three seconds,” the AI announced. “Two, one..."

  A soft thonk and a lean to the side announced the maneuver.

  The inside of the habitat reminded me of a cl
eaned-out eggshell—almost that white—with the ragged latticework of the equator serving as the rough edge of such a shell.

  “Impressive bunch of real estate,” Dagger said.

  A sudden snap got my attention. With no more warning than that, miniature lightning bolts began to jump from place to place across the control panel, between seat frames, and even off my fingers toward anything remotely conducting.

  “What the hell?” Dagger exclaimed.

  “Emma?” I called.

  No sound.

  Dagger gave me a quick look that said trouble. “Shuttle, what's our status?"

  The AI said nothing. I looked over the instrumentation console. The screens were as gray as a November morning fog on Skye.

  “I think we're looking at a real power loss here,” Dagger said in measured, professional tones that did nothing to disguise the tension in his voice. “Ouch!"

  I felt a surge up my spine. Electricity or fear, I knew not.

  Gradually, the fireworks subsided to be replaced by dead silence.

  “Have we been hit?” I asked

  Dagger shook his head. “Didn't feel anything like that."

  “They'll miss us, right?"

  I could see Dagger's face reflected off the canopy. He was scanning the boards, looking for anything.

  “Yeah, they should. If they're okay themselves. Looks like a complete electrical failure here."

  “What does that give us?” I asked quietly.

  “Well,” Dagger scratched his head. “The good news is we're alive with enough breathable cabin oxygen for thirty minutes or so. The bad news is, we can't hang here. Notice it getting hotter? Reflection, I'd say. Getting insolation from both sides."

  Our shuttle had begun to tumble. “Can we get away?"

  “Maybe. Let's get our emergency suits on. They've got a cooling system that's body-movement-driven, a marvel of fluidics."

  I found the cabinet—marked EMERGENCY in big red letters—pulled the panel away, and grabbed the suits. “Helmets?” I asked.

  “Not yet, but let's keep them handy. Gotta move this thing somehow."

  “Fluidics ... Dagger, if I remember properly, there are valves..."