Titan

by Bova, Ben

  But he refused to see that no one could keep a community of ten thousand men and women from having babies. Holly was convinced it was impossible. The only reason the people had tolerated the habitat’s zero-growth regulation was that they expected the rule to be repealed sooner or later.

  And then what? Holly wondered. That’s why she was seeking out Professor Wilmot. He was an anthropologist, a trained expert in human behavior, human societies. She needed his advice and the benefit of his knowledge.

  It was four P.M. when she rapped on Wilmot’s apartment door, precisely the time he had agreed to see her. She remembered the last time she had run to the professor for refuge, when the animals that actually ran Eberly’s newly elected government had tried to pin a false charge of murder on her. Wilmot had been precious little help then. Holly hoped he would be stronger now.

  The door slid back and Professor Wilmot greeted her with a gracious sweep of his arm. “Good afternoon, Holly. Come right in.”

  He was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, although his midsection was thickening. His face was tanned and weather-seamed from years of work in the field; his hands big and still callused. His hair was iron gray, as was his thick moustache. Holly thought he looked like a child’s idea of a grandfather or beloved uncle.

  “I’ve prepared tea,” Wilmot said, gesturing toward the chinaware tea set that was laid out on the low table in front of the sofa. “I hope you like the scones I’ve baked. I’m afraid I’m not much of a baker, but they seem to have come out rather well, if I say so myself.”

  Holly sat at one end of the sofa. “Everything looks terrif,” she said appreciatively.

  Wilmot took the upholstered chair next to the sofa and began to pour tea. Once they had both sipped from the dainty cups, he leaned back and said, “So now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “I need your advice, Professor,” said Holly, replacing her cup in its saucer with a delicate clink.

  “It’s always easy to get advice.”

  “I s’pose.” Holly couldn’t quite figure out how to broach the subject, so she blurted, “It’s about the ZPG rule. It’s going to cause a megaton of trouble.”

  Wilmot’s shaggy brows rose but he said nothing as Holly explained her worries. “We just can’t keep the rule in place. It’ll tear this community apart.”

  “But everyone signed an agreement, didn’t they?”

  Shaking her head, Holly answered, “Doesn’t mean spit. They signed because they were told the ZPG rule would be lifted once we were at Saturn. Eberly says it’s too soon to lift it; he says we can’t allow people to have babies because we’ll get a population explosion that’ll ruin the habitat.”

  Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Wilmot murmured, “He just might be right about that. Uncontrolled population growth could eat up all our resources.”

  “I know, but how can we control it? Women are going to start having babies and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop them.”

  “The ZPG regulation must be enforced, Holly. Once you allow people to ignore one law they’ll soon be ignoring all laws.”

  “Is that really true? I mean, you know a lot about the way human societies work. If women start making babies, is that going to mean total chaos?”

  Wilmot didn’t answer right away. He reached for his teacup and took a healthy sip. Then, “Holly, to keep this habitat ecologically stable, our birthrate must be kept on a par with our death rate. And with modern medical capabilities and aging therapies—”

  “I know. People live forever, just about.”

  “How many deaths have we had since we left Earth?”

  “Two. One murder and one execution.”

  “You see? We could allow two births, but no more.”

  Holly shook her head again, more vigorously. “It’s not going to work, Professor. We’ve got to find another way.”

  “Until you do, I’m afraid that we’ll all have to follow the habitat’s laws, including ZPG.”

  “But we have room for three, four times our current population! Jeeps, this habitat could hold a million people if it had to!”

  “Living cheek by jowl in poverty,” Wilmot replied sternly. “With all the crime and perversion that goes with intense population density.”

  “I guess,” Holly agreed reluctantly. Then her chin came up. “But I don’t see how we can expect the women of this community to give up having babies.”

  “You’ll have to convince them of the necessity,” said Wilmot. “You’ll have to produce a formula for planned population growth and convince the inhabitants to agree to it.”

  Glumly, Holly replied, “I wish I could. Trouble is, Eberly’s just going to ignore the problem, shove it under the rug. As long as he’s running for reelection he won’t bring up any issues that could cost him votes.”

  “But you said that he can’t ignore it.”

  “Not in the long run, no. But he won’t mention it while he’s campaigning for reelection, that’s f’sure.”

  “Then his opponent must bring it to the voters’ attention,” said Wilmot.

  “He doesn’t have an opponent,” Holly said. “He’s running unopposed.”

  “So far. The deadline for registering as a candidate is still a week away. The fifteenth, isn’t it?”

  “The fifteenth falls on a Sunday,” Holly said, “so the registration date’s actually the sixteenth.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “But who’s going to run against him? Nobody. We’ll have to draft somebody from a computer lottery.”

  Wilmot brushed his moustache with one finger and said, “I should think that someone who feels strongly about this community would step into the election race, if for no other reason than to force Eberly to face up to the issues.”

  “You know somebody who’d do that?” Holly asked eagerly. “Would you?”

  “Oh, heavens, not me.”

  “Then who?”

  “You, my dear girl. You’ve got to run against Malcolm Eberly.”

  8 JANUARY 2096: EVENING

  Run for election?” Pancho said, her voice high with surprise.

  “That’s what Professor Wilmot said I should do,” Holly answered.

  Pancho grinned at her sister from across the coffee table in her living room. Holly was sitting on the sofa, her feet curled up under her, while Pancho lazed back in the recliner.

  “Y’know, kid,” Pancho said, “the professor might be right. You’d make a terrific chief administrator.”

  Holly wasn’t so certain. “Jeeps, Panch, I don’t know anything about making speeches and running for office. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “You helped Eberly when he ran last time, didn’tcha?”

  “Just with polls and statistical analyses, stuff like that. I didn’t do any of the campaigning. I was strictly back-office.”

  “Well, I know a thing or two about glad-handing folks and getting ’em to vote for you. That’s how I got to be top kick at Astro for so many years.”

  “Would you help me?” Holly’s eyes were wide with expectation.

  “Help you with what?” asked Jake Wanamaker, coming through the bedroom door.

  “Holly’s going to run for chief administrator.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m not sure …,”Holly said hesitantly.

  “Yes, she is,” said Pancho. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Urbain picked miserably at the dinner Jeanmarie had prepared for him. She wasn’t terribly interested in cooking, but lately she had applied herself, with the aid of video tutorials, and found that preparing food bought at the habitat’s farm markets was more interesting and rewarding than heating precooked packaged meals. Their kitchen was small, barely big enough for the two of them to sit at the table, but it had a full range of appliances and storage cabinets.

  Usually Eduoard seemed to enjoy her fledgling efforts. He always complimented her. But not this evening. His fork hardly touched the chicken Kiev she had so
painstakingly prepared for him.

  “Is it too bland?” she asked.

  He looked up at her, startled out of his thoughts. “Eh?”

  “The chicken,” Jeanmarie said. “Is it spiced to your liking?”

  “Oh. It’s fine. Fine.” He put a forkful into his mouth and chewed, his eyes wandering off to some inner vision.

  “What’s the matter, Eduoard? You seem upset.”

  “Eberly,” he said, almost in a growl.

  “What’s he done now?”

  “It isn’t something he’s done. It’s what he hasn’t done.” Urbain laid his fork carefully on the table.

  “He still will not release your satellites?”

  “No, not until I promise to agree to his scheme for mining the rings.”

  “Then why not agree? If it is important to finding your Alpha vehicle, why refuse him?”

  “Because it is wrong!” Urbain snapped. “Besides, Nadia Wunderly would go berserk.”

  “Poo! Let her go berserk,” said Jeanmarie. “She is an underling. Her work should not be allowed to stand in the way of yours.”

  Urbain shook his head wearily. “My dear, you don’t understand. She believes she has discovered life-forms in Saturn’s rings. If I agree to Eberly’s scheme, it would be a clear signal to her—to the whole world—that I don’t believe her.”

  “And so?”

  “It would break her heart.”

  Jeanmarie was surprised. Her husband had never before voiced such sensitivity about anyone working under him. It can’t be that he is attracted to her romantically, she thought. I know him well enough, and besides she isn’t an attractive woman. He actually cares about her work, her hopes, her standing with the rest of the scientists. Jeanmarie’s admiration for him rose a notch.

  Still, she prodded gently, “Is her work more important than yours, Eduoard? Are her claims about creatures in the ring more important than your vehicle wandering across the surface of Titan?”

  He looked at her for a long, silent moment, and she could see the pain of clashing emotions in his eyes.

  “Jeanmarie, is physics more important than biology? Is one avenue of scientific investigation more important than another?”

  “But if you can’t do both—”

  Obviously struggling to control his temper, Urbain said, “I will not allow that … that politician to place Wunderly’s work in opposition to mine. I will not stand for an either-or situation. Both lines of investigation must proceed.”

  “But neither of them will, if Eberly has his way.”

  “Then I must find a way around him.”

  Jeanmarie marveled at her husband’s newfound tenacity. A year ago he would have backed away from any confrontation. Now he has found his courage, and he is suffering for it.

  “There must be a way around Eberly,” Urbain muttered.

  Jeanmarie thought idly that there was always a way around any man. Suddenly she was shocked to realize that perhaps she could succeed with Eberly. The man has a huge ego, from all she had heard of him. Could I turn his head? she wondered. Do I dare even try? What would Eduoard do if he found out?

  “Dr. Wunderly oughtta be in on this,” Raoul Tavalera said.

  He was sitting at a table out on the grass of the Bistro, with Holly, Pancho and Jake Wanamaker. The restaurant was filling up, people taking all the outdoor tables and even a few of those inside the restaurant’s small building. Holly had just told him that she had decided to run against Eberly for the chief administrator’s job.

  “Nadia?” Holly asked, surprised. “Why her?”

  Tavalera leaned forward slightly in his chair and ticked off his fingers. “Eberly’s gonna bring up that business about mining the rings, right? When he does, you’re gonna have to show why we shouldn’t do it. So you’ll need Dr. Wunderly on your team to give you the technical facts you need.”

  “Mining the rings?” Pancho asked. “For water ice?”

  “What else?” Holly replied.

  “Lord almighty,” said Wanamaker, “there must be gigatons of ice in the rings. You could make a fortune selling water, make this habitat as wealthy as Selene.”

  “Wealthier,” Pancho said.

  “But if there’s living creatures in the rings we’d be breaking the IAA’s regulations,” Holly pointed out.

  “Besides, it’d be immoral,” said Pancho.

  Wanamaker gave them a knowing look. “Morals and regulations won’t count for much if the people in this habitat know they can get rich.”

  “The IAA’d send an enforcement team here,” Pancho said.

  “And the people here would fight them off,” Wanamaker countered. “Wouldn’t take much.”

  “You want to run for secretary of defense?” Pancho teased.

  “I could,” Wanamaker said, entirely serious.

  “Now wait a sec,” Holly interjected. “This is all guesswork. We don’t know for certain that the rings really have living critters in them.”

  “That’s what Dr. Wunderly’s trying to find out, isn’t it?” Wanamaker asked.

  “Maybe we oughtta help her,” Tavalera said. “Get the point nailed down, one way or the other.”

  “Before the election.”

  “That gives you a little less’n six months,” Pancho said.

  Holly turned to Tavalera. “Raoul, would you fly the mission to the rings?”

  He looked startled. “Me? I’m not an astronaut.”

  “But you flew spacecraft when you were at the Jupiter station. I read that in your personnel file.”

  “Yeah, a couple,” he replied warily. “But I’m not gonna fly Wunderly to the rings and pick her up again. That’s too risky for me.”

  “But we need a pilot.”

  “Get somebody else,” Tavalera said firmly.

  Pancho said, “There must be lotsa qualified rocket jocks in this habitat.”

  “Not as many as you’d think,” Holly replied. “I’ve scoured the personnel records.”

  “Hell’s bells, I could fly it myself,” said Pancho. “If you can’t get anybody else.”

  “Get somebody else,” Wanamaker said. “You’re too old to risk your neck out there.”

  “Too old?” Pancho’s nostrils flared.

  “Too out of practice,” Wanamaker quickly amended.

  Pancho grumbled, “That’s better.”

  “There’s something else,” Holly said, suddenly looking gloomy.

  “What?”

  “Zero pop,” she said.

  “What’s that got to do with the ring creatures?” Pancho asked.

  Holly explained, “If we want to allow the habitat’s population to expand, we’re going to need a source of funding to build new habitats to house the growing population.”

  “Not for lotsa years,” Pancho said.

  “Sooner or later,” Holly insisted. “And prob’ly sooner. Besides, it takes a lotta years to build one of these flying stovepipes. And a lot of funding.”

  “Mining the rings could provide the money,” Wanamaker said.

  Tavalera nodded knowingly. “Then we’d better help Dr. Wunderly bring in some samples from the rings.”

  “And hope like hell she doesn’t find anything alive in them,” Pancho said.

  TITAN ALPHA

  The ethane rainstorm slowly moved across the land, raining fat drops of liquid that spattered onto the slushy ground and drummed against the armored hull of Titan Alpha. The sensors showed that despite the frigid temperature of the ground, the falling rain did not freeze but flowed across the ice, even eroding it slightly as it ran downslope along gullies and rills.

  Alpha’s master program decided to follow the slightly sloping ground, gathering data as it moved slowly onward. Collectors in the roof took in samples of the drumming rain for analysis. The liquid was largely ethane, although a complex mix of other hydrocarbons were present, as well as 14 percent liquid water.

  Liquid water was an important biomarker; the biology program was immediate
ly activated to participate in the analysis. The master program, meanwhile, pondered a conundrum: How can water remain liquid at temperatures of nearly two hundred degrees below zero? It took all of fifty-three billion nanoseconds before the master program arrived at a tentative conclusion. The water can remain liquid because it is mixed with the ethane and other hydrocarbons, which, together with the high atmospheric pressure, raises the freezing point of the fluid far enough to allow the mixture to remain liquid.

  The biology program was instructed to search for organic molecules and/or viable organisms in the water-laced ethane samples. Organics were there in plentiful, easily identifiable amounts. Actual organisms, unicellular or even protocellular molecular organisms, were not found.

  While this sampling and analysis was being performed, Alpha continued heading down the slight slope of the ground, following the rivulets of the ethane-water mixture across the muddy landscape. The rain was actually clearing much of the methane slush from the underlying ice, sluicing it downhill in gurgling streams. At last the rainstorm passed, and Alpha’s infrared sensors scanned the higher clouds that perpetually covered the sky. A faint glow low on the horizon showed where the Sun was. There was an even fainter patch of light higher above, several degrees wider. The navigation program concluded that it was the planet Saturn, Titan’s primary, the planet around which it revolved. Even under the best magnification, though, nothing of the planet’s main body or its rings could be resolved through the murky clouds.

  The forward sensors reported a sizable stream ahead, a meandering brook of ethane-laced water flowing across the vehicle’s projected path. Width eleven meters. Depth unknown.

  After four billion nanoseconds, the master program decided to follow this stream to see where it led. Consulting both the geology and biology programs, the master program concluded that the stream most likely fed into one of the seas. It found an imperative in the geology program: If there are ethane streams, determine how they mix with the known seas. A similar requirement existed in the biology program: If organic molecules are located on the surface, determine if they have developed into viable organisms.