Leaping to the Stars

by David Gerrold

  eVersion 2.0 - click for scan notes

  LEAPING TO THE STARS

  Starsiders 3

  David Gerrold

  for Miles Rinis, with love

  THE INTERVIEW

  "You understand, of course, that this is a one-way trip. There will be no possibility of return."

  The interviewer's name was Gary Boynton, and he was commander of the mission. He looked like one of those detectives who wanted to be your friend, while the other one stood off to one side, scowling impatiently and waiting to get ugly. Except there wasn't any other detective, just a couple of aides who hardly said anything at all.

  We all nodded as if we understood. Me, Douglas, Mickey. Dad. Mom and her friend, Bev. Bobby sat next to me, with the monkey on his lap. He didn't care where we were going as long as we all stayed together. Boynton had glanced at the monkey a couple of times. He knew what it contained, everybody on Luna did, but unlike all the other interviewers, he wasn't saying much about it.

  "You can stay here on Luna, Mr. Dingillian. Or you can go to Mars, or to one of the Jovian moons, or even to the rings or the asteroids. Most of those settlements are self-sufficient in a rudimentary sort of way. And if the situation on Earth ever settles down, you could go back home. As millionaires. You don't need to go to Outbeyond."

  "The situation on Earth isn't going to settle down," said Dad.

  Boynton was very patient. He said, "The plagues will burn out within two years. Three at the most. Our intelligence engines suggest that reconstruction and rehabilitation could put Earth's level of technology back to pre-plague levels within ten years, twenty at the most."

  "Your intelligence engines are wrong," said the monkey, very politely.

  Boynton wasn't going to argue—especially not with an intelligence engine that had publicly embarrassed a Lunar Authority Judge. At least, that's how the media was playing it. He shrugged off the interruption. "Whatever the case, however long it takes Earth to recover, if you stay here on Luna, you still have the possibility of returning someday. If you emigrate, that option is gone forever."

  He looked around the table. We were sitting on a terrace overlooking a spectacular view of the lake and the forest under Armstrong Dome. A flock of bright red chickens bounced across the grass like balloons, flapping their stubby wings and clucking excitedly. It was almost pretty.

  We'd argued about staying right here on the moon more than once, but Douglas and Mickey didn't like the politics. And I didn't want to hang around anyplace with fanatics like Alexei. And even though we had all agreed to respect each other's points of view, ever since we'd divorced Mom and Dad, Douglas and I had gotten used to making our own decisions—even the wrong ones.

  Boynton continued. He was telling us what we already knew. "Outbeyond Colony is the farthest colony from Earth. Thirty-five light years. There have been three exploratory missions and five colonization voyages. A beachhead has been established. Not a colony. A beachhead. The situation there is tenuous. Life will be difficult and dangerous. Survival is not guaranteed.

  "We're telling this to everyone. If you go to Outbeyond, you will die there. The question is not if, but when. Will you have a long, hard, laborious life before you die? Or will you die within a few months or years, of some unforeseen disaster? We are asking everyone, even those who have already signed on, to reconsider their commitment, because once we get there, life will be hard. Not just hard, but harder than you imagine.

  "We will work—all of us, even Bobby—twenty-hour days. We will be short of food, short of sleep, short of supplies. Everything will be rationed. We will not be able to call for help. There won't be any. We will have what is already there from the five previous supply missions. We will have what we bring ourselves on this trip. We will have what we can build. That's it. If you need cancer medicine and we don't have it, too bad, you die of cancer. If you need a blood transfusion and nobody shares your blood type and we don't have any artificial blood, too bad. If you need a new eye or a new lung or a new kidney and we don't have one growing in a tank, too bad.

  "There will be no resupply for this colony. Not in any foreseeable future. This trip is paid for—we're going. We're leaving in thirteen days. But nobody else is coming after us. There isn't anyone building any more ships. There won't be any money to build any more ships, or load them, or offer colony contracts. By the time anyone on Earth can make that kind of investment again, we'll all be dead. Whether or not our grandchildren will be there to meet them—well, that's the purpose of this discussion."

  Boynton looked from one to the other of us. I knew that Mom didn't want to go anywhere at all, but if Douglas and Mickey and I decided we wanted to go to the stars, she'd follow. And so would her friend. I knew Dad wanted to go—he was the reason we were all here now. This wasn't working out the way he'd originally intended; this was better, so he wasn't complaining. And Bobby was just happy to have his family back together.

  And me?

  I didn't know what I wanted yet. This business of making decisions—how did adults do it? All day long, every day, even weekends, with no time off for good behavior. No wonder I was cranky all the time. I was exhausted from having to think so much.

  "I know that the other colonies have made some wonderful proposals," Boynton said. "And if I were you, if I had your assets"—Here he glanced meaningfully at the monkey—"I'd strongly consider taking one of those offers. Most of those colonies are close to self-sufficient anyway, and with the advantage your HARLIE unit represents, you and whatever colony you choose will succeed."

  "So what are the advantages of Outbeyond?" Dad asked.

  Boynton shook his head. "To be honest, I have nothing to offer. If I were to offer anything, I'd have to take it away from someone else. And I'm not willing to do that. If you and I were just sitting around in a bar, using up oxygen and alcohol, I'd tell you to go to McCain or Pastoria and forget about Outbeyond. It's suicide."

  I could see that Dad didn't like the sound of that. Mom and her friend Bev were already squirming in their seats. But it was Douglas and Mickey who had accepted this meeting, and the meeting wasn't finished until they were. Douglas said, "If it's suicide, why are you going?"

  "When I accepted the job as Mission Commander, we were looking at a program of twelve supply missions to reach self-sufficiency. The critical threshold was assumed to be somewhere around the seventh or eighth voyage. The next trip. The one after this one.

  "We've got forty-three hundred people on Outbeyond. Even as we're sitting here talking, they're hard at work. They're laying down tubes, putting up domes, getting the power-grid up, preparing the facilities for the first batch of colonists to arrive. They're good folks. They don't know what's happened to Earth. They're expecting a ship soon. If it doesn't arrive—well, they have contingency plans. They'll survive for a while, but … the contingency plan doesn't include self-sufficiency. Not long-term self-sufficiency.

  "It's not likely they'll survive without us. Oh, maybe a couple years, if they're careful. But not much longer than that. The equation is simple. Outbeyond colony is almost self-supporting. Almost. We might be able to make the difference. If we don't go, they die for sure. If we do go, maybe we all die—but maybe we all live, too."

  "So you're going to rescue them, but there's no one coming after to rescue you … ?"

  "If they were your family, Mr. Dingillian, what would you do?"

  "I'd go after them. So would my wife." Dad didn't even hesitate. I was proud of him for that. His expression was firm. "The fact that we're all here on Luna ought to be proof enough how far we'll go."

  "And you'd go a lot farther too, if you had to, wouldn't you? So would we. Yes, we know we're gambling here. Every baby born is a gamble, but that does
n't stop the human race from making babies, does it? No, we just stack the deck as best we can, and keep on dealing.

  "We know we're the last ship out. Knowing that, we can fill every nook and cranny, every cabin and storage compartment, every corridor and crawlspace with as much supplies and equipment as we can pack. We're loading in everything we can. Most of the matériel for voyages 7, 8, and 9 is already onsite, here on Luna. That's part of our contingency plan. The last six voyages, we intended to bring in multiples of necessary equipment and supplies. Once we eliminate duplicate items, we can bring most of what we need on a single voyage, and fabricate the rest onsite. We know what's already there; we know what else is needed; we're packing it. Yes, it's desperate. But we think it's doable." He looked to the monkey. "What do you think, HARLIE?"

  HARLIE was silent. He'd probably been crunching the numbers all morning. But he wasn't going to speak without our consent. We'd all agreed that we weren't going to let people consult HARLIE just because they were sitting in the same room with us. We already had enough phonies and scam artists requesting interviews and meetings. We didn't need any more.

  Douglas looked to me. I nodded. Commander Boynton was entitled to know what odds he faced. Douglas nodded back. I said, "Go ahead, HARLIE."

  That was all the monkey was waiting for. He looked across the table at Boynton. "Which answer do you want?"

  "Both," said Boynton.

  HARLIE said, "If the Dingillians travel to Outbeyond on this voyage—and the assumption is that I will travel with them—then it is likely that all of you will lose up to 25% of your body mass in the first year. You'll need to pack more potatoes; you should also pack more vitamin-fortified noodles, lots of them. Rice and beans too, if you can get them. And rose seeds, not for the flowers, but for the hips; you'll need the ascorbic acid."

  "And the second answer?"

  "If the Dingillians do not go to Outbeyond with you, it is likely that most of the colonists will lose more than 30% of their body mass and be too weak to work. Even if your crops are successful, you might not have the strength to harvest them."

  "It's that close?" Even Boynton looked surprised.

  "I told you, your intelligence engines aren't up to the task."

  Boynton nodded, chastened. "Thank you, HARLIE." He looked grimly across the table at Dad, at Douglas, at Mickey, at me. "This is the bottom line. I have nothing to offer you—except the opportunity to risk your lives and be uncomfortable for a long time."

  "Sounds real attractive," said Dad. "What's the catch?"

  The Commander looked annoyed. This wasn't a joking matter. "The only other thing I can offer you is blunt honesty. We need HARLIE. Without HARLIE, we die. He says so himself. To get HARLIE, we'll take you. If you didn't have HARLIE, I wouldn't be wasting my time. Neither would anybody else. Don't take it personal, Mr. Dingillian, but you have no other value. Yes, I know what all the other colony representatives have said. They're just blowing smoke up your ass—and you know it too or you wouldn't have consented to this meeting.

  "Here's the deal. Outbeyond isn't making any promises. Once you get where you're going, you're there. So it doesn't matter what was promised, does it? And that's the catch, no matter where you go. Will anybody else keep their promise? You have no guarantees, and you know that. The only thing you can be sure of is that Outbeyond will keep this promise. You'll be uncomfortable, you'll work hard, you'll go to bed hungry, you'll lose weight, and you'll probably die young. And if we don't keep that promise, I doubt you'll complain. So the only question you have to answer is this? Do you want to save some lives?"

  The silence was very uncomfortable. I wished he hadn't put it that way. Because that didn't leave us any wiggle room.

  "No," said Mickey abruptly. "That's not the only question we have to answer. Is Outbeyond signatory to the Covenant?"

  Boynton looked at him as if he'd said something stupid. "You already know the answer, Partridge. We're not."

  "That's my point. Is Outbeyond willing to sign the Covenant to get HARLIE?"

  "I can't speak for the rest of the colony. And even if I could, I wouldn't accept a condition like that. I will tell you that Outbeyond's reluctance to sign the Covenant does not come from a disagreement with its principles. And at this point, signing the Covenant would be a useless gesture anyway. We're going to be on our own for a long, long time. Just what is it you want guaranteed?"

  "Does he have to spell it out?" said Douglas; he had that tone in his voice.

  "No," said Boynton. "He does not have to spell it out. And I can tell you that it isn't an issue here. And it won't be an issue there."

  To the rest of us, he said, "I'll need your answer tonight. We're holding two cabins for you. After that, no guarantees. We're going to fill that space one way or another—if not with you, then with rice, beans, noodles, potatoes, seeds, vitamins, laser foundries, data-discs, whatever will fit. We've got a lot to load. Once we're packed, we won't have time for unpacking, shuffling, and repacking. So make your decision quickly. Call me no later than 22:00."

  After he left, we all looked at each other. There wasn't much to say. This was not going to be a good idea, no matter how much chocolate you dipped it in.

  THE ARGUMENT

  So, of course, we argued for six hours straight—right through dinner. Sometimes it got pretty ferocious, and then we all retired to our separate corners, until somebody reminded everybody that we were running out of time and we really did have to decide this soon. And then we'd all promise to keep our tempers and we'd climb back into the ring.

  Douglas had the prospectus disc that Boynton had left with us, and he had it playing continuously on the opposite wall.

  The thing is—Outbeyond didn't look as dreadful as Boynton had made it sound.

  The planet is a little bit bigger than Earth, but not as dense, not as much heavy metal in the core, so the gravity is about 90% Earth normal. It's got four moons, which are all smaller than Luna, but collectively mass almost as much as the planet itself, and they're pretty heavy because they've got the heavy metals that the planet doesn't have—which really pisses off the planetologists because it doesn't fit the rules for the way planets and moons should behave. I guess Outbeyond wasn't listening when they made the rules.

  Outbeyond is the fourth planet out from the star, about as far away as Mars is from the sun; but the star is a lot brighter than Sol, and visibly bluer, and it gives off a lot more radiation in the high bands, so the light hitting the planet is stronger and sharper than the light on Earth. Complicating that, Outbeyond has a weird orbit, slightly elliptical and not quite in the plane of the ecliptic, so it's the oddball in the system.

  Outbeyond has a year eighteen months long. Its day is thirty-two hours. Twice a year, at the far ends of its orbit, it's fifteen million kilometers farther out than if its orbit were circular. And twice a year, it's seven million klicks closer. The temperature variations are horrendous.

  Also, the planet isn't round. It's sort of flattened. Not a lot, but enough so that you're heavier at the equator than you are at the poles. By ten percent, at least. Oh, yeah, and it's tilted seven degrees on its axis. Just to make things even more interesting. What that does is complicate the seasons even more.

  There are eight seasons in a year. First Winter, First Spring, First Summer, First Autumn, Second Winter, Second Spring, Second Summer, Second Autumn. Each season is only two and a half months long—only it's hard to compute months, because you can't do it by full moons.

  You have to see it on a screen. At the points in the orbit where the planet comes in closest to the star, you've got Perigee Winter in one hemisphere and Perigee Summer in the other. At the points in the orbit when the planet is farthest from the star, you get Apogee Winter in one hemisphere and Apogee Summer in the other. Apogee Summer is colder than Perigee Winter. Apogee Winter is the coldest time of the year and Perigee Summer is the hottest. And I mean hot.

  What all this means is that Outbeyond has a pretty ferocious m
ix of regions and seasons. The equatorial regions are mostly unlivable. Temperatures range from 110 degrees in Apogee Winter to 180 degrees in Perigee Summer. The temperate zones are cooler or hotter, depending on the time of the year. The poles are 50 to 200 degrees cooler than the equator, depending on the season. During Perigee Summer, they're like Earth's temperate zones. During Apogee Winter, you get carbon dioxide snowflakes.

  Oh yeah, and most of the mountains are volcanoes. Because the planet has such a weird shape, there's a lot of stress on the continental crust, and all the extreme temperature variations every year cause a lot of freezing and melting and cracking. Every so often, the volcanoes all go off at once, dumping gigatons of soot into the atmosphere, enough to cause widespread planetary cooling—sometimes as long as a decade or two. Just until the planet starts to heat up again and the crust starts crunching and crackling again.

  Outbeyond doesn't have as much water as Earth, but it's more evenly distributed in a lot of skinny seas and large lakes, all interconnected and sort of spiraling outward from the poles. Because of the temperature differences between the poles and the equators, and because of all the heat stored in the oceans, the weather is astonishing. Tornadoes on the flatlands, scalding super-hurricanes on the seas, monsoons that sweep across the continents, and hot raging dust storms from the equator to what we would call the temperate (ha ha) zones.

  Despite all this, there's life. Of a sort.

  Outbeyond is kind of like what Earth would have been if the comet hadn't smacked into Yucatan sixty-five million years ago and wiped out all the dinosaurs, giving all the egg-sucking little therapsids a chance to evolve into mammals and hominids and eventually people. So there are still dinosaurs on this planet. Well, things like dinosaurs, but not really, because they're sort of mammalian too. Like big shaggy mountains that eat forests. Huge forests. Trees as tall as skyscrapers. Thick jungles, filled with all kinds of flying things and crawling things and buzzing things and biting things. And even more stuff underwater, but not a lot of it catalogued yet.