Tomorrow’s Heritage

by Juanita Coulson

  Geosynch HQ wasn’t that far from Earth. There was no discernible time lapse. Todd didn’t have to wait for Jael’s reaction. The teary matron was gone. “Keep your voice down,” her soft, ominous voice warned. “You’re blasting all over the lounge.”

  Undaunted, Todd pushed on sarcastically. “Oh, am I? Maybe I ought to borrow my techs back from you and go global. I want you to understand that I’m mad and in no mood for cute answers. I want to know why the hell you set me up for this. It’s a damned dirty trick.”

  Carissa’s green eyes widened more than normal. Startled, she watched Jael and Todd’s image, a spectator at a controlled-violence arena match, expecting to see blood spilled.

  “Todd, shut up,” Jael said savagely in an even lower tone. “You haven’t the faintest idea what we’ve been up against. I’d expect that from Mariette, but not from you. I thought you had more sense, realized what’s involved in this campaign . . .”

  “I realize, all too well. That’s the trouble. Don’t delude yourself, Mother. Mari understands what’s going on, too. You’re killing her, that’s what’s involved. It’s not easy to overlook.”

  The computer voice broke in. “Here is your second call, sir.”

  The screen split vertically, Jael and Carissa on the left, a confusing tangle of faces and bodies on the right. Pat was coming out of the melee, still talking to his aides and colleagues. A big-breasted, revealingly clad honey blonde hung on his arm. Todd wondered scornfully if she was the latest spare-time playmate for the candidate. Since Carissa didn’t seem to mind her husband’s notorious extracurricular flings, it was no one else’s business. His attitude probably made him more fascinating to a lot of the voters, too.

  “What? Yeah, you’re right, Jake. Just wait until nobody’s watching, then boot him out. Arrange a mix-up with his press ident so P.O.E. won’t get edgy.” Pat shrugged out of the blonde’s grasp and loomed over the terminal. He was obviously somewhere else in the huge lounge, visible to Jael and Carissa only via their screen. Strongmen guards elbowed the crowd back, giving Pat space. “Todd? That you, kid? How did the speech come through up there in orbit?”

  “Smelling like a boatload of month-old dead krill.”

  A crease deepened between Pat’s dark eyebrows. “Hey! What are you . . .”

  “What am I supposed to say? That it was wonderful? That I love being stabbed in the back? That Mari’s going to love it, too? You’d better understand me . . .“

  “Shut up!” Jael roared at them.

  There was a time when that would have chastened both men. Now they went on without any sign of repentance. “I can handle my own arguments,” Pat said heavily. “And as for you—”

  “She’s in on this,” Todd cut in. “I’m paying for the call, anyway, so what’s your complaint? I thought I was due some answers, and it didn’t look like you’d have the grace to call me.”

  “We can straighten this out, kid,” Pat said, the faintest hint of apology in his tone.

  “Can we? How? You don’t hear me. I don’t think you’ve really listened to me for months, years. I’m the one you take for granted, isn’t that so? I’m not even talking the same language you are.” Todd’s anger was faltering, becoming weary frustration. He closed his eyes a moment, then said, “How long do you think you can keep on juggling all these lies? You’re lying to me now, along with everyone else. I thought I was part of the family, a trusted member of the firm, not just a flunky. You keep wanting me to come planetside more often, you say. Is that so it’ll look good for the campaign? Candidate’s brother supports him in drive for the Chairmanship. Going to set up a session on all the satellite nets, interviewers catching us together, me nodding and yes-manning? Why bother with all this family unity nonsense if you were going to pull—”

  Pat sliced through Todd’s bitterness; he appeared concerned. “Has Mariette canceled on you?”

  Todd didn’t know whether to laugh or rage at his brother. He wanted to hit him. Impossible. Telecom was a handy tool, but it made direct contact wishful thinking. “I do admire your ability to trim away the fat. You get right down to what’s important—important to you. No! Mari hasn’t canceled. I’m not sure why she hasn’t. Maybe I’ll get the word halfway there and have to turn around and come back. Wouldn’t that be interesting?” Todd considered the matter more calmly, resignation setting in. “No,” he said quietly, “no cancellation. And if she were going to, she would have by now.”

  “You’re going ahead with the trip to the Colony, then?” Jael dug at him from the second part of the Earth-based conversation.

  “What if I said no?’ Todd heard Dian suck in her breath.

  Jael’s face crumpled. “You wouldn’t do that, Todd. Please! You promised!”

  “So did you and Pat. Promises don’t seem to mean a lot between us any more. Promises go two ways. I told you I didn’t have a prayer of persuading Mari to come to Saunderhome if you didn’t lay off Goddard for a while.”

  “Todd . . .” Jael’s eyes were misty. She wasn’t faking it this time. Those tears were angry tears. She didn’t cry for any other reason.

  Jael, standing on the shore, watching the rescue crews returning from the flier’s wreckage, knowing they hadn’t found Ward’s body. Pat embracing her, and Todd and Mariette crowding close, forming a tight, mourning circle. They had wept, but Jael hadn’t then. Only later, sobbing with fury, she had cursed the weather and the sloppy flight traffic control, blaming those for the tragedy, and crying as she hadn’t while the agony of Ward’s death raked at her. In pain or grief, she was stoic, enduring both without tears.

  “Mother, let me explain,” Pat said. Todd heaved a sigh, loving and hating them, outflanked, helpless. They were light-years apart, and the distance was increasing every week.

  “Never mind,” he muttered.

  “I have to explain it to you, kid,” Pat insisted. He was in so tight on the screen he blocked all view of the crowds and the heavily armed bodyguards surrounding him. Lowering that world-famous voice, he whispered, “I had to deal. It was a last-minute maneuver by Ybarra and the others. They were ready to wipe everything out and go back to killing one another. Dammit, kid! Do you think I want to drown you or Mari? I wanted to tip you off, but I couldn’t.” A subtle warning crept into his words. “We may have to go to scramblers when we call each other in the future, Todd. The campaign’s getting really ugly. The Spacers would love to sabotage me. One word of the final details before this public broadcast, and the whole truce would have collapsed.”

  Grim speculations whirled in Todd’s mind. Secret deals. Why? The answer was all too plain—so that the Trans-Pacific leaders would have ample opportunity to round up all those “war criminals” and political rivals and ship them off to the Pole before anyone could stop them. Now, what was done as done.

  I had to deal.

  “You wouldn’t have dealt with those warlord bastards five years ago, Pat, or even one year ago,” Todd said with great sorrow.

  Jael opened her mouth, thought better of whatever she had been about to say, and fell silent. She watched her sons, waiting, as she had when they were kids squabbling over toys. She had let them blacken eyes and bloody noses, then would pick up the mess and punish them both. Lesson five in Jael Hartman Saunder’s theories on child rearing. It had worked, then. But in those days, there had been three Saunder siblings fighting and spitting childish epithets. This time, a crucial factor in the argument centered around that third sibling and the space station to which she was devoting her life and fortune.

  Pat raked both hands through his dark hair. The lenses recorded a dancing curtain of reddish highlights in the black waves. Those pale eyes were haunted, not seeing Todd or Jael or Carissa. Seeing nightmares come to life. “The children . . . it was . . . my God, the children. The little bodies, all stick-bones and distended bellies, looking at you, past hoping. Plague sores covering them, and the one little girl . . .” Pat leaned on the terminal frame, getting out the memory, a man forced to d
escribe the horror to free his soul. “Dying, bleeding . . . I . . . I was holding her, trying to make the doctors . . . they wouldn’t bother. Triage, they said. No chance for her, for any of those thousands of victims. I was there. I had to . . . had to do something. It stinks. The, damned fucking war, it . . . well, it’s over! It’s over! I don’t care what I had to deal to pull it off, kid. Do you hear me? I had to.” Visibly, he came back to the present, pleading in his manner. “You think I enjoy compromising, lying? It’s the goal that counts. I can make it up to you, and to Mari, once I get where I’m going.”

  “I’ve heard that one before, somewhere,” Todd said, hurting for himself and Pat and the victims. He reached for the key, intending to use manual cutoff to avoid further heartache. “I’ll believe it when it happens. If I’m going to catch my window for Goddard, I’ll have to leave—”

  “Todd! Wait!” Jael broke in, staying his hand. “You’re mad because we couldn’t tell you. Forgive us. We apologize. We truly do.” A muscle twitched along Pat’s jaw-line, but he didn’t contradict her. “Whatever we have to do to make it up, we will. To you and Mari. Bring her home. I’m begging you.” Her voice shook. Todd wanted to touch her, console her, as she said, “I couldn’t bear it if she missed yet another of Ward’s birthday memorials. We didn’t time things this way. It wasn’t deliberate. It just happened. Please! Believe us!”

  “I’ll . . . I’ll try.”

  “Promise!”

  “Mother, it’s not that simple. I said I’ll try. What happens depends on Mari’s reaction to Pat’s speech. It’s not exactly the sort of send-off I wanted.” Again he wanted to reach out to them, regretting the life styles and the distances that separated them. There were some things he couldn’t express with a word or even a look. “I’ve really got to go now. And Pat, Mother—don’t call Mariette. Let me smooth her feathers. If you call her, you’ll probably make things worse. Just trust me on this.”

  Pat raised his hand in an oath. “Okay, kid. No calls. Just tell her . . . tell her I miss the brat. Will you do that?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell her.” Todd broke the connections before they could say anything more. He wanted to hold onto the moment of affection they had shared toward the end of the three-way conversation. The screen returned to the media channels. He saw Pat moving away from the terminal, the busty blonde closing in and taking his arm again, squirming close as Pat shook hands with P.O.E. officers and the others gathered in the lounge. Jael was doing the same, on a lesser scale. She and Carissa, bodyguards in tow, guarded as Pat was, circulated through the happy crowd.

  “Your mother is something impressive,” Dian said softly. “She’s a fighter. Special. Like . . .” She didn’t finish. Her grandmother had meant a great deal to the language tech. Her loving memories were mingled with an almost worshipful awe.

  “Pat’s looking haggard. He’s not sleeping well. He looks worse than any time I can remember since Dad’s funeral,” Todd said. “His makeup experts must be frantic. He’s making it tough for them to pretty him up for the cameras.”

  “He’s older than he was when your dad died, by eleven years, and under lots more stress.”

  Todd sighed again and looked at his already-assembled luggage, wishing he hadn’t been so efficient. If he hadn’t packed during the night-rotation duty period, he would have some mindless activity to occupy him now. “Jael knew,” he said bitterly. “She knew. Pat told her, but not me. I doubt he even told ‘Rissa. So much for pillow talk. Jael’s his political bedfellow, not little Carissa. He owes Jael, and she won’t let him forget it. I see he’s starting to yank at the bit, though. I thought he owed me, too, but obviously not. I haven’t bought him a hundredth of the votes Jael has.” He paused, then remarked with wonder, “He’s really going to make it. The Chairmanship of Protectors of Earth. My brother. It doesn’t seem possible. Jael’s going to make him Un-crowned king of the world or die trying . . .”

  He flinched at his own words. No. Jael wasn’t going to die. It wouldn’t happen again. They wouldn’t let it. There was a preservement chamber waiting for her in SE Antarctic Enclave if she fell ill or was hurt. They had never had a chance with Ward, but Jael would survive. All of them would.

  Aware of Dian’s scrutiny, Todd forced a smile. “We’ve come a long way since the days when we had to correct reporters who insisted on putting a final ‘s’ on ‘Saunder.’ ”

  “Cancel,” Dian said.

  “I can’t.” She left the webbing and floated into his lap, kissing him gently. Todd was pleasantly surprised, then understood the strategy. “It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but there isn’t time. I hate to rush things.”

  “I know.” She kissed him again, lingeringly. “I could go with you.” They weighed the options silently, then she shook her head. “No, I’d better stay and finish the messenger data for the Science Council. Besides, Kevin can be a big blond bear when he’s mad. And I like your sis plenty, but when she’s takin’ off, she’s a terror—you and your brother and mama all rolled up in one!”

  “The best and the worst. We all got a share of temper.” Todd grinned at her. “Okay, my cute coward, I’ll do the dirty work. Maybe that’s because I take after Jael. You tidy up that presentation on the alien signals.”

  “Yes, sir! Full-range holo-mode, grid corrections, split feeds and shifts, the whole arsenal. Did you pack your gray medications?” Dian asked suddenly, shifting topics. “Coriolis countereffects? CV stimulants? Going from null to one can be . . .”

  Todd pushed her off his lap, feigning annoyance. “Nag. Yes, I’ve got all the meds, and my clothes, and the tape files to update in case I get any spare time while I’m up there.” He forgot the rest, drifting up beside Dian as he released the safety belt. They rationed themselves to a few intense kisses. Then he washed up, put on a fresh, non-sweaty jumper, and collected his baggage.

  At Suitup, Dian chatted with Gib Owens while Todd wriggled into his gear. The young captain was space-dressed, except for his helmet. “No side trips now, Gib,” Dian teased him. “We heard about you and that redhead over on the Pacific side Geosynch station. You gonna ditch the Colony and come down and play free-fall lover with the rest of us?”

  Blushing, Owens said, “Nah! I don’t detour. She’s, well, she’s all right. Thing is, I’ve got to convert her to habitat living. You better plan on filling a vacancy on the ComLink roster.”

  “Huh! Don’t bother us. We’ve got a waiting list of eager Spacers just shoving and scratching to get on board.”

  “Goddard has, too,” Owens boasted. The banter didn’t hide his sincerity. His pride was typical of Goddard’s citizens. Not even Todd’s ComLink personnel were counted as “true” Spacers, because they rotated planet-side too frequently for the Colonists’ taste.

  Dian had slipped into her thickest United Ghetto States dialect, winking slyly at the pilot. “Tol’ him not to read you poetry, this time up. I remember what you said, gripin’ ‘bout that.”

  Owens blushed deeper, looking worriedly at Todd, who smirked at him, then put on his helmet. Owens followed suit, and they glided on their tethers into the air lock. Dian pressed close to the side viewport as they proceeded along the tunnel. She waved and Todd returned her good-bye, holding her image in his mind’s eye as the ship’s door closed between them.

  He and Owens went through the final checks rapidly. “You want me to take her out, sir?” Owens asked.

  “No, I’d better stay in practice or my pilot’s regs will lapse. You ride backup.”

  “You’re the boss, Mr. Saunder.”

  They went through this ritual every flight. The shuttle’s ownership papers were complicated. Licensing said a Goddard pilot had to ride with Todd or Todd’s designated substitute whenever the ship was traveling inter-orbit. In actuality, the entire upkeep of the vehicle fell to Todd’s accounts. Mariette couldn’t afford it, not with the other demands on her funds from Goddard Colony.

  All the readouts were green. Hisses and clicks came through the
earphones. Umbilicals and tunnels retracted, setting them free. Owens’s voice droned along on the final reports, confirming the data showing on Todd’s boards. They made a last check of their seat restraints and Todd cued the nays and propulsion systems. Just as the clocks hit 1430, the vernier thrusters fired.

  “Good timing, sir,” Owens complimented him. That, too, was ritual.

  Thrusters pushed them away gently from the massive satellite. They went from centimeter increments to half-meters to meters. There was almost no sense of motion. Todd gauged progress by the readouts and by the way Geosynch HQ was shrinking in apparent size on his screens. They were outside the perimeter patrolled by the little orbiter maintenance watchdogs now, and he could see the whole asymmetrical crazy quilt of his office-warehouse in space. Twinkling miniature stars danced here and there—busy robot space spiders, spinning more metallic fabric over HQ’s skin.

  Far away, in a lower orbit, Todd saw a shining sail kilometers in length—a solar collecting wall, part of Goddard Power Sats’ network. Much lower, beyond visual range, there were other sails, drinking up longwave infrared for Patrick Saunder’s competing energy corporation. Everywhere you went in space or on Earth, there was a Saunder waiting to power your vehicle or supply your communications or entertainment needs.

  Sunlight bounced off Geosynch HQ. The screens filtered the glare, but Todd winced just the same. Then the shuttle swung on its vertical axis, lining up the vector. Tracking said they were standing off well enough. Nays confirmed. Main propulsion came up, the ion thrusters beginning to kick them into the climb toward one-quarter gravity acceleration. That acceleration was very gradual and muted the stresses. Yet Geosynch HQ dwindled quickly on the screens, proof of the shuttle’s building speed. Todd watched his satellite fall behind with mixed, anachronistic emotions. Leaving port. The small ship, sailing away from the docks. And he was on the ship, excited at the journey awaiting him, but sorry to be leaving Dian and his people on the floating city in space. Fear, even after many such beginnings and safe voyages. Strong awareness of death waiting a short reach away, outside the hull. Most of all, he felt a tremendous, childlike wonder, reveling in the countless sounds and sights enveloping his being.