by Migration
Several rows of upright metal crates of lightweight frame construction took up most of the space. The crates stood a little higher than a man and measured on the order of three feet along a side. They were divided into tiers of cubical cells, each about large enough to accommodate a clenched fist, giving a capacity that worked out to 1944 cells in a crate. It wasn’t that Ormont was some kind of calculating prodigy who could assess such things by eye. But knowing what the itinerary for the tour would be, he had done his homework.
The crates at the back, by the wall, were lined closely together and filled; those around the open part of the floor, partly so. The occupied cells contained intricate electromechanical assemblies of chips, actuators, and appendages built around shells in several colors. More were stacked on shelves at the rear. The ones inside the cells and on the shelves were retracted into a compact configuration for storage. Others, complete or in various stages of dismemberment, with their sensing probes and attachment latches extended, lay scattered on the work benches. They suggested some strange kind of alien arthropod, and were known, appropriately, as “spiders.”
Cereta turned and extended an arm to indicate the crates. “If you don’t know what these are, you shouldn’t be working in the Directorate,” he told the group. He was short in stature, with two remaining patches of hair fringing a smooth head, but bright-eyed and ever-alert with the kind of energy that gave the impression of somebody who devoured problems for breakfast. The transformation of an inert stockpile of materials into a functioning habitat in what had seemed an impossible timescale to most people had in no small part been Cereta’s doing. If he had agreed to mount an official publicity campaign, Ormont reflected, Cereta would be the kind of person he’d want running it.
“Modular robots,” Poli Pamimendes, from Aurora’s Housing Department, responded.
Cereta nodded and went on to explain anyway. “With traditional kinds of robots like the ones that crawl around welding space structures or checking pipelines, different types come specialized for each kind of task. If a particular task isn’t needed anywhere today, the robots that are specialized for it sit around with nothing to do.” He shrugged and looked from side to side. “Something tells us we ought to be able to do better. Well, we can…. But why don’t I let Wesl take it from here, because these are his people’s creation.”
“And Shikoba’s,” Wesl Inchow said, smiling. He had moved over to the nearest bench while Cereta was speaking, and picked up one of the intact spiders.
“Oh, right. Mustn’t forget Masumichi Shikoba,” Cereta agreed.
“And this is Zake, who runs the section here,” Inchow informed the visitors. The man who had risen from the workstation nodded a grin of acknowledgment. He was holding a remote-control unit in one hand. Behind him, the rest of the team had stopped what they were doing and were watching with interest.
Inchow held the spider up for everyone to see. He was a stockily built Asiatic, from the same islands as Shikoba. “Instead of designing a different robot for each task, you build many copies of one simple module. A module can’t do much by itself, but they can assemble together to form a system able to do complicated things. The same collection of modules can reconfigure itself for different tasks or different working environments. An analog in nature would be the thousands of different specialized proteins that make up living things, all formed from the same assembly kit of twenty amino acids. Here’s an example of a mobile configuration that might be used for terrain exploration.”
Inchow stepped aside and gestured to draw attention to a composite structure formed from maybe fifty or sixty spiders that had been standing farther back beside some boxes. It was about knee-high and consisted of a knobby body supported on six multiply jointed legs, with a turretlike head at one end, bristling with sensor stalks, lens housings, and other protuberances. Such an assembly might carry out reconnaissance work on Hera. The crates from which the spiders deployed would be carried down to the surface by Envoy’s landers.
He nodded to Zake, who thumbed a code into the remote unit that he was holding, and the assembly of spiders stirred into life. Moving with a surprisingly smooth, flowing gait, it circled the open space of floor as if scanning its environment, and then darted forward suddenly, causing the nearest of the visitors to draw back in alarm. As they opened to allow a path, it came out into the aisle and turned in the direction where the stepladder and the panels to the sides of it stood blocking the way.
“Zake’s just giving it broad goals of which way to go, as a strategy-formulating program might in a remote, self-directing operation,” Inchow commented. “How it gets there is something it figures out for itself.”
The walker reached the bottom of the steps and paused for several seconds. Then a series of movements occurred among the spiders at the front, in which the first pair of limbs transformed from legs attached at the underside to arms extending from what had become shoulders. The spiders forming the ends of the arms transformed their manipulators into grasping claws that it used to begin pulling itself up. As it proceeded to ascend, the other limbs modified themselves similarly, turning the walker into a climbing caterpillar. At the top it paused again at the low opening beneath the upper panel, and after more agitation among the modules assumed a snakelike form to wriggle its way through, and then reverted to a variant of the caterpillar, which could be seen descending the steps on the reverse side. Inchow strolled forward and lifted one of the blocking panels at the side away, allowing it to return now reformed as the original walker to exclamations of approval and a scattering of applause from the watchers.
Ormont delivered some words of appreciation to Zake and the team, who were looking pleased, and reminded them that he would be addressing the full staff of Outmark after the lunch that had been organized in the cafeteria. Since that was the next item on the day’s schedule and there was some time to spare, he let the party break up at that point to continue talking with Zake and his people, and left with Cereta.
“This visit was a good idea,” Cereta said as they walked away. “The guys have had a tough time meeting the deadlines – especially in more recent times with Lubanov’s restrictions.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“How much of it could be imagination, do you think?”
“Oh, over the years I’ve come to learn that Andri is someone to be listened to. He has good instincts.”
“They needed some uplift anyway, Lund. Some of the stuff that’s being said around Constellation can get people down, even if they don’t buy it. It gets me down at times.”
“That was the main reason we did it,” Ormont replied.
Cereta was quiet until they came to the stairs leading down to the level where the cafeteria was situated. Then he said, “A lot of people are saying we should be running our own line of counterpropaganda. No punches pulled. Show it all as it is. Discredit them enough in public, and they wouldn’t dare try anything.” His tone said that he was far from sure that they weren’t right.
“The trouble with that is that if you have to imitate your opponent and adopt his methods, all you’ve done is turn into another version of what you were trying to beat. So it really doesn’t matter which side prevails. He wins either way.”
“Hm…. Let me think about that.”
At the bottom of the stairs was a foyer area with doors into the cafeteria on the far side. A knot of people heading that way sent Ormont looks of recognition, which he acknowledged with a nod. One side of the foyer consisted of a window wall that extended beyond the partition to run the full length of the cafeteria. Lubanov was standing alone at the guardrail along the wall, staring out at the starfield and Envoy riding several miles off.
“I need to talk to Andri about a couple of things,” Ormont said in a low voice. “I’ll catch up with you inside.” Cereta nodded and went on through.
Envoy resembled a mushroom with a flared stalk, with a head in the form of a hexagon rather than a dome. The propulsion system forme
d the stalk, which along with the command module constituting the core of the hexagon would remain above Hera as the Orbiter. The faces of the hexagon carried shells covering the stowage bays for the landers, which would deploy to selected spots on the surface. Just at the moment, it was at the center of a clutter of hardware and umbilicals hanging around it in space, looking as if it had been frozen in the act of exploding.
“The drive would be the obvious target,” Lubanov said without turning his head. “A big enough explosion there would make sure of things. If it were concentrated near the tail, there would be minimum destruction of hardware that would be recoverable and usable.”
Ormont looked away from Lubanov’s reflection in the window and followed his gaze. “And with expectations suitably prepared in advance, you’d stand a good chance of getting away with it,” he remarked. Envoy’s baryonic-annihilation drive was a high-performance design, stressed close to maximum to achieve the required boost to Hera. There had been a spate of warnings of late from alleged authorities about possible accidents. Engineering management had issued statements demonstrating that the risk had been wildly overstated, but once such ideas had taken root it was never possible to eradicate them completely.
“Exactly.” Lubanov turned to face Ormont and leaned against the rail behind him. “We have just two weeks to go. If it were up to me, I would break out weapons from the armory, equip a special force from the Police Arm, and put them on Etanne to lock the whole place down until after the launch so that a mouse wouldn’t be able to move in there without our knowing about it.”
Ormont nodded. “I know you would, Andri. And you know it isn’t my way. Start that kind of thing now, and we’ll be on our way to creating old Earth all over again before anyone even arrives on Hera. But show me some solid evidence, and then, sure, you have your green light.”
“Very well. But can I have your approval to form such a unit, and have them standing by ready for fast response?”
“Do you really think such melodramatics are necessary? For over a month we’ve kept tight control over everyone who’s in a position to interfere with things – EVA work and telebot operators. There are full logs of every move they make. And no independent vehicle could make it out here from Constellation without being detected.”
“I know that’s how it seems,” Lubanov replied. “But one thing I’ve learned is that the most predictable certainty in life is that unpredictable things will happen. I’d like a team at the ready and standing by out here until the launch is over. If an emergency develops, they won’t be any use four hours away back home.”
It made sense. Ormont nodded reluctantly. “To be stood down on successful launch,” he agreed.
“Naturally.”
More people were coming through and disappearing into the cafeteria, which from the rising noise level was evidently filling up. Ormont motioned with his head to indicate that they should follow. Lubanov unfolded from the guardrail and straightened up.
Ormont sighed as they began moving toward the cafeteria entrance. “You know, Andri, maybe I should have listened more when you said you wanted to put someone on the inside among the Dollarians. How much difference it might have made to have some idea what they’re up to. Deceitful, I know, but sometimes necessary. Too late now, I suppose.”
Lubanov gave him a sharp sideways look as they walked. “Well, not necessarily, maybe…. How would we stand if I could come up with something?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
“Oh… nothing specific for now. But let me look into it some more.” Lubanov’s voice had a curiously vague note to it, Ormont thought.
TWENTY-EIGHT
In terms of surroundings and the mood that they inspired, Etanne was about as different from Plantation as it was possible to get. Whereas Plantation brought together natural vistas designed to recapture – even if as caricatures – the feeling of open skies and unspoiled Earth, Etanne was compact and enclosed, focusing inwardly upon itself in solemn introspection. While Plantation exulted in sunny hamlets hidden among forested slopes, Etanne brooded in windowless cells and somber halls. Plantation echoed and preserved life that had been; Etanne peered forward to life that some said was to come.
A half-dozen founder groups had organized the original construction between them, since none had been large enough to justify a daughter world of its own or be capable of managing such a project unaided. The design philosophy that resulted called for a modular structure to afford each sect the isolation and seclusion it desired, along with a measure of autonomy consistent with having to share essential supporting services. It was implemented as a wheel consisting of a core zone surrounded by a ring of segments separated by radial segregation and communications corridors, each segment devoted to one of the member groups and sized according to the number to be accommodated. The geometry allowed for future growth by the addition of a second and possibly further rings, which might be occasioned either by increases in the size of the existing groups or the introduction of new ones. The modules making up the peripheral ring were rectangular in section, giving the wheel an overall flat cylindrical form, with square edges.
Korshak had not been to Etanne before. His first impressions as he and Rikku came out of the docking port and passed through a circular viewing gallery of sky windows to the core zone service area were of starkness and utility after the bright faces presented by the modules and Hub facilities of Aurora. Its main structural members were of bare metal, with the wall panels between coated in plain, subdued colors, and floors of a uniform gray woven-mesh composite. The architecture was styled to produce an exaggerated impression of height by emphasizing verticality, which it achieved by means of tall, narrow doorways and closely spaced, fluted uprights. In a way, appropriately, it reminded him of some of the monasteries and retreats he had visited during his former travels across Asia.
Rikku was enraptured by it all. “I feel as if the meaningful part of my life is just about to begin, Shakor,” he said as they approached a line of figures who seemed to be awaiting the arrivals. “It’s all so symbolic – as if the times of shallow distractions are behind now. That must be why it was built this way.”
“True, brother! How true!” Faithful to the role he was playing, Korshak’s voice shook slightly with awe and emotion. He would explain his changed appearance to Vaydien later.
One of those waiting was a youth of about twenty, wearing a plain brown robe with a $embroidered in yellow on one side of the chest, which Korshak picked out immediately. But he gave no indication of the fact and waited until the youth identified them and stepped forward, smiling enigmatically. He announced himself as Furch, another Dollarian novice, who had been sent to meet them. He would conduct them to the Dollarian sector of Etanne, where they would first have lunch. Afterward, Rikku, whose entry was already approved, would begin the precursory formalities. For Shakor, an introductory interview had been arranged with a superior called “Banker” Lareda. Judging by Furch’s reverent tone, the title signified a rank of considerable standing within the Dollarian order.
A pair of imposing doors emblazoned with $signs and set in a rounded arch gave admission to the Dollarian sector of Etanne, which they called their Academy. On the far side was a lobby area, sober in furnishings and decor, with a desk attended by a gray-haired disciple attired in a plain brown tunic. Furch cleared them through, and they deposited their bags in a side room, to be collected later. Korshak’s bag was not the one he had taken with him to Plantation, but another that Lois Iles had given him when they met at Sonja and Helmut’s house before Korshak left.
From the lobby they entered a larger space that seemed to be a central concourse, with doors on all sides and corridors leading away in several directions. Numerous people were in evidence going about their business, clad in a variety of styles ranging from simple tunics to long, enveloping robes. Furch led the way along a corridor flanked by what appeared to be meeting rooms or classrooms to another concourse, smaller this
time, on the far side of which was a door into a communal dining area that he announced as the “refectory hall.” Its paneled walls boasted some ornamentation in the form of statuary and pictures, mostly portraits, and it held a dozen or so long tables seating six on a side, along with a larger one extending almost the width of the room that looked like a head table for formal occasions, but which was unoccupied at present. The rest all had some people seated at them, it being the period for the midday meal.
Following Furch’s example, they joined a short line at a serving table staffed by kitchen helpers to receive helpings of soup and bread, a fish-and-pasta casserole with vegetables, and sliced fruit with cream, and found a table with a group talking among themselves at the far end. The styles of dress seemed to fall into distinct categories, which presumably denoted various kinds of specialty, or perhaps levels of proficiency. Korshak was surprised to see that besides the robes and tunics, there were some patterned more along the lines of the uniforms worn by Aurora’s Police Arm, and in pictures he had seen of the military services that had existed in Sofi, Tranth, and other parts of Earth. He remarked on it as they sat down and started eating.
“It reflects the two aspects of the Dollarian movement,” Furch informed them. “The spiritual and ideological aspect is necessary to chart the course that is to be taken. But ideals alone are no use without a capacity for action to turn them into reality. In the same way, Aurora needs both a destination and propulsion to get there. Neither is of any use without the other.”
“I see!” Rikku sounded intrigued, as if the revelations he had come to receive had already begun.
