Dark Secret (2016)

by Edward M. Lerner

“Not much water,” she commented. By Earth standards, she meant. Compared to home this world brimmed with water.

  “All in how you look at things,” Antonio said. “Here, land is seventy percent of the surface, the rest water. Earth is the…opposite. But the total area here surpasses Earth’s. As dry as it…looks, this world offers more water surface than the Pacific Ocean.”

  “And desert everywhere else, it appears,” she said. “Still no radio signals?”

  “None.”

  Rikki stood and smiled. “Thanks for the update. I’ll give Carlos a heads up that we’ll need skeletal nanites.” And hope I don’t interrupt anything. “What the hell,” she added to herself, reminded of Li and her campaigning. “We have to call these worlds something.”

  “One through six?” Antonio asked. “Purple through…red?”

  “Wouldn’t those be nice and easy?” With a chuckle, Rikki turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Antonio said.

  She turned back. “Uh-huh?”

  “Li’s name suggestions,” he said. “So far, I’ve studied up on three. Plato. Confucius. Thomas…Hobbes. I’m concerned about the…pattern.”

  “Hold that thought.” Rikki shut and dogged the hatches, and made sure the intercom mike was off. “Concerned in what way?”

  “These names are…important…to Li.” It was a struggle, but for a few seconds Antonio managed to look straight at Rikki. “I wonder why.”

  An astute question. Because Li was pushing hard for her choices.

  Li was a psychiatrist. She would know what buttons to push with each of them. Flirting with Carlos. Logic with Antonio. Duty with Dana.

  When Blake’s and my turns come, what will Li try? Or has she tried with Blake?

  “I don’t know that I could tell Thomas Hobbes from Tom Thumb,” Rikki said. “But Plato? Confucius? Even I know those names. They were among humanity’s great thinkers.”

  “I didn’t know much either,” Antonio said. “And yet…”

  “Out with it. What’s on your mind?”

  “Philosopher kings,” Antonio murmured. “That’s who Plato thought should run society. His so-called republic…had an unelected ruling class.”

  “Did it?” Rikki shrugged. “I half remember some Plato text getting assigned in a poly-sci class. At best I skimmed it. Regardless, his republic is theoretical. I mean, no one ever created such a society.”

  Maybe Li hopes to be the first. And to be its philosopher queen.

  “Until…now?”

  Rikki shook her head. “One famous philosopher. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”

  Except to judge from the distasteful scene she had walked in on, it was more than one. She asked, “Do you know anything about Confucius?”

  “Now, I do.” Antonio gestured at an open text display. “He spoke for family loyalty…respect for elders and ancestor worship. About rites and ritual. He saw that kind of family as the model for…government. Confucianism developed into a centralized state with a…bureaucratic class and the king as moral example. The system of ethics evolved into a rationale for political elites.”

  “And you mentioned Thomas Hobbes?” Rikki said.

  “Without government, he said, life would be ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and…short.’ He was defending sovereign absolutism.”

  “Okay,” Rikki said, “Maybe I know one difference between Thomas Hobbes and Tom Thumb. Didn’t Hobbes talk about the social contract? That people consented to government to avoid all that nasty brutishness? A social contract seems progressive.”

  “A contract of submission to the monarch,” Antonio said.

  Once is random. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a trend. Maybe Li was predisposed toward certain forms of government. So what? She was only one among six.

  Rikki said, “Does it matter what we call the star and the worlds? Mars was named for a mythical war god, but growing up on Mars didn’t make me warlike.”

  Fingering his scar, gaze downcast, Antonio said, “It’s the pattern. Maybe to choose these individuals, to make their ideas prominent, will sway the children. They’re bound to get curious about the names.”

  If anyone aboard understood the shaping of children’s minds, Li would. It was why Hawthorne had drafted her.

  That and having her office minutes from the dry dock.

  Rikki wondered just how one phrased the question. So, Li, are you setting up the six of us as an aristocracy? How about yourself as the queen?

  Even the questions were too weird, too…freaking medieval, to take seriously.

  She gestured at the spinning globe and its all-but-featureless expanses. “I’ll be interested in what else you learn about our new home.”

  Looking hurt, Antonio banished philosophy from his displays.

  Not smooth, Rikki chided herself. She had not meant to offend. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

  She undogged the hatches and started aft, her appetite gone, keen to lose herself in the mindless slinging about of crates.

  Parenting and mentoring: they would all have those responsibilities, of course. But anything more? Conditioning the children for deference? Fostering ancestor worship? That was beyond crazy.

  Nonetheless, as Rikki clambered down the central-shaft ladder, planets one through six sounded better and better to her.

  21

  After much shuffling of cargo and many EVAs, they had assembled what, in theory, was a functioning short-range shuttle. So far it had passed all diagnostics. Its deuterium tank had been filled from Endeavour’s depleted reserves and its reaction-mass tank with melt-water from an ice body intercepted on approach to this new planetary system. For more than a day the shuttle had maintained a shirtsleeves environment. Still, the limit to Carlos’s faith in the spacecraft-from-a-kit was removing his pressure-suit helmet.

  While keeping that helmet within arm’s length.

  The narrow cockpit permitted only two crew. Carlos occupied the back seat, his legs spread wide and his knees wedged.

  Out the canopy the vista was humbling. A short docking tunnel removed: the scorched and pitted exterior of Endeavour, the toll of the light-years all too evident. Beyond that abused hull hung the world they meant to settle. Scattered seas, clouds, and snow fields interrupted his view of its bleak surface. A colossal mountain range, ridge after ridge after ridge, revealed the slow-motion collision of two tectonic plates.

  From the cockpit’s forward seat, Blake asked, “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine. Just taking in the scenery,” Carlos said. The truth was, he had yet to regain his customary vigor. Merely assisting with checkout—toggling switches, tapping in short commands, and reading out displays—had exhausted him. In free fall, no less.

  “Station-keeping maneuver coming up,” Marvin advised by radio.

  “You still secured?” Blake asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Not that, shoehorned in as Carlos was, a seat harness added much.

  “All right, Marvin,” Blake radioed. “Do what you must.”

  For a few seconds Carlos felt pressure against his back and a hint of weight, and then zero gee returned. He said, “It’s quite the view, don’t you think?”

  “No argument here, though I’m more interested in how things look on the surface. When you’re ready, we’ll move on to sensor diagnostics. Passive instruments first.”

  As boring as checkout was, the work needed doing. “Starting with infrared. IR sensors: self-test passes. Temperature readout across the surface looks plausible.” And freaking cold. “Moving on to visual.” Sweeping the shuttle’s modest telescope along the mountains, he homed in on a gray blur. “Directional controls are fine. The focus could be better.”

  “Try it with the adaptive optics.”

  “Adaptive optics: self-test pass.” The image sharpened; the blur resolved into a roiling ash plume. Carlos said, “That did the trick.”

  They exercised the shuttle’s short-and long-range radars, confirming distances against Endeavour�
�s measurements. The very precise laser altimeter—wasn’t. Reading records aloud from the runtime log, Carlos began wheezing.

  “Let’s take five,” Blake said.

  “Thanks.”

  Within two minutes the fidgeting began. Carlos ignored the pop-popping noises and the finger-tapping. He could use the full five.

  “So, you and Li,” Blake said.

  “Me and Li,” Carlos agreed.

  “You two seem to be getting along.”

  Having something she wants may have something to do with that, Carlos thought.

  “So I wondered…,” Blake went on.

  “What?”

  “Is Li lobbying you, too, for specific planet and moon names?”

  “Some,” Carlos admitted. Nonstop. But she hadn’t yet made his endorsement worthwhile.

  “Do you find some of her ideas are, well, a touch reactionary?”

  “As if I know who any of those dead Earthworms are.”

  Except Carlos did understand the question. Let Li be a social engineer. Let her instill respect for authority and deference to elders.

  Half of the submissive young colonists would be women.

  “Still,” Blake said, “don’t you find Li is rather…impassioned…about this?”

  Let’s hope so. “What’s in a name?” Carlos laughed. “That planet out there can be Gertrude, for all I care.” Or even Li, if she’s passionate enough.

  “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours?”

  “Something like that.”

  In the canopy, Blake’s reflection disapproved.

  Blake said, “Back to work. Let’s finish checking out the sensors, and then move on to backup power distribution.”

  “Fine by me,” Carlos said.

  Because the sooner the shuttle scouted out candidate landing sites, the closer he was to those thousands of cooperative young women.

  *

  It’s time, Li thought.

  She was the last one to float into the cargo hold. Smiling, making eye contact with everyone, she allowed her gaze to linger on Blake and her smile to broaden. On cue, Blake smiled back. Reflexes, if you understood them, were useful tools.

  Rikki flinched.

  So did Carlos. Then he motioned Li over to a spot beside him.

  Dana shoved off a bulkhead to drift toward the forward end of the hold, grabbed a handhold, and turned to face Li and the others. “If you haven’t already guessed, I called this get-together to confirm our readiness for a scouting mission. Blake, how’s the shuttle?”

  “All set to fly,” Blake said.

  “And make a landing?” Dana followed up.

  “That, too,” Blake said. “And even return to orbit.”

  “I’ve picked out candidate landing sites,” Antonio said.

  “I’ll play devil’s advocate,” Dana said. “What will we encounter down there? Marvin, give us a rundown.”

  “Full detail or a qualitative overview, Captain?”

  “Just the highlights, please,” Dana said.

  “It will be cold,” the AI summarized, “not far above freezing even at the equator. The air is thin and dry but breathable near sea level. Be wary of exertion, both because of the low partial pressure of oxygen and the near-toxic level of carbon dioxide. The ozone layer, although thin, will block most of the UV. The magnetic field seems sufficient to keep out cosmic rays. The sunlight is redder and dimmer than you’re accustomed to, but still quite adequate. Instruments will notice the color-balance shift, but I doubt your eyes will.

  “Because the candidate landing sites are near coasts, be aware that the tidal situation is complex. The innermost moon raises tides comparable in height to the Moon’s. Because this moon orbits so close to the planet, these tides last most of a day. The middle moon adds tides about a third as high, but with different timing. The tidal pattern shifts day to day because the moons do not orbit in synch.”

  “And it’s a rock,” Carlos said. “On land, there isn’t a scintilla of life.”

  Perhaps he meant to give full value for his side of their…transaction, but this was no time for him to improvise. Li thought daggers at him without looking. If she had, someone might have noticed.

  “Continue, Marvin,” Dana said.

  “Gravity is about forty percent above standard. Humidity varies more than across Earth, likely attributable to the reversal of the land/sea ratio. Not a factor for this initial exploration, but worth a comment: I have detected few traces of surface metals. Because of the higher gravity, whatever metals there are will have tended to sink before the planet cooled. And—”

  That’s enough,” Rikki snapped. “Earthworms are so damned spoiled. Apart from the gravity, this planet is a damned paradise. Breathable air. An ozone layer. A bit more sunlight than Mars gets. Plenty of water for agriculture.”

  So Marvin was an Earthworm? Li thought. Well, maybe his programmers were.

  Only the Earthworms about whom Rikki truly worried were her husband and Li.

  Rikki was on a tear. “…so there’s a lot of cee-oh-two? Be glad, because the greenhouse effect is what keeps the average temperature above freezing.

  “And if metals are scarce on the planet? We’re starfarers! All the metal we could ever want is waiting for us in the local asteroid belt—and it is more convenient than the old belt was to Mars.

  “Can you imagine what the early settlers on Mars would have given to have had this world as their starting point?”

  And then Rikki stopped, gone red in the face.

  A bit embarrassed at our outburst, are we? Li toyed with ways to put that reaction to use.

  Blake gave his wife’s hand a reassuring pat.

  How touching, Li thought. Especially the way Rikki yanked away her hand.

  “Anything else, Marvin?” Dana asked.

  “No.”

  “Anyone else?” Dana pressed.

  “Dress warm,” Antonio said.

  Dana said, “To recap, a shuttle is prepared. The world is habitable. We’re all due for a change of scenery. Are we ready to review landing sites and protocol?”

  That discussion was more businesslike. They reviewed the camping supplies a shuttle would carry. They agreed upon an initial four areas to inspect. Each region was in a mid-temperate zone or lower latitudes. Each offered a cave system for shelter, a lake or sea to filter for deuterium, and a broad river delta for farming. On a world devoid of land life, silt would be the closest thing to soil.

  “Then that’s it,” Dana said. “I’ll pilot the shuttle and—”

  “No way,” Blake said.

  Dana blinked. “What’s that?”

  “My job was to get Endeavour here. Done. Your job isn’t finished till you land this ship.”

  Dana’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your logic…but I accept it. And I concede you’re qualified to fly the shuttle. So, okay. Blake pilots this time. Any other volunteers?”

  “I’ll go,” Carlos offered. Trying to impress Li, of course.

  “Absolutely not, and that’s doctor’s orders. You’re not ready yet. I’ll go.” Smiling at Blake, Li added, “We’ll have fun.”

  Steam seemed to rise from Rikki’s ears. She said, “That’s okay, I’ll fly down with Blake. My job was to get him here.”

  “The gravity won’t be fun,” Li said. “For this first outing, at least, we should leave it to”—let’s push Rikki’s buttons again—“the Earthworms. We have more stamina.”

  And she winked at Blake.

  Dana jumped in. “No way, Li. If there are infectious agents on the surface, I can’t have our only doctor exposed. Those are captain’s orders.”

  Antonio fingered his chin. “I think I’ll be…more useful up…here.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Dana said. “Blake and Rikki will make this first flight. That’s it.”

  Rikki was seething, a Vesuvius about to blow. Blake was conflicted: flattered by the come-on, and even mildly intrigued; upset at Rikki’s anger; eager to explore. Car
los was jealous, Dana annoyed, and Antonio—as always—oblivious to the undercurrents.

  All Li’s pieces were in place.

  She cleared her throat. “First, we have some unfinished business.”

  “Not names again,” Blake stage-whispered.

  Li pretended not to hear. “Surely, Captain, we’re not about to set foot on our new home world still calling it ‘the planet.’”

  “You’ve made some interesting suggestions,” Dana said. (Interesting carried more than a hint of disapproval. The pawns had been comparing notes.) “The problem is, we’re nowhere near a consensus on planet names.”

  “Symbolism matters,” Li said. “Never mind how like Earth or Mars this planet may be. We’re keeping it at a psychological distance. It’s ‘this planet,’ and ‘this world.’ We need to make it home.”

  “Then call it Home, with a capital h,” Blake said.

  Li feigned considering the suggestion. “Alas, no. There’s none of our heritage in that name. It is my professional opinion that—”

  “Oh, just give it a rest,” Rikki barked.

  “That’s one opinion,” Li said. “However, this affects us all. I propose that we put it to a vote whether to decide on names, at the very least on picking this world’s name, before the initial landing. Surely we can manage that.”

  A subtler barb, but this time Dana stiffened. To manage things was the captain’s job.

  By now Blake, Rikki, and Dana would reject anything Li proposed. She couldn’t win—and that was as she intended. Li said, “Well?”

  And then Rikki surprised her. “We’ve gone on and on about naming conventions. Philosophers. Playwrights. Composers. Poets. Artists. Explorers and castaways. What we haven’t done is agree.

  “So here’s my suggestion. There are six planets and six of us. We draw lots, and each of us names one world.”

  “That sounds fair,” Antonio said.

  “Hurrah,” Blake said. “The Gordian knot, nuked.”

  Dana seemed to consider. “In this scheme,” she asked, “how would we address moons and geographical features? With this world, for example, it’s three moons and six of us.”

  Rikki stammered, “I…I’m in favor of deciding that later.”

  Ad libbing are we?