“What sort of help?”
“With the TGP lost, I need you to determine exactly what we will need to survive as much as a thousand years in space, and then for humanity to thrive on another planet.”
“Is that all?”
“No. Once you have determined what we need, I will need your help in acquiring it, quickly and without leaving any footprint.”
“My God, you’re serious.”
“Quite. Dr. Foley, I understand your skepticism as well as your distrust. We have roughly ten weeks until we reach Earth. Take a few days to satisfy yourself that I’m telling you the truth. I will make sure you have full access to all our sensors and computer systems—supervised, of course.”
“Even if you are telling the truth now, that doesn’t mean you haven’t lied to me in the past.”
“Of course. I’ve told you as much.”
“Yes, yes,” Foley replied, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Time travel is highly classified.”
Jason did not respond. Let her believe what she wants, he thought, as long as she goes along with the program.
“Fine,” she said after a moment. “Then you and I will meet again in…”
“Three days,” Jason said. “If you still have doubts at that point, we will have to wait until we are on Earth to address them.”
*****
Three days later they met again. Foley’s demeanor was considerably less cocky. Every camera, every window, every sensor told the same story: Freedom was hurtling out of the Sol system at point one seven light speed, and the current date was May 19, 134 A.D.
“All right, Captain,” she said. “I’m willing to go along with the premise that we have traveled to the Sol system in 134 A.D.”
“You are willing to go along with it, or you believe it?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“You tell me.”
“I’ll speak plainly. I believe that it’s 134 A.D. I don’t know how you did it, but I can’t argue with the evidence. What I don’t believe is that this was your mission all along. This was an accident. Some kind of hyperspace fluke. I saw your face when you demanded that knife from Eva, Captain. You had the look of a man who didn’t expect to live another day.”
Jason shrugged.
Foley laughed. “Play it that way if you want, Captain. You asked that I not insult your intelligence, and I don’t intend to. I ask that you return the favor. I’m not sure what your motivation is for this ruse, but I know you didn’t intend to survive our rendezvous with that gate. I’m willing to go along with the charade, however, if you admit what I’m saying is the truth.”
Jason regarded her. Was she bluffing? Trying to undermine him by getting him to admit he had lied? No, he didn’t think so. She was…what? Trying to clear the slate between them? There was something a little off about Dr. Foley. The idea that he owed her something, after that stunt she had pulled on the garden deck. It was like she was overcompensating, or projecting her own guilt onto him. He had figured she was experiencing survivor’s guilt; they all were. But with Foley, it was something more. He wished he knew exactly how she had ended up on his ship. All he really knew was that she had been substituted for Dr. Mehta at the last moment. Presumably a decision like that had to go through a committee or something. On the other hand, he got the impression that his father and Foley had basically thrown out the rule book, which would have given her a lot of latitude. Still, she couldn’t possibly be so craven as to put her name on the passenger list just to save her own ass. Could she?
He put the thought out of his mind. For the moment, he needed her. “We had some idea what might happen,” he said, “going through a gate at that speed.”
“Because of Andrea Luhman.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I have a friend who is—was—a high-ranking officer in the IDL. He told me about Andrea Luhman disappearing.”
“What else do you know?”
“Very little. I didn’t know Andrea Luhman had traveled back in time until you confirmed it just now.”
Jason smiled. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened to Andrea Luhman. We only went through the Chrylis gate because of a transmission we received three weeks ago, evidently from my father.”
“I had the pleasure of working with the admiral,” Foley said. “He was a remarkable man. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. We weren’t terribly close. In any case, we’ve all lost people. As far as we know, the people on this ship are all any of us have left.” It was very strange speaking about his dead father to a woman he barely knew and certainly didn’t trust.
“What did the transmission say?”
Jason brought it up on his comm and showed her.
“Terse,” she said. “What’s done is done?”
“Something he used to say. I never understood what he meant by it. Still don’t.”
“Is this why you think the past can’t be changed?”
“It’s part of it.”
Foley nodded. “All right. I will go along with your story. Freedom was sent into the past to preserve the human race, but we have to do so without altering history. Correct?”
“That’s right.”
“And you propose to do this by landing on Earth, filling Freedom with people, plants and animals, and then taking off again for some unknown destination far from the Cho-ta’an? Without leaving any trace that we were ever there?”
“Yes.”
“It’s absurd, of course. Any contact with the past will change history. If I step on a mosquito—”
“I’m familiar with the theory, Dr. Foley. Nevertheless, we’re going to proceed on the assumption that it is possible to interact on a limited basis with the past without altering history. We are going to execute our mission with as little impact as possible on the native culture, based on the principle that the more evidence we leave, the greater our chances of failure. Do you understand?”
“I believe so. The old ‘prime directive’ principle. Leave everything the way we found it.”
“Precisely.”
“That’s going to be difficult if we’re going to remove a few hundred people from the population.”
“That many?”
“If you want enough genetic diversity to allow humanity to survive indefinitely, yes. Even with genetic screening, it may not be possible, given the limited space on board Freedom. We have only six stasis pods, so nearly everyone will be awake at once. That means less living space per person.”
“Space that would have been taken up by the stasis pods and other equipment can be repurposed as living space.”
“A marginal increase,” said Foley. “Realistically, what’s the maximum population aboard Freedom, lacking suspension pods? Three hundred?”
“I think that’s a reasonable estimate.”
“There’s nothing reasonable about it. You’re talking about maintaining a population of three hundred people over the course of what, five hundred years or more?”
“Five hundred years was the original outside estimate for the seedship missions, yes. Those aboard would experience somewhat less time, because of temporal dilation due to high velocity travel.”
“Fine. Figure four hundred years. That’s still sixteen generations aboard a spaceship. You’ve seen how much friction can occur with a much smaller population over the course of a few days. What are the odds our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great—”
“I get the point, Dr. Foley.”
“Good, because I was losing count. What are the odds our distant descendants will share our interest in this mission?”
“They will be human. Their interest will be in survival.”
“Maybe. Or maybe four hundred years aboard a spaceship will turn them into something you and I wouldn’t even recognize. Not physically, of course. I mean sociologically and psychologically.”
“Our descendants not sharing our values is a problem
humans have faced since they were scribbling pictures on cave walls,” Huiskamp said. “We’re no different. I need you to focus on the more immediate problem. What is the bare minimum humanity needs in order to keep going?”
“In terms of genetics or food supply?”
“Both.”
“The latter is outside my area of expertise.”
“I’m aware of that, but you still know more about these things than me or anyone on my crew. Is there anyone else among the colonists with a background in agriculture, zoology, horticulture, biology or, I don’t know, nutrition?”
“The colonists, as you know, are thirteen scared young women, most of whom don’t even have a college degree, two medical technicians, two nurses and myself. If you had wanted a farmer or zookeeper, you probably should have asked for one when we were still within a hundred billion kilometers of the nearest arable land.”
“I wasn’t given any say in the matter,” Jason said, “as you are well aware. Do the best you can. Intelligence was one of the factors considered during the initial selection process, so the chances are good that you’ve got some bright girls among the breeding stock. Find them and make use of them.”
“Breeding stock! Captain, I have to object to your characterization—”
“Relax, Dr. Foley,” Jason said with a grin. “I just wanted you to know it isn’t true.”
“What isn’t true?”
“That we don’t listen to you.”
Chapter Thirty-four
A week later, Freedom was still somewhere beyond Pluto, hurtling away from the sun, but she had slowed to point one four light speed. Over the next thirty days, her outbound velocity would gradually drop to zero and then she would begin the long journey back to Earth. She would maintain one point six gee acceleration the entire time, despite the complaints of both the colonists and the crew. There was no other way to make it to Earth before they ran out of food. Slightly before the halfway point, Freedom would flip end-for-end and begin decelerating so that by the time she reached Earth, her velocity relative to the planet would be just high enough to keep her in orbit while they assessed their options for a landing.
Foley had surveyed the colonists and the crew, in an attempt to assemble a group to help her identify which species of Terran flora and fauna were most necessary for human survival. In the end, she selected a nurse named Shawna Hobbes, who had received a master’s degree in molecular biology before going into nursing, a warrant officer named Salima Baqri, whose family raised sheep and goats on Sahuarita, and a seventeen-year-old colonist named Rachel De Luca, who was a skilled amateur gardener. On Geneva, the three would not have made anyone’s short list for a group in charge of such a critical task, but they were the best options on board Freedom. In any case, all three were intelligent and highly motivated (or perhaps bored and desperate for something to do), and they had access to an encyclopedic data bank in the ship’s computers. Lauren Foley would chair the group, which she had somewhat grandiosely named the Committee for the Selection of Terran Species. She would also put together her recommendations regarding selection of colonists.
Three weeks after the committee was formed, when Freedom’s outbound velocity had slowed to less than a tenth of light speed, Jason received an impressive document from them detailing exactly which plant and animals species they recommended be obtained, and suggestions on how these could be preserved and transported. The largest animal they recommended keeping was the domesticated goat. Capra aegagrus hircus was hardy, not picky about its diet, and could serve as a source of milk for dairy products. Humans had lived with dogs for over ten thousand years, and while it was assumed that humans could survive without them, there was little doubt that canines added greatly to the quality of life. Cats were on the list as well, partly for companionship and partly for their usefulness in dealing with vermin—the team was dubious that rats and mice could be kept off the ship; Freedom already had cockroaches and various other insects that had somehow survived the decontamination process. Cattle, pigs and pack animals were not deemed to be worth their cost in food, oxygen use, and maintenance. Some smaller varieties of sheep might be worth the trouble. The domestic chicken and honeybee made the list.
The plants that topped the list were carbohydrate-rich crops like rice, potatoes, corn, and various grains. Broccoli, spinach, kale, beets, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, beans, carrots, cauliflower, garlic, cabbage, peas, red bell peppers, peanuts, Brussels sprouts, coffee and tea were also recommended. The committee had helpfully divided their recommendations by region, as they’d been informed that Freedom might only be able to make a single landing, so all of their specimens would have to be found within a fifty-kilometer radius. That meant finding replacements for many species that were commonplace around the world two thousand years later. Additionally, not knowing the climate or geology of the destination planet required selecting species that would thrive in a wide range of climates.
The committee also recommended several dozen plant species based primarily on useful qualities other than their nutritive or culinary benefits. Basil, catnip, cayenne pepper, chamomile, dandelion, echinacea, lavender, marigold, parsley, peppermint, rosemary, sage, St. John’s wort, thyme, rose, cedar, and nettle were recommended for their medicinal properties. Cannabis and poppies were recommended for the same reason. Some of the other plants recommended were bamboo, cotton, rubber plant, pine, flax, hemp, oak and maple. Phytoplankton, kelp and algae were recommended in case the destination planet had plenty of liquid water but low oxygen.
Dogs, cats and chickens could be found almost anywhere on Earth in 134 A.D. where there were people. The natives of North and South America had no domesticated goats, although some kept alpacas or llamas. Nor did they have wheat or oats. Meanwhile, Europeans and Asians did not have corn, peanuts, peppers, tomatoes or potatoes. No matter where Freedom landed, the diet of the future colonists was going to be far more limited than that of the typical person in 2207 A.D.
Most of these species could be kept alive on board Freedom with little difficulty. In theory, most seeds could be kept viable in cold storage for several years, but without access to the cryogenic equipment they had dumped when running from the Cho-ta’an, trying to maintain a viable store of seeds this way for a hundred years or more was not feasible. In any case, the colonists would need to produce food while they traveled. This had been part of the plan for the seedships all along: for the first few years, the colonists would subsist on stored provisions, but gradually they would begin to grow more and more of their own food on the hydroponic decks. Much of the hydroponic equipment had been dumped as well, so they would have to fabricate replacements or find workarounds. Most likely they would end up tearing out most of what hydroponic infrastructure remained and converting the decks to more traditional farms, where they would raise crops and animals the old-fashioned way.
The more vexing question remained the matter of replacing the colonists who had been left behind on Geneva. Beyond the practical challenge of convincing (forcing?) a group of human beings from the second century to live out the rest of their lives on a spaceship, there was some serious doubt whether it would do any good. Was it possible to select two hundred people from Earth with sufficient genetic diversity and quality to ensure the survival of the human race? Freedom still had a fully equipped medical clinic, but even with thorough genetic screening, the question was difficult to answer. Foley thought the odds were against them.
Thanks to the cosmopolitan nature of the Human Colonization Consortium and earlier genetic melting pots like the Americas and Western Europe, by the twenty-third century humanity had lost most of its more extreme genetic variations. There were exceptions, like strawberry blond and blue-eyed Devin Olson, whose Nordic ancestry was readily apparent, and there were of course islands of relative genetic conformity like the Chinese Union and New Jerusalem, but most human beings in 2207 were mutts, with ancestors hailing from at least three different continents. Jason, for instance, had a Dutch surname,
but one of his great-grandparents had been a Vietnamese immigrant to the United States and another was a Mexican descendant of Mayan natives and Spanish colonists. The genetic makeup of the colonists selected for the seedships was at least as diverse.
Due to widespread genetic screening (and in the cases of some nations and organization, outright eugenics programs), in the twenty-first and twenty-second centuries, the most common inherited disorders had been nearly eliminated from the population. In 2207, disorders such as sickle cell anemia, cystic fibrosis and Down syndrome were exceedingly rare. Colonist candidates (and human donors to the TGP) had been subjected to additional, highly restrictive, genetic screening with the aim of reducing the likelihood of the propagation of genetic defects.
None of these measures were available to screen potential candidates in 134 A.D. The best Foley could do was recommend landing in a region of high genetic diversity and then screening as best as they could for obvious defects. She and Jason met to discuss the issue the day after he received the committee’s recommendations on species selection.
“The obvious choice is Africa,” Foley said.
“Why is that?” asked Jason.
“Africa is where humanity originated. Humans lived there for hundreds of thousands of years before a few of them left for the Middle East and then the Americas. As a result of their relatively small numbers and the barriers that faced them as they left Africa, the branches of humanity that left experienced genetic bottlenecks that eliminated a lot of the variation that existed in Africa. A similar, if somewhat less extreme, bottleneck occurred when humanity left Earth for the stars. The Human Colonization Consortium was dominated by people of Northern European and East Asian ancestry. If you’re aiming for maximum genetic diversity, land in sub-Saharan Africa.”
“Not Northern Africa or the Middle East?” Jason asked. “I would have thought we’d be better off landing at a nexus of different races.”
Foley shrugged. “The differences between races are largely cosmetic. There is more variation, on average, between two geographically distant tribes in Africa than between, say, the Japanese and the Irish.”
The Legacy of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic Page 23
