by Alex Lamb
How sad – another citizen who’d absorbed the Colonialist propaganda without even noticing.
‘You don’t think they’re being given a chance to build a new life?’
‘From what I’ve heard,’ said Ruiz, ‘the conditions are usually shit.’
Yunus winced a little at the language; Colonials had such filthy mouths. And Ruiz was a Colonial, whether he believed it or not. For starters, he didn’t appear to have a grasp of the basic concept of respect for his betters.
‘May I paint a different picture for you?’ he said.
Ruiz shrugged. ‘Go for it.’
‘Consider how much it costs to take people to the Far Frontier. The Free Camps are privately funded. They’re usually poor because almost all the available money has been spent just getting people there.’
‘Okay,’ said Ruiz. He fell silent.
Yunus pulled an amused expression. ‘Have I convinced you already?’
‘If you want to convince me, you’ll have to tell me why there are so many of them. Why not just build fewer and give people a decent quality of life?’
‘Because,’ said Yunus patiently, ‘unless Earth builds them, billions of people will be locked out of the economy. The Far Frontier gold rush is happening now. Whoever is out there making those discoveries is going to own tomorrow’s businesses. What do you think will happen to all those people on Earth if they don’t get a share in that? That’s also why they bend the rules. Earth leans on IPSO as much as it can because the alternative is leaving billions on Earth penniless, eking out a life in dismal prefab warrens while the Galatea Effect smashes everything on the surface.’
Ruiz looked out of the corner of his eyes as if scanning for an escape route.
‘I don’t know, it still sounds exploitative to me. I don’t see the Leading classes out there getting their hands dirty.’
Yunus struggled to maintain his composure. Mark was obviously a classic Eno, an Earther in Name Only. Shame. Yunus had hoped to find something of a kindred spirit. He’d found it hard enough to endure the way the mission had been set up and was appalled by the things he’d learned about the Fleet’s recent behaviour – the existence of the Chiyome first and foremost. The assumption of Earth’s guilt appeared to have been written into the mission plan from the outset. And, given that, he still wasn’t sure why the Fleet had chosen to show their hand and reveal the awful ship’s existence. There was something off about the whole business.
Yunus had told himself since first joining the mission that it was worth all the schmoozing with ignorant Colonials, given what Earth stood to gain. However, being trapped in a closet under several kilometres of radioactive starship surrounded by bigots made that difficult. He had to remind himself of his duty every time they shoved their prejudice in his face. None of them had even taken the time to understand Earth’s society before they dismissed it. None of them showed him an ounce of the respect he was due.
‘Actually, there are members of the Leading class in every Free Camp,’ he said. ‘Who do you suppose runs things?’
For a moment, Ruiz’s guarded expression slipped. His eyebrows twitched upwards. Yunus felt a surge of satisfaction.
‘You didn’t know that?’ he said brightly.
Mark shook his head.
‘I thought not. Despite the propaganda, not all of the Leading class are greedy billionaires,’ said Yunus. ‘Most of us are just people who happen to be born into clerical families and who accept the social responsibility that comes with that privilege. Many of us volunteer to work in the camps. A classful society is a two-way street, you know. Noblesse oblige is an oath we take seriously.’
Ruiz exhaled noisily. ‘I’m glad to hear it. But did you really ask me here to talk about the Frontier? Given our mission profile, it’s not exactly relevant.’
Yunus sighed and decided to get to the point. Chit-chatting with a foul-mouthed misanthrope had started to wear on him.
‘Actually, it’s very relevant. You and I both know that this mission comes at a critical time. The future of the Frontier is being decided right now, which makes the timing of the Tiwanaku Event either suspicious or miraculous.’
‘Agreed,’ said Ruiz. ‘Can we just say suspicious?’
Yunus grimaced. ‘Ah, but here’s the thing, Mark. The Fleet is completely convinced that one of Earth’s Houses is responsible for the attack, but I don’t buy it. You may be aware that I’m well connected in Earth politics. I know senior representatives from all the major sect-groups, even if only slightly, and I will tell you this: the Far Frontier is so important right now that I cannot think of a single House that would break ranks in order to fake something as unlikely as first contact. It would ruin their credibility with their allies at a time when alliances mean everything. Their power in the senate requires that they act as a unified bloc.’
Ruiz looked genuinely unsettled. ‘So you think a colony’s responsible?’
‘No,’ said Yunus with a smile. ‘Not even Drexler would try this. Consider the implications. Such a masquerade would not stand for long, and if news got back to the home system, the Colonial cause in the senate would collapse. Only Galatea would have the money for this, and Galatea is obsessed only with itself. As the Prophet Sanchez said – once you remove the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. In this case, logic requires us to entertain the belief that the aliens are real. Whether the timing is driven by the Transcended or inspired by God, I do not know. What matters is the possibility.’
‘Okay. Fine,’ said Ruiz. ‘Let’s say they’re real, then. Regardless, what do you actually want from me?’
‘I want room to pursue my diplomatic agenda,’ said Yunus, leaning forward. ‘Let’s not fool ourselves – we both know why Sam Shah is on this mission. If there are aliens at Tiwanaku, Sam will try to take control of the situation immediately. He’ll use it to try to create an advantage for the Colonial faction he represents. He has links to the Frontier Protection Party, you know.’
Ruiz shook his head. The spark of interest in his eyes appeared to be fading.
‘No. I didn’t know that.’
‘All I want is for you to give me the benefit of the doubt for long enough to secure an advantage for the billions of people stuck on Earth. The same people you spent those years trying to save.’
Mark’s mouth became a thin line. Yunus’s cheeks flushed with contained annoyance. Somehow, asking for a simple favour appeared to have tipped Ruiz into a kind of emotional lockdown. Didn’t the young man see how much of a difference he could make? Control of the helm at Tiwanaku meant control over the comms channels. It meant being able to position the ship to prevent the Ariel Two from firing. It would govern who made contact first and how fast. Yunus’s ownership of the override codes would be worth nothing without a supportive hand at the controls.
‘Can you do that for me?’ Yunus pressed.
Mark fixed him with a steady look. ‘With all the greatest respect, Professor, I’m committing to exactly nothing that’s outside the mission plan. I don’t mind telling you that Sam has already spoken to me.’
Yunus’s stomach lurched.
‘And I turned him down, too,’ said Ruiz. ‘I can’t afford to take sides on this ship. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m here to do a job and that’s it. I hope you’ll be pleased with the outcome, but straight dealing is all I can offer you.’ He stood and headed for the door. ‘Do you have any other questions?’
Yunus gazed at the nasty little Eno with dislike. ‘No. You may go. Thank you for your time.’
In the quiet that followed, he pondered what he’d learned. Sam had already angled for Mark’s allegiance, which suggested that Sam had already guessed the Photurians were real, regardless of the act he maintained to the contrary. It also meant that his agenda had to be different from the Fleet’s, otherwise a private discussion with Ruiz wouldn’
t have been necessary. It was imperative that he understand what Sam was up to.
He sat with eyes narrowed, his fingers idly tapping on his knee while he tried to think of a strategy for winkling that secret out. He suddenly wished he knew more about Sam besides his ponderous reputation.
‘Where is Sam Shah?’ he asked the room.
‘Sam Shah is in this sector,’ it replied. ‘He is speaking to your wife in her lab, two doors down.’
Yunus leapt to his feet. It was too good an opportunity to miss. He strode the short distance around the central corridor and waved Citra’s door aside.
She was sitting on her lab bench, laughing. She stopped and blinked as she noticed him in the doorway around the side of Sam’s shoulder.
‘Yuni! There you are, dear,’ she said. ‘Did you know that Overcaptain Shah has an interest in the Davenport biosphere?’
Sam turned and nodded to Yunus in greeting, his broad, handsome face crinkled with smiles.
‘Professor,’ said Sam, ‘your wife and I were discussing Frontier biosecurity. She’s extraordinarily well informed.’
‘I’m surprised you ever imagined otherwise,’ said Yunus as he struggled for poise. ‘If she wasn’t an expert, she wouldn’t be here, would she? Overcaptain Shah, may I have a quick word with you in private?’
Sam glanced at Citra and then back in his direction.
‘Of course,’ he said simply.
Yunus gestured for Sam to join him in his study. They made the very short walk in silence. As soon as Yunus sealed the door behind them, Sam looked at him expectantly.
‘How can I help you, Professor?’
‘I just learned that you had a private chat with Mark Ruiz. Do you mind if I ask why?’ Sam’s omissions would be as informative as his remarks.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. The man had the good grace to look embarrassed, at least.
‘I did. He told you, I suppose. I was trying to feel him out.’ Sam fixed Yunus with a level gaze. ‘I’ll be blunt. You and I have different political interests. You’d like our investigation at Tiwanaku to result in benefits for Earth without advantages for the Colonies. I’m biased in the other direction. I think we’re both man enough to acknowledge that. And I think we also both understand that this mission is a political one. But while you and I may see Tiwanaku as a human problem, I suspect Will Monet has a different take. I was very effectively outmanoeuvred when it came to selecting a captain for this ship. Ash Corrigan was my choice. I thought the fact that he’s got so much experience on diplomatic ships would be a strong sell for Earth’s senators. His record is spotless and he’s been their captain of choice for official flights to the Far Frontier for the last two years.’
Yunus contained his surprise. He hadn’t known that.
‘Clearly, though,’ said Sam, ‘any pilot from Drexler, no matter his record, could hardly compete with an Earther for the job. So Monet got his way before anyone had the chance to notice the connection, or to look deep enough into Ruiz’s background to see how odd an appointment that was.’
‘I see,’ said Yunus. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Sam, but it wasn’t this disarming directness.
‘I’m not used to being tactically outplayed, Professor,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t mind telling you that. What concerns me, though, is when it’s members of my own side doing it. When you and I find out which group is responsible for Tiwanaku, we won’t have much time to negotiate a deal. We’ll both want to take point in that conversation and tight control of this ship will make all the difference. I can live with that problem. Here’s the thing, though. You want an advantage for Earth. I want the same for the Colonies. So what does Monet want? Why did he put his man in that chair? We may be at odds, Professor, but I think it’s safe to say that neither of us wants war, which is why I’d like to know what’s really going on aboard this ship. And if that means a little sleuthing on my own time, I don’t mind doing it.’
Yunus gazed blankly as it dawned on him that it wasn’t Sam who’d figured out about the Photurians, but Will Monet – a far more serious adversary. Yunus saw then that he’d made the mistake of conflating Will’s erratic behaviour with a lack of subtlety. He’d grown used to thinking of Monet as a washed-up relic, but it was logical that an event like this would bring him back to the fore.
It all made sense now. Of course Monet was more likely to have noticed an extraterrestrial hand in affairs than the plodding policeman before him. Monet had put Ruiz in the captain’s chair precisely because he wanted control at Tiwanaku. And that was also why Ruiz was so hard to reach. His opacity wasn’t an accident. Yunus wondered how he’d been so blind.
‘I won’t promise to share what I learn with you,’ said Sam. ‘You’re too much of a professional to expect that from me. But I hope we can agree to respect each other as adversaries and make sure this mission doesn’t get blood on its hands. Can I rely on you for that?’
‘Yes,’ said Yunus distantly, his mind spinning. ‘Of course. Thank you, Overcaptain Shah, your honesty has been extremely refreshing. I think we understand each other better now.’
Sam nodded curtly as he retreated to the door.
‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘May the best man win, Professor. And I meant what I said – your wife is very impressive. You’re lucky to have an ally like her aboard.’
‘Thank you,’ said Yunus as Sam let himself out.
He sat alone for a few minutes after that, calculating his next move. He needed a better handle on Monet’s game, and he needed it quick.
5.3: WILL
The Ariel Two arrived at the Gore-Daano fuelling station right on schedule. Will found himself surveying a desolate little system – just rocks and dust looked over by a sullen, underfed star. An automated Fleet outpost had been left there to handle the ships. Were SAPs able to feel loneliness, Will didn’t doubt this one would. He’d hoped for more distraction.
The view from the ship’s interior cameras didn’t help, either. The last refurbishment had updated the Ariel Two’s cabins significantly, under Nelson’s careful supervision. The comparatively large spherical space of the central habitat core had been split into pleasant cabins lined with pale, luminescent clamber-web and softly carpeted walls that changed colour to taste. Their new crash couches had a sleek, fluid design. Will couldn’t have cared less.
He’d spent too many of his off-hours during the two weeks of voyage so far with Nelson and his three-person team: Mitra, Peter and Devi. Competition for a posting to the Ariel Two was fierce, with positions almost always going to Fleet personnel who doubled as research scientists. Only those who wanted to spend years inspecting the bowels of a working nestship applied.
Consequently, the in-flight conversation had tended to involve animated speculation about details of the Ariel Two’s design over glasses of low-alcohol wine in the ship’s central dining space. Will had sat through the debates with Nelson’s tight-knit clique and tried to make the best of it, but there were only so many discussions of hydraulic transport eddies he could take.
As the days without meetings had crawled by, Will had found himself increasingly drawn to a bad habit: living in the past. Nelson had repeatedly counselled against it, but with the team now hard at work refilling the Ariel Two’s antimatter reservoirs, he had time on his hands.
With a twitch of thought, the Ariel Two fell away. Will found himself back in the apartment on Mars he’d shared with Rachel. He flushed with the heat of replayed emotion.
‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s all,’ he said.
Rachel got up from the sofa and strode to the window. He took in the sight of her compact, muscular back and ached, even through the veil of recall.
‘It’s got to be better than sitting here letting this shit play out, hasn’t it?’ she said.
She turned to stare at him, her dark eyes fierce. Rachel had always been at h
er most beautiful when in motion – when animated by something, as she was now. The man he’d been that day had barely noticed. He was too caught up the moment.
‘You’re drowning here and you don’t even see it,’ she said. ‘You’re getting sucked deeper and deeper into Earth’s poison. I feel like I’ve lost you already, Will. So why shouldn’t I try fixing it?’
‘Charting the most dangerous part of deep space is fixing our relationship?’ he said. ‘Forgive me for not understanding how that works.’
[Tell her you love her,] Will yelled at his prior self. [Tell her you’re afraid you’ll lose her. Be honest!] The prior Will didn’t hear. He never did.
‘Do I really need to spell it out for you?’ she said. ‘You’ve made fixing you about fixing civilisation. Did you ever stop to think about how nuts that is? And we both know you can’t fix civilisation while everyone’s fighting over the Far Frontier. So if I can’t fix you without fixing that first then I might as well try. I’m going to go find something else for the human race to get excited about because that’s all I have left.’
The old Will pulled a grimace of confused distaste.
‘All you’ve got left? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’
She turned away again. ‘I barely see you,’ she said. ‘I’m not having any fun here, and neither are you. I hate Mars. You hate Mars.’
[Don’t say it,] Will shouted into the past. [Don’t say it!]
The memory froze. It took Will a few seconds to pull himself free of the moment and notice the incoming call icon from the Gulliver in his sensorium. He shook off the old pain, closed down the memory and opened the channel.
When the window opened, he found Yunus Chesterford seated before him in one of the Gulliver’s executive workrooms. He wore a bespoke one-piece in Reconsiderist brown with his mission-lead stripes proudly displayed.
‘What’s up?’ said Will. Embarrassment vied with impatience at the edges of his mind.
‘Nothing so far, thankfully,’ said Yunus. ‘I’m just calling you to check in. Anything to report?’
