Ark

by Stephen Baxter

  Venus restored the image of the planet, the tilted-over world with its friendly looking continents. Now she made the image accelerate through a simulation of its seasonal cycles. Ice crusted the continents, only to clear and leave them desiccated, brick red. ′We can′t survive this,′ she said. ′Oh, maybe we could adapt to one extreme or another. But not to these swings, year on year, from baking aridity to an Antarctic chill. Our plants, our animals, couldn′t cope with it either. The only possible habitation would be on the equator, but there′s very little equatorial land, a few islands and a slice of the Belt … We lucked out. We couldn′t see the rotation axis from Earth. We couldn′t have predicted these features.′

  She fell silent. Her audience, in silence save for the wriggles of children, gloomily watched as her toy planet suffered its cycling seasons.

  Theo Morell surprised Holle by calling down, ′You say this wasn′t visible from the Earth. OK. But you must have been aware of some of these problems, particularly the axis thing, from further out. You′ve spent the last ten years looking out of that cupola of yours.′

  ′Yes, I—′

  ′When did you know Earth II was going to be a bust?′

  Venus glanced at Wilson, who shrugged and looked away. ′Around two years ago. The data started hardening then - we′d had some suspicions. Two years ago I was sure enough to take it to Wilson, for instance.′

  Mentioning Wilson was a way to bring herself into his protection, Holle realised. But the mood in the chamber was switching, through shock and disappointment to a kind of anger. Theo shouted, ′And you kept them a secret, these ′′suspicions′′ of yours?′

  Wilson stepped in. ′That was all we had. Suspicions. We needed to get here to confirm it all. And besides, we couldn′t exactly change course. You know that you can′t control a warp bubble from the inside. Now is the right time to deal with this, and here we are doing just that, everything out in the open.′ He turned to Venus. ′You still have the floor. What do you recommend?′

  She looked up, her face set. ′That we can′t live here, on Earth II. The journey isn′t over. We have to go on. Sorry, but that′s it.′

  There was a moment of shocked silence. Then people started shouting, pointing at Venus as she stood defiantly by her model, surely wishing she was back in the sanctuary of her cupola.

  We have to go on, Venus had said. But, Holle wondered, thrilled and awed, go on to where?

  71

  Wilson stepped to the centre of the stage and bellowed, ′Shut up! I′m speaker, remember, so stop talking.′ That raised an ironic laugh, and broke the mood a bit. Wilson said, ′One at a time. Elle.′ He pointed to Elle Strekalov, standing by on a catwalk. ′You worked with Venus on all this stuff. What have you got to say?′

  ′That I don′t agree,′ Elle called down. Holle immediately wondered if Wilson had called her first knowing she would dissent from Venus. ′Maybe we can make a go of it here. Venus, you said yourself that there′s at least some equatorial land we could colonise. Otherwise we could consider strings of rafts—′

  Paul Shaughnessy hooted. ′Rafts? If we wanted to live on rafts, we could have stayed on fucking Earth.′

  ′You illegals should have,′ somebody called back, and there was a rumble of anger, the usual tensions barely suppressed.

  ′One at a time,′ Wilson growled. ′Go on, Elle.′

  ′OK, not rafts. We need to get down there and understand how the native life survives - because survive it does, we can see that. For instance, trees. Because the ice melts off annually the depth of any freezing would be shallow, maybe two or three metres. You could imagine a tree with long roots tapping into water and nutrients deep down beneath the frozen surface. Needle leaves like a conifer that it never sheds. Some kind of transpiration adaptation for the dry months. We could gen-eng trees from Earth to live that way,′ Elle insisted. ′As for animals, their crucial feature is mobility. We could develop migratory herds from our stock. The Belt especially is a north-south corridor which the herds could use to escape the aridity and the freezing, going wherever the climate was temperate in a given month.′

  Masayo called, ′And what about the people? Will we have to migrate too?′

  ′No,′ Elle said defiantly. ′We could seek shelters where we could overwinter and oversummer, ride out the extremes. Caves, maybe.′

  ′Caves?′ Paul Shaughnessy called. ′Rafts, now caves?′

  Elle pressed on, ′Look, this planet is not uninhabitable. There are places where the growing season is longer than it was on Earth - though you have to wait that much longer for the next season to come around. With time, with a programme of genetic modification, of continent-wide seeding, of building or adapting suitable shelters, and maybe ultimately a degree of terraforming—′

  Venus said, ′We won′t have the resources to achieve all that, even assuming it′s possible. We′ll be fighting for survival from the day we land.′

  Wilson said, ′Anybody else?′

  Holle waved her own hand. ′Venus - you said we couldn′t stay here, we had to go on. So where do we go?′

  Venus smiled. ′Thank you, Holle. Look - during the interstellar cruise we extended the deep sky survey begun on Earth, searching for habitable planets as far as we can see. We thought it was one of the greatest legacies we could leave for the next generation. And that′s how we came up with this - an alternative destination.′ Flamboyantly, she snapped her fingers.

  The big image of Earth II dissolved, to reveal a glum red star, and a planet orbiting it, glistening with oceans, grey-black in the crimson light. The bloody glow of the star filled the improvised auditorium.

  ′Earth III,′ Venus announced. ′Or at least I think it could be. The best attainable prospect in our survey. And far more habitable than Earth II. I′ve lodged relevant data in the archive.′

  ′Crap,′ Wilson said. ′That′s a Krypton! Gordo always swore he wouldn′t send us to a Krypton. You′re just digging up those old arguments from ten years ago.′

  Venus said doggedly, ′Yes, that′s true. Yes, it′s not a clone of Earth. Yes, we had these arguments back in Gunnison. But - look! Most of the stars in the Galaxy aren′t like Sol - two-thirds of them are M-class, like this baby. If we can learn to live here, we can live anywhere.′

  ′Bullshit!′ somebody cried, and the mass arguments broke out again, the angry shouts, the finger-pointing.

  Holle herself was swept along by Venus′s rhetoric. But of course there was one crucial fact that Venus hadn′t yet offered.

  Grace Gray put her hand up. ′Venus - what star is this?′

  ′It′s in the constellation of Lepus, the hare, as seen from Earth. Near Orion. Not naked-eye visible; it doesn′t have a name, only a catalogue number.′

  ′And how far away is it?′

  Venus took a breath. ′It′s further out, further from Earth. Another ninety light years.′

  And at three times lightspeed that translated to another thirty years′ journeying.

  More outrage. ′Thirty more years in this stinking tank?′

  Abruptly Kelly stepped forward, to the edge of the catwalk she shared with Holle. The way she moved made Holle′s heart sink. This was her moment, and she was seizing it.

  Wilson looked reluctant, but he nodded to give Kelly the floor.

  ′Let′s cut through this,′ she said. ′This business of Earth III is a distraction, a chimera. The solution′s obvious. If it takes more effort for us to survive here than to have stayed on Earth and live on, we should never have come, it wasn′t worthwhile.′

  Wilson prompted, ′And so—′

  ′And so we should go home.′ She glared around, as if daring anybody here to shout her down. ′We don′t travel on and on. We go home, to Earth.′

  Venus said, ′That′s impossible. Go home to what? Next year Everest drowns.′

  ′We′ll cope with whatever we find. The Ark was designed to sustain us for fifteen years, as a margin; I′m sure we can extend that to c
over the seven years of superluminal travel it would take to get us back. Zane, we have enough antimatter stock to recreate the warp bubble, don′t we? We can go home. We must! We tried our hardest, we came all this way, it didn′t work. This is no place for us, for our children. Let′s take them home, and see what we can build on Earth.′

  A riot of angry arguments broke out again. Holle, utterly shocked, tried to look into Kelly′s soul, through that hard, ambitious face.

  Wilson faced Kelly, his expression thunderous. ′That didn′t come out of the blue, did it? How long have you been planning this little stroke?′

  She smiled back at him, her eyes dead. ′And how long did you spend planning to topple me, while we were still sharing a bed? Don′t judge me by your standards, Wilson.′ She turned and walked away from him, and was instantly surrounded by a chattering gaggle of supporters.

  Wilson, arms folded, intense frustration creasing his face, had no choice but to let the furious debate continue, the shouts echoing from the stripped-bare hull walls.

  72

  Eventually Wilson broke up the session. The Ark wouldn′t run itself while they argued, and there were children to be fed.

  But, thinking on his feet, Wilson carved up the crew into study groups, to look in more detail at the various options. How survivable would Earth II actually be? Could they really make a home on Venus′s Earth III, and would the ship and its crew last out the even longer journey to get there? Or if the ship survived seven years back to Earth, what were they to do on arrival at an ocean world? He said he would reconvene the forum at first watch in the morning, and maybe they could come to a more considered decision about the future.

  Holle made sure that her own areas of responsibility were covered, that nothing was going to break down or burst into flames during the night watch. Then, grabbing some food, she moved from group to group where they huddled in corners of Halivah, and talked and talked, some arguing over handhelds or drawing down data from the ship′s archive. Some went back to Seba, but most stayed here in Halivah. As the hours wore on, as the arc lights were reduced to their night-time dim glow, the talking continued, a murmuring that filled the hull.

  People were responding emotionally, Holle perceived, not to the science, the facts. Some just longed to go home. Masayo Saito, missing his child, was in that group, and Holle suspected the Shaughnessys and others of the illegals and gatecrashers, who had never expected to join the crew of an interstellar spaceship in the first place, felt the same way. It was possible that was in Kelly′s heart too, some kind of wish to put things right with the child she′d left behind. But Holle was pretty sure that simple revenge over Wilson was a motivation too.

  Others, unable to stand the idea of more years of their lives lost inside these tin cans, wanted only to get out - to finish the journey, to set down here, however hard a shore Earth II might prove to be. People with kids tended to feel that way, not wishing to doom their children to a lifetime in a tank.

  Then there were those who were entranced by Venus′s visionary rhetoric. Why not go on and grab the whole Galaxy, rather than succumb to the exhausting, perhaps lethal, trap of Earth II? That was the way Holle′s own heart was drawn. But she quailed at the thought of thirty more years in these metal hulls. She was thirty-two years old. She tried to grasp the meaning of herself still shipbound at sixty, but could not.

  And then there was the brute politics of the Ark, as they had been festering for a decade already, Kelly and Wilson drawing people apart like iron filings to opposing magnetic poles.

  Holle didn′t sleep that night, and nor did many others. Yet the hours seemed brief, the arguments still unresolved, before Wilson drew them together again in the improvised auditorium on Deck Eight.

  Thandie′s crystal ball was inert this morning, a lifeless piece of engineering. In the bright lights of the arc lamps people looked tired, worn out, subdued.

  Wilson glared around, hands on hips. Holle saw that he had handled this situation about as well as he could have. He had given people time to cool down, and now, in the morning, the universe seemed a colder and more rational place. Wilson′s leadership had its flaws, but he did display a brute understanding of human nature.

  ′I don′t want to waste time on this,′ he began. ′Let′s try to make a decision, and get behind it and start implementing it. Everybody agree with that? OK. We have three options on the table, as far as I see. One. Stay here, colonise Earth II. Two. Take the Ark back to Earth. Three. Go on to Venus′s Earth III, out in Lepus. Do I have that right? So let′s choose. We′ll start with a show of hands, and I hope to Christ we get an easy majority for one option or the other.′ He checked a monitor. ′Can you guys over in Seba see me? OK then. Show me your hands for Earth II … And Earth … And Earth III. Shit.′

  There was a ripple of amusement among the crew, black humour. It was a split with significant support for all three options.

  ′Plan B,′ Wilson called now. ′Let′s separate into groups. Then we′ll get an accurate count and see where we go from there. If you want Earth II, come down and gather over here. Earth, to my left. Earth III, to my right …′

  Alarm bells rang in Holle′s head. She had the immediate fear that if Wilson made the division of their opinions into a physical split, the group might never be put back together. But it was too late. She could do nothing but move to represent her own choice.

  She stood with those, led by Venus, who wanted to go on, to Earth III. Wilson himself walked this way. Grace Gray joined them, with Helen, and Theo Morell. So did Zane, which wasn′t a surprise to Holle, and Doc Wetherbee, which was.

  Holle said, ′So you′re staying with your warp drive, Zane?′

  ′Not just that.′ There was a gleam in his eye, a kind of manic calculation. Holle thought this was Zane 3, the amnesiac shell left behind when his other alters had split off.

  ′What, then?′

  ′There′s nothing outside the ship. Nothing! If these others step out they will cease to exist. I have no choice but to stay aboard.′

  Wetherbee gave Holle a grim smile. ′How could I leave my star patient behind?′

  Venus faced Wilson. ′Didn′t think you′d join us, Wilson, after what you had to say about ′′Kryptons′′.′

  Wilson grinned. ′Base selfish calculation. Look around. In here, in this ship, I′m a big man. Down on a planet I′ll be nothing. I don′t want to be a farmer. And if I go back to Earth I′ll probably be prosecuted. No, I′ll stick to what I′ve got.′

  Holle glanced around to see how the other groups were forming. The Earth faction was unsurprisingly led by Kelly Kenzie, with Masayo Saito at her side, and a number of the other illegals, including the Shaughnessys. The would-be colonists of Earth II included Elle and her partner Thomas Windrup, and Cora Robles, an expectant mother. Counting quickly she guessed the numbers were forty-plus adults with their children in Venus′s Earth III group, the largest, around nineteen in Kelly′s Earth group, and maybe fifteen in the Earth II camp.

  When the sorting-out was done, Wilson stepped forward. ′Now what? It seems to me the obvious strategy is to eliminate the third-place choice. Then, depending on the numbers—′

  ′Like hell,′ Kelly Kenzie snapped. She stepped forward and faced up to Wilson. ′I can see where that would lead. There′s no way I′m submitting to you and your manipulation. Not any more, not over this.′

  ′Oh, yeah? So, on your say-so, we just bin our process? You′re full of shit, Kelly. ′This has nothing to do with Earth. This is all because of me, isn′t it? You and me. Gordo Alonzo would call this a mutiny.′

  ′Gordo isn′t here. You call it what you fucking like.′

  They were in each other′s faces. Holle saw Wilson′s hard-faced young men taking their positions around the chamber. Suddenly the crisis was here.

  And Zane walked into the centre of the deck. His stride was bold, and he was actually grinning.

  ′Shit,′ Doc Wetherbee murmured to Holle. ′I hope this is Jer
ry.′

  Wilson glared at Zane. ′You got something to say, nut job?′

  Zane glanced around, gradually gathering the group′s attention to himself. ′I always knew this would be the outcome. This indecision. We′re like a bunch of kids. We′ll never agree on anything between us. And so while you were all spending the night discussing how to grow trees on Earth II, I worked out the technical aspects of the most obvious option.′

  ′Which is?′

  ′We split up,′ Zane said brightly.

  ′That′s insane,′ Wilson said immediately.

  Zane boldly jabbed a finger at his chest. ′No. You just don′t want to see your kingdom split into three. Technically, we can do it. We have massive redundancy. We can separate the Arks, one for Earth, one for the stars. We can use our spares to build a separate warp generator! And we have four space-to-surface shuttle gliders. We can land the colonists of Earth II in one of those, leaving one for the return to Earth, and two for use at Earth III. It will take time and effort, but we can do this …′

  There were immediate objections, particularly about the compromise to the basic redundancy design strategy this would entail - no more spare parts, if they were used to build another ship. And the social engineers′ plans for genetic diversity would be trashed; Holle had no idea whether even forty would be enough for a viable colony without lethal inbreeding. Every instinct in her told her this was wrong, that three smaller groups would be much more vulnerable than one.

  But she saw, too, that Zane′s proposal had been greeted with immediate approval. If they split up, Kelly would be able to get away from Wilson. Thomas Windrup would be free of Jack Shaughnessy and his scars. Their future, and maybe the future of all mankind, was going to be determined by the fact that after a decade on the Ark they were all sick of each other.