Ark

by Stephen Baxter

  Helen Gray, clinging to a strut that had once supported a deck partition, glanced around as the crew settled into their places, all around the hull. People clung to guide ropes or hand rails every which way up, unconscious of their differing orientations after so many years without gravity, and they made a shell of faces all turned towards Venus. Save only for the crew on watch in the shuttle and cupola, everybody was here, all chores suspended for the day, and there was a buzz of conversation.

  Helen spotted her mother. Grace had her grandson, two-year-old Hundred, with her today; the little boy seemed fascinated by the whirling of the crystal ball. And there was Jeb, with seven-year-old Mario sitting on his shoulders. Close by was Mario′s best friend Diamond Murphy Baker, a year older than Mario, with his own parents, Magda and Max, and little Sapphire. Helen was struck how many children there were, the final shipborn. But the survivors of the original crew, those few who remembered Earth, were here too, like Venus and Holle, work-hardened sixty-somethings, and Cora Robles, now a contented grandmother. Wilson Argent hovered up near the apex of the hull, within the charred walls of what had once been his palace. Still a big man at sixty-plus, his hair snow white, he was alone; even now people were generally in awe of him.

  If only Zane was here, Helen thought suddenly. She′d scarcely thought of Zane since his suicide three years back. For all his problems he had always achieved everything that had been asked of him. When they got around to building the statues on Earth III, Helen promised herself, there would be one for Zane Glemp, alters and all.

  Now Venus seemed to be ready. She didn′t call for order but just looked around. She had always had a kind of natural command, Helen thought. Everybody quietened down quickly, save for the piping voices of a couple of the children. Venus touched her crystal ball. The whirling screens spun into invisibility to reveal a glowing pink-white sphere, a star small as a pea, with a single visible planet, one side illuminated by the star, the other in darkness. The hull′s big arc lights dimmed.

  The session was suddenly so like Venus′s report on Earth II, when Kelly had challenged Wilson, provoking the Split. It was so long ago, Helen had only been nine years old and now she was a year away from forty, but she remembered its drama distinctly. The hull, a battered, half-burned-out wreck, was all but unrecognisable from the bright, clean ship of those days. Now it was more like a cave, with its charred walls and worn equipment racks and panels covered with the gangs′ graffiti scrawls. And yet the green plants still grew in their hydroponic beds down on the lower deck, and Holle′s pumps and fans still hummed as they cycled air and water through the hull′s levels. Like the worn-out crew, Halivah had done its job.

  Venus began: ′Well, we got here.′

  There was a spontaneous storm of applause. Helen saw little Hundred happily clapping something he couldn′t possibly understand, his grandmother′s hand on his shoulder to stop him drifting off into space.

  Venus turned to her display. ′Here is your new sun, the M-sun. These images have been assembled from observations taken from the cupola and the free-floating space telescopes.′ The view panned in on the star, so that the pea-sized image swelled up to the size of a basketball. ′It′s a red dwarf star, an unremarkable member of the constellation Lepus, not even visible to the naked eye from Earth. We are a hundred and eleven light years from Earth, yet the star is not unlike the closest star of all to Earth, Proxima Centauri - though it has twice Proxima′s mass, about a fifth of a solar mass. And it′s small, about a quarter the sun′s diameter. It would fit into the Earth-moon system, in fact, with one edge brushing Earth, the other the moon. It′s of the stellar type M6.′ She pointed at snakes of yellowish light that crawled across the star′s surface and reached up in spindly arches. ′You can see it′s active. We can expect solar storms - lots of auroras. In fact it was a lot more active when it was younger, but it′s pretty quiescent now. There is no significant ultraviolet component in its light, for instance, unlike Sol. It will be a safe and stable sun - and it will outlive Sol a hundred times over.′

  ′And it′s white!′ somebody yelled.

  ′Yes,′ Venus said, and she grinned. ′Its spectrum peaks in the infra-red, but there′s enough light in the rest of its spectrum that close up it will saturate your eyes′ receptors, and will look white.′

  ′So much for Gordo and Krypton,′ Wilson called down.

  ′And here is Earth III.′

  The viewpoint panned back so that the pinpoint planet swam back into view, and then zoomed in. Everybody had had a chance to glimpse the new world through the cupola windows, to see an unfolding panorama of lakes and mountains and seas passing under the orbiting hull. But this was the first time they had been able to inspect the planet as a whole. There was another burst of applause, but it was muted, Helen thought. For Earth III looked nothing like Earth.

  There was an ocean at its subsolar point, where the M-sun would be directly overhead. Further away continents could be made out, fractal shapes against the ocean′s face, wrinkled by mountain ranges and incised by river valleys. But unlike the grey-green of Earth′s continents seen from space the land was eerily black. And there was a kind of banding effect across the planet, concentric circles with different textures as you looked away from that oceanic subsolar point, so the sun-facing hemisphere looked like the targets they used in the kids′ microgravity archery contests. All this was obscured by a thick layer of atmosphere, with banked clouds at the higher latitudes, and haze as you looked towards the horizon. The shadowed side of the planet, the night side, was entirely dark save for lightning crackles. At the antipode to that subsolar point Helen saw the pale gleam of ice, illuminated by the faint light of the distant stars.

  Huddling for warmth, Earth III orbited so close to its parent star that tides had long since massaged its rotation so that its day equalled its year, and it kept the same face permanently turned towards its sun. One side was in perpetual light, the other in unending darkness, save for the starlight. But even the side of perpetual day was so cold that glaciers draped equatorial mountaintops.

  Maybe it was habitable. It was not like Earth. That was the basic truth that was driven home to Helen even as she first examined these images, even as Venus began to describe the new world.

  Venus said, ′Earth III is the innermost planet in its system, but there are other planets further out. More Earths and super-Earths. Not as easy to colonise as Earth III, but they′re there for our descendants - new homelands just waiting in the sky for them, off in the future.

  ′We looked for planets in the habitable zones of stars, that is the orbital radius where liquid water is possible on the surface, and that′s just what we found here. You can see the oceans. But this M-sun is a lot dimmer than Sol, so Earth III has to be closer in to its parent, only about ten million kilometres out - much less than the orbit of Mercury. The year is different, of course. Earth III′s year is just fifteen of our days long. The stars will shift quickly in the sky. But there is no ′′day′′, and there are no seasons. From the ground you will never see the sun move from the same position in the sky. And it′s cool. Even at the subsolar point you′ll only get about sixty per cent of the radiant energy as you′d receive from the sun, on Earth. If you′re on the night side you never see the sun at all.′ She pointed. ′There′s an ice cap at the point of deepest shadow, as you can see. It gets pretty cold back there.

  ′You might wonder why the air doesn′t all freeze out on the dark side. It doesn′t work like that; the atmosphere is thick, full of greenhouse gases injected by volcanoes, a blanket that transports heat around the world. Also you have the planet′s own inner heat, which is greater than Earth′s. The climate is stable. It′s just different.

  ′And Earth III is larger than the Earth - that′s the most basic fact about it. It′s an exoplanet of the kind the planet-hunters called a super-Earth. It has around twice Earth′s mass, and maybe twenty-five per cent higher gravity. That will feel hard, but you′ll soon muscle up, and
your children will grow up stockier than you are and won′t even notice.

  ′More planetary mass is good, and it′s one reason we selected this world. More mass means more inner heat, a thinner crust, plate tectonics, a spinning iron core. That core produces a healthy magnetosphere, so there is plenty of shelter from radiation, both from the M-sun′s flares and from cosmic radiation. And you can see the evidence of the plate tectonics for yourself. Lots of mountain-building, and active volcanoes.′ She pointed to the horizon. ′See the layer of dust and ash up there? Volcano smog. Plate tectonics keep a world young. The good news is that this world, being more massive, will keep its inner heat longer than Earth. Earth III will stay young, long after Earth itself has seized up and turned into a bigger copy of Mars.

  ′And there is life here. We knew that from the spectroscopic studies we did of the atmosphere from light years away. There is photosynthesis going on in the oceans. On the continents, you can see there are bands of different vegetation types working out from the subsolar point, adapted to the lower light levels. We think we′ve seen living things even in the twilight band, around the rim of the daylit face, at the terminator. Like trees maybe, straining up so their leaves can catch the last scraps of light. That′s something for you to find out, some day.′

  She looked around, an earnest, exuberant woman, testing to make sure they understood the nature of this gift she was presenting to them. ′So you have a sun that will last a hell of a lot longer than Sol, and an Earth that will stay young too, and more worlds to explore. We couldn′t have found a better refuge for your children, for mankind, stretching off into the distant future.

  ′This is the Ark. After a voyage of forty years, here is your Ararat.′ She stepped back.

  But she was met by silence, and blank looks. Perhaps the world she had given them was simply too strange.

  Then Holle came forward, her face tough, determined, her eyes sunken. Everybody was silent and stock still, save for a few wriggling children. Even little Hundred seemed to be paying attention. Holle′s grim expression was racking up the tension. Helen suddenly realised she had no idea what Holle was about to say.

  ′Thanks, Venus,′ Holle said. ′So much for the good news. Now we have to talk about landfall. We have a problem.′

  95

  Most of you don′t even remember how the Ark was when it was launched. There were two hulls, called Seba and Halivah. And we had four shuttles, each capable of taking around twenty-five people down to the target planet. We launched from Earth with under eighty crew, a bit less than the design limit. We figured that we would have plenty of capacity in the shuttles, even allowing for a few births along the way.

  ′But it didn′t turn out that way. You all know what happened. We got to Earth II thirty years ago, and split up. Seba went back to Earth, taking one shuttle with it. We used another shuttle to land the colonists who opted to stay at Earth II. That left two more, for us to take to Earth III - but we lost another on the way, during the Blow-Out.′ A few of the older people glanced at Wilson, who hung defiantly in the upper section of the hull.

  ′So we arrived here,′ Holle said, ′with just one shuttle. The shuttle is basically a twenty-five-seat glider; it′s only equipped to make one trip, one descent to the surface. The design was like that to save weight. It can′t take off again and return to the hull …′

  Helen′s anxiety tightened. She had known there was a problem with shuttle capacity since the aftermath of the Blow-Out. But back then landfall had been years away. Holle, tough, autocratic, always kept a lot of her decisions and deliberations secret. Helen had trusted Holle to come up with a solution in time. Now, it seemed, that trust might have been misplaced.

  ′I′m sorry,′ Holle said bluntly. ′We tried everything we could think of to improvise some other way of getting down to the planet′s surface. The trouble is that heavy gravity, the thick atmosphere. There will be a ferocious frictional load as any entry craft dumps its orbital energy. The shuttle is designed to cope with that; it has a properly engineered heat shield. Nothing we could lash up comes close to that capability.′ She paused, and there was silence, save for a baby′s sleepy murmur. ′You need to understand clearly. We got you here. We came all this way, and some of you will walk on Earth III. But I can′t take you all down to the surface.′

  ′And what of the rest?′ somebody shouted.

  ′I′ll stay with you,′ Holle said immediately.

  ′You′ll stay with us to die? Is that the deal?′

  ′Nobody′s going to die.′ Venus pulled her way forward so she was beside Holle. ′We just won′t leave the ship, is all. We will go on. The ship is still functioning, it has water, air, power. And we can still use the warp generator—′

  ′Zane′s dead.′

  ′We can trigger the warp bubble without Zane.′ Holle forced a smile. ′We can go wherever we want.′

  Max Baker drifted forward. ′Some are going to make landfall, some will stay here. Twenty-five of us will go down, I guess. Who, Holle? How will we decide? Is there going to be some kind of ballot?′

  ′No,′ Holle said firmly. ′We don′t have that luxury. We have to get this right. I′ll decide - I have decided.′

  A kind of collective murmur ran around the hull. Holle always stuck to her decisions, and implemented them in every last detail. Everybody old enough to understand what was being said knew that their fate was already determined.

  Holle′s expression softened. ′And you′re wrong about something else, Max. The number′s not twenty-five. Twenty-five′s not enough. I went back over Project Nimrod′s original design documents. Twenty-five individuals don′t provide enough genetic diversity for a viable human colony. Well, we found a way to take more than that. We think we can carry about forty. That still might not be enough, but it may be the best we can do.′

  Max snapped back, ′How?′

  ′We rebuild the shuttle′s interior. We install new couches … Max, we take children. That′s how we fit in forty. It will be a ship full of children, with three adults to manage the landfall and help them through the first years.′ She looked around. ′That′s why I′ve been encouraging you all to have kids these last years, frankly. I always feared it might come to this, if we didn′t find a miracle solution to the shuttle issue, and we haven′t.′

  Helen could feel the tension rise in the hull as Holle′s basic logic sunk in.

  She kept talking. ′I′ve selected a list of children from the ages of two up to fifteen. Thirty-seven of them, most of them ten and under. No siblings, to maximise diversity. And no relation to the adults. There will be no mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. Just as when we launched from Earth, in fact.′ She glanced around. ′You older ones, I picked you carefully, it′s going to be hard for you. You′ll have to help the adults manage the little ones as you establish the colony. The shuttle is full of gear to help you get through the first months: inflatable habitats, freeze-dried food packs. But it will be tough work. There will be ground to be cleared, and—′

  Max challenged her again. ′You′re sending very young children away from their parents. It′s inhuman.′

  ′Of course it′s inhuman,′ Holle said steadily. ′Everything about this mission is inhuman.′

  Magda pushed forward. ′You have no kids of your own. You′re only half alive yourself. That′s how you come up with cruelty like this.′

  Holle, flinching, took a breath. ′I′m sorry it′s come to this, Magda. I′ll announce the full list later. I′ll speak to the parents individually first. But, look - your Sapphire is on the list. She′s the youngest in the shuttle crew, she′ll be the youngest person in the whole world. Think of that—′

  ′You murderous bitch, you won′t take another baby from me!′ Magda threw herself away from the wall. There was an eruption of shouting, of anger, people grabbing at Magda.

  Holle waited by the pole until the commotion had subsided. Then she said clearly, her amplified voice booming, ′The adults.′
/>
  Again she was the focus of attention, in silence save for Magda′s wretched sobbing, and the thinner cry of an upset child.

  Holle said, ′These three have to be the core of the first days, weeks, months - a core of expertise, and of discipline until the older children can take over. I′ve selected them for necessary competences, and, with one exception, for experience of Earth. I don′t want everybody on that shuttle to freeze the first time they step through the hatch and onto a planet.

  ′So, first: Jeb Holden. I know you don′t all love him. But he came from a farming background. He saw a hell of a lot of the world as an eye-dee and then a Homelander. Nobody else aboard has that breadth of experience. So, Jeb goes.′

  Helen, shocked, looked for Jeb. He had taken Mario off his shoulders and was staring at him, immediately realising the implications of Holle′s choice. No parents, Holle had said. If Jeb was sent down to the ground, Mario and Hundred would be left aboard the ship. Jeb looked stricken. He was a good father, for all his faults; this was going to be terribly hard for him. But at least Helen would have the children, she thought with a stab of savage, selfish relief. At least she would be here with Hundred and Mario, on the Ark.

  ′Second,′ Holle said now, ′we need a shuttle pilot. If those few minutes of the descent go badly, none of the rest matters. And though we′ve tried to train up replacements, we only have one experienced flyer. That′s Wilson Argent.′

  Wilson looked dumbstruck. There were howls of protest.

  Max turned on Holle again. ′He′s the man who raped my sister and left her to die! He′s the man who took the damn shuttle to save his own skin, that created this mess in the first place. Now you′re giving him the planet, him and his thug Jeb—′

  ′He′s the only pilot, Max. That′s all that matters. There′s nothing remotely fair about this process.′

  Wilson drifted in the ruins of his palace. ′I′m sorry,′ he said, his voice barely audible.