by Buzz Aldrin
Encounter with Tiber
Buzz Aldrin and John Barnes
Contents
Dramatis Personae
Forward by Arthur C. Clark
Clio Trigorin: July 20, 2069
Part I: Contact Light—Another Small Step, 2002–2013
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Clio Trigorin: April 2075
Part II: Light of Dawn, 7328–7299 B.C.E.
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Clio Trigorin: May 2075–December 2076
Part III: The Light That Failed, 7254–7208 B.C.E.
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Clio Trigorin: October 2077
Part IV: First Clear Light, 2017–2035
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Clio Trigorin: Carrying the Light
Acknowledgments
A Biography of Buzz Aldrin and John Barnes
Dramatis Personae
Aboard the starship Tenacity, A.D. 2069–2081
Clio Trigorin, historian
Sanetomo Kawamura, astronomer
Captain Olshavsky
Human beings, A.D. 1990–2010
CREW OF THE SHUTTLE ENDEAVOUR:
Lori Kirsten, commander
Henry Janesh, pilot
Chris Terence, mission specialist #1
Dirk Rodriguez, mission specialist
Sharon Goldman, mission specialist
Harold Spearman, mission specialist
J. T. Murphy, mission specialist
ON EARTH:
Amber Romany Terence, married to Chris
Jason Terence, son of Amber and Chris
Sig Jarlsbourg, businessman and proprietor of ShareSpace Global, later married to Amber
Allison, Chris’s girlfriend after his divorce
Vincente Auricchio, an astronomer
AT THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION:
Peter Mikhailovich Denisov, a cosmonaut and engineer
Tatiana Haldin, a cosmonaut and the station commander
François Raymond, a mission specialist
Jiro Kawaguchi, a mission specialist
ON THE SECOND MISSION TO THE LUNAR SOUTH POLE AND TIBER BASE:
Xiao Be, a Chinese astronaut and pilot
Jiang Wu, a Chinese astronaut and secret policeman
On Tiber, 7200 B.C. and before:
Tutretz, meteorologist for the expedition to Kahrekeif
Teacher Verkisus, a scientist
Steraz and Baibarenes, test pilots
General Gurix Zowakou, conqueror of Shulath
Empress Rumaz, Gurix’s liege
Captain Wahkopem Zomos, discoverer of Palath
Fereg Yorock, a politician
Crew of the Tiberian starship Wahkopem Zomos, 73rd century B.C.
THE ADULT GENERATION:
Captain Osepok Tarov, a Palathian female
Imperial Guard Kekox Hieretz, a Palathian male
Teacher Poiparesis, a Shulathian male
Teacher Soikenn, a Shulathian female
THE SECOND GENERATION:
Mejox Roupox, a Palathian male
Otuz Kimnabex, a Palathian female
Priekahm, a Shulathian female
Zahmekoses, a Shulathian male
Humans of the Real People, 73rd and 72nd centuries B.C.
Rar, first a warrior, later Nim of the Real People
Inok, Rar’s heir
Messiah, Rar’s grandson
Set, Rar’s heir after Inok’s death
Esser, Rar’s granddaughter
Tiberian slaves of the Real People
Diehrenn, daughter of Otuz and Zahmekoses, a Hybrid Prirox, son of Kekox and Osepok, a Palathian
Weruz, daughter of Mejox and Priekahm, a Hybrid
Menomoum, a Hybrid male, Weruz’s son
Crew of the Tiberian starship Egalitarian Republic, 72nd century B.C.
Astrogator Depari, a Hybrid female
Astrogator’s Assistant Bepemm, a Hybrid female
Captain Baegess, a Hybrid male
Captain’s Assistant Thetakisus, a Hybrid male
Chief Engineer Azir, a Shulathian male
Engineer’s Assistant Krurix, a Palathian male
Engineer’s Mate Proyerin, a Shulathian male
First Officer Beremahm, a Hybrid female
Ordinary Spacer Tisix, a Palathian male
Political Officer Streeyeptin, a Hybrid male
Ship’s Doctor Lerimarsix, a Shulathian female
Humans, 2020–2040
ON EARTH:
Bill Amundsen, commander of NASA’s First Aerospace Squadron
Dean, the voice of Mission Control
Mark Bene, astronaut and pilot
ON THE 2033 MARS FIVE EXPEDITION TO CRATER KOROLEV:
Walter Gander, commander
Jason Terence, pilot and second officer
Olga Trigorin, engineer and first officer
Narihara Nigawa, mission specialist
Ilsa Bierlein, mission specialist
Vassily Chebutykin, mission specialist
Dong Te-Hua, mission specialist
Paul Fleurant, mission specialist
Kireiko Masachi, mission specialist
Tsen Chou-zung, mission specialist
SCIENTISTS AT KOROLEV BASE:
Das Chalashajerian (commonly called Doc C)
Yvana Borges
Robert Prang
Akira Yamada
Jim Flynn
ON THE MARS CYCLERS ALDRIN AND COLLINS:
Scotty Johnston, pilot
Foreword
by Arthur C. Clarke
IT DOESN’T SEEM FAIR. There was a time when we science-fiction writers had Space all to ourselves and could do just what we liked with it. Not anymore … people like Buzz have been there, and can tell us exactly where we went wrong.
And now, to add insult to injury, they’re writing science fiction themselves. Even worse—it’s damned good science fiction. Painful though it is to make such an admission, I would have been proud to have written Encounter with Tiber myself.
It’s true that Buzz collaborated with a master of the genre, John Barnes, but his own contribution is obvious throughout. Anyone reading this novel will learn a great deal about future possibilities in space exploration, some of them very imaginative indeed. I was particularly interested in the use of Zero Point Energy—the imperceptible yet titanic legacy of the Big Bang. The late Nobelist Richard Feynman once remarked that there is enough energy in a cubic meter of space—any space, anywhere—to boil all the oceans of the world. If this can be tapped—and there is evidence that this is already happening in some laboratories—travel to the planets, and even the stars, will become cheap and easy.
However, the emphasis in Tiber is not on technicalities, but on human relations and interstellar politics. The description of alien societies, their triumphs and disasters, is not only convincing but often very moving. I don’t think that Ursula Le Guin has done it any better.
Finally, to prove that I’m not the only one who’s enjoyed this book, let me quote from a letter I’ve just received: “I am midway through Encounter
with Tiber and find it very engaging. Buzz has put many of his space strategies into the yarn.”
It’s signed by someone named Neil.
Clio Trigorin:
July 20, 2069
WITH HER IMMENSE BOOSTERS, the starship Tenacity was the biggest structure ever assembled in space; even when the boosters were gone, in about ten hours, she would still be huge. And all this for just thirty people, Clio Trigorin thought. We first reached the Moon with three, Phobos with seven, Mars five, Titan eleven … She wondered for a moment if it would be worth projecting a power series, and then snorted; carry that one far enough and it would take you to the point where one day the whole human race went to the edge of the universe.
The taxi ship slipped into dock under robotic control, and Clio and the six other people on board got out, vaulting into the huge belly of Tenacity. On her way out, Clio caught one last glimpse of the distant Earth, through one of the taxi’s windows, just showing bits of Africa, Antarctica, and South America. It might well be the last direct view she would have before departing, but it wasn’t quite the sentimental matter for her it had been for other people. She had first seen Earth at sixteen, when she went there for college, and though she had gotten to like her adopted world, her sentimental focus was still on the red plains, sharp crater walls, and immense peaks of Mars, where she had grown up.
Still, she made sure she took a good last look. They were just coming around the Earth and heading back up to apogee, the highest point in their orbit, and below them the southern part of the Indian Ocean receded rapidly, much of it covered by clouds today. One more trip around, in this orbit that swung in close to the North Pole and far out into space over the South Pole; once more they would see Siberia, the Arctic Ocean, and Greenland as huge things filling the whole frame of the video screen; once more they would see the Earth fall away as they swung south—and at last the big antimatter engines on the boosters would push them on so that instead of starting to fall back, high over the South Pole, they would continue on in a straight line, headed for the third brightest star in the sky, the blazing light in the far-southern constellation Centaurus, which now seemed to hang above her head, opposite the brilliant blue-and-white receding Earth.
Clio looked around and saw that everyone else had stopped for a moment to look out as well; then the slow turning of the ship carried Earth out of their view, leaving them only a view of a distant half-moon against a field of stars. The group turned silently away.
They all floated down the corridor, hand-hold to hand-hold, until they came to their quarters. Clio moved her little bag of personal gear into its locker, and then checked her schedule on the screen. Not surprisingly, as the expedition historian she was invited to be in the guest seat in the cockpit for boost, and later for extrasolar injection, but for the hour and a half until then, she was at large.
There was a faint chime for the phone; she turned on the screen and found herself facing Aunt Olga and Uncle Jason. She grinned broadly—they were her favorite relatives, and they had made the long trip back from Mars to the Earth just to see her ship leave (even if Jason stoutly maintained it was mainly to be home for his mother’s one hundredth birthday next year). “I’m so glad to see you one more time,” Clio said.
Tenacity was still so close to Earth that there wasn’t even a discernible radio lag; only near apogee could you readily tell that the radio signal was taking some time to travel back and forth. That would change, Clio thought; eventually they would be four and a third light-years from Earth, and since radio travels at the speed of light, that would mean eight years and eight months, at least, between sending a message and receiving an answer. Even at their farthest separation before, when Mars and Earth had been positioned in their orbits so that the sun was between them and radio had to go through a distant relay, the lag had never been more than forty-five minutes between signal and reply. With a twinge of sadness, she realized that her aunt and uncle were both past seventy now, and that this might well be the last time they had a conversation as opposed to trading video letters.
She would miss them both, but especially Uncle Jason, because Jason’s memories were going to be one of the major sources for From the Moon to the Stars—the book she tended to think of as her major work.
“Are you all right, Clio?” Olga asked.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about how far away I’m going and how long it will be before I see you both again.”
“But you will,” Jason said. “Most likely you’ll be gone less than thirty years—and to judge by the way Mom keeps going, the average life expectancy in my family is about two hundred.”
“Give Aunt Amber a hug and apologize for my not being there,” Clio said. “I’m sorry to miss her hundredth, but the mission planners planned something else.”
“Mom’ll understand. She was married to an astronaut once, you know,” Jason said. A part of Clio winced at that, for Jason’s father, her great-uncle Chris Terence, had died on a mission, decades before Clio was born. No doubt if Clio died out there between the stars, the rest of the family would understand.
“Anyway, we just wanted to wish you luck and point out how hard it is to avoid the family occupation,” Jason said.
Olga grinned at her and said, “And don’t let him harass you. We’re very proud. Come and see us when you get back—we’ll only be a hundred, and Mars seems to be kind to old people.”
“Mars?” Clio said. “You’re going back?”
“Well, of course,” Olga said. “It’s home.”
Jason nodded. “Revisiting Earth has been a great way to remind myself why we took permanent stationing at Crater Korolev. Surely you can remember, Clio? Oh, Earth’s got the museums, the libraries, and the night life … but when was the last time you climbed a mountain and looked out over a plain and knew for a fact that you could see two hundred sixty miles in all directions and there wasn’t a human being anywhere in all that land?”
Trying to be discreet, Clio clicked at the keys on her desktop terminal/communicator, but before she could come up with an answer Jason realized what she was doing, laughed, and said, “Four hundred twenty kilometers. Sorry. I’ve been using meters all my life, but feet still mean more to me. Anyway, I hope you didn’t mind my teasing you before, Clio, but it does seem kind of funny that after you decided that you were going to spend the rest of your life in museums and libraries, and not fly in space like the rest of the family—”
Clio shrugged. “In data storage for the ship, we’re taking along practically the whole accumulated knowledge of the human race. And besides, I’m going out where no one can phone me, there are no committees to serve on, and there’s plenty of time and quiet to read and think. Historian heaven.”
They chatted for a couple of minutes more, but since the only things they really had to say to each other were that they would miss hearing from each other as the starship drew further from Earth and radio began to take months and years to reach between ship and home, and that they all hoped the person on the other side of the communication link would be happy and healthy, it wound down fast.
After they rang off, Clio found herself with almost an hour with nothing to do. She had been on the ship for a total of four months of shakedown cruises; there was nowhere to explore that she hadn’t already been many times. It was a good thing for this first expedition to another star system that they had known how important it would be that everyone have enough different projects so that boredom was unlikely, or at least fairly easy to relieve.
The call from Uncle Jason and Aunt Olga had set her mind drifting to the “family business” again. When she had left Mars twelve years ago, as a quiet, studious girl of sixteen, she had mainly been thinking of finally seeing the glories of Earth for herself. Her first couple of years, spending some of the funds her parents had been accumulating for decades in Earthside accounts, had been wonderful—cities filled with people, oceans, weather, being outdoors without a pressure suit, museums, concerts, theater. H
arvard had been a wonderful chance to study all the things she was seeing in the summers, to learn what all the riot of experience, sound, smell, and color meant, and so she had drifted very naturally into graduate school in history.
There is hardly anything more useful to a historian’s career than access to a unique body of material. And that “family business” Jason had referred to went far back in Clio’s family; many of her relatives had had a great deal to do with getting humanity to this moment. Jason’s father had died on the Moon, way back when South Pole City had four people and was known as Tiber Base; Jason and Olga’s child, Christopher Terence II, had been the first baby born on Mars. Aunt Olga’s brother Yevan had become the father of Clio just sixteen days after Chris’s birth, so that Clio herself was the second baby born on Mars, a phrase that she had gotten a little tired of—when she had been in college she had thought that no one remembered Clio Trigorin, except in occasional jokes (most of them having to do with the difficulty in finding a prom date when the only boy your age on the planet was your first cousin).
Thus when she entered her grad program in history, because Clio had a famous aunt and uncle—and through them connections into the Terence, Jarlsbourg, Trigorin, and Romany families as well—whenever the subject of her dissertation came up, every professor would lean across the desk and say, “You have access to information about the most important events of the last century; why don’t you do that? It all but guarantees publication.”
She hadn’t resisted much; at the least it was an excuse to communicate a lot with her family. And it turned out that Uncle Jason was a little bit of a pack rat. He had diaries and letters from a lot of his family, all sitting patiently in storage on Earth, since his stepfather, Sig Jarlsbourg, had kept so much of it for him, always figuring that any year now Jason would get around to returning. When Clio had begun serious research, Jason had immediately given permission, and Sig had opened the files and stored objects to her. She often wondered if Jason realized just how revealing much of that stuff was. Well, when From the Moon to the Stars was published, he would figure it out.
Besides, he already knew what it meant to be a source for her. Clio’s first book, A Short History of the Human Emigration Into Space, had been not only a critical success but something of a popular one. It had certainly put Clio into a position to write the next, larger and more substantial book, From the Moon to the Stars.
