Building Harlequin’s Moon

by Larry Niven

  The trunk pulled away from them again, slipping through raw palms, but by now Beth was on the other side struggling to sit up. Beth’s arms worked, tears made flesh-colored streaks in the black and white ash covering her face as she pulled and swore at her trailing legs. Rachel sobbed, clambering over the fallen tree toward Beth, and then the sounds of crashing metal punched air, and she stood transfixed, watching a disaster.

  The ship came down slowly in the meadow, crunching down, even the light gravity of Selene breaking things not meant to experience gravity at all. Metal screeched on metal, louder than the fire, louder than Kyu’s voice that was now yelling with joy.

  The downed ship looked like a giant broken spider. For a moment, nothing moved.

  In the new silence, Rachel heard fire behind them.

  A man emerged from the ship and ran toward them, toward the fire, screaming Rachel’s name.

  Gabriel.

  He glanced at the fire, taking the whole scene in, scooped up Beth Rachel, cradled her to him, and gestured for the others to follow. Rachel and Dylan supported Bruce, and they ran for the center of the meadow where they found milling chaos, everyone talking and yelling over each other, pointing at the downed ship and dancing in the inch of water that covered the meadow.

  Gabriel set Beth down and Dylan and Rachel helped Bruce lower himself to the ground. As soon as Bruce looked comfortable, Rachel collapsed between the other two. She looked up at Gabriel. His eyes were bright with triumph and intent.

  He glanced at her briefly. “Stay here—help these two.” He pulled Dylan with him and marshaled Nick and Ariel and others back to the fire.

  She watched until he was gone, then turned to help Beth and Bruce.

  CHAPTER 37

  AFTERMATH

  THE SHIP GABRIEL had destroyed to save them three days ago loomed above Rachel and Beth, dwarfing everything else on Selene. Legs and manipulators splayed at odd angles. The central core had been flattened. The huge bladder that Gabriel had filled with water lay a bit away from the hulk, torn open and useless, edges flapping in the light wind.

  Gabriel and Shane and Star had called everyone into the meadow, in the largest space still covered with green grass. Gabriel himself had carried Beth to the meeting. Since the fire, she couldn’t feel anything below her waist, couldn’t walk.

  The smell of charred wood hung stubbornly in the air. Looking away from Aldrin, Rachel winced at the colors; the whites and blacks of death. Sticks of charred tree trunks rose from ash. Most of the First Trees were gone or ravaged, burned or knocked down, exposing the meadow to more light than usual. If she turned and looked toward town, everything appeared nearly normal, green and brown, as if the past week hadn’t happened. But Rachel felt Beth’s hand in hers, and remembered Beth couldn’t follow her anywhere.

  She and Harry and Gloria had spelled each other since the injury, bringing the crippled girl water and soup and sitting with her. Her legs were broken things; attached weight that stubbornly refused to move no matter what she tried. Rachel thought the only two blessings might be that Beth lived, and she couldn’t feel her legs. Skin had been torn from the backs of her thighs; one ankle hung wrong. Scatches covered her arms and face. Star ministered to her every morning and evening. Whatever Star did helped with the surface pain, but Beth’s legs weren’t getting any better. Still, she smiled bravely from time to time, and didn’t complain. Rachel sometimes heard her crying at night.

  Bruce sat across the half-circle from them, wearing a cast on his lower leg, smiling tiredly. New friendships showed. Dylan, Bruce, Beth Rachel, Nick, Kyle, and Ariel talked regularly, Moon Born and Earth Born drawn to each other by the bond forged in the fire.

  “—not age, it’s flare damage,” Bruce said, then, “Hello, Rachel. Dylan wanted to know why your people get old faster than”—thumbs pointing at himself—”this. We’re better protected. Until we get to Selene. Then there’s radiation, fire—”

  Rachel look around, gauging expressions. Faces wore a lost look. Every usual routine seemed compromised, or slow, or hard. But Aldrin was safe, the student plots stood, Gagarin had never been threatened, and only three people were dead. Even Rachel’s plot still grew, though damaged by ash and smoke, a symbol of hope: it had survived Andrew, and now it survived the fire.

  Gabriel shared plans to increase Selene’s carbon dioxide, nitrogen, and trace gases to reduce the oxygen load and to monitor it more closely. Tolerances would be set lower. But atmospheric change had to be slow, allowing living things to adapt. The danger of a runaway oxygen flash fire would remain great for a while, and would always be worse here than on Earth.

  Shane lectured them: “One problem is the chimney effect. Gravity’s low here. The atmospheric pressure gradient is low too. Burning gas doesn’t rise out of the way fast enough. It sits on the forest and burns until there’s nothing left.”

  Rachel remembered early lectures. Selene’s people would have to be more watchful. Open flame had never been allowed on Selene. But fire hadn’t obeyed the rules; it had created itself from raw material. Investigation suggested sparks from a broken steel plate dragging behind a robotic tiller had started the fire.

  Everyone treated Gabriel as a hero. He’d come from space with enough power to save them. He hadn’t stopped until the fire was completely out, and he hadn’t let anyone else stop either. Rachel had followed him to patrol the charred remains the day after the crash. His intense focus scared her. He pointed out white ash that marked hot spots, kept teams digging and moving dirt by hand until they were well past exhaustion, and then let them have four hours of sleep before waking them again.

  Everyone worked willingly for Gabriel, hurrying to do anything he asked. Rachel marveled at power that could drop a spaceship miner’s bladder full of water from the Hammered Sea onto the meadow. She understood the very real risk that some critical part of the miner would die before it got to Aldrin, taking Gabriel with it. He had crash-landed the spacecraft into the meadow on purpose, sacrificing it, ruining it, digging a firebreak, making a temporary lake with the largest tool handy. He had been willing to die for Aldrin.

  Rachel was a bit afraid of Gabriel; the power he wielded was manifest.

  She watched him settle onto the dais. All side conversation stopped, and then Rachel’s father, Frank, stood and clapped. Her half brothers, Jacob and Justin, and little Sarah, all joined him. Nick stood, then Bruce struggled upright, and others, until everyone in the meadow stood and clapped.

  Gabriel waited for silence to settle on the group again. “Thank you,” he said, “and thanks to everyone who helped stop the fire. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry it happened. Still, let’s use it as a reminder. We—Earth Born, Council, High Council—we think we know what we’re doing. Selene has dangers we don’t understand. We understood fire, but clearly not well enough. We’ll change that. We’ll practice fire suppression regularly, and we’ll design firebreaks into the jungle.

  “I’ve ordered reprogramming of the pods to respond with stronger warnings when there is unusual heat.” Gabriel looked around, and said, “They warned us this time. They weren’t loud enough to get our attention. We’ll change the settings.” He looked over at Rachel and smiled. “And while I could bring a way to stop the fire, Rachel’s quick action was just as important. By getting the alarm out quickly, she let you all start slowing the fire as soon as it started.”

  Rachel’s family stood up, clapping. Harry and Gloria followed, then Nick, Dylan, and finally the whole community. Rachel stood and tried not to show the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.

  Gabriel continued. “Shane and Star—thank you for your work. Thank you for running crews and base camp, and helping us all work together so well.”

  They came up to the dais and sat with Gabriel. There was more clapping, although this time the group stayed seated.

  The three Council members recognized Bruce and Dylan for their rescue of Beth Rachel, all of the logistics team for support, and ultim
ately everyone involved for one thing or another.

  The applause and droning voices went on and on. Rachel stopped listening to every detail, thinking about the feast to follow the meeting. Unexpectedly, Beth’s hand tightened on Rachel’s so hard that shooting pain ran all the way to Rachel’s elbow.

  She caught the end of Gabriel’s words, “. . . tomorrow. Shane and Star will stay, and we’ll have plans for replanting . . .”

  “—I can’t leave.” Beth’s voice was low enough for only Rachel to hear, and her hand still clutched Rachel’s tightly. She looked at Rachel beseechingly. “Don’t let them take me! Don’t make me leave!”

  Rachel’s head snapped around and she interrupted, “Gabriel. Gabriel!”

  He broke off in midsentence and looked at her.

  “Gabriel—what did you say about taking Beth?”

  Everyone else looked at her too. She was questioning Gabriel in front of everyone. She stood up, bent a little sideways since Beth’s hand wouldn’t let go of hers. “Why are you taking her?”

  “She needs healing. The tools are up there.” He looked impatient, sounded tired. “You must know that it’s the only way to save her legs.”

  Rachel blinked. “But . . . but . . . when will you bring her back?”

  “I don’t know. It could take a while. Be grateful we’re giving her the chance.”

  The entire clearing had gone quiet.

  Rachel cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. “Do you promise that you won’t ice her?”

  “I can’t promise that.” What he wasn’t saying sounded clear in her mind: High Council breaks my promises!

  He wouldn’t say that in front of the group. What could she do? She looked around. The assembled crowd watched her, waiting. Their faces ranged from supportive to blank. No one said anything.

  She pulled her hand free from Beth’s so she could stand upright. She couldn’t let him take the girl with no promise of return.

  Beth spoke up raggedly. “I’d rather stay here and be broken than go away like Rachel, and not come back until my friends are all grown up.”

  Harry and Gloria were partway around the assembly from Rachel and Beth. They stood too, but held their silence and watched. Gloria held the three-and-a-half-year-old Miriam, who cried softly. Apprehension began to show in the group’s restless movements.

  As often as she’d questioned Gabriel in private, she’d never been this defiant in public, not to Gabriel, or anybody. She couldn’t risk all of the good feelings the survivors had basked in throughout the meeting. Selene needed them. Why did she always get herself in such predicaments?

  She fought a quiver in her voice and said, “You’re right. Beth has to go. But then I need to go with her, Gabriel!” She didn’t dare push harder.

  Harry spoke up from the side. “Please let Rachel go. It will be easier for Beth.”

  Gabriel looked around, frowning. “She is your only full-time Moon Born teacher.”

  Rachel wondered if he knew how popular her greenhouse classes were. Or what she really offered in those classes.

  “Please,” said Gloria.

  Rachel stayed quiet. Quiet had fallen over the whole circle, the camaraderie swallowed by tension.

  Rachel watched Gabriel, waiting for his next words. He’d have to let her go now, he’d have to. She held her tongue.

  Gabriel sighed. “I’ll come for you just before noon.”

  Rachel knew better than to signal her triumph in any way, and she quietly said, “Thank you,” and sat down again, both frightened and pleased.

  Gabriel immediately changed the subject to work assignments for the next few weeks. He didn’t give Rachel any, although it surprised Rachel when Gabriel assigned her teaching duties to Nick. Maybe he knew more than she thought.

  CHAPTER 38

  A TURN OF MIND

  MA LIREN AND the captain shared a bench in the tall grass and oak savannah. Yggdrasil’s branches waved high above them. Garden programming had created spring conditions, and the rich menthol tang of mountain mint mixed with the citrus smells of blooming bergamot. Purple asters clustered at their feet.

  Liren breathed in the flowery smells, reveling in the open expanses of the savannah. The view was a welcome respite from crowded meeting rooms full of people absorbing the blow of the fire, preparing to warm a hundred Earth Born to carry the extra work, and to shift the entire Selene population to a new location. It was the first break except sleep for either of them since Rachel’s panicked message about the fire six days ago.

  The captain leaned forward, hands steepled above his knees, apparently lost in thought.

  “How much time will the fire cost us?” Liren watched pollenator bots glide smoothly from aster to aster. They were tiny, barely visible, like gnats. The ground was littered with dark specks of failed bots, dead things waiting for other bots to clean them up. Liren picked one up and rolled it between two fingertips, feeling the sharp carbon edges. The amount of mechanization it took to maintain the garden symbolized the tough choices they’d had to make at every step.

  The captain shook his head, coming out of whatever daydream he had been lost in. “Time loss? For the collider? Not more than a season. We can get enough food out of Clarke Base; we’ll expand the greenhouses and fields-right away. It moves the jungle planting schedule out, of course. Lots of rework.”

  He ran his hands through his gray hair. “I’ve watched feeds of the firefighters on Selene.”

  When had he had time in the last few days? When he was supposed to be sleeping? Damn the man, she could have used more help with logistics.

  “I think perhaps the fire helped us,” he said, turning so he was sitting angled, nearly facing her. “Did you see how hard everyone worked—together?”

  “It was an emergency. People pull together in an emergency. Teams bond. We can break that up over time, call back most of the Earth Born, and wake up others. The usual order will be reestablished as the move happens.”

  The captain waved his hands in front of her face. “You’re not listening—”

  “Yes, I am.” She faced him squarely, daring him to avoid her eyes. He had helped her lay out the original plan! “You want the big happy family to continue. And you would be right if the end story were going to be different. But you and I both know what we’re doing—we’re leaving the Moon Born here and going on.”

  The captain pursed his lips and looked away again. A small muscle twitched along his jawline. Liren waited. He knew the situation; they’d championed the original choices together, run up support, forced the right High Council vote. He would come around.

  When he spoke, his voice was firm and clear. It seemed to Liren that he was saying something he’d practiced over and over in his head before giving it an audience. “We made a mistake, Liren. We’re doing this all wrong. We were scared. We ran away from a world that was being destroyed by AIs, by runaway nanotechnology. Our creations were killing us. Even the ship went wrong on us. The only star in range didn’t have a decent solar system, just a sun with a gas giant companion that rains iron, and nothing in the habitable band. No rocky worlds, no big moons. Of course we hated this system. We built a world—”

  “We still can’t live here. Flares alone will kill us,” Liren said.

  “Gabriel’s flare kite idea might solve that problem. But that’s not the issue. We left Sol to save something of humanity. Well, humanity is down there on Selene as well as up here.”

  He was too damned soft. She tried an appeal to his logical side. “Every single simulation says we’ll die if we stay in this system. The only differences in results are how long it will take to die, and what we’ll die of. The sims suggest the human race itself is less likely to die if we find the others, at Ymir, or at some other better place to live.”

  The captain stood and turned to face her directly, looking down at her. “Who says it isn’t dead already except for us? Sixty thousand years, Liren. If there is a sophisticated colony on Ymir, they could have looked for
us. They had our last transmissions, and we still have beacons going today.”

  Liren stood up so her eyes were almost even with his. “How would they know we’re still alive? We don’t have the technology to stay here. We can’t build starships—we can’t survive here long enough to build an economy that could do that.”

  “We can give this colony a chance to live before we leave.”

  “Just by building the flare kite?” How could he be so simplistic?

  “No. Some of us might have to stay.” The captain started walking. “We might have to leave them more technology than we want to.”

  Liren followed him, shaking her head. He was talking about letting the AI do more. She didn’t trust Astronaut. But she’d told him about her suspicions once before, long ago, just after the catastrophe that marooned them here. He’d laughed in her face. Since then, not one single disaster could be pinned on the AI.

  She said, “I can’t support that. The only choice we have is to stay with the original plan. If we deviate—if we unleash too much technology or fall in love with the Moon Born—we’ll never leave.”

  “Sure we will. Most of us, anyway.” He stopped and turned, so she had to stop or run into him. “Is it really that bad if some of us stay here? Look at the Earth Born who choose not to come back here. They love their children enough to stay now—maybe they’ll love them enough to stay long-term.”

  Liren shivered. They needed every one of the trained experts they’d brought; every reserve resource. The line between life and death for her shipmates was thinning. “Any choice that doesn’t support getting to Ymir leads to our death. Maybe not immediately, but surely.”

  “New information bounces off of you like light against a mirror. Maybe you should watch the fire feeds. We built ourselves a trap when we got here—it’s time to unbuild it.”

  Her face flushed with anger. “I don’t need to relive the damned fire. I need to go forward.”

  The captain shook his head at her and she did her best to hold him with a steady gaze. She was right. She knew she was.