Building Harlequin’s Moon
Page 48
And now John Glenn was invisible, circling Feynman, a safe half billion klicks from Selene. The stinger on John Glenn was filled to capacity with antimatter.
RACHEL AND GABRIEL rode along the crater path. It was empty except for them, and they walked their horses slowly, savoring the dark red noon.
Rachel could barely see Feynman as a pinprick of light a few degrees from Harlequin’s black arc. The collider that circled the little ex-moon had been drained. High Council had left it in working order, powered by a nest of solar sails. More antimatter would accumulate. When the people of Selene were ready to claim a god’s power, to stride among the stars, the power would be there. And if they never came for it, well, they’d had their chance.
Selene was still fragile. The superconductor kite was in place, leaning aside from Daedalus by half a million kilometers. For as long as it stood—or as long as they had the power to repair or replace it—there would never be another huge flare from Apollo. But quakes still shook Selene, and the ozone layer must be maintained forever.
“I would at least have liked to watch takeoff,” Gabriel said.
“We’re going to be underwater, in Refuge,” she said positively, “and that mucking great mass of Harlequin is going to be between Selene and John Glenn when it takes off. Honestly, Gabriel, when will you get serious about antimatter?”
“You won that argument,” he said. “Too.”
Rachel swallowed. “Last chance to change your mind,” she said.
He guessed what she meant. “I made this place. How could I leave it? How could I leave you?”
Rachel had known that would be his answer, but she still responded from some deep place to the love that implied for her, and for Selene. For their home, now.
He continued. “Besides, you know, even with so many Earth Born staying, and some Children going, most of the Council is leaving. Some of us should stay. And they’ve filled my slot.” He seemed tranquil enough.
She kicked her horse next to his, and reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Earth didn’t need gods, did it?”
“Well, we made them up anyway. But we weren’t gods, and we knew that. Not until the last ten thousand years or so. Earth’s ecologies took care of themselves for a long time. Then we gradually took over. Time we left, Earth’s oceans and atmosphere were as artificial as Selene. That’s what I finally saw. Of course Selene needs taking care of, but so what? So does any cornfield.
“And even so, gods are a pain in the ass,” Gabriel said. “Most of us are leaving, and that’s good.” He grinned at her. “You won’t miss Ma Liren?”
“No. But I wouldn’t have her job.”
“One day,” Gabriel said, “you will.”
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DRACO TAVERN
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LARRY NIVEN
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