Orphans of Earth

by Sean Williams

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It is,” she said. “The only thing holding us back is ourselves, and they only win if we let them.”

  He managed half a smile. “Nothing new there, then.”

  “Just a little more out in the open than before.”

  He tried to ease out of her grasp, but she held him firm.

  “You need to have a clear idea of what it is you’re clinging to,” she said sternly. “If your ship is sinking, then you want to at least make sure you’re clinging to a life raft, not part of the ship itself, right?”

  “And you’re my raft, Caryl?” He spoke with derision.

  She laughed at this. “Good God, no! I’m having as much trouble trying to stay afloat as you are. Cling to me, and we might both go under.”

  “Now there’s a cheery thought.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” she said lightly, although she didn’t smile. If we go down, she affirmed to herself, humanity goes with us.

  “No wonder—” he started to say, then stopped. But she didn’t need to read his mind to know what he had wanted to say: No wonder Lucia didn’t come back.

  He slipped his hand from hers, and she let him go. It seemed to take him a long time to stand up, as though he’d aged decades during the previous hour. He paused beside her for a few moments. Then: “Ueh will be waiting.”

  She nodded again. “And Axford.”

  “Another head case,” he said with a slight smile and a roll of his eyes. Then, somberly, he looked down at her and asked, “Do you really think we can work this out, Caryl?”

  “I think we can try,” she said. “And that’s what counts.”

  2.1.6

  The first thing Hatzis did when they emerged from Arachne was check with Gou Mang to see what she’d missed. She was used to being at the hub, connected to everything, and even an hour away felt like too long. Not even sleep could keep her out of the loop that long, with her redesigned brain allowing her to keep up via catnaps and the occasional fifty-minute rest. Too many things were poised in the balance for her to assume that nothing would change, no matter how brief a time she’d been gone.

  Ueh was still docked, as was Axford. The latter waited in an antechamber not far away, chatting with some of the other colonists. She dreaded to think what seeds of dissent he was sowing.

  TELL HIM WE’RE MEETING IN SILENT LIQUIDITY IN TWO MINUTES.

  I’LL MAKE SURE HE’S THERE, SOL.

  As she stood and brushed herself down, Gou Mang filled her in on the most disturbing new detail.

  WE HAVE A NEW KILL REPORT FROM TAU CETI. INARI REPORTED THAT THE SUPPLY RECLAMATION MISSION TO NEW FRANCE BARELY GOT AWAY WITH THEIR LIVES WHEN THE STARFISH SHOWED UP.

  Hatzis thought this through before replying. Inari was the version of herself from psi Capricornus who had been put in charge of reclaiming material from senescent colonies like New France, in Tau Ceti.

  DOES INARI KNOW WHAT TIPPED THEM OFF?

  NO. IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A RANDOM SEARCH. THE FRONT IS DUE TO HIT AROUND THERE ANY TIME NOW.

  EITHER WAY, THEY’RE IN THE AREA NOW, SO WE NEED TO BE CAREFUL HERE, TOO.

  OF COURSE.

  Was that a note of annoyance in Gou Mang’s voice? Hatzis wondered if some of her criticism of Alander might not apply to herself, too.

  YOU KNOW, I APPRECIATE ALL OF THE WORK YOU’VE BEEN DOING LATELY, GOU MANG. IT’S BEEN DIFFICULT ENOUGH WITHOUT ME DISAPPEARING FOR ODD PERIODS AND LEAVING YOU WITH IT. YOU’VE HANDLED IT WELL.

  WE’RE ALL DOING THE BEST WE CAN, SOL.

  If it had been annoyance, it was replaced by pride in Gou Mang’s reply.

  * * *

  Hatzis arranged for a feed from the inside of Silent Liquidity to be spread across the base and all the installations in the system. When the four of them met, it would be either the beginning or end of something important. She wanted everyone to see it, so there could be no claims of a cover-up afterward. For many in her care, also, it would be their first chance to actually see a Yuhl.

  They made an odd foursome: posthuman Hatzis, android Axford, Yuhl-modified Alander, and the long-legged alien. There was an extended silence as they looked one another over, each hoping someone else would start the proceedings. Hatzis didn’t want to be seen to be trying to take charge of the meeting, but when the silence stretched past a minute, she decided that someone should say something. Thankfully, before she spoke, the alien’s high-pitched voice broke the quiet.

  “Our paths are concurrent once again.” He spoke slowly, carefully working to ensure that both vocal chords worked in synch. He obviously recognized the difficulty humans had with the double vocal streams and wanted to minimize any chance of communication breakdown. “I am pleased.”

  “Well, I’m just sorry you were kept waiting,” said Axford with a sidelong glance at Hatzis. “I hope that won’t impact upon the diplomatic process.”

  “The issue isn’t promptness, Frank,” said Hatzis.

  “Then what is it, Caryl?”

  “You tell me.” She faced him squarely. “I seem to be the only one unconvinced of the need to talk.”

  Ueh pointed both his index fingers at Hatzis. Although she knew from Alander’s mind that this was a sign of respect, she couldn’t help feeling unduly singled out. The finger of suspicion points at me, she thought.

  “The free flow of information is always desirable,” the alien continued slowly, “no matter where it leads us. I am here to facilitate discussion between our species. If we come away from this meeting still at war, then I will not have failed.”

  “In your eyes, perhaps,” said Axford.

  The patterns on Ueh’s face shifted suddenly. “By what/with whose other eyes can I see?”

  Hatzis smiled to herself at the alien’s response. She was amazed at the Yuhl’s transformation since their first encounter. Then he had been silent and passive while his companion cast aspersions at humanity. Whatever had happened to him in the belly of the Praxis, it certainly had changed him.

  Perhaps, she thought, Alander should count himself lucky that he still recognized himself.

  “We all want different things,” Alander put in, “but in the end we all want the same thing as well. We want to survive this. At this point in time, humanity’s options are both grim and limited. If the Yuhl are right, we have only a matter of weeks before the Starfish wipe all traces of our colonies from the space we occupy. We can either stay, or we can flee. If we flee, we have only one obvious direction in which to run, and that’s with the Yuhl. But if we stay, we’re going to need all the information about the Starfish we can lay our hands on—and the obvious place to look for that is with the Yuhl. Talking to the Yuhl seems to me not only the sensible option right now, but also our only option.”

  “I agree,” said Axford.

  Hatzis confronted the three pairs of eyes looking at her. “I think you’re being naïve, Peter,” she said. “And as for you, Frank, well, I don’t trust your motives.” She didn’t give either of them the chance to respond. “We have no evidence that the Yuhl would ever be willing to deal honestly with us. The destruction of innocent colonies forces me to treat them as hostiles.” She fixed the alien with an unflinching gaze. “I’m sorry, but where I come from, actions speak louder than words.”

  “They are not my/our actions,” said Ueh.

  “How can you say that?” She took a step closer, her body language unquestionably challenging in a human context. She wanted him to be certain of her intentions. “You yourself were actually captured during a raid on Hera.”

  “It was not a raid/a reconnaissance mission,” the Yuhl responded. “We/I admit to stealing your resources/on occasions, but only from those colonies you refer to as senescent.”

  The more emotional the alien became, the less he was able to keep his vocal streams synchronized.

  “We have footage,” she said. “I saw you—”

  “Caryl,” Alander interrupted. “The Praxis said—”

&nbs
p; “I know what the Praxis said,” she interrupted him in turn. “But what would you have me believe, Peter? That Frank was responsible for it? Or maybe even another alien race?”

  “There could be more,” said Axford affably. “Space is a big, empty place, after all, and the Spinners have been traveling a long time. There could be dozens of species going along for the ride.”

  “Well, I’ve no intention of becoming another one,” she said, letting the certainty she felt speak through her voice as much as her words. “This is our home, and I’m going to fight for it.”

  “And I agree, Caryl,” Axford said quickly. “I just want to make sure we’re fighting the right people.”

  Ueh made a noise like a hoarse whistle from both his windpipes, as though clearing his throat.

  “The Praxis does not believe in aggression as a substitute for resolution,” he said with more control.

  “So what does it believe in?” Hatzis asked.

  “Nature,” was the short answer.

  “Red in tooth and nail?”

  The alien looked to Alander, its facial patterns shifting again.

  “He doesn’t understand the metaphor,” said Alander.

  “Really?” she said. “That surprises me.” Then, to the alien: “It’s all about predators and prey—who’s highest on the food chain and who’s being eaten, that kind of thing. You call us the already-dead and pick out our leftovers. You know, just because you profess to avoid aggression doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in a higher moral state than us.”

  “There is no up/down to morality.” The lines around the alien’s eyes formed inverted Vs of almost comical surprise. “There is a multidimensional landscape of peaks/troughs. It benefits no one to compare absolutes in isolation. My species’ willingness to talk, in some minds, might place us above you and perhaps even justify a firm response to your aggressive stance.”

  She placed her hands on her hips as she faced off with the alien. “Are you threatening us?”

  “The Yuhl act,” said Ueh. “I/we do not threaten. Were we to attack, you would not know until it had already happened.”

  It sounded like a threat, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. She shouldn’t take human behavior into account when trying to interpret the words of an alien.

  “What would you have us do, then? Just talk?”

  “Yes, but not here. I cannot decide/only listen. You should come to the Mantissa and put your case to the Fit.”

  Hatzis thought of the cilia-filled helmets and shivered. “You want me to come to you?”

  “The Praxis instructed me to consider this my goal: to get humanity/riil to agree to this. It is the only way our species will ever truly negotiate.”

  Again, the Yuhl’s announcement sounded like an ultimatum, but she had to admit it made sense. If Ueh couldn’t negotiate, there was little point going over the arguments with him. He was nothing more than bait to get her to agree.

  She was tired of trying to work out who meant what. It felt like she was going around in circles, cycling over and over through the same old arguments and coming to the same decisions—decisions that never seemed to make anyone happy. There had to be another way. But she wasn’t about to hand power over to Axford or the Yuhl, and she believed Alander when he said he didn’t want it. The only alternative was to hand it over to one of the ordinary engrams, which, although she knew the idea was crazy, was perhaps halfway there.

  GOU MANG, I CAN’T DECIDE THIS ON MY OWN; IT’S TOO IMPORTANT. I WANT TO CALL A VOTE. CONTACT EVERYONE WHO’S BEEN WATCHING THIS FROM THE START AND POLL FOR THEIR OPINION. I’LL GO WITH THAT RATHER THAN TRUST MY OWN DECISION.

  OKAY, SOL. IT’S GOING TO TAKE A MINUTE OR TWO.

  THEN YOU’D BETTER GET STARTED.

  “What do you think, Caryl?” Alander studied her closely. Their moment of closeness had passed. She had no idea what was going through his mind now.

  “Wait,” she said, her raised hand motioning him to silence. “I’m calling for a second opinion.”

  She walked around the cockpit, worrying at a thumbnail until Gou Mang came through with the results. She could feel an energetic buzzing around her as the population of Sothis voted on their fate, but she didn’t intervene or even observe. She wanted to stay completely out of it. Let them decide their own fate, she thought to herself. If I don’t like it, I can always leave.

  WE HAVE A RESULT, SOL.

  TELL ME.

  OUT OF 100: AYE, 54; NAY, 32. THE BALANCE CONSISTS OF ABSTENTIONS.

  WHICH WAY IS WHICH?

  AYE MEANS TO GO.

  Hatzis took a deep breath, then i guess i go.

  Hatzis felt an immediate lightening of the load. Absolving herself of the decision was making all the difference.

  “If we’re to go,” she said aloud, “would we need to call ahead?”

  “No,” said Ueh, again speaking slowly to keep his speech in a single stream. “Yuhl/Goel do not make announcements about what we intend to do. I/we just do them.”

  “Okay, then let’s not waste any time. The sooner we have an answer, the better.” She looked at Ueh, Axford, and Alander in turn. The alien was inscrutable; Axford looked cautiously pleased; Alander smiled openly. “We can continue this conversation on the way.”

  “Let’s not go as beggars, either,” said Axford. “I suggest docking Arachne, Orcus, and Silent Liquidity together and taking all three. It demonstrates a certain amount of knowledge and resourcefulness. It also shows how we can work together when it really counts.”

  Hatzis stared at him. “Next you’ll be suggesting we should give Silent Liquidity back as a sign of goodwill.”

  “I may be many things, Caryl,” he said, “but crazy isn’t one of them.”

  * * *

  As soon as the three cockpits were in a stable configuration around their new, combined central body, Hatzis called the order to relocate. The new vessel answered to the name Triumvirate and had more than enough room for its four occupants. For the first hour or so, they talked in general terms over what would happen when they arrived in Beid. Soon enough, though, she called a break to rest and rethink. It might, she thought, be the last chance any of them had to do this for some time.

  Alander took himself off to a private berth the hole ship provided for him. Ueh blacked out his section of the cockpit so he couldn’t be watched. Axford put his feet up on one of the couches and closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep, though. He simply rested, breathing evenly with his hands folded in his lap.

  Caryl wondered what Axford thought about when he was on his own. Did he miss the company of his fellow copies? Even though they weren’t part of a gestalt, there had to be some sort of empathy, even if it was only based on body language and shared knowledge. She wondered if a person like Frank the Ax ever got lonely. If he did, she doubted he would ever admit it.

  She watched him for fifteen minutes or so as Sothis receded behind her and the decision she had to make drew steadily closer.

  “You think we should attack the Starfish, don’t you?” she said aloud.

  A faint smile played across his lips as though he had been waiting for her to ask. “Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes closed, as if continuing to meditate even as he spoke. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  He opened his eyes now and fixed her with an even stare. “That becomes obvious if you exchange the word attack for resist.”

  “But do you really think we stand a chance against them?”

  “Better than none at all, which is what we have if we do nothing.” Axford remained calm and untroubled, as though they were talking about nothing more than the stellar forecasts in Vega. “I do know we need the Yuhl to do it.”

  “I don’t understand your certainty over this. If I did, I might reconsider.”

  “Perhaps it’s a statement of faith. Or hope.” He shrugged. “I once pinned that hope on the Gifts and the Spinners. But we obviously don’t have time to dig through the Library to find out what we need
, and we can’t take the Gifts with us if we run. The next largest repository of knowledge is the Yuhl, so...” He left the sentence dangling between them.

  She finished it for him: “Once they’re gone, we’ve lost our last chance.”

  He nodded. “I believe so. And they will leave, once the Starfish front comes too close. If chi Hercules has been contacted, that means the Spinners are more than three quarters through surveyed space. Rho Corona Borealis could be next, followed by Asellus Primus or iota Boötis—”

  “Then the Alkaid systems,” she interrupted him. “Yes, I know. Trust me, the maps are burned into my mind.”

  “Do you know that Alkaid derives its name from the Arabic for ‘chief of the mourners’?” he asked.

  “Very fitting,” she said. The big, blue variable lay ninety-eight light-years from Sol and appeared to lie right in the Spinners’ path. Clustered around and before it were five target systems which, assuming their missions had been successful, would be the last colonies the Spinners would encounter before leaving human space forever.

  “Especially when you consider that the Starfish are creeping past halfway,” Axford said.

  “Only eighty light-years or so behind.”

  They were silent for a moment. He didn’t close his eyes, and he didn’t retreat inward again. His gaze stayed firmly with hers.

  She thought of 6 Ceti, the ostrich colony that recently had been destroyed. Once she had hoped that something might be left behind if they hid well enough. Now she wasn’t sure—not even about the resettled refugee colonies like Adrasteia. All the Starfish had to do was leave monitors behind in the systems they had visited, and they would know if any of these systems had been reclaimed. She couldn’t just sit back and simply rely on the Starfish not taking precautions.

  She looked down at her hands, at her seamless, impossibly smooth skin, and felt a wave of sadness rush through her. Not anger, as usually struck her when she thought about the cruel stupidity of their situation. Just sadness. It would be a terrible waste if no one remained to know the human name of Alkaid when the Starfish finally swept by.