Heirs of the New Earth

by David Lee Summers

  "Perhaps you'd better explain,” said Ellison, putting his hands on his knees.

  Herbert nodded. “Your daughter and a companion—a man named Manuel Raton—went to Titan to investigate whether or not there was a connection between the Titans and the Cluster. Apparently there is. Fire and Manuel discovered that the Cluster and the Titans used to be symbiotic organisms. The Cluster called itself ‘the intelligence’ and the Titans were ‘the appendages.’ The Titans caught Fire and Manuel and imprisoned them until after Captain Ellis followed the Cluster to its home system."

  The captain nodded. “The bit about John Mark and the Sanson was on the news. Thank God he survived."

  "Indeed,” agreed the Senator, who had already grown fond of his niece and grandnephew. “Apparently the Titans transported Fire and Manuel here to Alpha Coma."

  "So, are they available?” asked the captain. “Could I talk to them?"

  "I'm afraid not.” The senator took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “I don't know if news has reached you out there on Sufiro or not, but we've lost all contact with Earth and Titan. Apparently four Clusters were seen in Earth orbit shortly before the blackout."

  Ellison Firebrandt looked down at his feet as the news settled in. “I gather the Cluster has gone to reclaim their former symbionts, the Titans."

  "Possibly,” said the senator, slowly. “Or, John Mark thinks it could be worse than that. He thinks the Clusters may have identified an even better symbiotic partner—humans."

  "Damn,” said the captain, slowly. He looked back up into Herbert Firebrandt's steel gray eyes. “So, where is John Mark? Where is Fire?"

  "I made John Mark a captain in the Alpha Coma Navy. He will be taking the Nicholas Sanson to Earth to find out what has happened and report back to us. Fire and Manuel volunteered to go with him."

  Ellison Firebrandt looked down at his coveralls and noticed some dirt. Almost mindlessly, he swiped at it. Finally he looked up. “I wish I could help them."

  "As do I,” said the senator. He put on his most reassuring smile. “More than anything else, I suspect they need our prayers."

  "They have them,” said the captain, firmly.

  Herbert Firebrandt stood from the chair. “It was good to meet you at last,” he said. “If we survive this crisis. I'd like to come to Sufiro and meet you in person."

  Ellison Firebrandt stood and smiled. “I'd like that very much."

  * * * *

  Earth's government had offices around the planet and at least one office building on each colony world. Officially the seat of power was in the city of Geneva. However, most Senators did not actually live or work there. Instead, they worked from the regional capitals that were closest to their homes—using teleholos to project images of themselves to important meetings in Geneva. The President maintained an office in each of the regional capitals so that she would have a base of operations when she traveled.

  After the speech at Arlington Planetary Cemetery, President Walker and her aides went to the Capitol Building in the District of Columbia. The President had been there meeting with American Continental Senators when Doomsday struck. From the Capitol, the President went to the old White House Complex and virtually dropped into her chair and rubbed her eyes while the aides made a show of consulting personal teleholo units. The President looked around the room, and then shook her head. Rolling her chair up to the desk and straightening herself up, she cleared her throat.

  "You're all exhausted and I need some time to think things through. Go grab some shut-eye and let's meet back here, in say, four hours.” Most in the group nodded groggy relief and stood to leave the room. “Dick,” she called to the Planetary Minister. “Would you mind keeping an eye on things for the next couple of hours? I'll take the watch in about two."

  Dick Richards, looking the most alert, except for maybe Dr. Eva Cooper, nodded while folding up his teleholo unit. “I'll talk to you in two hours."

  Surgeon General Eva Cooper lingered behind as everyone else departed the room. “Madame President, I respectfully submit that you need more than two hours’ sleep,” she said once she was alone with the President.

  "Now you're respectful,” said the President with a touch of irony. She motioned to a chair across the desk. “Have a seat. Care for a glass of wine?"

  "Wine?” asked Dr. Cooper, her eyebrows furrowed. “You really need sleep, and I can't advise alcohol right now."

  The President stood and made her way to a cabinet at one side of the office. In spite of the Surgeon General's objections, she retrieved two glasses and a decanter of wine. “What I need is someone to talk to ... for just a bit.” The President set down the glasses.

  "I'm a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist. I'm not even your personal physician."

  The President sighed. “I'm not looking for a medical or psychological opinion, I'm looking for someone I can confide in ... as a friend.” Jenna Walker filled both glasses with a deep red Merlot and sat in the chair next to Eva Cooper.

  "Surely you have friends you can confide in,” said Cooper, warily.

  "Political allies and trusted advisors, yes. Friends...” Jenna Walker looked down sadly, letting the word trail off. She couldn't think of anyone she could really call a friend. Certainly, a long time ago, she had friends. However, once she entered politics, she carefully limited her confidences. She took a sip of wine and began to brood. “Have you ever been married?"

  Cooper sat back, caught off guard by the question. She picked up her glass of wine, in spite of her earlier objection, but didn't take a drink. “Yes, but I'm divorced now."

  "What was it like to have someone that close? That intimate?” asked Walker. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, peering into the glass of wine.

  "It was wonderful at first. He was very handsome and we could talk about anything.” Cooper sipped her wine. “Then something changed. It seemed that his ego grew, or something. He cared less for me than for himself. We grew apart.” Dr. Cooper inclined her head, examining the President, then took a deeper drink. “Haven't you been close to anyone? Been intimate?"

  The President sighed and continued to look into the glass of wine. “Not really. Like most people these days, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of disease and dishonesty. I'm afraid of being hurt.” Jenna Walker sat up and took a sip of wine. “The thing is, it never really bothered me that I was afraid. I'm not even sure I knew I was afraid. There have been enough studies done about the harmfulness of human relationships that it was easy to delude myself. Now I'm tired of the fear."

  Eva Cooper pursed her lips. Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was moving, she decided to take a more academic approach. “I think much of it started in the 20th Century with the AIDS epidemic. People were afraid to be intimate with each other because of disease. Also, there's always been a certain kind of man who thinks being masculine means being an asshole. Feminists of the time began demanding that laws be passed to protect themselves from the assholes."

  Jenna Walker snorted. “I know my history. I wonder how things would have been different if women had just stood up for themselves rather than asking the countries of the day to protect them. History created a set of circumstances where it was easy for me to delude myself into believing that I didn't need intimacy with anyone.” Walker sipped her wine again and then placed the glass on the desk. “For some reason, that's changed in the last 24 hours."

  "You're scared,” said Dr. Cooper, leaning forward, studying the President. “Between the Cluster and the Doomsday Dead, who wouldn't be?"

  "It's more than that,” said Walker. “It's as though some deep-seated part of my psyche has been triggered, running me through a gamut of emotions. It's like when I was a young teen, before I started taking meds to deaden PMS."

  Eva Cooper took another sip of wine, then looked at her watch. “Sleep will help. As I said before, you're exhausted."

  President Walker retrieved her glass of wine from the desk, and was silent for some time. As she sipped t
he wine she stole glances of the doctor over the rim of the glass. Like herself, the doctor was a middle-aged woman. Eva Walker's nose was a little beakish and her lips were a little thin, but her wide, curious eyes entranced the President. Likewise, the doctor's body was trim—kept in good shape. “Are you scared, Eva?"

  "Terrified,” admitted the Doctor, allowing her barriers to drop somewhat.

  The President of the Gaean Alliance took another drink of wine. A woman who had ordered people to their death, who routinely made decisions that affected the entire galaxy, worked up courage to ask a simple question. “There's a sleeping chamber next door. Would you mind coming with me? I need someone to hold me and help me ward off the fear."

  Doctor Cooper let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “I'm not a lesbian, Madame President."

  "I'm looking for the comfort of another human being—for closeness more than sex. Would you deny your President that? Or, do you think she's too much of an idiot for that?"

  Eva Cooper shook her head. “I think you are a brilliant, beautiful woman and it's a tragedy that no one has told you that."

  The President stood and held her hand out to the Surgeon General. Eva Cooper took the hand, and noted with almost clinical professionalism that the President's nails were cut short and practical. Jenna Walker led the way through a back, unguarded door of the Oval Office and turned into a room with a comfortable-looking, but simple double bed. Each of the women removed their jackets and shoes.

  Jenna Walker looked longingly at Eva Cooper, she reached out to her. The Surgeon General trembled and backed away. Jenna looked down, sadly. Compassion overcoming fear, Eva went to the President and folded her into her arms. They sat down on the bed and Jenna laid her head against Eva's soft breasts. Jenna's breathing came heavily: from exhaustion, from fear, from lust. The two lay down, side-by-side and Eva allowed Jenna's hands to roam, to pull her blouse from her slacks, and move up against the naked skin of her back. Rigid at first, Eva began to relax and stroke Jenna's shoulders. Jenna's sleepy eyes looked into Eva's. Drawn by some force—perhaps the simple desire to be as close as possible to another human being, Jenna kissed the doctor. Eva's eyes went wide, but she was soon calmed by the President's firm hand, never leaving her back, just exploring human skin. Eva, drawn by the strength of Jenna's gaze returned the kiss, passionately, deeply. Jenna felt the hungry probing of Eva's tongue, then responded, her own tongue circling Eva's then pushing into the doctor's mouth. Jenna felt an almost unknown heat rise in her groin and her abdomen. They broke the kiss, panting for air.

  For the first time in her life, Jenna Walker really understood the closeness human beings could feel for one another. A part of her longed for Eva's touch to go lower, to help release the building fire in her body, but she was so tired and it was just so nice to be held, to feel close to another human. Her explorations of Eva's body slowed, her eyelids fluttered, simply unable to stay open any longer. Her breathing deepened, not from passion now—simply from exhaustion. Jenna Walker, President of the Gaean Alliance, fell asleep and dreamed...

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  REVELATION

  Falling asleep in the comfort of Eva Cooper's arms, Jenna Walker dreamed she was in the most peaceful place of all—her mother's uterus. She floated, happily taking nourishment from her mother. As President, her mind seemed to work all the time, even while she slept. Now, her mind floated free, without a care in the world. Too soon, though, Jenna found her head wedged in a tight place, being pushed, shoved, moved through by any means possible. Ahead, she could sense a dreadful light. Somehow, she knew it was the light of knowledge. When it swept over her, she would never be the same again. She didn't want to go any further, but the pushing and the shoving continued against her best efforts. Her home in the uterus had grown too small. Hours of pain and terror seemed to pass before she finally broke free of the vice-like grip of bone and found herself moving through strangely translucent, crystalline yet fleshy folds and gushed out into the terrifying light in a burst of clear moisture and dew that was somehow blood, but infinitely older—as though the color had been washed away.

  Like Athena, Jenna Walker found herself born fully formed. However, while Athena had sprung from the head of the male god, Zeus, Jenna Walker came from the uterus and vagina of a god-like female. Whereas Athena was born armed with spear, helm and mail, Jenna was armed only with those things that had prompted Eva Cooper to call her beautiful: deep brown eyes, an easy smile, long, muscled legs, well-proportioned hips and breasts. Jenna Walker took a moment to admire her body as more than just so much anatomy put together, but as a deliciously sensuous whole.

  The light of knowledge washed over Jenna and she became aware that she was in the presence of the mind of one of the Clusters that orbited the Earth, but she was confused and wanted more information. The woman who had given birth to Jenna reached down and gathered her into her arms, bringing Jenna to her breast. Jenna brushed the woman's long, black hair from a nipple that seemed rigid and unyielding, more like a sculpture of Venus than the tender fleshiness of a human. Instinct told Jenna to latch onto the breast in spite of its cold rigidity and, indeed, she did. As she suckled, it seemed that the woman that held her became warmer, more tender, more human. At the same time, Jenna's mind filled with images of an Earth she'd never dreamed of before.

  Jenna had always known the Earth as a planet overrun by people. However, the governments of Earth had been able to keep the people fed by utilizing resources from outside. Ice was mined from the asteroid belt and brought to Earth to provide fresh water. There were farms and mines on Mars that supplied the people of the Earth. Maintaining all of these outside resources was a delicate dance of politics, money and technology. Jenna had been part of the dance ever since she had been elected a Senator, then named a Minister and ultimately elected President of the Alliance. She knew that many felt the tax structure of Earth was too steep. It made housing a challenge for many people. During her presidential campaign, she'd vowed to meet the challenge, though it was beginning to look insurmountable.

  Then came the Clusters.

  Then came Doomsday.

  Jenna was all too aware that both occurrences could spell disaster for her moderately successful presidency. Neither occurrence was her fault, but that's not the way people saw it. As Jenna drank in the sweet milk of the Cluster she saw Doomsday in a new light that was both frightening and compelling. Less people on the Earth meant less people to feed. Less people on the Earth meant less people to house. Jenna looked into the green eyes of Mother-Cluster and somehow conveyed her sadness for all the lives lost.

  Mother-Cluster smiled, “It is sweet of you to care for those who died.” Her voice was surprisingly gentle, not booming or resounding as one might expect from a godlike entity. “They were invited to be born again. However, the images my sisters and I presented were too intense for them and they simply did not understand. Birth is a dangerous process—rebirth even more so. Some are stillborn; others miscarry. Those who survive are the strongest. Grieve for those who died, for they will not know the wonders you and the rest of the survivors are about to experience."

  Looking into Mother-Cluster's eyes, Jenna caught the briefest glimpse of billions of years of experience. The Cluster could take humanity into the future. In that flash, Jenna saw how much more productively machines could be used on Mars and in the asteroids. She saw ways that the Earth could be cleaned up and made beautiful without giving up the comforts she had grown to love. Humans with little vision or drive had been swept asunder. She would work with the remaining humans to rebuild the planet; humans, with a drive to serve their fellow man, had imagination, and wanted to explore.

  "Yes, my little one,” said Mother-Cluster, “Grieve for those who have died. But also celebrate with those who live. You are the heirs of a new Earth that you will build. You will be remembered forever."

  Jenna released Mother-Cluster's breast—now softer, almost human—and swallowed the milk. A tear r
an down her cheek and she woke up to find herself in the arms of Eva Cooper. Jenna gently extracted herself from Eva's arms and kissed the doctor on the forehead. The President of Gaean Alliance tucked in her blouse, threw on her jacket and slipped into her shoes. With a deep breath of resolve she knew she had work to do.

  * * * *

  Arriving aboard the Nicholas Sanson, John Mark Ellis, Kirsten Smart, Suki Ellis and Manuel Raton immediately went to the ship's command deck. Navigator Laura Peters turned at the sound of the lift door opening, with a look of faint relief. The ship's first mate, Simon Yermakov—a man whose round face and puffy cheeks gave him the appearance of a squirrel—turned in his chair. “Top of the morning, Skipper,” he said. “We've been trying to reach you all night."

  "We've heard the news,” said Ellis, tersely. “It seems that the Cluster ships have turned up at Earth."

  "So much for this week's pay,” said Yermakov, wryly.

  "We might just be able to save your check, Simon,” said Kirsten with a twinkle in her eye. “I have volunteered Sanson for a special reconnaissance mission."

  "Recon mission?” asked Laura—who served in the Confederation Reserves, in addition to being the Sanson's navigator.

  "We're a mapping vessel,” chirped in Simon. “What's going on here?"

  Ellis motioned for Yermakov and Peters to come toward the back of the command deck where, he introduced his mother and Manuel. “Has G'Liat left the ship, yet?"

  Simon Yermakov nodded ascent. “He left yesterday. A Rd'dyggian charter vessel picked him up."

  "Good,” said Ellis, nodding. “I'd like you to get someone to fix up his quarters for my mother and Mr. Raton."

  Simon inclined his head, examining the two new arrivals. Manuel Raton was a man of medium height with salt-and-pepper hair, a long, drooping mustache, and sleepy-looking eyes that hid keen skills of observation. Somehow he seemed as though he would be more at home with hepler pistols in each hand than at the side of the captain's mother. Fire Ellis was tall and rail thin, except for an expansive bosom that made her look top-heavy. She stood, hands on hips, her eyes admiring the command deck of the Nicholas Sanson. Her almost battle-ready stance made Simon re-evaluate his first impression—Manuel Raton was at home with this woman.