by Kathy Tyers
A lifetime of waffling, of giving in to Novia’s wishes, streaked across Graysha’s mind. “Leave me alone. They haven’t harmed anyone. Some of them are egotistical and grasping, but you’ll find that anywhere. Please. Just . . . go away.”
At last, the steel crept into Novia’s voice. “It was Palila Lwu’s geriatrics work that brought them here, wasn’t it?”
Outraged, Graysha gulped for air. That was a trusted secret Novia didn’t deserve to know. “The Eugenics Board is a dinosaur,” she shouted, “enforcing policies that weren’t fair even in 2030. It’s a monster with bloody teeth, and I will not feed it one more living, breathing bite.”
“Sit down. You have no right—”
Graysha lunged for the door. Before Novia could react, she was through and out, pounding up the hall as quickly as her returning coordination let her run. Her tears blurred the concrete walls as she pounded past.
Interdict
Novia thought Gaea personnel looked bewildered to hear Goddard would be abandoned as a penal measure. A tall black woman wearing a pink lab coat stepped away from the wall and said, “It’s evacuate, whether or not Graysha can patch the greenhouse? We have so much left to do.”
Novia spread her hands. Graysha’s rejection had knifed her in the heart. She should enjoy this vindication, of time and Board money spent, but she could not. “I understand how sudden this must seem. If the colonists had proved innocent, we certainly would have tried to save the project.” At the edge of her vision, Melantha Lee did not react to this out-and-out lie. Good, Melantha. Evidently this jammed, mural-decorated room was her office.
Will Varberg stood glaring, ominously quiet. He really was big and smart enough to be dangerous.
Flora Hauwk cleared her throat. “Each of you will be given personal-choice status as to your next assignment, even priority over current jobholders, with a significant raise in salary, as Gaea’s thanks for your efforts and support. Compared with the funds Gaea will save by withdrawing from Goddard, compensating you will be a small budgetary item.”
“You’re going to abandon these people?” asked a tiny man who clenched a straight-stemmed pipe. Emerson, as she recalled. “Without scientific support? That’s murder.”
He seemed a kindly soul. Perhaps he might understand what Novia was going through. “No, no. They will remain here only if they choose to stay. We’re simply not going to risk provoking a paramilitary confrontation. We’ll make one strike only, against the clinic where their crimes are still being committed.”
“So you know about this D-group of theirs.” The pipe-smoking man pulled a small woman close to him and laid his arm over her shoulders.
“I am certain the majority will cooperate with evacuation. Remember the German Jews. Life in camps sounded better than death in street riots, so they climbed aboard.”
“Ja, Frau Hitler,” the little man muttered.
Tempted to slap him in a freshly stoked fury, Novia checked herself.
Flora Hauwk pushed up out of the office chair she’d appropriated. “I would suggest packing your personal belongings, plus anything irreplaceable or offworld relevant in your labs. If you must choose, be quick instead of thorough, because, my friends, if we don’t get out of Axis quickly, we may find ourselves under siege. We do know about that D-group.”
“May I say one thing?” A bearlike man in tweeds waved a hand. “We’ve got a cold front on its way down from the pole, and the wind will start picking up within an hour or so. Lander flights might be impossible after six or seven tonight.”
“You heard Urbansky.” Melantha Lee frowned. “It’ll take two lander flights to get us all offworld. The first will take off at four-thirty, about an hour from now. Second flight will leave as soon as the lander can return, at about six-thirty. Get packing, gentlemen and women.”
“Without a takeoff fast?” someone called.
“If I can survive it, you can,” Lee answered. “Shut down or destroy everything on your floors before heading out. We will leave no gifts for the Lwuites. It will be kinder to them if we make it clear they, too, should evacuate.”
Novia kept her seat while department heads scattered to implement Lee’s orders. Maybe she ought to thank that little Emerson. He’d stopped her from wallowing in self-pity. Since she had hoped Graysha would serve as a lightning rod, she couldn’t be disappointed by strikes she’d collected.
Where did that girl go?
Melantha Lee remained seated, toying with a penknife, and Supervisor Hauwk shut the door. “The Gaea reward for developing the CFC-destroying organism will have to be withheld, I’m afraid,” said Hauwk, “but I think no charges pertaining to that incident will be pressed.”
The firm set of Lee’s jaw relaxed. “Varberg needs treatment.”
Novia had to agree. “He’ll get it. Prepare a thorough report en route. We’ll see he’s helped.” Helped, and put away for society’s good. Novia pointed at Lee’s desk. “May we use your terminal? My next job is to gather the ringleaders and pass sentence.”
Lee scooted her chair aside. “Are you investigator, prosecutor, and judge, Commissioner Brady-Phillips?”
The Gaea head had no right to take that accusing tone. “With the distances involved, my judicial authorization is the only practical approach. Hauwk, call them in to the Colonial Affairs office. Lee, would you have a pair of muscular types we could take along? My nettech is headed for Port Arbor.” I should have brought at least two of them.
―――
Lindon pressed in through his old office door, then took up a position leaning against it. Apparently he was the last to arrive. With his books gone and Ari’s abstract art hanging on the wall, the place already felt unfamiliar. Hauwk’s summons claimed this would be another public conference regarding the feasibility of continuing atmospheric development.
He didn’t believe it.
“Ari,” Kenn was saying, “you can’t stand up to EB questioning if the woman singles you out. Appoint a temporary chair, or do something—”
Lindon felt compelled to interrupt, even though it would incriminate him in all their eyes. “Excuse me.”
Kenn looked his way.
“Eric LuMori saw Commissioner Brady-Philips with her daughter,” he said softly, and the secretary held her recorder toward him. “Evidently taking her into custody. I couldn’t get to them.” Those short sentences didn’t start to cover his desperate attempts to procure a Gaea master key and free Graysha, though it might have been a foolish martyrdom—exposing himself to Commissioner Brady-Phillips when she wanted information.
Ari pressed her hands flat on the desktop. “All right, Lindon. Just how much have you told her, trying to win her over?” Her glare would have melted a wax candle.
“Everything,” he said softly.
As he expected, they all drew away. Taidje’s reproachful frown cut furrows in his forehead. Ari clenched her hands. “If we get out of this alive, I’m going to have you shot. In fact, I might not wait that long. Excuse me.” She reached under the desktop.
Undoubtedly she kept a D-group pistol. He backed toward the door.
Taidje strode between them. “Ari, stop. Think. If Novia hadn’t gotten that information from her daughter, she certainly would have had it from you in five minutes or less. You’ve been spared an interrogation.” He glanced at Lindon, then added, “And given a scapegoat. Let’s not talk about revenge, but—”
Pressure at his back shoved Lindon away from the door. Ari glared murder.
The door opened, and Dr. Lee strode through. System Supervisor Hauwk followed, with two men he didn’t recognize but guessed were functioning as bodyguards. Last, hands thrust into the green tech’s pullover that had disguised her—briefly—came Commissioner Novia Brady-Phillips. Her dark-blond hair was almost the same shade as Graysha’s, but hard lines surrounded her mouth and crossed her forehead. Limping slightly, she carried a sheaf of papers.
Ari rose.
Yes,
Lindon realized, Ari had had a good reason to try and get rid of Graysha. She’d hoped to separate her from him, protecting Henri and Palila Lwu’s secrets. But Taidje was right, too. If Lindon had told Graysha nothing, Novia simply would have questioned another.
Graysha. God protect her!
Melantha Lee stepped forward, her round face as expressionless as if she didn’t feel the hostility in the room. She introduced Ari to the commissioner. Neither woman moved nor spoke at first. The two strange men sidestepped over to stand against the shelves along the room’s near side. Lindon spotted a pistol tucked into one man’s belt.
“You,” said Novia, “have been tampering with the human genome.” She laid most of her papers on Ari’s desk. “Here is my evidence against you, and Palila Lwu, and the alleged anti-aging genetic complex. You needn’t study it for rebuttal. By law, I gathered enough for automatic conviction before I set foot on this planet. And lest you think waylaying me would serve your cause, I left a copy at USSC Copernicus.”
“Automatic conviction? Then let’s hear the verdict,” Ari said through tight jaws.
Novia Brady-Phillips raised the paper she’d kept in hand. “As of fifteen hundred hours, 20 February 2134 Earth-referent, Goddard colony is hereby proscribed by the United Sovereignties and Space Colonies for the crime of mass homogenegineering.”
Proscribed. Banned from all contact with USSC entities. Lindon’s chest ached. Ari didn’t flinch. Taidje crossed and clenched his hands. This was it—the fate they’d all dreaded.
Novia raised her chin. “Scientific support staff is withdrawn by USSC order. Colonial property of Lwuite nonhumans is forfeited to Gaea Terraforming Consortium, as partial payment for services rendered and raw materials furnished.”
Nonhumans? How could she think that?
“Asteroids in tow will be diverted. Ores already mined—specifically, boron ore—are being loaded into cargo holds as I speak. Commerce with USSC entities is banned. Until you evacuate, shipping to Goddard is outlawed under strict penalties. Outlink satellites enabling offworld communication will be taken away. Legally, all Gaea satellites are Consortium property and will be confiscated as soon as time allows.”
She meant to starve them out, blinded—and to make sure no one took pity. Novia flung the paper at Ari. It fluttered toward one edge of the desk, where Ari let it lie, reaching instead for her keyboard. Half a minute later, she raised her head. “She’s right,” she announced. “They diverted our ore trucks to the spacefield.”
“No matter what you are, I would not lie to you,” said Novia. “Should you choose to remain on site, we will return a shuttle to evacuate nontransgenic inhabitants of Center, mine out the rest of that ore vein, and lift all remaining light machinery.”
“In that case, you’ll release Goddard colony of any further monetary liability to Gaea Consortium,” Ari said. “That vein probably represents half a generation’s debt—reckoned by our generations, Commissioner, not yours.”
Supervisor Hauwk stepped out from between her gorillas. “We’re discussing an untenable option, though,” she said. “I have no wish to abandon fifteen thousand people. Consider your children. Will you starve them, freeze them? Gaea Consortium will take you all, free of charge—think of that expense saved, if you will—to Galileo Habitat and relocate you there. We will save you to stand trial. You have two hours in which to accept that offer. But there will be no compromise. Either you will remain on Goddard, all of you, and die here with your children, or else colonial leadership will evacuate at six-thirty on the second lander load up. The rest of the population will follow as soon as you can institute sufficient organization. I would advise the second alternative. Chair MaiJidda, what do you say?”
Ari’s smile was a narrow crescent. “Supervisor, we will take a democratic vote. We have been the first to try for immortality with any real hope of success. We will be remembered as such.”
Novia’s eyebrows shot up. “You,” she said, “will be remembered as common criminals. Good day, Chair MaiJidda.” She faced the door. Lindon held it open for her. Hauwk and Lee hurried through, and the bodyguards waited behind.
Novia paused in front of him, glaring, looking him up and down. After several seconds, she spoke over her shoulder to Hauwk’s bodyguard. “See that DalLierx straps down for takeoff under guard.”
Lindon had to speak. “Commissioner, God defines humanity by its spirit, not just its body. Humans come in all physical types. For too many years, each type distrusted all others—”
“Abomination,” she muttered, striding out. The guards followed her.
Lindon turned his mind aside from Novia’s threat. It was easy to imagine himself singled out for immediate irradiation. “Ari, longevity is one thing. Humanity will never achieve physical immor—”
“Shut up,” Ari shouted.
Kenn looked sick, his face pale, hands shaking. “We can’t stay, not under those conditions.”
Lindon thought hard. Gaea pullout would leave them all the terraforming information already on the Gaea net, a building full of equipment and materials, weathersats for a while, and the geosynchronous mirrors—but no staff to maintain them. Could they take over? Even if Graysha found a solution, who would implement it? “This is a question of freedom,” he said softly. “We can live free, here. We can’t give up. Wherever we go, we will die eventually. If we accept her conditions—”
“If you don’t want to be shot,” Ari said, fairly hissing the words, “you’ll close your mouth and keep it shut.”
Lindon gestured toward the door. “Then let me go. To find Graysha and steal her away from them if possible.”
Ari bent toward her desk drawer again. “All we need is for you to be questioned! You will stay here until I tell you to do otherwise.”
―――
Panting, Graysha staggered into the Gaea building. Its silence spooked her. Always before, there’d been voices, the soft whir of ventilation, and fingers on keyboards. Now she had to turn on lights to find the elevator doors. When she waved at the call panel, nothing happened.
Steady, she told herself. There’s still power. They’ve just shut things down. She found a staircase she’d never used, but no stairwell lights. She climbed, groping in darkness. She felt filthy inside. This was a worse betrayal than Ellard’s.
My own mother.
And Ari MaiJidda had been right. Greed—and the EB—brought her to Goddard. Her own selfish hope for gene healing, and the promise of extra pay, played into her mother’s hands. Now her greed might destroy the lives of fifteen thousand people—possibly even bring about their deaths.
Reaching the fifth floor, she pushed out into a dim hall. Planetary daylight gleamed through depolarized windows.
Did they switch off—or even sabotage—her chilling water baths? She dashed up the hall, digging in her pocket for Kevan’s mag key.
The switch was off, but with the cultures locked down and insulated, the temperature had risen only two degrees. Thankful, she switched it back on. Surely something would survive at cloud temperature and still inhibit S. gaeaii’s growth.
The instant she brought her computer back online, its net alert screeched. News of the colony’s proscription scrolled past, and the no-win choice Novia gave the colonists. Official notice of Gaea evacuation followed. Gaea personnel were to assemble at the colonists’ food co-op, the underground facility closest to the landing field, as quickly as possible. They were not to eat or drink anything until underway. She, personally, was ordered to depart with the first shuttle-lander load, forty-five minutes from now, because of “particular risk of being taken hostage by colonists.”
Furious, she seized a hard candy from the jar on her desk and sucked on it. If she could have found more food, she would have eaten it.
She looked back at her lockdown. She might be ever so close to solving the puzzle . . . or light-years away.
It was also possible there was no solution at all.
What do I do? s
he pleaded. She had all the resources of the Gaea building at her disposal, and no saboteurs to fight—at last!—but no assurance of success.
She couldn’t imagine the colonists would submit to evacuation, irradiation, and imprisonment to save themselves and their children from starvation.
Or would they?
Goddard was their home. It had become her home, her world, not just her workplace. And those children, too, would be irradiated if Novia had her way.
Well? she prayed again. Do you care? Are the Lwuites your children or Novia’s inhuman abominations?
She slid up her tailored suit’s left sleeve. Tissue oxygen looked good, but it wouldn’t always be.
Regardless, she knew she’d made up her mind. If the colonists stayed on, she would, too.
She yanked on her lab coat and got back to work.
―――
Libby JenChee bent her aching knees and passed two boxes of medical equipment down four concrete stairs. The next woman in line grabbed them and passed them farther along. Libby straightened, then reached upward again, working silently in near darkness that intensified everyone’s panic. This should have been a joyful occasion, her premarital trip to Port Arbor with Jaq—a homecoming, for she had worked at Port Arbor before moving over to Axis. Instead, the D-group had arrived and demanded everyone’s help.
She would do her part. Jaq passed her a carton of small containers, and she sent them on.
Palila Lwu’s pool of DNA-infected retroviruses lay safe already in a limestone cavern below Port Arbor Clinic. Those caverns had been chosen as a hiding place ever since landing day. This human chain stretched down four flights of laboriously hewn stairs, and everything that could possibly be saved was being passed down into the caves. On the clinic’s other side, groaning elevators shuttled similar loads. Topside, an older group of heterozyg volunteers watched the sky for—
“Here it comes!” she heard. Boxes and cartons came faster. From a distance echoed an amplified bass-heavy voice. “Attention, groundside residents. You have five minutes to leave the Port Arbor Clinic. It will be destroyed in five minutes. Seek shelter. Protect your face and eyes. Five . . .”
