Across the Great Rift

by Washburn, Scott;

  “Engineered?” said Tosh Briggs with an appalled look on his face. “You mean like the damn Venanci? Those stinking Creationists?” Several other people were muttering to each other with similar expressions. A sudden chill went through Regina. She’d just made a terrible mistake without realizing it.

  “No, no, nothing like that!” she blurted. But even as she said it, she realized she was wrong. Unfortunately, this was like that. Exactly the same techniques had been used to make these men’s ancestors as the Venanci used to create their ‘improved humanity’ and, she had to admit, exactly the same sort of hubris had been involved in the decision to do it. “Not like that at all,” she ended weakly.

  Shiffeld was eyeing the men—and her—coldly. “You wouldn’t happen to know just what these…people are doing here, would you?”

  “They must have fled here some time long ago.”

  “Fled?” asked Briggs. “They were driven out by the real humans?”

  “No! Well, I suppose they were, but not the way you are suggesting,” said Regina, regaining some of her indignation. “It was a shameful episode, absolutely shameful. When people first started exploring beyond Old Earth, they discovered that there were hardly any planets which were readily habitable. There were a lot more which could be terraformed, but their techniques in those days took a long time, centuries. And they demanded a lot of supervision and careful attention. Someone, no one’s sure who now, came up with the idea of genetically engineering groups of people who could live on the planets to be terraformed without artificial aids. These people would supervise the terraforming. The idea was that each succeeding generation would be engineered back toward standard human. By the time the terraforming was finished, the terraformers would be completely human again and would be the first colonists. It was an elegant and audacious solution to the problem.”

  “It sounds horrible,” said Tosh Briggs. “Incredible that anyone would think of such a thing—or agree to do it.”

  “I guess they thought it was preferable to having generations of people living under domes and in environmental suits. In any case, they went ahead with it. A few dozen variations were created for different planetary environments and they were sent out to start their jobs.”

  “From the fact that I’ve never heard of them and that these people are here, I assume it did not work?” asked Shiffeld.

  “No one will ever know if it would have worked,” replied Regina. “Less than a century after the first waves of Terraformers had been placed, there was a breakthrough in planetary engineering. Much faster methods of terraforming were discovered. Where it had once taken five hundred years, it could now be done in fifty, and thus the Terraformers weren’t needed anymore. Worse than that: suddenly the Terraformers were actually in the way. They were on planets that could be quickly terraformed with the new methods.”

  “They were obsolete,” observed Charles Crawford.

  “Yes,” said Regina sadly. “And the bastards in charge wouldn’t let them even finish the jobs they had started and let their descendants live on those planets. The Terraformers were uprooted and shunted aside. They were unwanted embarrassments at that point.”

  “Should have just spaced the lot of them,” muttered Briggs. “Or at least sterilized them.”

  “There aren’t a lot of records about what happened next,” said Regina. “Apparently many of the Terraformers adapted to space travel since they could set the ships’ life support for their needs and became permanent ship crews and asteroid miners and the like. A few tried to get ahead of the wave of expansion from Old Earth and find planets they could claim as their own. But they were always overtaken and driven out. All mention of them disappears about fifteen hundred years ago and I doubt any of them survived the fall of the UW. But it’s obvious now that at least one group of them made the decision to jump the Rift. Oh, this is just amazing!”

  “Amazing and highly irritating,” muttered Shiffeld.

  “Why irritating? The opportunities for cooperation are the same as before—and we have a unique historical discovery!”

  “Perhaps, but you seem to be overlooking the fact if the people living on the planet are already adapted to the environment there, they will not want us to terraform it.”

  Regina was taken back. She hadn’t thought of that. But then she glanced at their two guests, still standing there, and shook her head. “No, these people can’t be living on the planet—except under domes. You can see that they are warmly dressed and that indicates they are adapted to a hotter planet. The planet here is far colder. And its atmosphere is much thinner. These men are wearing flexible plastic helmets and you can see the pressure inside them is about the same as ours.”

  “Doesn’t prove a thing, Regina. You said yourself that these people came in a lot of different…models. The ones down on the planet could be a sort that is adapted for it.”

  “I suppose that could be true,” she admitted.

  “Uh, Sir Rikard?” said Charles Crawford. “We’re speculating in a vacuum here. And we’re being a bit rude with our guests. Maybe it would be best to sit down and talk with them and find out what the situation really is, instead of guessing about it.”

  “Yes, you are correct on all points. Beatrice, ask our guests if they will accompany us to the conference room.”

  * * * * *

  Tad Fasvar was still gawking around him in wonder and envy when their hosts finally stopped arguing among themselves and asked them to come along. He wasn’t sure what sort of customs these people had; in most clans he was familiar with the long wait would have been considered rude, but under the circumstances, Tad didn’t really mind. He spent the time looking at his surroundings. The ship, even just the boat bay, was incredibly rich and luxurious. Everything was bigger than it needed to be and it was all over-designed, elaborately decorated, and spotlessly clean. The wealth these people had was staggering.

  And yet, there was something odd about the ship, too. At first he wasn’t sure what it was, but it slowly dawned on him: everything was exactly alike. From where he stood, he could see five pressure doors and every one was identical to all the others. The stanchions bracing the bulkheads were all alike, too. The ceiling and floor panels, even the brass trim, which was purely decorative, they were all the same. The only thing which looked at all hand-made was an elaborate crest on the bulkhead facing the main airlock from the boat bay. Even that lacked any real character. If a craftsman had made it, it had been so over-finished that any trace of the man had been extinguished. The whole ship (or as much as he’d seen of it) seemed… sterile. It was the only word he could think of. There was no life in it and the life aboard it was just a passenger—it didn’t belong here. Tad found himself pitying these people, despite their obvious wealth.

  He wasn’t sure what they had been arguing about, but now they were finished and beckoning his uncle and him forward. They followed along and a considerable crowd surrounded them. A number of them were obviously warriors. They carried weapons and wore some sort of uniform. Tad was rather flattered by the honor. Of course, the leader who had met them claimed to be in command of this entire super-ship, so the escort was probably for him rather than for them. Although the fact that the leader, this Rikurd Shitfel, had actually come to meet them in person was honor enough.

  As they walked along the over-large corridors, Tad felt that something else was wrong, and it only took a moment to realize what: the corridor was flat. There was no curve to it at all and not the slightest hint of Coriolus force as you would normally have with spin-gravity. Artificially generated gravity! He still couldn’t get over it. At his side, his uncle nearly stumbled. It really was a little hard to get used to.

  “If we can learn how they make this gravity, our fortune will be made, Uncle,” he said quietly.

  “We’d have to buy the technology, Tad, and we have nothing to buy it with.”

  “We have one thing: knowledge about our star system. If these strangers come from so far that the
y can’t even speak the language properly, they can’t know anything about us or this place. They won’t know who to trade with for what or… or anything! We can help them a great deal and that should be worth quite a bit to them.”

  His uncle chuckled. “You are talking like a merchant, Tad, not a prospector! Still, I hope you are right. This could be the opportunity we’ve prayed for to save the family and the ship.”

  As he walked, he noticed that the woman who had been talking so excitedly had fallen in beside him and was looking at him with a warm smile. She was quite attractive in an exotic way. Nose and ears too large, of course, and the white fur covering the top of her head with the long rope of it down one side was a bit disconcerting. A cold-worlder, for sure. Her skin would feel like ice if he were to touch her. Still, she was pretty enough, he supposed, and she was smiling. He smiled back at her.

  “Regina,” she said, touching herself.

  “Tad,” he replied, touching his own chest.

  “Tad,” she repeated, then gestured between the two them. “Frenz?”

  What did she…? “Oh! Friends! Yes, sure, we are friends.” He smiled and nodded and she did the same.

  “Got yourself a new girlfriend, Tad?” asked his uncle.

  “Not my type, sir. Too old, and a real ice maiden, I’ll bet.”

  “You can be sure of that! It’s freezing in here.”

  After what seemed a long walk, they entered into a huge room which was nearly as large as the boat bay. It appeared to be a space designed for holding meetings. Their hosts indicated places to sit around a large table and Tad and his uncle sank into heavily upholstered seats which were very comfortable. The standing in the boat bay and the walk to the room had been tiring on his legs. He wasn’t used to the gravity and he was grateful to sit down.

  There was a container of water and some glasses on the table, and after considerable discussion, with a lot of gesticulations, everyone drank some of the liquid; Tad and his uncle used small bottles with drinking tubes which they had brought with them. The sharing of water, the one common need of all the clans, was an important ritual, and Tad was glad to see that these strangers honored it just as they did.

  But once the formalities were out of the way, the true discussion began. It was awkward with the language difficulties, but the assistance of the computer keyboards and visual displays was a great help. Before long, everyone at the table, including Tad, was provided with one and things went faster. Each side began to absorb some of the others’ language and expressions, and misunderstandings grew fewer. Tad marveled over the computer equipment. It was clearly superior to their own. Yes, these people would have a great deal to offer.

  It was hard work, and from time to time, they all needed to take a break. During one of these rest sessions his uncle pulled him aside where they could talk in private. “So, what do you think of all this, Tad?”

  “They want to trade, that seems pretty clear, don’t you think, sir?”

  “Oh yes, they want to trade. They want raw materials and finished structural members—and in enormous quantities. They even seem to understand that while we can’t supply what they want ourselves, we can act as the middlemen to get it for them.”

  “With even a modest percentage, it could mean a fortune for us, Uncle!” said Tad excitedly.

  “Yes, almost too good to be true, isn’t it?”

  “You’re afraid they aren’t telling us the truth?” asked Tad in alarm. “You think they might try to cheat us?”

  “No, I’m not really worried about that. Even though our percentage would be a fortune to us, it would still be a trifle compared to what they have and what they want. No, I’m just worried that they haven’t told us all that they really want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We still don’t know why they are here. Did you notice how they side-stepped the questions I asked about that? I suppose they might just have not understood, but somehow I doubt that. And what do they want all the materials for? Did you notice any damage on their ships that might need repairs?”

  “No, everything seemed in good order—not that I could see everything, of course.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. So if they don’t need the materials for repairs, they must want it to build something with. But what?”

  Tad glanced around nervously. A few of the strangers were looking their way, but that was to be expected. He’d been nervous when they first arrived, but during the discussions, all his uneasiness had vanished as they tried to puzzle out each others’ words. Now the nervousness returned. What did these people want? They had come from a long way off and they already had more wealth than could be readily imagined. What could they possibly want from the people of Refuge? “M-maybe we ought to talk to the captain before we make any agreements, sir.”

  “Exactly my thoughts. This is getting too damn big for the two of us. I hate worrying Grandfather, but this time we’re going to have to.”

  “So we are going back to the ship?”

  “In a bit. The Old Man is going to want every scrap of information we can gather for him. So keep you eyes and ears open and watch what you say!”

  “Yes, sir,” said Tad, swallowing nervously.

  * * * * *

  “So what do you think?” asked Charles Crawford. Regina Nassau shook her head and shrugged, nearly spilling her coffee.

  “I’m not sure. Part of me is so excited at meeting these people and the other part is furious with myself for sticking my foot in it about the genetic engineering. I should have known better than mention that in front of paranoids like Briggs.” She looked at him more closely, her eyes as sharp as an alignment laser. “I trust that you’ve got more sense than him?”

  “I would like to think so,” snorted Crawford. “I’ve got no love for the Venanci, but from what you tell me, these folks have nothing to do with them. They seem nice enough—the two we’ve met—and I see no reason why we can’t deal with them. And they seem eager to deal.”

  “Yes, they do. Almost too eager. You’d think they would have more doubts about us.”

  “True. We pop in out of nowhere with an enormous ship, which, at least to look at, is armed to the teeth. I know I’d be damned nervous if I was in their place.”

  “Maybe they are just naturally very trusting,” ventured Regina.

  “Maybe. But they seem like pretty shrewd businessmen. Maybe they are just naturally greedy and see us as a treasure ship. Or maybe they need us as much as we need them.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Regina, frowning.

  “I don’t know what I mean,” admitted Crawford. “Speculating in a vacuum again. Not something I like to do, although I’ve been doing it a hell of a lot lately.” He glanced to his side as Lu Karrigan came up to them.

  “Chuck, I just wanted thank you for putting all my people out of work. I’m sure they are all gonna want to thank you personally.” Crawford was startled, but there was a flicker of a smile on Karrigan’s face.

  “Hey, it was just a suggestion. Besides, I’ll bet all your folks will love getting a chance to play navy on the warships.”

  “Maybe. As long as their pay stays the same, they might not mind, I suppose. A few of them will bitch just for the sake of bitching, but the majority will accept it—I hope.”

  “Hopefully Shiffeld will have the sense to agree about the pay—which will probably make them the highest paid navy crews in history considering the rates you rock hounds get.”

  “Mining is dangerous work. They earn every penny and you know it.”

  “Yeah, I do. You’ve got good people—almost as good as mine,” said Crawford with a grin. “I hope Jin’s people feel the same way, though. His manufacturers aren’t the natural ship crews that your folks are.”

  “They’ll have to adapt,” replied Karrigan. “Honestly, Chuck, what choice is there? If we can get what we need from the locals instead of having to make it ourselves, we can divert everyone, except yours and Briggs’s constr
uction teams, to man those warships. Otherwise, we are completely screwed—despite Shiffeld’s optimism about the ‘fat’ we can cut. It ain’t there to be cut and we all know it.” He paused and looked at Regina. “What about you folks? You unemployed, too, do you think?”

  “I…I guess so. There’s not much we can do to the planet with people down there. And it would be incredibly wrong to try and force them out—especially after what we did to their ancestors!”

  “We didn’t do anything to their ancestors,” said Karrigan. “That was centuries ago and I refuse to carry any guilt for whatever was done. This is now and that’s all that matters.”

  “Even so, I will not terraform those people’s home out from under them!” said Regina, hotly.

  “Settle down,” said Crawford. “Probably not even an issue anymore. I rather doubt these folks will let us do anything to the planet, and we can hardly afford to start a new war when we can’t even fight the one we’ve already got.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right, Charles. Shiffeld’s not the type to let things stand in his way.”

  “Speaking of His Lordship, what’s going on there?” said Karrigan. He pointed to where the governor was speaking with someone over the com. Shiffeld’s face was getting redder by the second.

  “Uh, oh,” said Crawford. “Looks like bad news.”

  “More? What else could happen at this point?”

  A moment later Shiffeld snarled in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear: “What? How? Then get her up here! At once, do you understand? Get that traitorous bitch up here this instant!” He closed the connection, looked around the room, and saw that everyone was staring at him.

  “What’s happened, Sir Rikard?” ventured Tosh Briggs.

  Shiffeld took a moment to compose himself. “It would seem that a few minutes ago a reconnaissance drone was launched—from Exeter.”

  “Exeter!” exclaimed half a dozen people. This was followed by a low roar as everyone started talking at once.