Aurora

by Mark W. Tiedemann

  "I have one more question."

  "I doubt that. What is it?

  "How come you're not sick? Almost everyone else here seems to be."

  Rekker smiled sadly. "I'm a Spacer. Spacers never get sick."

  MIA SNAPPED the book closed at the sound of her cabin door chime. She reached over to her desk and touched a contact The display identified her visitor as Commander Reen.

  Mia closed the surveillance screen and slipped the book into a locking drawer at the base of her desk. She rolled her chair around to face the flatscreen on which shipping route tables waited for her attention.

  "Yes?' she said.

  'Reen, Lt. Daventri. May I come in?'

  "Certainly, sir." She touched the contact that opened her door.

  Reen stepped quickly in, hands clasped behind his back. Mia began to rise, but he lifted one hand and gave a slightly shake of his head

  "You're on personal time," he said- "Formalities can wait."

  "Men. . ." Mia bit back a demand to know why lie was here, disturbing her "personal time,- but instead she said, -may I offer you something to drink?'

  "No, thank you. May I sit?'

  She gestured to a chair. He glanced at her flatscreen as he folded himself into the seat. 'Working?'

  "Puzzles annoy me. I have a hard time relaxing when they're unresolved."

  "I understand completely. I wanted to offer you an opportunity to sit in on Corf's interrogation. Perhaps get a sense of where you might take it before we begin."

  'I was under the impression that he already had been interrogated."

  "Preliminaries. I've assigned a specialist to do a more thorough examination." He smiled thinly. "Corf is the first one we've caught of any real rank or position. Granted, Stores isn't much of a position, but it's a perfect one for a smuggler. He has to know more than he's given us so far."

  "Of course, I'll be glad to assist. Mia frowned 'A specialist? What service?'

  "Independent."

  Mia kept her expression neutral. She knew what Reen meant, and it skirted legality. She wondered if he actually possessed the authority to do this, then wondered how she might find out without letting Reen know.

  "If you think that's necessary," she said carefully.

  "You disapprove. Actually, I'm glad you do. I would never ordinarily resort to something this . . . radical. But we've got an opportunity to mine information about smuggling operations before Corf gets snatched from us by the adjutant general's office and shipped back to Earth I want these leaks found, Lieutenant."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I'm still surprised at how little we found in his cabin. Your search was thorough?'

  'All due respect, sir, I'm not prone to sloppy work. And it was a small cabin."

  "Mmm. No disrespect intended, Lieutenant. I'm just surprised-"

  "Was there something in particular you expected to find?'

  'As a matter of fact, yes. Timetables. We've yet to find out how shipping schedules are being passed between the various agents in this operation. Were scanning all possible comm frequencies, inspecting all incoming and outgoing data for code, and yet all the various factions of our target know our routing schedules and their own down to the hour. Or so it seems. We catch a lot, but it's almost a matter of luck rather than logic. I thought Corf, of all people, would possess something that might indicate how that information was being passed."

  "If its not going by comm, there must be some hardcopy."

  "My thoughts, too. But . . ." He stared at her narrowly, as if dissatisfied and suspicious. 'Well, maybe it's word of mouth. Ridiculous, but not impossible. I'll have to tell the interrogator to do a body search for hidden recorders or something."

  He continued to stare at her through a long silence. Mia returned his gaze evenly, acutely aware that he suspected her of lying.

  "When is Corf's first interrogation by the specialist scheduled?' she asked

  'Tomorrow."

  "Let's hope it proves worthwhile."

  Reen's eyebrows bobbed once and he stood- He laughed self-consciously. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I do dislike doubting my subordinates, but are you withholding information? I could understand it if you thought you had a handle on something that you expected to be productive and didn't want to share the glory~~,

  Mia snapped to her feet "Sir, you are bordering on making an accusation which I will have no choice but to meet with judicial response."

  'I'm perfectly aware of my limitations, Lieutenant I hope you are as aware of yours." He gave a short bow. 'Apologies. This has been driving me for some time."

  Mia clasped her hands behind her back and broke eye contact. "I understand."

  "You would be willing to put such a matter before an Inquest? With all that would entail?'

  "Yes, sir."

  His face relaxed- 'Then I suppose I have my answer. Very well, Lieutenant Daventri. Sorry to have bothered you."

  At the door, he paused

  "I consider this matter now closed," he said. He looked at her. 'Are we in agreement?'

  "Yes, sir."

  He nodded again and left her cabin.

  Her hands trembled as she sat down. You'd think after everything I've been through I'd be used to lying to my superiors, she thought. she stared at the chair where Reen had been sitting. On impulse, she touched a series of keys on her desk. A small sphere emerged from its niche across the cabin and began a detailed search of the room, looking for anything Reen might have left behind.

  The scan took nearly ten minutes, during which time Mia made herself a drink, and waited in silence. When it finished, the sphere~-a piece of contraband illegal for her to possess, acquired from a Spacer acquaintance, returned to its niche. The screen on her desk displayed the report. Clean.

  Even so, she finished her drink slowly before she took out the book from its drawer and opened to where she had left off

  We are forced to fall back an fatalism as an explanation of irrational events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not understand). The more we try to explain such events in history reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to us.

  Mia tilted her head back and let a quiet laugh escape. The words, written so long ago, about an ancient and altogether senseless war, stung still. Though she moved-had moved-through events which others might call "historic," beyond the step-by-step requirements of survival, she could not ever-admit to understanding them.

  She read on.

  Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from doing this or that action; but as soon as he had done it, that action performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.

  Mia sighed- "Leo Tolstoy, where have you been when I needed you?' The passage continued

  There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, which is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his elemental hive life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for him.

  Man lives consciously far himself, but is an unconscious instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity.

  Mia grunted- "Really? That's the first thing you've said that seems wrong." She wondered how that formulation meshed with the current situation. Hive life-well, there was certainly that, from the warrens of Earth to the aggregate polities of the Spacers' Fifty Worlds. The various Settler colonies combined aspects of both to greater or lesser degrees, but was there any discernible set of aims to the whole, or just a competing mass of wants and needs and agendas?

  And she had to wonder just how consciously most people ever lived, for themselves or otherwise ...

  For instance, what am I doing? And is it conscious choice or instinct?

  She closed the book and gazed at its cover. WAR AND PEACE was embossed across the aging synthetic material. Mia leafed through the pages.
Timetables, Reen had said. Was he lying? Maybe. Or maybe the truth would serve him just as well. Timetables ...

  She opened the coven and studied the end papers. They were golden, covered by a fine, fractal pattern.

  On impulse, she set the book on her desk and ran the scanning wand over the end papers. She tapped in commands and watched the screen.

  Alphanumerics scrolled up.

  "Damn." She felt intense anxiety work through her body. But gradually, she grinned "How does encryption fall into the predestined uses of historical aims?' she wondered aloud as she initiated her translation routines.

  Ariel sat in one of the smaller lounges, a brandy snifter before her on the table, staring up at the room-length viewscreen that showed Aurora Orbital Port Station. The structure possessed an elegance Kopernik never knew. Its lines arced and swept through vacuum like the pen strokes of a skilled calligrapher, iconographic and mysterious, implying secrets and meaning which~ Ariel knew, did not really exist. Aurorans liked to present themselves as custodians of civilization's potential. It had become their dominant motif, a facade of depth which, she had to admit, intimidated most of the rest of settled space. She knew better, but still enjoyed the beauty of their symbols.

  To be fair, she knew Aurorans who actually were what they seemed to be.

  The ship moved slowly now, bringing them incrementally closer to dock. Most of the passengers were Spacers, and had a Spacer sense of patience. The view, with cloud shrouded Aurora behind the station, was worth a long gaze. Ariel judged she could get thoroughly drunk before debarkation actually occurred.

  The station was less than a century old, a compromise to the opening up of travel between worlds after the Settler Accords became law almost two centuries ago. Aurora wanted a firewall between Terrans and themselves, a precaution which ultimately proved unnecessary for the original reasons-fear of infection-but which continued as a desirable way of screening out the unwanted on other grounds. Spacer ships still grounded directly on the planet, mostly at Port Eos, just outside Eos City, the capital. All other ships, from Earth or the Settler worlds, used this or any of a dozen more utilitarian stations that now peppered the system.

  Ariel found it hard to believe that almost fifteen years had passed since her last visit here ...

  She did a casual survey of the lounge. Her gaze caught on Clar Eliton, sitting at a table near the entrance, staring at the projected image. Ariel felt a sharp resentment at his presence, as though he did not deserve to see Aurora. Her sudden protectiveness surprised tier. She finished her brandy and signaled the robot tending bar for another one, using the time to wonder why she should feet the least concern toward a world that had once thrown her off ...

  Snifter in hand, she made tier way to Eliton's table. He did not see her until she stood at the vacant chair across from him. He looked briefly startled, mouth open and wordless.

  "Um . . ." he managed, lurching back his chair as if to rise in polite greeting.

  Ariel lifted a hand, cutting his politesse short. wind if I join you?' She pulled out the chair and sat down. "I feel I was rude the other day. I apologize."

  Eliton frowned as he recovered his seat. 'I don't think---2'

  She waved at the view. "Beautiful, isn't it?'

  "Yes . . ." He looked away. "I wanted to see it under better circumstances."

  "Oh wait till you get on the ground- If you think this is something-2'

  "I won't be grounding here."

  Ariel gave him a puzzled stare.

  He reddened slightly. "I'm not allowed to see the 'promised land-' My assignment-my mission-to Solaria precludes me

  from any contact with Aurorans outside the contingent of this ship. Neither Solaria nor Earth wants me to set foot on Aurora." He smiled thinly. "They're afraid I may . . . I don't know." He laughed- "Does Aurora accept supplicants for asylum?'

  "Not usually, no. Do you need asylum?'

  Eliton laughed again, louder. "No! good heavens, forgive me! I was speaking ... it's nothing. I was being sarcastic. Ironic." He looked up at the view. "Really, I think the Solarians are afraid you Aurorans might arrest me on some pretext to keep me from them. I think Earth agrees."

  'That's rather paranoid thinking on their part. Why would they worry over that?'

  'The embarrassment over my abduction, which you clearly don't accept as valid. It could be turned to political use by certain parties. Solaria is actually the safest place to keep me out of the public eye till it's all forgotten." He looked at her sadly. "Not paranoia-caution."

  He had, Ariel remembered, acted the part of a victim of the Managins after his faked assassination at Union Station, D.C., on Earth. He had claimed then to have been abducted, but Ariel had satisfied herself that he had been an active participant in the debacle. Others believed as she did, and it had left him vulnerable and politically compromised.

  "That's too bad," she said

  "Ye s, I agree. It looks . . ."

  'A bit too neat for my taste," Ariel said. "Overly-sculpted.

  Everything is in its place, even the grass."

  "Why not, if you have a pristine environment to start with? As I understand it, the first colonists found virtually no indigenous life."

  "Ob, not quite that simple. It had a dense atmosphere, but most of the organic forms had evolved no further than a few aggregate creatures colony animals, like cnidran siphonophores on Earth-2'

  Eliton blinked. "Excuse me?'

  "Man-of-wars, I believe they used to be called. Individuals acting as components in a more complex association. Anyway, even those were simple polyps and proto-medusans-and dissolved to reproduce. Other than that, we had algaes, lichens, and some rudimentary molds and mosses. The oceans produced enough oxygen to make the effort worthwhile. Ridiculously simplistic biosphere. It didn't have a chance against the Terran forms we brought with us. It only took a few generations to establish a fully compatible biosphere. I suppose with that as a canvas the urge to dictate the result was too much The whole planet is more garden than ecology. Clean, tidy, controlled."

  "You disapprove."

  "I like Earth for a variety of reasons. One is its chaotic nature."

  Eliton grunted- "That's exactly what many Terrans would like to get away from."

  She studied him speculatively. "It's worse on Solaria. Everything is organized into individual estates, enclosed arboreta that are part of vast households. They never bothered terraforming the planet in general none of them intended to go outside, anyway.

  "But the records I've read---2'

  "Oh~ dont get me wrong, there's an open-air biosphere, but all the variety is indoors. Far more controlled than on Aurora. Sounds perfectly hideous to me."

  "Perhaps you should consider emigration to a Settler world. Sounds like their kind of wildness is just what you'd prefer."

  "Don't think I haven't considered it When all this nonsense at the Calvin Institute is done, I may."

  Eliton returned his attention to the viewscreen. 'We're docking."

  Ariel looked up. The delicate-seeming webbing of the station enveloped the ship, arching around it, kilometer-long arms enfolding the liner.

  "Solaria was the same way?' Eliton asked

  "Hmm?'

  'The biosphere ... the same as Aurora?'

  "No, there were different flora-2'

  "I meant-what's the term they use?-morphologically naive. Only simple organisms, nothing advanced enough to compete in any meaningful way with Terran forms."

  "Ok that. Yes, essentially the same."

  Eliton frowned, shaking his head. 'As I understand it, all fifty of the Spacer colonies were like that"

  Ariel nodded, paying more attention to the view of docking. , Yes, basically.

  "I've always found that peculiar."

  Ariel looked at him. "Hmm? Why-7"

  "Well, since the Settler Accords were signed and Earth began a colony program again, we've found a few worlds like that, but they've been in the minority. I always put it
down to Spacers having already taken the most easily adapted real estate, but the more you took at it, the less sense it seems to make."

  "I'm not sure I follow."

  "Well, it's a question of statistics, really. What are the odds that the first fifty habitable planets you'd find would be so ideally suitable to human modification?'

  "It wasn't the first fifty."

  "No? According to the records a few hundred probes went out and maybe a dozen exploration ships. First there's the likelihood of finding planets nearby at all-which proved less remarkable than we thought at the time--but then there's the fact that none of the habitable planets possessed complex, aggressive ecosystems. As if they were just waiting for the arrival of new colonists."