by David Brin
Jacob tried to picture the Pil race as it had been before the arrival of the Kisa and the beginning of their uplift. Primitive hunter-gatherers, no doubt. Would they have been the same today, after half a million years, if the Kisa had never come? Or would they have evolved, as some Earth anthropologists still insisted was possible, into a different kind of intelligent culture, without the influence of their patrons?
The cryptic reference to the extinct “Mellin” species brought home the time scale covered by the ancient civilization of the Galactics and their incredible Library. Two hundred million years! That long ago the planet Pila had been held by a spacefaring race, who had resided there for six thousand centuries while Bubbacub’s ancestors were insignificant little burrowing animals.
Presumably the Mellin paid their dues and had a Branch Library of their own. They offered proper respect (though perhaps more in word than in deed) to the patron race that had uplifted them long before they colonized Pila, and perhaps they, in turn, uplifted some promising species they found when they arrived . . . biological cousins to Bubbacub’s people . . . which by now had probably gone extinct as well.
Suddenly the strange Galactic Laws of Residence and Migration made sense to Jacob. They forced species to look upon their planets as temporary homes, to be held in trust for future races whose present form might be small and silly. Small wonder many of the Galactics frowned at humanity’s record on Earth. Only the influence of the Tymbrimi, and other friendly races had enabled humanity to purchase its own three colonies in Cygnus from the stodgy and environmentally fanatic Institute of Migration. And at that it had been fortunate that the Vesarius bad returned with enough warning for human beings to bury the evidence of some of their crimes! Jacob was one of less than a hundred thousand human beings who knew that there had ever been such a thing as a Manatee, or a giant ground sloth, or an orangutang.
That Man’s victims might have someday become thinking species was something that he, more than most, was in a position to appreciate, and regret. Jacob thought of Makakai, of the whales, and how narrowly they were saved.
He brought up the papers and resumed his skimming. Another piece leapt into recognition as he read it. It had to do with Calla’s species.
. . . colonized by an expedition from Pila. (The Pila, having threatened their Kisa patrons with an appeal to Soro for a Jihad, had won release from their indenture. Upon receiving their license to the planet Pring, the Pila undertook their occupancy with more than perfunctory attention to the minimal-impact provisions of their contract. Since the Pila arrival on Pring, inspectors from the Institute of Migration have observed that the Pila have taken greater than average safeguards to protect indigenous species whose pre-sophont potential seemed realistic. Among those in danger of extinction upon the establishment of the colony were the genetic ancestors of the Pring race whose species name is also that of the planet of their origin. . .
Jacob made a mental note to learn more about the Pilan Jihads. The Pila were aggressive conservatives in galactic politics. The Jihads, or “Holy Wars” were supposedly the last resort used to enforce tradition among the races of the galaxy. The Institutes served the traditions, but left enforcement to the opinion of the majority, or to the strongest.
Jacob felt sure that the Library references would be full of justified Holy Wars, with few “regrettable” cases of species using tradition as an excuse to wage war for power or for hate.
History is usually written by the winners.
He wondered on which grievance the Pila had won free of their indenture to the Kisa. He wondered what a Kisa looked like.
Jacob started as a loud bell rang, sending reverberations throughout the Cavern. Three more times it pealed, echoing off stone walls and bringing him to his feet. „
All the workmen in sight downed tools and turned to look at the mammoth doors which led, by airlock and tunnel, to the surface of the planet. . With a low rumbling, the doors slowly parted. At first only blackness could be seen in the widening crack. Then something big and bright came up and nudged the separation from the other side, like a puppy bumping impatiently with its nose to hurry the opening and get inside.
It was another shiny mirrored bubble, like the one he had just toured, only larger. It floated above the tunnel floor as though insubstantial. The ship bobbed slightly in the air and, when the way was open, entered the lofty hangar as if blown in by a breeze from the outside. Reflections of rockwall, machinery, and people swam along its sides brightly.
As the ship approached, it emitted a faint humming and crackling sound. Workmen gathered at a nearby . cradle.
Culla and Jeffrey rushed past Jacob as he watched, the chimpanzee flashing him a grin and waving for him to come along. Jacob smiled back and started to follow, folding his papers and slipping them into his pocket. He looked for Kepler. The Sundiver chief must have stayed aboard Jeffrey’s ship to finish the inspection, for he was nowhere in sight. The ship crackled and hissed as it maneuvered over its nest, and then began to descend slowly. It was hard to believe that it didn’t shine with light of its own, its mirrored surface gleamed so. Jacob stood near Fagin, at the edge of the crowd. They watched together as the ship came to rest.
“You appear to be deep within your thoughts,” Fagin fluted. “Please forgive the intrusion, but I judge that it is acceptable to inquire informally concerning their nature.”
Jacob was close enough to Fagin to pick up a faint odor, somewhat like oregano. The alien’s foliage rippled gently nearby.
“I suppose I was thinking about where this ship has just been,” he answered. “I was trying to imagine what it must be like, down there. I—I just can’t.”
“Do not feel frustrated, Jacob. I am similarly in awe, and incapable of comprehending what you of Earth have accomplished here. I await my first descent with humble anticipation.”
And so put me to shame again, you green bastard, Jacob thought. I’m still trying to find a way not to have to go on one of these crazy dives. And you blather about being anxious to go!
“I don’t want to call you a liar, Fagin, but I think you’re stretching diplomacy a bit by saying you’re impressed by this project. The technology is early stone age by galactic standards. And you can’t tell me no one has ever dived into a star before! There have been sophonts loose in the galaxy for almost a billion years. Everything worth doing has been done at least a trillion times!”
There was a vague bitterness in his voice as he spoke. The strength of his own feelings surprised Jacob.
“That is no doubt quite true, Friend-Jacob. I do not pretend that Sundiver isunique. Only that it is unique in my experience. The sentient races with whom I have contact have been satisfied to study their suns from a distance and to compare the results with Library standards. For me this is adventure in its truest form.”
A rectangular slice of the Sunship started to slide downward, to form a ramp to the cradle’s rim. Jacob frowned.
“But manned dives hove to have been performed before! It’s such an obvious thing to try at some time or another if it’s proven possible! I can’t believe that we’re the first!”
“There is very little doubt, of course,” Fagin said slowly. “If no one else, then surely the Progenitors did this. For they did all things, it is said, before they departed. But so many things have been done, by so many peoples, it is very hard to ever know for certain.”
Jacob mulled over this in silence.
As the section of the Sunship neared the ramp, Kepler approached, smiling at Jacob and Fagin.
“Ah! There you are. Exciting, isn’t it? Everyone’s here! It’s this way every time someone gets back from the Sun, even for a short scout dive like this one was!”
“Yes,” Jacob said. “It’s very exciting. Urn, there’s something I want to ask you. Doctor Kepler, If you have a moment. I was wondering if you’ve asked the Branch Library at La Paz for a reference on your Sun Ghosts. Surely someone else has encountered a similar phenomenon, and I’
m sure it would be a big help to have. . .”
His voice fell away as he saw Kepler’s smile fade.
“That was the reason Culla was assigned to us in the first place, Mr. Demwa. This was going to be a prototype project to see how well we could mix independent research with limited help from the Library. The plan worked well when we were building the ships, I have to confess that the Galactic technology is something astounding. But since then the Library hasn’t been much help at all.
“It’s really very complicated. I was hoping to get into It tomorrow, after you’ve had a complete briefing, but you see. . .”
A loud cheer came from all around as the crowd surged forward. Kepler smiled resignedly.
“Later!” he shouted.
At the top of the cradle three men and two women waved at the cheering crowd. One of the women, tall and slender with a close cut of straight blonde hair, caught sight of Kepler and grinned. She started down and the rest of the crew followed.
This was apparently the Hermes Base commander Jacob had heard about from time to time during the last two days. One of the physicians at the party last night had called her the best Commandant the Confederacy outpost on Mercury ever had. A younger man had then interrupted the -old-timer with a comment that she was also “. . . a fox.” Jacob had assumed that the med-tech was referring to the commander’s mental skill. As he watched the woman she seemed hardly older than a girl, lithely stride down the steep ramp, he realized that the remark could easily have another complimentary meaning.
The crowd parted and the woman approached the Sundiver chief, hand outstretched.
“They’re there all right!” she said. “We went down to tau point two, in the first active region, and there they were! We got within eight hundred meters of one!
“Jeff won’t have any trouble. It was the biggest herd of magrietovores I’ve ever seen!”
Jacob found her voice low and melodious. Confident. Her accent, though, was hard to place. Her pronunciation seemed quaint, old fashioned.
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Kepler nodded. “Where there are sheep, there must be shepherds, eh?”
He took her arm and turned to introduce her to Fagin and Jacob.
“Sophonts, this is Helene deSilva, Confederacy Commandant here on Mercury, and my right-hand man. Couldn’t get along without her. Helene, this is Mr. Jacob Alvarez Demwa, the gentleman I told you about by maser. The Kanten Fagin, of course, you met some months back, on Earth. I understand you’ve exchanged a few masergrams since.”
Kepler touched the young woman’s arm. “I must run now, Helene. There are a few messages from Earth that have to be handled. I already put them off too long to be here for your arrival, so I’d better go now. You’re sure everything went smoothly and the crew is well rested?” “Sure, Dr. Kepler, everything’s great. We slept on the way back. I’ll meet you back here when it’s time to see Jeff off.”
The Sundiver chief made his salutations to Jacob and Fagin, and nodded curtly to LaRoque, who stood just close enough to overhear but not close enough to be civil. Kepler left in the direction of the elevators.
Helene deSilva had a way of bowing respectfully to Fagin that was warmer than most people could hug. She radiated delight at seeing the E.T. again, and redundantly said so as well.
“And this is Mr. Demwa,” she said as she shook Jacob’s hand. “Kant Fagin spoke of you. You’re the intrepid young fellow who dove the entire height of the Ecuador Needle to save it. That’s a story I insist on hearing from the hero himself!”
A part of Jacob winced, as always when the Needle was mentioned. He hid it behind a laugh.
“Believe me, that jump wasn’t made on purpose! In fact, I think I’d rather go on one of your little solar, toe-frying junkets than ever do that again!”
The woman laughed, but at the same time she looked at him strangely, with a certain appraising expression that Jacob found himself liking, although it confused him. He felt oddly at a loss for words.
“Urn . . . anyway it’s a bit odd being called a ‘young fellow’ by someone as young as you appear to be. You must be a very competent person to have been offered a command like this before any worry lines have shown.”
DeSilva laughed again. “How gallant! That’s very sweet of you, sir, but actually I have sixty-five years worth of invisible worry lines. I was a junior officer on Calypso. You may recall we got back in system a couple of years ago. I’m over ninety years old!”
“Oh!”
Starship crewmen were a very special breed. No matter what their subjective ages, they could pick their jobs when they came home . . . when they chose to keep working, that is.
“Well in that case, I really must treat you with the respect you’re due, Granny.”
DeSilva took a step back and cocked her head, look-big at him through wryly narrowed eyes. “Just don’t go too far the other way! I’ve worked too hard at becoming a woman, as well as an officer and a gentleman, to want to jump from ‘jail bait’ straight into social security. If the first attractive male to arrive in months who isn’t under my command starts thinking of me as unapproachable, I just might be persuaded to throw him in irons!”
Half of the woman’s referents were indecipherably archaic (what the devil was ‘jail bait’?), but somehow the meaning was clear. Jacob grinned and put up his hands in surrender—willingly enough,. Somehow, Helen deSilva reminded him a lot of Tania. The comparison was vague. There was an answering tremor, also vague and hard to identify. But it felt worth following.
Jacob shook aside the image. Philosophical-emotional bullshit. He was very good at that when he allowed himself. The plain fact was that the Base Commandant was an awful damned attractive fem!
“So be it,” he said. “And dammed be he who first says, ‘Hold, enough!’”
DeSilva laughed. She took him lightly by the arm and turned to Fagin.
“Come, I want you both to meet the dive crew..
Then we’ll be busy getting Jeffrey ready to leave. He’s terrible about good-byes. Even when going on a short dive like this one will be, he always bawls and hugs everyone who’s staying behind as if he’s never going to see them again!”
PART IV
Only with the Solar Probe is it
possible to obtain data on the distribution
of mass and angular momentum in the
solar interior.. .obtain high resolution
pictures ... detect neutrons released
in nuclear processes occurring at or near
the solar surface ... (or) determine
how the solar wind is accelerated.
Finally, given the communications and
tracking systems and, perhaps, the
on-board hydrogen maser... the Solar
Probe will be by far the best platform to
use in the search for low frequency gravity waves from cosmological sources.
Excerpted from the report of the NASA preliminary Solar Probe Workshop
10. HEAT
Like taffy twists and feather boas, the ochre shapes drooped in a pink misty background, as if suspended from invisible strings. The row of wispy dark arches, each a fluffy rope of gaseous tendrils, led off into the distance, each farther arch smaller in perspective than the one before, until the last faded into the swirling red miasma.
Jacob found it difficult to focus on any one detail of the recorded holographic image. The dark filaments and streamers that made up the visible topography of the middle chromosphere were deceptive in both shape and texture.
The closest filament almost filled the left forward corner of the tank. Wispy strands of darker gas soiled about an invisible magnetic field which arched over a sunspot almost a thousand kilometers below.
High above the place where most of the Suns energy production leaked out into space as light, an observer could make out details for tens of thousands of miles. Even so it was still hard to get used to the idea that the magnetic arch he now looked at was about the size of Norway.
It was merely one filigree in a chain that
arched for 200,000 kilometers over a sunspot group below.
And this one was a wimp, compared to many they’d seen.
One arching spectacle had stretched a quarter of a million kilometers from end to end. The image had been recorded several months back, over an active region that had long since vanished, and the ship that recorded it had kept its distance. The reason became clear when the top of the gigantic, twisted faerie arch erupted into the most awesome of Solar events, a flare.
The flare was beautiful and terrible—a churning, boiling maelstrom of brightness representing an electrical short circuit of incomprehensible magnitude. Even a Sunship would not have survived the sudden surge of high energy neutrons from the nuclear reactions driven by the flare, particles immune to the ship’s electromagnetic shields, too many neutrons to damp away using time compression. The Sundiver Project chief emphasized, for that reason, that flares were usually predictable and avoidable.
Jacob would have found the assurance more comforting without the proviso, “usually.”
The briefing had been rather routine otherwise, as Kepler led his audience through a quick review of solar physics. Jacob had learned most of the material earlier in his studies aboard the Bradbury, but the projections of actual dives into the chromosphere were, he had to admit, fantastic visual aids. If it was hard to comprehend the sizes of the things he saw, Jacob could blame no one but himself.
Kepler had briefly covered the basic dynamics of the Sun’s interior, the real star, to which the chromosphere was just a thin skin.
In the deep core the unimaginable weight of the Sun’s mass drives the nuclear reactions, producing heat and pressure and preventing the giant ball of plasma from contracting under its own gravitational pull. Pressure keeps the body “inflated.”
The energy given off by the fires at the core works slowly outward, sometimes as light, and sometimes as a convective exchange of hot material from below for cooler stuff returning from above. By radiation, then
