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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Olivia Ferranti blinked her eyes. The texture of the illumination seemed a little different, not quite the way that she remembered it before she last went to S-space; and her body was light, floating away, as though she was leaving part of her on the padded floor or the container.

She shivered and slowly sat up, rubbing at her chilled forearms; then she suddenly jerked to full wakefulness. She was being observed. Five faces were peering in warily at her through the transparent top of the suspense tank. She pulled herself forward to the casket's door and eased it open. Peron was standing there, nervously watching.

"You read our message?" he said.

"Of course we did—you were watching us, weren't you?"

He nodded. "We told you to send someone at once. But it seemed to take you an awful long time."

Olivia Ferranti was breathing deeply, adjusting to the familiar but surprising taste of the air in her lungs. She shrugged her shoulders, as much for muscular experiment as for any body message.

"Four days—four days here. But we only talked for a few minutes in S-space. I call that a fast response." She looked around her, at Peron and the others. "Relax. I was only sent here to talk. What do you think I'm going to do, knock the lot of you down and tie you up? Any one of you could beat me in a fight. You're the Planetfest winners, remember?"

"We remember," said Peron. "We just want to be sure that you do. You and the others. Why are you here, and not Rinker?"

"He made the transition very recently, just a couple of hours ago, when the automatic systems were going wrong. Transitions too close together have bad effects. In fact, frequent transitions shorten subjective life expectancy. And he doesn't trust you, either."

She licked her lips. "I guess he thinks I'm more expendable. Look, I know you're in a hurry to talk, but I'd like a drink of water."

Peron glanced briefly at the others, then led the way back through the winding corridor, taking them once more to the central food processing chamber of the ship.

"He didn't really want anybody to talk to you," said Ferranti as they moved along the corridor. "But he agreed that there was no choice. 'They'll be like a band of wild apes,' he said. 'Fiddling around with my ship! They don't know how anything works—my God, there's no way of knowing what they may do to it and to us!' "

She looked around her at the intent young faces that closely watched her every movement. "I must say that I have to agree with him. I'm sure you're feeling pretty cocky at the moment, with everything under control. But you could kill this ship by pure accident. It's frightening—you're smart, but there are so many things you simply don't know."

"So why don't you tell us some of them?" Sy asked in a surly voice. "You'll find we're all quick learners."

"I'm not supposed to tell you much—and some things I don't even know myself. And before you get paranoid as to why I'm holding some things back from you, I'll tell you the reason for that. There's a sound logic for why you weren't told everything back on Whirlygig."

They had reached the food chamber. Olivia Ferranti bent over a water spigot, took a long, leisurely drink, then sighed and shook her head.

"That's one of the things that I really miss. Water just doesn't taste right in S-space." She turned to face the group. "How much do you know about the history of your civilization on Pentecost?"

"We know that the first settlers came off The Ship," said Peron. "It was called Eleanora, and it started out from a planet called Earth, thousands of years earlier."

"That's a beginning." Olivia Ferranti settled herself cross-legged, floating a handsbreadth above the floor, and gestured to the others to gather round her there. "And if you're anything like most of the candidates we get from Pentecost for indoctrination, that's almost all that you'll know. So make yourselves comfortable. I need to give you a bit of a history lesson. You may not like some of it too well, but bear with me.

"Eleanora was the biggest and most advanced of half a dozen arcologies that were built as colony ships in the Sol System, more than twenty-five thousand Earth-years ago. The arcologies were all constructed in orbits close to Earth. Just as Eleanora was close to complete, and the colonists had arrived on board it, the nations down on Earth did what we'd all been afraid they would do for generations. They went mad. Someone pulled the trigger, and after that there was no stopping it. It was a full-scale nuclear war.

"When that war happened, there were about thirty-five thousand people living away from Earth. They were working on mining and construction, or on applications satellites and stations, or they were inhabitants of the colony ships. We were all helpless, watching the world explode before our eyes. And at first none of us knew what to do next. We were numb with shock and horror."

"You said 'we.' You mean you were there—yourself?" asked Elissa.

"I was. Me, myself, in person. I was a physician on one of the orbiting space stations." Olivia Ferranti shook her head and rubbed gently at her eyes. She seemed to be staring far beyond the circle of her listeners, out across space and time to the death of a planet. "Initially we just wouldn't believe it. Earth couldn't destroy itself like that. We knew it must have been terrible on the surface, because we had seen the whole globe change in a few hours from a beautiful blue-green marble to a dusky purple-black grape, and the smoke plumes had risen well into the stratosphere. Even so, emotional acceptance was beyond us. Somehow, beyond logic, we believed that the damage was temporary and the surface nations would recover. We waited for radio signals from survivor groups, messages that would tell us that civilization was still going on beneath those dark clouds of dust and smoke. The signals never came. After a few weeks we sent shuttles down into the atmosphere, shielded against high levels of radioactivity and designed to go down below the clouds and examine the surface. There was so much dust in the northern hemisphere that we could see nothing, not even from low altitude. We tried south of the equator, and after a couple of months we finally knew. It was the end.

"We couldn't rule out the possibility of isolated survivors, clinging on to existence down there in the darkness. But as time went by even that hope seemed less and less likely.

"Some plants would survive, we knew that; and we felt sure there would be life in the sea—but we had no idea how much. We tried to calculate what would happen to the whole food chain when photosynthesis was reduced to less than a tenth of the usual value, but we had no faith in our answers. Anyway, they didn't really make any difference. For mankind on Earth, it was the end. And we felt as though it was the end for us, too. We seemed like a handful of mourners, circling the funeral pyre of all our friends and relations.

"We were too shocked to think logically, but we were certainly far more than a handful. As I said, there were thirty-five thousand of us, with slightly more men than women. And we had ample power and materials available. There was no question that we could survive very well if we pooled our resources and all worked together. We knew it might be centuries before Earth could be re-visited and repopulated, but there was no reason why we could not go on indefinitely as a stable, spaceborne society."

Ferranti smiled bitterly. "God knows, many of us had said we wanted just that for long enough. Then when we had no choice, most of us in our dreams imagined ourselves back on Terra.

"There's one good thing about humans: we forget. Despair can't last forever. We pulled ourselves together, little by little, and began to think again. On Salter Station we finally arranged for a radio conference of all the space groups. It was difficult to handle, because one arcology had been out near Mars, and we had long radio lags. But we pulled everyone into the circuits—all the arcologies, the mining groups that had been smelting from the Amor asteroids, and the scientists who had been building the Farside station up on Earth's moon. Everything in space had always been controlled from Salter Station, so it seemed natural that we would still be the organizers.

"Natural to us, on Salter Station. But others didn't see it that way.

"The arcologies had been set up to be as self-sufficient as possible, with independent power plants and six-nines recycling systems. The other space facilities were different. They were dependent on supplies provided from Earth, or on spaceborne resources provided by the mining and extractive industries.

"The first planning session to discuss pooling of resources went smoothly. Everyone participated. But when the time came to act, three of the arcologies backed out. I believe that they each operated independently, without even discussing it among themselves. They were afraid, you see—scared that the total group might not be stably self-sustaining, even though they had no doubt about their own ability to survive. There were other reasons, too. From the very beginning the arcologies had been developing their own social and political preferences and differences. Like called to like—colonists tended to apply to the same place as their friends, and to avoid a colony where their views would be ridiculed or in the minority. The last thing that Helena, Melissa, and Eleanora wanted was a merger with Salter Station and the other arcologies. They didn't ever admit that they were not going to cooperate; they simply cut off radio contact and moved farther out, away from Earth.

"The rest of us were angry with them, but we didn't take as much notice as you might think. We had our own hands full without them for the first few years. We had to establish our own system, self-sufficient and as foolproof as we could make it. That took ninety-nine percent of our energies. And the rest went into the work on reduced metabolic survival—what we finally called S-space existence. As a doctor I was naturally interested in that, and after a while I began to work on it exclusively. Within a couple of months of the first experiments with human subjects on Salter Station it was clear that we had something absolutely revolutionary, something that changed all our ideas about perception and human consciousness. But it took several years more before we saw the other implications. With our work, humanity had found the easy way to the stars.

"There was no need for multi-generation arcologies, or for faster-than-light drives—"

"—which seem to be impossible," murmured Sy softly.

"Which may be impossible," said Ferranti. "Keep an open mind. Anyway, we didn't need them. The drive system research on Salter Station would allow us to accelerate a ship up to better than a tenth of light-speed, and that was enough. In Mode Two consciousness—S-space—a human being could remain fully aware, live an extended subjective life, and travel across the whole Galaxy in a single lifetime.

"That led to a new crisis. Everyone loved the idea of an extended subjective life span—if it were safe. But everyone was terrified of possible side effects.

"We split into two groups. Some of us said, let's move to S-space, and wait there at least until Earth is habitable again. No one knew how long that would be, but in S-space we could afford to wait centuries and perceive them as only a few weeks. Others were afraid. They argued that there were too many unknowns and too many risks in S-space living; until those were pinned down it was better to stay with our normal perception."

Olivia Ferranti smiled ruefully. "As it turned out, both groups were right. Earth recovered slowly. It took more than a thousand years to develop new and stable plant and animal communities. None of us had ever dreamed it would be so long. And at the same time, we were discovering serious physical consequences of S-space living.

"Fortunately we didn't fight over our differences of opinion on the move to S-space. Maybe the destruction of Earth had taught us all something about the need for peaceful resolution of conflicts. We agreed we would pursue both actions. Most people elected to stay as they were, creating a decent society in the spaceborne environment. After a few generations it was clear that a life in space was as satisfying as most of us had ever hoped. By then a few hundred of us had long since moved to S-space, using ourselves as the subjects for experiments that might reduce the risk for those who followed. While we were doing that we discovered a new mode of metabolic change, this one a true suspended animation. Five of you have personal experience of that cold sleep, here on the ship. We still don't know how long someone can remain safely unconscious in that mode, but it's certainly a long time—thousands of years at least.

"The move to S-space had two other important consequences. First, we realized that we couldn't go back down and live on Earth, or anywhere with a substantial gravity field, even if we wanted to. That had been deduced when the experiments were still all on animals, and it was one major reason for moving the work out to orbit and away from the surface of Earth. You see, perceived accelerations—"

"We understand," said Peron. "Kallen and Sy"—he pointed to them—"figured it out."

"Smart." Olivia Ferranti looked at the group appraisingly. "When I'm through, perhaps you'll tell me a little more about yourselves. All I know so far is what I was told by Peron and by Captain Rinker."

"Won't he be wondering what's happening?" said Rosanne. Then she stopped and put her hand to her mouth.

"He might—in a few more days." Ferranti smiled and Rosanne grinned back at her. The initial tension of confrontation was fading. They were all increasingly absorbed in the first-person tale of remote history.

Olivia Ferranti leaned against the wall and pushed back the blue cowl from her forehead, to reveal a mop of jet-black tight curls. "We have lots of time. At the moment, Captain Rinker and the others hardly know I've left."

"But you've got hair!" blurted out Lum.

Olivia Ferranti raised her dark eyebrows at him. "I'm glad to hear that you think so."

"It's what I told them," said Peron. "I thought S-space made you bald."

"It does. Didn't you ever hear of wigs, down on Pentecost? Most of the men in S-space don't worry about it, but I don't care to face the world with a naked scalp. My ideas on the right way for me to look were fixed long before I ever dreamed of S-space. Anyway, I have a lumpy skull that I have no great desire to show off to others." She patted her dark ringlets. "I much prefer this. The nice thing about it is that it will never go gray."

"What else does S-space do to people?" asked Sy. More than the rest of them, except possibly for Kallen who had typically not spoken at all, Sy seemed reserved and unwarmed by Olivia Ferranti's open manner.

"I'm getting there," she said. "Let me tell you that in a few minutes. I want to do this in a logical order, and explain what happened after Earth had been destroyed. It's important that you know, so you'll understand why we behave the way we do in the Cass system.

"While we were still busy working out the stable society for life away from Earth, and some of us were also learning how to live in S-space, we didn't have time to worry about what was happening to Eleanora and the other arcologies. And to tell the truth, we didn't really give a damn. They'd selfishly deserted us, said our logic, so to hell with them. As far as we were concerned they could fly away and rot.

"But after a while those of us who were living in S-space—I was one of the first twenty people to take Mode Two hibernation—became pretty curious. You see, we knew we had the stars within reach. We had the drive we needed, and the time we needed. And Helena, Melissa, and Eleanora had all headed off outside the Solar System, in different directions. We didn't know how much of the reason for their departure was an interest in exploration, and how much of it was fear of reprisals from us. We weren't planning revenge of any kind, but how were they to know that? All three of them had shown signs of paranoia, back when they were first colonized. We got more and more curious to know what had happened to those three arcologies.

"Eventually we equipped four ships with service robots, similar to the ones on this ship, and with limited life-support systems. We didn't need perfect recycling, only enough for a few months of travel in S-space. The final design gave the ships a useful exploration range of up to fifty light-years. At the slow speed of the arcologies, we knew they couldn't be farther out than that. And the stellar profiles in the neighborhood of Sol gave us a fairly good idea where the colony ships were likely to be headed. Political systems change, but the physical constraints are still there. We thought we'd find them about twenty light-years out.

"When we had everything ready, our ships set off with their volunteer crews. We had no shortage of people willing to make the trip—I put my own name in, but didn't make it. There were many with better qualifications than mine for interstellar cruising.

"As it happened, we had overestimated the distance they had gone. We had made insufficient allowance for the difficulties that Melissa and the others might be having on board. It hadn't been a smooth ride by any means. There had been a civil war on Melissa, an economic collapse on Eleanora, and a power plant failure on Helena. Those variables affected both their speeds and their directions. Helena actually reversed and started back for Sol for a while, until the trouble was fixed and she could head outward again.

"Our ships had no trouble tracking and finding the arcologies. After all, they had no reason to expect pursuit, and nothing to be gained by concealing their presence. But when we reached them, we found that no arcology had found a habitable planet, and all three were still in deep interstellar space. After reporting back to us—S-space radio signal time was only a couple of days—it was agreed that we would not establish contact with them. We decided to do nothing, and not interfere in any way unless an arcology was in actual danger of extinction. They hadn't asked for help, and we didn't want to give it. Your ancestors would be allowed to wander around until either they found a habitable planet, or they decided that a permanent space life suited them better. Then we would reconsider possible contact.

"Our ships left automated tracking probes to follow the arcologies and report on their movements, and headed for home.

"It may seem strange to you that we had so little interest in the arcologies. But we were in no hurry. We could wait in S-space and see what developed. And certainly we had plenty of other things to interest us, because by that time Earth was finally being visited again on a regular basis.

"Still we had doubts that humans could thrive there. The long dust-winter had exterminated ninety percent of the plant species, and all land-based animal forms bigger than the rat—I mean an Earth rat, not one of the thirty-kilo monsters you call rats on Pentecost. We also found that the surviving plants and animals had changed from their old forms. The grasses were unrecognizable. Many of the old food plants tasted wrong in subtle ways, and some had lost all their nutritional value. We all realized that it would take millennia to restore Earth and make it a place worth living. But oddly enough, we all thought it a worthwhile effort—even those who had found life on Earth absolutely intolerable before the holocaust.

"By the time that the Earth visits began we were feeling much more comfortable about S-space. Some of us had been living there for many Earth-generations, and we were all fine—better than fine, because we didn't seem to be aging at all. Our best estimate, based on limited data, was that the aging rate was twenty times as slow subjectively as it was in normal living. That extrapolated to a seventeen hundred year subjective lifetime—and even if we were wrong by a factor of two, that was still a mighty attractive thought.

"When our result became known, naturally more and more people wanted to move to S-space. It didn't happen overnight, but as time went by we learned how to make the transitions both ways, with minimal danger. By then we also knew the big problem with S-space existence."

"You keep referring to problems and never telling us about them," said Elissa. "What problem?"

"I've not been talking because I'm not supposed to talk," said Ferranti. "No one back on Pentecost should know what I'm telling you until they've been through indoctrination, and not one of you has; but you'll realize the problem for yourselves in two seconds as soon as we arrive at local Headquarters, so I'm not revealing any great secrets."

Olivia Ferranti moved her thin hands to her cheeks, framing her eyes. "You'll find no children at Headquarters," she said abruptly. "A woman cannot conceive in S-space, or a man produce active sperm. S-space is a wonderful place for an individual, but it's an evolutionary blind alley. Worse than that, anyone who makes frequent transitions between S-space and normal space suffers reduced fertility.

"That presented us with a terrible choice. Did we opt for extended personal life span in S-space, or would we guarantee the survival of the human race by staying in normal space?

"While we were still agonizing over that, we received a signal from the probe that had been tracking Melissa. The colony ship was in the Tau Ceti system, and it had finally found a habitable planet. They were exploring it. We eventually found out that they had named it Thule.

"It was twelve light-years from Earth, which made it a four week one-way journey in S-space when we allowed for acceleration and deceleration. I don't think I mentioned it, but no matter how we tried we had been unable to come up with an economical drive that would take us much faster than a tenth of light-speed. But it wasn't important any more. As you can see, that's good enough when you live in S-space.

"Our ship went out, and in due course it made contact with Melissa. That first meeting was traumatic for the Melissa inhabitants. They had left Earth twelve thousand years earlier—five hundred generations of shipboard life. Earth was nothing but a distant legend. It was something that was still talked about, but stories of Earth's destruction were regarded as of the same practical importance as tales about the Garden of Eden. When our crew contacted them and claimed to remember the death of Earth, that was too much for the Melissans to take.

"After we learned something of their history since leaving the solar system, we could see why. They had never had a stable and trustworthy government that lasted more than a century. We found historical evidence of every form of rule from water-control to neo-Confucianism. When they discovered Thule they were just recovering from the effects of a long dictatorship. Their mistrust and suspicion was considerable. Even the most rational of them had difficulty believing that our intentions were wholly innocent, nothing more than curiosity to learn how another culture was faring after so long without any kind of planetary home. They would not let us visit their colony on Thule. Putting it mildly, they suspected our motives."

Olivia Ferranti slowly shook her head. "And, of course, they were wholly correct in doing so. Even in S-space, one is not wholly protected from accidents and disease. There would inevitably be deaths, and without replenishment we foresaw our society shrinking—not at once, but over many thousands of Earth years. In Melissa and the other arcologies we saw a possible answer.

"Either we were unusually stupid, or we were simply naive. To make the Melissans believe us, and to show how we could be people who actually remembered Earth's final war, we explained S-space to them.

"They went crazy. They wanted S-space more than anything else in the Universe. You see, we were misled by our own experiences. We had been slow to accept and move to S-space. We didn't realize that our reluctance wouldn't apply to them. They hadn't been there for the early, risky experiments. To them, our existence proved that S-space must be safe. So they thought we were deliberately goading them, tormenting them with a look at immortality while refusing to share its secret with them.

"Most of our ship's crew had gone on board Melissa. They took them, eight men and six women, and tried to draw the secret of S-space from them by force. It was useless, of course. The conversion equipment was on the ship, as it is on this ship, and the crew had used it to go from S-space to the perception rate of the Melissans. But they didn't know the theory, any more than Garao or Captain Rinker know the theory.

"The inquisitors tortured those crew members to death. Only the two who had remained on our ship were able to escape and come back to tell us what had happened.

"That's when we adopted our rules for interaction with all colony ships and colony worlds. We would have limited contact, and it would be handled with great care and with fixed procedures. We would never again return ourselves to normal space for the purpose of first contact, as was done with Melissa. Contact would be done with robots as intermediaries; and we would never, under any circumstances, allow ourselves to fall into the hands of the colonists."

Olivia Ferranti shrugged. "We just flunked that one, right here. Well, let's skip forward four thousand years. That's when another of the arcologies, Helena, finally found a habitable planet. They named it Beacon's World, colonized it, and moved on. That's when we learned another lesson. Beacon's World was settled long before we sent a ship to visit it. When our ship finally got there we found that the population had increased from the original few thousand to forty million; but along the way much of their scientific knowledge had been lost, or had degenerated to hearsay and legend.

"We tried to help. We reintroduced the basis for a more advanced technology. They were keen to receive the information from us—but they applied it to weapons development. Then they started a war, between the two major settlement centers on Beacon's World. Our ship and crew felt helpless, watching while they slaughtered each other. But we felt we had to do something—it was impossible to stand by, uninvolved, when we knew the information we provided had allowed the conflict to be so savage. The crew of our ship tried a desperation tactic: through our robots, they ordered the warring parties to stop fighting—without saying what would happen if the order were disobeyed.

"It worked. The fighting stopped.

"We had learned another important truth. By being 'Immortals,' with a technology and a life pattern that was incomprehensible to the colonists, we could have enormous influence.

"That provided us with our next rule of contact: remain as aloof and mysterious as possible. And if we recruited anyone to join us in S-space—we wanted only exceptional specimens—we would introduce them to our society gradually, through a long and thorough indoctrination.

"Our rules worked very well. People joined us from Maremar and Jade—two other planets settled by Helena—and have been working in those systems and at Headquarters for thousands of Earth-years.

"Finally, there was your world. You probably don't know it, but Pentecost is a very recent addition to our planetary visits. We found you only a few months ago, as we perceive time in S-space, and it was a minor miracle that we found you at all.

"You see, Eleanora was the unlucky one of the colony ships. The other two arcologies found several planets suitable for settlements. But your ancestors had to wander the interstellar wilderness for over fifteen thousand years, without ever once approaching a habitable world. We know why, now. For the past four thousand Earth-years we've been able to predict pretty well the stellar systems and planets likely to support life. And Eleanora just went to the wrong star systems, in terms of our new knowledge. Unfortunately, that same knowledge led us astray in following Eleanora, when our tracking probe finally wore out. As it happens, the Cass system is generally not suited to life, or the occurrence of habitable worlds. The existence of Pentecost, Gimperstand, Fuzzball, and Glug is an accident, the by-product of resonance locks between planetary orbits.

"We could have found you on Pentecost four thousand years ago if we had thought to look. As it was, we only detected your radio emissions a few hundred years ago. And we finally made contact with you.

"We followed our standard rules. Slow and limited involvement, and don't try to change the government of the world. As it happens, Pentecost has had a classical totalitarian regime ever since first contact—a government more concerned to remain in power than anything else, and sublimely disinterested in interstellar affairs. From our point of view, that was perfect. Everything worked according to plan for hundreds of your years—until this Planetfest, when Headquarters was informed that an unusual group of winners was likely. You don't know who the winners will be in advance, you see, but our people down on Pentecost had a pretty good idea. We expected trouble, but we didn't know what. Personally, I think something would have happened even if Wilmer hadn't taken the action he did on Whirlygig. Your profiles are all too far away from the standard patterns. But that's my speculation. The main thing is, something did happen. And"—Olivia Ferranti looked at the intent young faces around her and shook her head—"here we are. We have to decide what will happen next.

"I'll accept that you have control of the ship. And I hope you'll accept my word when I tell you your control could be dangerous, with the limited knowledge you have. The present situation is bad for everyone, including you. So let me start the ball rolling for more discussions, by telling you that I was sent here with a proposition from all of us—even including Captain Rinker."

The group around her came to life. They were suddenly fidgeting, looking at each other questioningly. For over half an hour their present situation had been pushed into the background by interest in the fate of others. The return to the present was an uncomfortable one.

Peron met the eyes of each of them in turn. Finally he nodded.

"We've nothing to lose by listening to you, so long as you remember that we have physical control of you and of the ship. So all right. We'll listen. What's your proposition?"

 

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