Ad Astra (19 page)

She was awakened by a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Come,” her father urged. Francesa blinked, trying to come fully awake, barely making out in the dimness of the room her mother already standing and holding her brother. “Your cloak. Anything you don’t want to leave. Get it quickly.”

Francesa wobbled to her feet, hesitated, then pulled her old ragged doll from the thin blanket which served as her bed. She swept on the cloak, then looked at her father, unable to read his expression in the dark. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Her father hustled them out and they began hastening up the slope. As they went, other workers and families joined them, until they were part of a column of people.

As they entered the courtyard Francesa gasped to see members of the Watch sprawled around the edge of the space. Her father made a shushing noise. “Don’t worry. Captain Balestra said she would put them to sleep. They haven’t been harmed.”

Francesa kept staring at the Watch members’ bodies as they walked on, wanting to see the movements that would mark them as sleeping and not dead. When she finally felt sure of that and looked forward again, the star craft loomed over them. Her mind suddenly numb, Francesa kept walking, following her mother into the rectangle she’d seen earlier, stepping over the high edge and into a room where colored lights winked at points on one of the walls just as the polished stones did on the altar in the Bridge.

Her father said something to her mother, urging her onward through another, smaller opening, then took Francesa’s arm. “The lady wants me here. You should stay as well.”

Francesa came along as her father led her to the side of the room, where Captain Balestra stood watching the stream of workers enter. Balestra acknowledged their presence with a smile to Francesa and a nod to her father, then went back to watching, occasionally directing Francesa’s father to keep the column of people moving as briskly as possible.

The line of workers finally stopped as more than a dozen men and women Francesa knew as friends of her father came in. “That’s everyone,” one announced.

“You’re certain?” Captain Balestra questioned, then frowned at something in her hand. “Ship systems logged a number coming aboard that equals the totals given the census data we were provided.”

“We never lied to the census,” Francesa’s father assured her.

“And my ship systems are reporting no signs of human life down hill from this location. Good. We can take twenty more, if their mass averages the same as your people.”

“Watch member Yeli is a good man,” one of the others offered.

Francesa’s father nodded. “He’s not like the others. And Watch member Tenal has a good woman for a wife. For her sake, he and his family could come.”

“Fair enough. I need them and anyone else, up to twenty bodies, as fast as possible if they’re to come at all,” Captain Balestra directed. “Can you bring them here without rousing the rest?”

“I don’t know.” Francesa’s father hesitated. “If the wrong people are awake . . .”

Instead of directly replying, Captain Balestra seemed to mumble something to herself for a moment. “I’ve used my lander’s security systems to knock out everyone up hill from this spot. Take enough people to drag your friends. Now get going. Fast. And remember. Only twenty.”

Francesa’s father pushed her against the wall with a gesture to stay as he rushed away with the others. Francesa stood there, rigid, still unable to grasp what was happening.

Captain Balestra murmured some more to herself as if she were talking to someone else, then smiled at Francesa. “I see you brought a friend.”

Francesa stared down at the doll clutched in one hand, feeling heat in her face, and shoved the doll behind her. “I’m not . . .that is . . .”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, girl. We all need things that bring us comfort.” Balestra stared out the opening at the world beyond. “Especially in places like this. It’s not a bad thing, unless what brings you comfort comes at the cost of other people. You hang on to that friend of yours, so you never forget this place and why you and your family are leaving it while others must stay.”

Francesa gazed up at her. “Why are
we
leaving? I thought -.”

“You’re leaving because you were still following the survival rules to the best of your ability. That’s the justification I used. Those who tried to change those rules to benefit themselves, or because they thought themselves better than you, won’t be coming.”

Francesa was still thinking about that when her father returned with the others, dragging or carrying unconscious bodies with them. “Twenty-one,” her father gasped as he entered, three children in his arms. “There was another child -.”

Captain Balestra raised that commanding hand, frowning. “Wait.” She paused, as if listening. “The children are small enough. We can take twenty-one. Now, get back from the hatch. The opening, that is.”

Everyone crowded away, then the walls around the opening flowed together and sealed into a solid surface. Captain Balestra murmured to herself some more, then looked up at the workers around her. “We’re lifting. Don’t worry. You won’t feel it. It’ll take about an hour to reach the
Bellegrange
. Accommodations will be tight, and food rationed, but we should be okay until we reach port and the Sanctuary people can take charge of you.”

Francesa’s father laughed. “We’re accustomed to small homes and little food. But hope is something we’ll have to get used to.” He glanced at Francesa, showing surprise at her somber expression. “What’s the matter? Surely you’re not sorry to leave.”

“No,” Francesa protested. “It’s just . . . what will they be thinking? The Officers and Crew, who were so sure they would be taken up. Instead, they’re the ones left behind.”

Captain Balestra gave her a grim smile. “You’ve got a good heart to still care about that. I left them what supplies and survival equipment I could spare, and I left them a message to think about. I told them I had an obligation to take those most in need, an obligation they should understand since the writings they revered urged that behavior. I told them those left would have to work hard to survive the coming colder period, but that since they’d proven very good at looking out for their own interests they should be well suited for the task. And I told them that anyone who believes in a powerful divinity who rules them perhaps shouldn’t go around making decisions for that divinity, such as who is worthy and who is not.”

Francesa nodded slowly, thinking of how hard life would be for those remaining behind. “But they followed the writings. You told us the writings said good things.”

Balestra nodded as well. “The writings, the survival rules, do say many good things. If the so-called chosen ones had spent more time and effort actually following the letter and spirit of those rules, and less time and effort oppressing those who read the rules differently, I would’ve had a much harder time choosing who to leave.”

Francesa’s father stared downward. “So, they
were
judged.”

“I guess so.” Balestra shrugged. “But then, sooner or later we all are, aren’t we? The important thing to remember is that we never get to judge ourselves. Come on, girl. I want to show you the stars.”

Author's Note on
Odysseus

The third story I ever sold. At the time I wrote
Odysseus
, the wreck of the Titanic had been found in the dark, frigid depths of the Atlantic ocean. Like everyone else, I viewed the pictures of the wreck and found them fascinating. But I’m also a sailor, and I couldn’t help thinking of all who had died on that ship, of the many who had gone all the way to the bottom with her. Their bodies were gone, literally dissolved into the waters in which they lay, but still this was their resting place. And then expeditions began recovering items from the wreck, bringing up souvenirs. That just felt wrong to me. The result was
Odysseus
. A spacecraft faces a physical and a moral dilemma when it stumbles across a legendary wreck. The law says one thing, the desire to profit says another. But just maybe the original crew still has a say in the matter.

Odysseus

It was an accident, really, an accident so improbable as to be within a hair's-breadth of impossible. Yet, every individual human life is the sum of similar vast improbabilities, so the accident may have had a certain cosmic inevitability about it. I don't know. I drive ships for a living, and leave Big Questions to the priests, philosophers and physicists.

My Chief Engineer, Val Steiner, triggered this particular accident. "The primary Umbari Coil's drifted slightly out of alignment. We need to drop out of U-Space long enough to recalibrate."

I shrugged in reply. As decisions by a ship's Captain go, this was an easy one. "If we gotta, we gotta. How long will it take?"

"Half-a-day. Maybe."

"Maybe?" I signaled annoyance with an aggravated frown.

Steiner just smiled, secure on her pillar as god of the machinery that made my ship work. "If there's no complications."

"And if there are?"

"It'll take longer."

One of my passengers happened to be present, and now he leaned forward, frowning as well, though in a questioning way. "Excuse me, Captain. Why is this a problem? Doesn't your ship have a back-up Coil?"

I smiled reassuringly back at him. "Sure, Mister Garand. That's the rule. Every ship is required to have two fully functioning Umbari Coils running. That's why we have to recalibrate the primary one. If it drifts far enough out of alignment to fail, or if we can't calibrate it, we just pop in a replacement Coil immediately. No big deal."

"But we have to drop out of U-space?" Garand didn't seem particularly reassured. "We're not in distress, are we?"

Val shot him her own confident grin. "Of course not. And once we've recalibrated the primary Coil, we'll be sure we won't be in distress anytime soon. Just a little preventive maintenance, that's all." Garand nodded and left the bridge, still looking somewhat uncertain.

"Thanks for not mentioning the failure rate of Umbari Coils. That might have scared the passengers," I mockingly praised Val.

She sketched a sarcastic salute with her right hand in reply. "No problem, Captain. Besides, my Coils don't fail."

"Sure. That's why we've got two working constantly." I triggered the all-hands circuit to warn we were dropping out of U-space, waited several minutes to give everyone a chance to strap down, then initiated the sequence. The world swam off-balance/inside-out for a moment, then the screens cleared to reveal the black emptiness of interstellar space. A trillion stars stared down coldly, their light magnificent but frightening, like distant fires mocking someone drowning in a sea vacant of everything but the certainty of lonely death.

Or it should have been vacant. Instead, Victoria Watabayashi, my First Officer, turned to me with an expression of amazement. "I'm picking up a ship's beacon."

"You're kidding."

"Nope." Wata adjusted her controls, fingers dancing across the panel as if she were a pianist. "The signal's really strong, boss. We're almost on top of it."

"Jesus. Another ship in normal space between stars and we dropped out into its lap. What are the odds of that?"

"Beats me." Wata's fingers played another brief tune. "Strange. I can't ID the beacon. It's not in the current ships' registry."

"So check every reference we've got. If it's in space, one of those should have it."

"Doing it now." She smiled. "Got it. Registry is..." Wata's face paled as her smile vanished.

"What's the matter?" I keyed my own panel to view the readout, then froze in turn. "
Odysseus
?" I finally whispered.

"
Odysseus
," Wata confirmed in a shaky voice.

#

My ship's mess deck didn't fit anyone's definition of spacious, but it did encompass barely enough room for my few crew members and even fewer passengers to all gather together. The crew, experienced enough to know such a meeting while underway was extremely unusual, stared at me with a mixture of misgiving and curiosity, while the passengers idly waited in blissful ignorance. "Okay, everybody, we've encountered another ship." My crew's wonderment visibly intensified, in counterpart to the calm acceptance of the news by the passengers. "Not just any ship. It's the
Odysseus
."

It took a moment for every member of the crew to realize the significance. The reaction was palpable enough for even the passengers to notice this time. One of those passengers, a physician named Ortega, pointed a blunt finger my way. "What does that mean? What is special about this other ship named
Odysseus
?"

Val answered before I could. "
Odysseus
was the first," she advised. "The first manned ship outfitted with a prototype Umbari Coil, the first ship sent off to another star. The same star, as a matter of fact, that we're heading for."

"I see. Did it reach the star?"

"No one knew, until now.
Odysseus
jumped into U-space, and vanished. Nobody has ever known what happened to her, but there's been speculation that she was doomed when her Umbari Coil failed. She only had one."

"Only one?" Garand wondered. "You confirmed to me earlier that every ship now has to have two. Why did they only have one?"

"They thought one was enough," Val stated curtly. "They were wrong."

"The fact that we've found
Odysseus
," I added, "tends to confirm that theory. We're closing on the derelict, and so far we haven't seen any obvious external damage. It's still on course for its destination, though it won't get there for more than another century yet at the speed it's making in normal space."

"Derelict?" Doctor Ortega questioned. "This means the crew is dead?"

"It's been almost two hundred years," Val pointed out. "There's not a ship made which can sustain a closed environment that long, even when everything is working, and Umbari Coils tend to drag other equipment down when they fail. Most likely, the crew's been dead for almost the entire time."