“You are correct. It would be folly.” It was Far Rider broadcasting on his radio band. “My clan has passed down the engineering from generation to generation. No commander of any Ouster seedship would make a jump in this binary system.”
True Voice of the Tree Reta Kasteen was looking from face to face. “But you have these powerful fusion engines…”
Dem Lia nodded. “Basho, how long to survey the red giant system using maximum thrust with our fusion engines?”
“Three and one half days transit time to the other system,” said the hollow-cheeked AI. “Two days to investigate. Three and one half days back.”
“There is no way we could shorten that?” said Oam Rai, the yellow. “Cut safety margins? Drive the fusion engines harder?”
Saigyō answered, “The nine-day round trip is posited upon ignoring all safety margins and driving the fusion engines at one hundred twelve percent of their capacity.” He sadly shook his bald head. “No, it cannot be done.”
“But the Hawking drive…” said Dem Lia and everyone in the room appeared to cease breathing except for Far Rider, who had never been breathing in the traditional sense. The appointed Spectrum Helix commander turned to the AI’s. “What are the probabilities of disaster if we try this?”
Lady Murasaki stepped forward. “Both translations—into and out of Hawking space—will be far too close to the binary system’s Roche lobe. We estimate probability of total destruction of the Helix at two percent, of damage to some aspect of ship’s systems at eight percent, and specifically damage to the pod life-support network at six percent.”
Dem Lia looked at the Ousters and the Templar. “A six-percent chance of losing hundreds—thousands—of our sleeping relatives and friends. Those we have sworn to protect until arrival at our destination. A two-percent chance that our entire culture will die in the attempt.”
Far Rider nodded sadly. “I do not know what wonders your Aenean friends have added to your equipment,” he broadcast, “but I would find those figures understated. It is an impossible binary system for a Hawking drive jump.”
Silence stretched. Finally Dem Lia said, “Our options are to destroy the harvesting machine for you without knowing if there is life—perhaps an entire species—depending upon it in the red giant system, however improbable. And we cannot do that. Our moral code prevents it.”
Reta Kasteen’s voice was very small. “We understand.”
Dem Lia continued. “We could travel by conventional means and survey the system. This means you will have to suffer the ravages of this destroyer a final time, but if there is no life in the red giant system, we will destroy the machine when we return on fusion drive.”
“Little comfort to the thousands or millions who will lose their homes during this final visit of the Destroyer,” said Chief Branchman Keel Redt.
“No comfort at all,” agreed Dem Lia.
Far Rider stood to his full four-meter height, floating slightly in the one-tenth gravity. “This is not your problem,” he broadcast. “There is no reason for you to risk any of your people. We thank you for considering…”
Dem Lia raised a hand to stop him in midbroadcast. “We’re going to vote now. We’re voting whether to jump to the red giant system via Hawking drive and get back here before your Destroyer begins destroying. If there is an alien race over there, perhaps we can communicate in the two days we will have in-system. Perhaps they can reprogram their machine. We have all agreed that the odds against it accidentally ‘eating’ your seedship on its first pass after you landed are infinitesimal. The fact that it constantly harvests areas on which you’ve colonized—on a tree ring with the surface area equal to half a million Hyperions—suggests that it is programmed to do so, as if eliminating abnormal growths or pests.”
The three diplomats nodded.
“When we vote,” said Dem Lia, “the decision will have to be unanimous. One ‘no’ vote means that we will not use the Hawking drive.”
Saigyō had been sitting cross-legged on the table, but now he moved next to the other four AI’s who were standing. “Just for the record,” said the fat little monk, “the AI’s have voted five to zero against attempting a Hawking drive maneuver.”
Dem Lia nodded. “Noted,” she said. “But just for the record, for this sort of decision, the AI’s vote does not count. Only the Amoiete Spectrum Helix people or their representatives can determine their own fate.” She turned back to the other nine humans. “To use the Hawking drive or not? Yes or no? We ten will account to the thousands of others for the consequences. Ces Ambre?”
“Yes.” The woman in the blue robe appeared as calm as her startlingly clear and gentle eyes.
“Jon Mikail Dem Alem?”
“Yes,” said the ebony life-support specialist in a thick voice. “Yes.”
“Oam Rai?”
The yellow-band woman hesitated. No one onboard knew the risks to the ship’s systems better than this person. A two-percent chance of destruction must seem an obscene gamble to her. She touched her lips with her fingers. “There are two civilizations we are deciding for here,” she said, obviously musing to herself. “Possibly three.”
“Oam Rai?” repeated Dem Lia.
“Yes,” said Oam Rai.
“Kem Loi?” said Dem Lia to the astronomer.
“Yes.” The young woman’s voice quavered slightly.
“Patek Georg Dem Mio?”
The red-band security specialist grinned. “Yes. As the ancient saying goes, no guts, no glory.”
Dem Lia was irritated. “You’re speaking for 684,288 sleeping people who might not be so devil-may-care.”
Patek Georg’s grin stayed in place. “My vote is yes.”
“Dr. Samel Ria Kem Ali?”
The medic looked as troubled as Patek had brazen. “I must say…there are so many unknowns…” He looked around. “Yes,” he said. “We must be sure.”
“Peter Delen Dem Tae?” Dem Lia asked the blue-banded psychologist.
The older man had been chewing on a pencil. He looked at it, smiled, and set it on the table. “Yes.”
“Res Sandre?”
For a second the other green-band woman’s eyes seemed to show defiance, almost anger. Dem Lia steeled herself for the veto and the lecture that would follow.
“Yes,” said Res Sandre. “I believe it’s a moral imperative.”
That left the youngest in the group.
“Den Soa?” said Dem Lia.
The young woman had to clear her throat before speaking. “Yes. Let’s go look.”
All eyes turned to the appointed commander.
“I vote yes,” said Dem Lia. “Saigyō, prepare for maximum acceleration toward the translation point to Hawking drive. Kem Loi, you and Res Sandre and Oam Rai work on the optimum inbound translation point for a systemwide search for life. Chief Branchman Redt, Far Rider, True Voice of the Tree Kasteen, if you would prefer to wait behind, we will prepare the airlock now. If you three wish to come, we must leave immediately.”
The Chief Branchman spoke without consulting the others. “We wish to accompany you, Citizen Dem Lia.”
She nodded. “Far Rider, tell your people to clear a wide wake. We’ll angle above the plane of the ecliptic outward bound, but our fusion tail is going to be fierce as a dragon’s breath.”
The full space-adapted Ouster broadcast, “I have already done so. Many are looking forward to the spectacle.”
Dem Lia grunted softly. “Let’s hope it’s not more of a spectacle than we’ve all bargained for,” she said.
THE Helix made the jump safely, with only minor upset to a few of the ship’s subsystems. At a distance of three AU’s from the surface of the red giant, they surveyed the system. They had estimated two days, but the survey was done in less than twenty-four hours.
There were no hidden planets, no planetoids, no hollowed-out asteroids, no converted comets, no artificial space habitats—no sign of life whatsoever. When the G2 star had finished its evolution
into a red giant at least three million years earlier, its helium nuclei began burning its own ash in a high-temperature second round of fusion reactions at the star’s core while the original hydrogen fusion continued in a thin shell far from that core, the whole process creating carbon and oxygen atoms that added to the reaction and…presto…the short-lived rebirth of the star as a red giant. It was obvious that there had been no outer planets, no gas giants, no rocky worlds beyond the new red sun’s reach. Any inner planets had been swallowed whole by the expanding star. Outgassing of dust and heavy radiation had all but cleared the solar system of anything larger than nickel-iron meteorites.
“So,” said Patek Georg. “That’s that.”
“Shall I authorize the AI’s to begin full acceleration toward the return translation point?” said Res Sandre.
The Ouster diplomats had been moved to the command deck with their specialized couches. No one minded the one-tenth gravity on the bridge because each of the Amoiete Spectrum specialists—with the exception of Ces Ambre—was enmeshed in a control couch and in touch with the ship on a variety of levels. The Ouster diplomats had been silent during most of the search and they remained silent now as they turned to look at Dem Lia at her center console.
The elected commander tapped her lower lip with her knuckle. “Not quite yet.” Their searches had brought them all around the red giant and now they were less than one AU from its broiling surface. “Saigyō, have you looked inside the star?”
“Just enough to sample it,” came the AI’s affable voice. “Typical for a red giant at this stage. Solar luminosity is about two thousand times that of its G8 companion. We sampled the core—no surprises. The helium nuclei there are obviously engaged despite their mutual electrical repulsion.”
“What is its surface temperature?” asked Dem Lia.
“Approximately 3,000 degrees Kelvin” came Saigyō’s voice. “About half of what the surface temperature had been when it was a G2 sun.”
“Oh, my God,” whispered the violet-band Kem Loi from her couch in the astronomy station nexus. “Are you thinking…”
“Deep radar the star, please,” said Dem Lia.
The graphics holos appeared less than twenty minutes later as the star turned and they orbited it. Saigyō said, “A single rocky world. Still in orbit. Approximately four-fifths Old Earth’s size. Radar evidence of ocean bottoms and former riverbeds.”
Samel—Dr. Sam—said, “It was probably Earthlike until its expanding sun boiled away its seas and evaporated its atmosphere. God help whoever or whatever lived there.”
“How deep in the sun’s troposphere is it?” asked Dem Lia.
“Less than a hundred and fifty thousand kilometers,” said Saigyō.
Dem Lia nodded. “Raise the containment fields to maximum,” she said softly. “Let’s go visit them.”
IT’S like swimming under the surface of a red sea, Dem Lia thought as they approached the rocky world. Above them, the outer atmosphere of the star swirled and spiraled, tornadoes of magnetic fields rose from the depths and dissipated, and the containment field was already glowing despite the thirty micromonofilament cables they had trailed out a hundred and sixty thousand klicks behind them to act as radiators.
For an hour the Helix stood off less than twenty thousand kilometers from what was left of what could once have been Old Earth or Hyperion. Various sensors showed the rocky world through the swirling red murk.
“A cinder,” said Jon Mikail Dem Alem.
“A cinder filled with life,” said Kem Loi at the primary sensing nexus. She brought up the deep radar holo. “Absolutely honeycombed. Internal oceans of water. At least three billion sentient entities. I have no idea if they’re humanoid, but they have machines, transport mechanisms, and citylike hives. You can even see the docking port where their harvester puts in every fifty-seven years.”
“But still no understandable contact?” asked Dem Loi. The Helix had been broadcasting basic mathematical overtures on every bandwidth, spectrum, and commununications technology the ship had—from radio maser to modulated tachyons. There had been a return broadcast of sorts.
“Modulated gravity waves,” explained Ikkyu. “But not responding to our mathematical or geometrical overtures. They are picking up our electromagnetic signals but not understanding them, and we can’t decipher their gravitonic pulses.”
“How long to study the modulations until we can find a common alphabet?” demanded Dem Lia.
Ikkyu’s lined face looked pained. “Weeks, at least. Months more likely. Possibly years.” The AI returned the disappointed gaze of the humans, Ousters, and Templar. “I am sorry,” he said, opening his hands. “Humankind has only contacted two sentient alien races before, and they both found ways to communicate with us. These…beings…are truly alien. There are too few common referents.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” said Res Sandre at her engineering nexus. “Powerful magnetic storms are coming up from the core. And we just can’t dissipate the heat quickly enough. We have to leave.”
Suddenly Ces Ambre, who had a couch but no station or duties, stood, floated a meter above the deck in the one-tenth g, moaned, and slowly floated to the deck in a dead faint.
Dr. Sam reached her a second before Dem Lia and Den Soa. “Everyone else stay at your stations,” said Dem Lia.
Ces Ambre opened her startlingly blue eyes. “They are so different. Not human at all…oxygen breathers but not like the Seneschai empaths…modular…multiple minds…so fibrous…”
Dem Lia held the older woman. “Can you communicate with them?” she said urgently. “Send them images?”
Ces Ambre nodded weakly.
“Send them the image of their harvesting machine and the Ousters,” said Dem Lia sternly. “Show them the damage their machine does to the Ouster city clusters. Show them that the Ousters are…human…sentient. Squatters, but not harming the forest ring.”
Ces Ambre nodded again and closed her eyes. A moment later she began weeping. “They…are…so…sorry,” she whispered. “The machine brings back no…pictures…only the food and air and water. It is programmed…as you suggested, Dem Lia…to eliminate infestations. They are…so…so…sorry for the loss of Ouster life. They offer the suicide of…of their species…if it would atone for the destruction.”
“No, no, no,” said Dem Lia, squeezing the crying woman’s hands. “Tell them that won’t be necessary.” She took the older woman by the shoulders. “This will be difficult, Ces Ambre, but you have to ask them if the harvester can be reprogrammed. Taught to stay away from the Ouster settlements.”
Ces Ambre closed her eyes for several minutes. At one point it looked as if she had stopped breathing. Then those lovely eyes opened wide. “It can. They are sending the reprogramming data.”
“We are receiving modulated graviton pulses,” said Saigyō. “Still no translation possible.”
“We don’t need a translation,” said Dem Lia, breathing deeply. She lifted Ces Ambre and helped her back to her couch. “We just have to record it and repeat it to the Destroyer when we get back.” She squeezed Ces Ambre’s hand again. “Can you communicate our thanks and farewell?”
The woman smiled. “I have done so. As best I can.”
“Saigyō,” said Dem Lia. “Get us the hell out of here and accelerate full speed to the translation point.”
THE Helix survived the Hawking space jump back into the G8 system with no damage. The Destroyer had already altered its trajectory toward populated regions of the forest ring, but Den Soa broadcast the modulated graviton recordings while they were still decelerating, and the giant harvester responded with an indecipherable gravitonic rumble of its own and dutifully changed course toward a remote and unpopulated section of the ring. Far Rider used his tightbeam equipment to show them a holo of the rejoicing on the ring cities, platforms, pods, branches, and towers, and then he shut down his broadcast equipment.
They had gathered in the solarium. None of the AI’s wer
e present or listening, but the humans, Ousters, and Templar sat in a circle. All eyes were on Ces Ambre. That woman’s eyes were closed.
Den Soa said very quietly, “The beings…on that world…they had to build the tree ring before their star expanded. They built the harvesting spacecraft. Why didn’t they just…leave?”
“The planet was…is…home,” whispered Ces Ambre, her eyes still shut tight. “Like children…not wanting to leave home…because it’s dark out there. Very dark…empty. They love…home.” The older woman opened her eyes and smiled wanly.
“Why didn’t you tell us that you were Aenean?” Dem Lia said softly.
Ces Ambre’s jaw set in resolve. “I am not Aenean. My mother, Dem Loa, gave me the sacrament of Aenea’s blood—through her own, of course—after rescuing me from the hell of St. Theresa. But I decided not to use the Aenean abilities. I chose not to follow the others, but to remain with the Amoiete.”
“But you communicated telepathically with…” began Patek Georg.
Ces Ambre shook her head and interrupted quickly. “It is not telepathy. It is…being connected…to the Void Which Binds. It is hearing the language of the dead and of the living across time and space through pure empathy. Memories not one’s own.” The ninety-five-year-old woman who looked middle-aged put her hand on her brow. “It is so tiring. I fought for so many years not to pay attention to the voices…to join in the memories. That is why the cryogenic deep sleep is so…restful.”
“And the other Aenean abilities?” Dem Lia asked, her voice still very soft. “Have you freecast?”
Ces Ambre shook her head with her hand still shielding her eyes. “I did not want to learn the Aenean secrets,” she said. Her voice sounded very tired.
“But you could if you wanted to,” said Den Soa, her voice awestruck. “You could take one step—freecast—and be back on Vitus-Gray-Balianus B or Hyperion or Tau Ceti Center or Old Earth in a second, couldn’t you?”
Ces Ambre lowered her hand and looked fiercely at the young woman. “But I won’t.”