Death Sentence (10 page)

"Shock and glory," said Yalananav in astonishment. "You could simply add it to the water supply and treat the entire population of the city at one time."

"In theory, I suppose," said Taranarak, "but it would be foolhardy in the extreme to do it that way without massive planning and testing. I should add that it even seemed possible--though far less certain--that the results of the treatment could, with further careful and cautious research, be made heritable. Parents would be able to pass down the genetic trait of long life to their children."

There was a moment of strain, of silence, as the managers took in the new knowledge. All of them had heard rumors and stories, of course. But she had given them
facts.
Cold, hard facts. She glanced toward Bulwark of Constancy, but the Unseen was motionless, frozen in an utterly neutral pose.

"How--how long?" Tigmin asked. "How much longer a life might I--might a person--expect?"

"That is far from certain, as it was not possible to run extensive tests. After all, it has only been a few months since the new process was discovered. But our experts in geriatrics estimate that it could provide a doubling of life span if treatment was provided before the midpoint of life. An older person in good health, who had not reached the point of sudden senescence, the onset of rapid final aging syndrome, might expect something like an extension of an eighth to a twelfth of his or her life span. Two to four years, perhaps."

"That is not possible," Fallogon objected. "Our scientists proved thousands of years ago that no such dramatic extensions of life were possible."

"They
are
possible," Taranarak said. "I can show you the test results."
And it was not, strictly speaking,
our
scientists who found that out.
But there was no point in dragging that humiliation into the conversation. There was enough shock, fear, and bewilderment in the room already--to say nothing of the fact that each of the Metrannans facing her was suddenly distracted by calculation of how much longer each of them might live, and what he might be able to do with the years.

"If what you say is true," said Yalananav, "then it is no rumor that sparks the riots outside."

"Or, rather, the rumors have a strong basis," said Tigmin. "There are claims that some high-ranking persons have already obtained the treatment and are keeping it to themselves, or that the discovery has been suppressed."

"That last item is far from a rumor," Taranarak said. "Why have I been detained for my antisocial behavior if not to keep the work quiet?"

"Because of your lies!" Bulwark of Constancy half shouted, in tones so violent that everyone else in the room jerked back in surprise. The others had almost forgotten that Constancy was there.

"I have told no lies," said Taranarak. "I have spoken truths that are unexpected, unsettling, and new--but no lies of any sort."

"The things you speak of cannot be! They must not be!"

The things I speak of might lead to the extinction of the Unseen Race on this planet,
Taranarak thought.
Already your Enclave grows a trifle smaller every year. How would your people cope with a doubling of the Metrannan population?
Of course, that question was at the core of other problems as well.
How well would we Metrannans cope? What would we have to give up? How would families change? What traditions would alter? What patterns of life would no longer make sense, or even be possible? How would long life affect our culture, our art, our relations with others of the Elder Races?
Metrannans had always had something close to a racial inferiority complex that had doubtless shaped--and even warped--their relations with other sentient species. What would change there?

"The things I speak of
can
be," said Taranarak. "At least, they could be. If the lost work is recovered."

"'Lost work'?" Yalananav echoed. "Do you mean to say that mob out there is rioting for a cure for old age that we no longer have?"

Taranarak forced herself to speak calmly. "That is the case," she said.

"I thought you said you had proof."

"We do," she said. "Full and convincing results that demonstrate, on the cellular and biochemical level, the suppression of premature senescence, along with other data from our standard geriatric modeling systems that confirm the effect is real, and transferable to real living tissues, organs, and individuals. The treatment will--would--work."

"Then what is missing?"

"Nothing!" Bulwark of Constancy said. "Taranarak's predecessor wisely and deliberately sent away the data concerning the formulae and manufacturing process and other details of the treatment."

"Whether it was wise, I do not know, but yes, he sent it away--at your urging," Taranarak replied accusingly. "And even that was a compromise.
You
wished to see the work destroyed altogether."

"I do not deny it," said Bulwark of Constancy. It gestured toward the window and the disturbances in the city. "Change is wrong. Even the idea of change, the
threat
of change, is enough to set off upheavals. What will happen if the treatment does not work perfectly? Or if it works on some individuals, some gene groups, better than others? Even if it is flawless--consider! The duration of childhood and adolescence are unaffected by this life-extension treatment. This means that if you double the life span, you
more
than double the
adult
life span, the productive working life of every person. Will there be enough work for all? And at the same moment, when it will be necessary to
curtail
reproduction or face a ruinous population explosion, the period of fertility for adults will likewise more than double! What of the costs of new dwellings, new infrastructure--in effect, a whole new city to support the increased population?"

"Every other sentient race manages with a longer life span," Tigmin said. "Some live far longer than we will--we would--even with this new treatment."

Tigmin had said more than he intended, but in a sense it didn't matter. It was impossible
not
to guess the thoughts of the others in the room--the fantasies of long life racing through the minds of the Metrannans.

And the Unseen Being had revealed far more than Tigmin. Moments before it had been denying the existence and effectiveness of the longlife treatment. But it was plain from what she had said about the details of the process that Bulwark of Constancy was intimately familiar with the science behind the treatment.

"At present," Taranarak said, "no one can expect to live any longer at all. Yes, we have the proof that the treatment will work--but we no longer have the treatment itself, or the data needed to re-create it."

"Where in the dark skies is it? Has it been destroyed?" Tigmin asked.

"In the dark skies indeed. We do not know it has been destroyed. According to what I have been able to learn, Bulwark of Constancy of the Unseen People, after long and careful and quiet negotiation, convinced my predecessor, Searcher Hallaben, to arrange for a courier from the human world known as Center to collect the main data files and remove them to the safekeeping of the humans. All other copies would be destroyed. Hallaben hoped to gather together a group of planners, economists, philosophers, and various experts to consider the consequences of massive life extension. It was hoped that, with enough time and reflection, a proper and prudent way could be found to make use of the--his--discovery. Unfortunately, he died before that process could begin."

"But why humans? What possible reason could there be for involving ourselves with a pack of Younger Race upstarts?" Tigmin demanded.

Taranarak still saw no need to add humiliation to all the other powerful emotions in the room. Better to deflect the question and answer it only in part rather than let the whole galling truth come out. "My predecessor, Hallaben, apparently believed that no Metrannan could be trusted with the formula, for what should be obvious reasons."

"Obvious enough to our rioting compatriots," Tigmin said wryly. "But that tells me why not Metrannans. But why humans?"

Taranarak shifted her four feet for a moment, devoutly wishing Tigmin had not asked that question quite so directly. But perhaps she could still get by with a partial answer. Certainly Constancy would not wish to endure the damage to its pride that a full answer would produce. "We have always had good relations with humans--and, after all, they are the younger of the two Younger Races--weak, with few alliances, eager to establish themselves, wanting to make friends and curry favor. And, because they are not powerful, they are safe. They are far too weak to threaten us."

"Wrong," said Yalananav. "Most wrong indeed. For Hallaben gave them a weapon--one that can only be used against us."

"What?" Tigmin said sharply. "How?"

"In two ways," said Yalananav. "One, Tigmin, you yourself described. All they would need to do would be to introduce the treatment into the city water supply, here and on all the other worlds settled by our people, then sit back and watch our civilization unravel under the pressure of unplanned, unexpected, uncontrolled change."

"To what purpose?" Taranarak demanded.

"I have not the faintest idea," said Yalananav. "I am thinking of capability, not intent. Perhaps some species that is our enemy would put them up to it. The other weapon would be even more insidious: simply to
threaten
to unleash the treatment in an uncontrolled manner. What better form of blackmail could you imagine?"

"All of this is paranoid fantasy!" Taranarak shot back. "You imagine a species that is not our enemy could attack us--and therefore
will
attack us simply because they
can.
" She calmed herself and spoke again. "In any event, the entire issue is moot. The courier never reached Center. We have made repeated and careful inquiries."

She paused for six heartbeats and spoke once more. "While I do believe your fears of attack and blackmail are vastly overstated, I concede that the situation does expose us to certain vulnerabilities. For good or ill, there is one other vital point: As best we have been able to learn, no human besides the courier was ever made aware of what, exactly, was in the document that the courier carried, though plainly the humans knew it was of great importance."

"So, this knowledge has existed since before Hallaben's death but was first suppressed, and then lost altogether?" Tigmin asked.

"Lost, but not lost altogether," Taranarak said eagerly. She gestured toward the window and the plumes of smoke over the city. "I did not expect this day to come so soon, but I did expect it to come. Sooner or later, secrets will come out. It was inevitable that
someone
--probably several someones--among the dozens who worked in our laboratories would talk. Dribs and drabs of fact would come out. Rumors would pop up. All this has happened. We have a city full of people angry that we cannot or will not produce the magic potion that we have thrown away.

"Furthermore, knowledge cannot be suppressed. Not forever. Since I took over the laboratory and gradually learned of Hallaben's discoveries and the manner in which they were lost, I have been working to reconstruct them. We have much of the original research data he had, along with the results data, and various other pieces of information--as well as the knowledge that he succeeded. I hoped to reconstruct his work in time, to be able to provide you, our leadership, with the treatment."

"So that we could release it to the hordes outside and save ourselves?" Fallogon asked. "Bribe them to stop the madness?"

"No," she answered. "So that you would have options, the ability to choose rather than being forced to do nothing but sit back and watch the city burn."

"How close are you to success?" Yalananav asked, making no attempt to conceal his eagerness.

Taranarak longed to make a triumphant declaration, to tell them she was merely three twelve-days, only one twelve-day, just a single day, a mere heartbeat from the solution. But this was no time for idle boasts. "At first, progress seemed rapid. But I have bogged down and spent far too much time tracking down leads that have not worked out. I have made no progress to speak of in the last three twelve-days."

"But how could that be?"

"Because Hallaben was a genius and I am merely very smart," Taranarak snapped back. "I could offer a great many other far more complicated explanations, but that is what they would all come down to." She paused. "No. That is not a fair or accurate summing up. Hallaben's genius is undoubted, and its loss is a large part of the problem. But we have not recovered all of the underlying data." She looked over at Bulwark of Constancy, who had resumed its previous motionless state, then looked back at the trio of Metrannans. "It would appear," she said very stiffly, "that a great deal of the material was deliberately erased, deleted, and destroyed."

"So we are left with the worst of all cases," said Yalananav. "We have a population utterly convinced that there is a cure for their short lives, convinced that we have deliberately denied it to them--which is in fact what Hallaben and Bulwark of Constancy did--and we now have no treatment, and no prospect of a treatment." An annunciator chirruped, and Yalananav consulted his pocket dataviewer. "The commander of the Order Patrols reports that maybe--maybe--the riots are subsiding," he said. "He believes we may have a period of quiet setting in."

"At least until the next rumor breaks loose," Tigmin said.

"I no longer fear rumors, Colleague Tigmin," Yalananav said as he put away his dataviewer. "But after what I have just heard, I tremble at the very thought of the
truth
breaking loose."

EIGHT

THERE AND GONE

Jamie squirmed in the
Sholto
's pilot seat and flexed his fingers a few times before placing them on the controls. They had topped off the
Sholto
's thruster power as much as possible, transferring energy from the booster stage. It was time to cut loose from the booster and head out on their own. Jamie had drawn the piloting duty. He wasn't yet fully qualified, and wasn't supposed to fly a ship except under direct supervision of a certified pilot like Hannah.