Macrolife (14 page)

Another lien on the future had been established in the form of a frozen cell bank, distributed from Asterome's stores to the medical facilities on Mars and Ganymede. The banks now included animal cells, plant cells, human egg and sperm deposits, contributed by Asterome's population to increase the previous holdings. All of them, except Janet, had contributed. Blackfriar had advocated that the restrictions on human cloning should be lifted, arguing that all forms of human reproduction possible should be made available to ensure a variety of human types, especially after so many billions had died.

Sam thought of the past. All research into earth's historical and natural past would now be limited by the amount of stored information and materials; all roads leading back would now end more abruptly than ever; the interpretive and observational cleverness of investigators would be tested to the limit.

Richard, Alard, and Blackfriar, he knew, were looking beyond sun-space, to the nearer stars. Asterome's engineers wanted to add an outer urban shell, thus making the hollow the basis of a larger structure as the population increased. Alard was recruiting skilled people from Ganymede; it was an open thing, and no one had objected yet.

Create a new society, Richard said, reach beyond sunspace into the greater world of the galaxy—into the real world.
It seems like running away
, Sam thought, realizing suddenly that this was perhaps the reason for Janet's coolness toward her son; maybe she saw his ambitions as another form of the irresponsibility Jack had exhibited; but it might also be that she was afraid of losing him forever.

News came from Mars in a steady flow. Venus had been abandoned. All the remaining orbital installations had been fitted with nuclear propulsion units and were moving toward Mars. The Martian population was expected to grow by a third; Ganymede's had leveled off at slightly more than fifty thousand after the outlying bases had been closed down. An inventory of skilled persons, fusion power capacity, and food production was being made.

The Bulero Research Center continued with its previous projects. Among them were laser scanners, steps toward the dream of materials synthesis—the creation of anything out of basic materials and information; bulerite was being reevaluated, to see whether its instabilities could be avoided; work was being done on improved deflector shields for star-ships attempting significant fractions of light speed. Many of the engineers thought that the failure of the previous type of energy shield was responsible for the disappearance of the first interstellar expedition; a bulerite shield might protect a starship from bombardment by particles at high velocity, if a stable form was possible, perhaps together with a conventional repelling field. The anomaly might yet make it necessary for us to get out of sunspace fast, Orton had said a few days ago.

At times Sam felt that he could almost look outward with Richard, Margot, and Orton; but was it fair to think of leaving? Asterome would take the skilled and useful, the youngest. The ones most needed at home would go; he could not see how the truth of the objection might be circumvented.

It was easy to see why Alard had brought Asterome into Jupiter's space; the work being done here was consistent with Asterome's long-range plans. Circling Jupiter in a close orbit was a kilometer-long chunk of nickel-iron, where Bulero had built a facility for the study of ultra-dense matter. A small black hole, less than one gram in size, was being driven with an electric field, converting electrical power into gravitational waves; such an engine could accelerate an object the size of Asterome to any fraction of light speed, given enough power. Sam had been surprised to learn that a similar innovation, rather than a fusion-powered torch engine, had pushed Asterome out of the inner solar system, but the fact had been kept quiet. Asterome was planning to attach the experimental facility near Jupiter to one end of Asterome. Richard had given the official Bulero permission. Alard, Richard had also told him, was massing creative workers, encouraging them to speculate radically on such topics as the elasticity and solidity of space, the control of inertia, in the hope of forcing a solution which he felt would be needed very soon.

Janet
, Sam thought. The very thought of her was a burden. She spoke to no one. She ate as if rationing herself, fearful of using more than her share. He would try to talk to her in the darkness of the bedroom; she only listened. Occasionally she talked in her sleep. When he woke up in the morning, she would be sitting in her chair, looking at him without expression.

“Do you want to come with me today?” he would ask.

No answer.

“They ask about you at Bulero. They've worked for…us all their lives, some of them, like ascetics when things were more primitive out here. They're trying to help, you know. It would help them if they saw you there occasionally. It's why you wanted to come.”

No answer.

He knew that it was a kind of verbal pap which he said to her each day. He would dress, kiss her on the forehead, and leave for the day, knowing that he should stay—except that it was better to be active. He would do small jobs, run errands, take care of children, supplement the grade school teaching machines; it was better to have the illusion of useful work.

Richard and Margot would be visiting soon anyway; they had promised.

 

The shadows spoke to her.

Janet sat in a metal chair. The soft lights and lack of strong gravity were a comfort. She thought of the huge dome above her, with its levels, elevators, and people. She thought of the barren, rocky surface, the cold stars…and something near the sun. It had stopped growing and was waiting for her to come up and look at it; it was waiting for her to help it grow with her fear.

She would never go to the surface; she would never look at it; she would not help it, even if she had to die. She would die soon, free Sam, and stop its growing. There was a cold lump in her stomach and dryness in her throat.

Sam looked up to see Margot come out of the hospital room. She came to the air-filled sofa in the waiting area and sat between him and Richard.

“She's asleep now, so you'll have to come back when she's awake.”

“I'll wait,” Sam said.

“She'll recover?” Richard asked.

“Definitely. As soon as she's better they'll put her into sleep therapy.”

Sam was still shaken by Janet's suicide attempt.

“Don't blame yourself,” Margot said. “There have been a lot of breakdowns. It would have been strange—“

“I should have stayed with her.”

“There was not much you could have done, Sam. You're probably the smallest part of her problem.”

“We'll wait a while with you,” Richard said.

 

Janet smiled at Sam when he was finally let in. She reached out to hold his hand as he sat down by the bed.

“Richard and Margot are outside.”

“Now don't worry, Sam—women have children all the time.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he tried not to show his distress. She seemed so calm and beautiful, her face as pale as the bandages around her wrists; her black hair was combed out on the pillow.

“You're strong,” he managed to say, knowing that he would have to be what she wanted him to be. He smiled, feeling grotesque and unreal.

He wanted desperately to say a few healing words that would waken her from her delusion; but in the strange silence between them, he saw that she was an uncomprehending child, and he should not try to explain anything to her.

Sam turned and saw the nurse motioning to him. As he stood up to see what she wanted, Janet closed her eyes. The sedative had taken effect.

When he came out into the waiting room, Sam saw General Nakamura standing with Margot and Richard. His gray UN coverall was stiff and perfectly clean, as usual. Sam noticed the three stars on his cap as the general turned to greet him.

“Mr. Bulero, you are under arrest. You are to go to your apartment. A guard is posted at the door. He will accompany you when you wish to visit your mistress—at appointed times.” Nakamura's eyes were direct and stern.

“Why? Please explain.”

Nakamura's forehead became knitted, distorting his thick eyebrows; he smiled in a show of composure. “Frankly, Mr. Bulero, I'm shocked by your friends and relations. If I were you, I would be ashamed of them.”

“What are you talking about?”

Nakamura shrugged. “Perhaps…it's possible that you do not know. Let me explain. Asterome is subject to UN law, which I administer in this part of sunspace. Also, we are under emergency conditions—“

“It's a power grab, Sam,” Richard said.

“Kindly be quiet,” Nakamura said. “Your friends,” he continued, “are behaving like brigands, a pack of adventurers who wish to squander humanity's last resources. You understand the value of Asterome for our recovery, don't you?”

“Of course.”

“A few hours ago, Governor Alard altered the course of our research satellite and attached it to Asterome—“

“The drive, Sam,” Richard said. “It works! They've moved the whole thing.”

“Please be quiet,” Nakamura repeated.

“You'll never get away with it, General,” Richard said.

“In a few days,” Nakamura said, “a military vessel will arrive from Mars to help me enforce the law. Asterome makes a big target. I'm sure that Alard will see reason by then.”

“He wants to control Asterome in a takeover of Mars,” Margot said. “He's got cronies there who are setting up a coup.”

“Come with me,” Nakamura said.

He led the way past the hospital desk and into the open elevator. The lift took them below the surface level, where they stepped out into the green corridor of the housing complex.

Sam saw a guard by the door to his apartment.

“He is very effective,” Nakamura said. “The entire dome is under martial law.”

The door slid open. Margot and Richard went in first, and Sam followed after a moment. There was no point in discussing anything more with the general.

“Are you here alone?” Sam asked when the door slid shut.

“No,” Margot said.

Suddenly the door slid open. Soong stumbled into the room and caught his balance against Sam.

“We are hostages,” Soong said.

“Nakamura spoke of a ship from Mars,” Sam said, “coming to support him here. You don't suppose Commander Mason is in with him?”

“It's possible,” Richard said.

“I don't think so,” Margot said. “Alard was talking to her about something this morning.”

“Nakamura doesn't recognize Bulero property,” Richard said. “There has always been friction between him and the research center, from the day he came here. Greg Michaels has never gotten along with him.”

“Governor Alard has been expecting trouble,” Soong said, “but not over a piece of Bulero property, and not this soon.”

“But won't they question a ship's departure on Mars?” Sam asked.

“Not if Nakamura's bunch has already taken over,” Richard said.

“There's not much we can do here.” Margot sat down in the middle of the sofa.

Sam started to pace back and forth. “Why did Alard want the black hole facility, when he already has a gravitational wave generator?”

“It's a larger and more efficient unit,” Richard answered, “and Asterome has a lot of electricity to feed it from its fusion reactors. I wanted Asterome to have it. It's none of Nakamura's damn business.”

The door slid open and the guard entered. “Please come with me,” he said, and waited for them all to go ahead into the hall.

When they were in the elevator, the guard stepped in and faced them. The lift rose to ground level, where Sam walked out behind the guard and followed the pistol-armed figure down a long, green-tiled hall to a set of double doors at the end. The doors slid open and they entered a large rectangular communications room.

Sam noticed the guards by the door as he went in. Three communications technicians sat in front of the main screen ahead, which covered the ten-foot-high wall.

Greg Michaels and Mike Basil stood in the center of the room, handcuffed to each other. A feeling of guilt and failure passed through Sam as he looked around the bare room.

Richard went up to Mike and touched his shoulder. Sam heard the doors slide open and turned in time to see Nakamura come in. Ignoring his prisoners, Nakamura went to the screen, which now showed the landing area.

On it, slightly magnified, squatted an older military spacecraft, atomic torch, vintage 1998—three hundred feet of dark ovoid body resting on four sturdy shocks—pre-bulerite, designed to land in any accessible place in the solar system.

The sun was drifting toward Jupiter and would slip behind it in a few hours. The ship cast a sharp shadow.

Sam turned and looked at his companions. Richard was angry, but Margot seemed angrier. Soong appeared patient and graceful, as always. Greg Michaels stooped a bit to accommodate Mike. The tall, white-haired research chief seemed resigned.

A man's face filled the large screen, leaving the ship as a small insert in the left-hand corner. “General, the ship that followed us here will arrive in about an hour. She still does not answer calls.”

“It may be that their communications are out of order,” Nakamura said. “These are all old vessels. In any case, we can handle one ship.”

“I think so, General.”

“Thank you, Captain Scorto.”

Nakamura turned from the screen as Scorto's face faded. “I regret these tactics,” he said, looking at Soong, “but they are in the interests of humanity. I may have very little time, but perhaps further extremes will be unnecessary.”

Sam could feel that Richard was struggling to restrain himself.

“Mr. Soong,” Nakamura continued, “in a few moments you will address Governor Alard, and you will suggest that he step down from office and recognize UN authority, as represented by my government here on Ganymede. Tell him that there will be a place for him later, after consolidation is complete.”

The vagueness of Nakamura's words was precise. The force of their persuasiveness lay elsewhere.
He has us all
, Sam thought,
and he has Janet
.

“Why don't you tell him yourself?” Richard said.

Nakamura's face went rigid. Sam noticed that the general was wearing a pistol now.

Governor Alard's face appeared on the screen, again leaving the ship as a small insert.

“Hold the sound back,” Nakamura said. He turned back to Soong. “Your lives depend on what you say.” Nakamura raised his arm and the sound came on.

Alard blinked and seemed to be peering around the room.

Sam swallowed. The threat to Janet's safety was a terrible anxiety spreading outward from his knotted stomach. He had failed to help her as her condition had grown worse; and now he could not help her at all. He clenched his fists at his sides; his jaw muscles tightened as he struggled to hide his feelings.

“Well, General,” Alard said, “I can see for myself. Get on with it.”

Nakamura looked at Soong.

“Governor, he demands that you step down and turn control over to him,” Soong said.

“By what authority?”

“The new government of Mars-Ganymede,” Nakamura announced, “which speaks for all surviving humanity. The official declaration will be made soon.”

“Excuse me for a moment, General,” Alard said softly, and walked away from the screen.

Sam's arms trembled slightly.

Alard reappeared and looked at Nakamura. Sam had a sudden vision of his larger-than-life figure crawling in through the window of the screen and crushing Nakamura into a bloody pulp. His mind was looking for a way out, Sam knew, even if it had to loosen the bonds of the real world to do the impossible.

“There is no such government,” Alard said.

“You are mistaken,” Nakamura replied. “I have declared martial law. If you do not resign, you will be dealt with as a criminal.”

“A self-appointed dictator,” Margot whispered.

“Excuse me again, General,” Alard said politely. The screen went blank.

“UN law is all the law we have left,” Richard said, “but you are not its representative.”

“I am not aware that I have been relieved of command.”

Richard shrugged. “A technicality.”

Sam looked at Richard. Surely he knew enough to see that he was putting them all in further danger.

“You are criminals!” Nakamura shouted. “Adventurers who would betray humanity. The new government speaks for reconstruction and conservation of resources. Asterome is part of those resources and now directly under our jurisdiction.”

“Asterome has always been a free state,” Richard said.

“You will comply.”

“General, you claim to be a reasonable man.” Richard took a step toward him. “Exactly why do you think that Asterome will not do its share in the job of reconstruction? We've been duplicating all our resources, on Mars and now here.”

A long silence followed.

“I have gathered that Asterome plans to leave sunspace,” the general said at last.

“We're planning for the long-term future of human life,” Richard said.

“A very irresponsible idea, cloaked in idealism.”

“I don't think that you are interested in honest disagreement, General, but in personal power. There is not much more to you than that.”

“I can force Asterome to comply with emergency regulations. We can disable and board it.”

“Where's Alard?” Sam whispered to Margot and Soong.

“Playing for time,” Margot answered.

Unlike Richard, Sam thought, Alard was being careful of their safety.

“Governor Alard!” Nakamura shouted. “I know that you are receiving. Kindly return the visual link.” The general unfastened the covering of his holster and drew out a shiny black automatic.

Alard reappeared and looked around the room. His face was without expression as he waited for Nakamura to speak.

“In a few moments,” the general said, “my warship will fire a missile at your sun mirror, perhaps at one of your fusion plants. Where will your Asterome be without them?”

Sam noticed the sweat stains on the general's back and under his armpits. Alard did not answer.

Nakamura turned around and Sam was looking into the black hole of the automatic.

“He will die first, Alard. Can you afford this life?”

He'll shoot me as a throwaway example
, Sam thought,
because I'm unimportant
. The gun shook slightly in Nakamura s hand; the barrel moved in a lazy circle.

“Ship approaching fast,” one of the communications officers said.

An insert appeared in the lower-right-hand corner of the screen, showing a telescopic view of a military vessel identical to the one in the left-hand insert.

Nakamura stepped up to Sam and raised the gun. Sam closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as the cold barrel touched his temple for a moment. Opening his eyes, he saw Soong leap at Nakamura from the side.

The general turned and fired; the shot hit Soong in the forehead and he fell backward slowly. Blood streamed from his head as he hit the floor.

“General!” Alard shouted.

“No answer from the ship,” the com officer said.

Nakamura shifted and held the gun near Sam's face. “It's another one of ours,” he said calmly.

Sam looked past the gun to Soong's body on the floor. Then he regarded the man who was oppressing him. What had he ever done to him? He hardly knew him. Nakamura returned his gaze without blinking.

“General—voice link,” the communications officer said.

Sam looked at the insert; the incoming ship was larger now. A third insert appeared in the top left corner, a woman's face, middle-aged, with handsomely groomed short gray hair.

“This is Commander Alberta Mason, UN Forces. General Nakamura, you are relieved of command. Place yourself in immediate custody under military or civilian personnel at Ganymede City.”

Nakamura surveyed the room. No one moved. Sam expected that at any moment the general would point the gun at Richard or Margot.
It's what I would do
. The thought surprised Sam.

“Surrender,” Mason said. “The coup is over. It's been over for a while.”

Nakamura grew rigid. He lowered the gun, but kept it pointed in Sam's direction. Slowly the general reached up with his left hand, took off his military cap, and threw it to the floor. “So much for UN rank.” He ran his fingers across his wet forehead and back through his hair.

“Surrender,” Mason said, “or I will open fire on your ship. Do you hear me also, Captain Scorto?”

“I hear you.”

“Land your ship and prepare to be boarded,” Nakamura replied, “or I will kill these hostages before your eyes.”

Sam was grateful that Janet was not in immediate reach.

“Scorto—open fire on Asterome and the Mars vessel when I give the command.”

Sam felt the gun press against his temple. The floor seemed to shift slightly as he tried to keep his eyes on the screen.

“Mason, you can't fight a triple threat!”

“I will not bargain with you, General.”

The gun pushed Sam's head sideways. With one eye he peered at the lower-left insert, where Nakamura's ship was suddenly coming apart, its center glowing cherry red, turning white until the hull was lost in a bright flash. The concussion shook the floor. Sam faced the screen as Nakamura moved the gun away. Gas and debris filled the insert, clearing slowly to show a crater where the ship had stood.

“I regret the loss of misguided lives,” Mason said. “They and the ship might have served us better.”

“How?” Nakamura asked as he stepped back from Sam. “You're too far away.”

“A simple destruct sequence code. The civilian governments that gathered the taxes to build these old ships kept that much insurance against them. Of course, such a safeguard is only effective when not too many people know about it.”

Sam looked at Nakamura, aware that the general would take the explanation as an insult, since it implied that he was not important enough to have known.

“I can still kill the hostages,” Nakamura said.

Sam gazed into the man's eyes. There was frustrated hatred behind the gun now.
Trapped animals
, Sam thought. The nearness of the gun made him angry. He looked at Richard and Margot, at Mike and Greg. If
Nakamura loses interest in me, he'll kill them all. The gun must stay on me
.

“You're beaten,” Richard shouted. “What can you gain now?”

Sam knew. An enraged puppeteer's hand entered his body. His arm came up and knocked the gun out of Nakamura's hand. The weapon coughed unimpressively, floated toward the floor, bounced with a clatter, and lay still. Sam seized Nakamura by the throat and tried to close his fist. A distant part of Sam watched, startled by his disregard for his own life.

The general sputtered and punched at him. Sam pushed Nakamura and tumbled down on top of him, feeling an anger that he had almost forgotten existed. Nakamura pulled the hand away from his throat, but Sam punched him in the right eye; the general howled. Sam hit him in the jaw; Nakamura's head went back against the floor. He lay still, staring up at Sam with one eye.

A pair of booted feet approached. “That's enough, Mr. Bulero,” the guard said. “We'll take him now.” The other guard was removing the handcuffs from Mike Basil and Greg Michaels. Sam rose and looked down at Nakamura. The general was everything that he had wanted to strike out at since they had abandoned earth. Sam shifted his gaze to Soong's body nearby. He might have saved him if he had acted earlier, if he had been stronger.
Nakamura did not expect me to act
.

Margot knelt and felt Soong's pulse, shaking her head as she looked up at Sam. Suddenly Sam stepped closer to Nakamura and kicked him in the ribs. The general groaned.

Richard took Sam's arm to hold him back. Sam stood still, staring at the gun on the floor, as if all the mysteries of creation were somehow contained in the weapon. He had acted because he had sensed weakness, in himself and in Nakamura; and for once his mind was in complete accord with his deepest feelings. The narrow aims of the general's coup had suddenly clarified Sam's view of recent events. He had struck out on behalf of a future in which survival would not be as precarious as it had been in the past. Macrolife was about to take its first step out of the cradle of sunspace; humankind was about to gain a larger lease on life; yet it might so easily have become impossible, for lack of men with vision and goodwill. Nakamura's objections were mere excuses in his bid for power; Asterome's presence was not absolutely essential, since its facilities were duplicated here and on Mars; Sam realized with a chill that he and Janet might have accepted Nakamura's views, if he had concealed his motives.