Thorley called it mass hysteria. But he had not tasted the ashes, or seen Hopie like this. Hope was indeed with her. “My brother, my love,” Spirit repeated, understanding how all of the fifteen would join.
Even Megan. How could they leave the Tyrant?
The colony ship was actually a bubble, a small city of about fifty thousand, with all the amenities. Its light was internally generated from contra-terrene iron. They would have to mine to get more iron, which meant capturing planetoids at first. Touching the surface of Nemesis would be extremely difficult even with gravity shielding, for it was a small dead star. Instead they would orbit it, and try to draw from its relatively small heat for their purposes. Then they would see about establishing a robot base on it. It was generally agreed that if they could establish a viable colony by Nemesis, they could do it anywhere.
There was a formal ceremony of departure from the Saturn Rings. Then the bubble moved slowly to the giant transmission tube, where it was stabilized and oriented. Though the light craft were self-receiving, that did not mean that it was done by the personnel aboard them; it was set at the time of transmission. It was precisely calibrated to solidify them near Nemesis, at orbital velocity. They would have to build a new transmission tube at the other end, before any return could be made, and that one would be much smaller. The main bubble would never return.
The moment came. Their nuclear family, Thorley, Spirit, Hopie, Amber, and Robertico held hands. The other women were aboard, forming similar groups. They all knew that this could be instant oblivion, if anything went wrong, so there was some nervousness. There was sand in space that could interfere with the light-phase transmission by fuzzing essential parts. But Spirit could not think of a better way to end, if that was what it was to be.
Hopie looked at her. “It is not the end,” she said in Hope's voice.
Thorley was startled. “For a moment I thought the Tyrant was speaking.”
“He was, dear,” Spirit said, privately pleased by his surprise.
“Numinously,” Amber agreed.
Then came the announcement: “Transmission completed.” They were there, almost five light months distant, and it had seemed like an instant.
“We made it!” Hopie exclaimed, and hugged Spirit, and then the others.
“We have, as you so quaintly put it, made it,” Thorley agreed. “Now comes the real challenge: establishing a viable colony.”
They gazed at the monitor. There was the great somber sphere of Nemesis, the so-called dark star.
Actually it was a brown dwarf, a burned-out remnant too small to implode into a neutron star, but far more massive than any other planet. They were establishing their orbit around it.
There were four additional city-sized bubblene bubbles, empty shells. Each consisted of two halves suitable when paired for independent space bubbles, or individually as planetary domes. Two had to be halved, landed, secured, sealed, gravity-shielded, and filled in several respects: pressurized with breathable air, set up with buildings and parks, and staffed with living people. The other two would be sealed, pressurized, illuminated, and established in separate orbits, to be used as farms.
As it turned out, in the course of careful investigation, Nemesis was smaller and less dense than believed.
It would after all be possible to plant domes directly on its surface, and set up direct mining operations.
That was a huge break for the project.
For the Nemesis Colony was to be the main launching pad for the effort of galactic colonization. The original bubble would remain in orbit, spinning to generate effective internal gravity. The four halves would be set on the surface of Nemesis and shielded to reduce the effective gravity to about a hundredth of the planetary surface, so that human beings could live there. These would be the mining and construction centers, drawing on the huge mineral resources of the planet.
The work started immediately. All of the “Fifteen Women” were by definition supervisors, there to direct and encourage the workers. The mere presence of any of them served to enhance morale, and they had to maintain the special personal quality required. They were representatives of the Tyrant, partaking of his magic.
Though the fifteen--and Thorley and Hopie--were scattered during the artificial days, they came together often, sharing their spot experiences and simply appreciating each other's company. “Do you know,”
Megan said to Spirit, “I had supposed my life was over, when Hope died, but you were correct: there remains much to live for. This is a worthwhile enterprise.”
“Yes, it is the implementation of Chairman Khukov's, and Hope's dream also. Yet I am sorry in a way to be stealing your daughter.”
“Our daughter. She remains much with us. I always valued your association too, Spirit.” Megan paused thoughtfully. “Do you know, Robertico is no blood relation, yet he reminds me increasingly of Hope at a young age. I did not know Hope then, of course, but there are mannerisms.”
“Hopie and Amber virtually raised him,” Spirit said. “He had close contact with Hope throughout his early years.”
“Of course. But I did come to know Hope well, and there is a remarkable affinity apart from familiarity. I do not mean in training; Robertico is a fine engineer, while Hope was more of a military man. But there are other alignments.”
“Now that you mention it,” Spirit said, "Helse Two seems remarkably close to Helse One as I knew her.
Of course she is distantly related. Still--"
“I am told she resembles me as I appeared at that age, eighteen,” Megan said. “Physically.”
“I think she does. You were beautiful.” Then Spirit caught herself. “I do not mean that you are not now--”
Megan smiled tolerantly. “I believe the soul of Hope really has touched us all.”
Spirit could only agree.
The work continued. They landed the first half-shell on Nemesis, then the second, and sealed them.
Special robot crews went down to begin the work of pressurization and to establish the gee-shields. One of the empty bubbles was also sealed and pressurized, and a living crew entered to set up the lights and hydroponics. Things were proceeding well enough.
Then Robertico and Helse Two came to Spirit, obviously distressed. “We have been working together,”
he said. “We think we should be reassigned.”
“Reassigned? That can readily be done. You don't have to work together if you don't want to.”
Helse actually scuffled her feet. She was a lovely young woman, but what had seemed so mature when Spirit was twelve now seemed very young. “That's not really it.”
“Oh, you mean you would prefer some other placement--both of you.”
“Not exactly,” Robertico said.
“I'm not sure I understand your problem.”
“We are two--two aspects of Hope's women,” he said. “We honor that role. Yet--”
“And you have played it well,” Spirit said. “Megan and I were remarking on the manner the two of you remind us of Hope and Helse One when they knew each other.”
“That's the problem,” Helse said. “We are not real. Not really related, I mean. We're emulations. We have roles we must not violate.” She looked miserable.
Suddenly Spirit caught on. “You're attracted to each other!”
Both bowed their heads, ashamed.
Spirit considered. They were trying to be true to the roles they were playing, but interpersonal attraction was getting in the way. Was that wrong? Her own experience with Thorley suggested that it wasn't. “Give me a day to consult with the others.”
“We thought you should know,” Robertico said.
“Before anything happened,” Helse added.
“Cool it for one day. We'll have a decision.”
But they didn't leave yet. “Could we--before that decision--” Robertico said.
“Could we at least kiss?” Helse asked.
“In the circumstance, I think it best that you not kiss.”
They didn't argue. They departed gloomily.
Spirit got on it. “Thorley, you're relatively objective. Robertico and Helse Two want to step out of their roles. They're attracted to each other. Will you and Hopie arrange a meeting of the Fifteen?” That meant that it would be by his authority, and Hopie would locate and tell each woman what was up.
“This is a problem?”
“It is to them.”
“Would it not be simpler merely to inform them that their concern is groundless?”
“I think they need parental blessing, as it were.”
“Then I will chair the meeting, and perhaps make a preliminary statement.”
Spirit called King and Wan. “We have a problem of identity,” she said. “Robertico and Helse Two represent two of my brother's women, but have feelings for each other.”
“The Tyrant died, that we might live,” King said. “We value his feelings in death as in life.”
“He has possessed Robertico,” Wan said. “Of course he loves Helse.”
“But the roles--”
“We too have roles,” King said. “But we understand young love. There is no necessary conflict.” He smiled at Wan. Their own young love had ended a major conflict.
“Let Hope and Helse love again,” Wan said.
Spirit was gratified. If the leaders of the Nemesis Project did not object, who else would? “Thank you.”
The assembly occurred later that day. They gathered in a private meeting room. Robertico and Helse were present, sitting apart from each other. “We have learned that two of your number have feelings for each other that do not fit their roles,” Thorley said. “I propose to put the matter to a vote of the thirteen others, as this may be a precedent. Do you wish to continue the roles you played at the Tyrant's funeral, or to abate them in favor of individual lives?” He looked around, then fixed on Megan.
“Public roles are not necessarily identical to private roles,” Megan said. She looked at Reba Ward.
“It has been two years since the Tyrant's death,” Reba said. “There is little further need for roles.”
“Roles can change,” Forta said.
“Who can deny young love?” Juana asked.
“May I speak?” Hopie asked.
The others exchanged glances. “Speak,” Shelia said from her wheelchair.
Hopie looked at Spirit. “You knew Hope and Helse One. Is this like that?”
Spirit thought about that long-ago association. It was hidden at first, because Helse had to pretend to be a boy, but it would not be denied. Robertico and Helse Two did seem similar in essence. “Yes.”
There was silence.
“I now call the vote,” Thorley said. “All in favor of new roles kindly so signify.”
Megan lifted her hand. Roulette and Emerald raised theirs. Juana and Spirit nodded. Then the others followed suit.
“The motion is carried thirteen to nothing,” Thorley announced. He looked at Robertico and Helse Two.
“Now you may kiss.”
They stared at him. “You mean it's all right?” Robertico asked, amazed.
“Indubitably. Your new roles are to emulate the kind of young love the originals found. They were in a small bubble, seeking salvation at a new planet. You are in a big bubble, seeking salvation at a new system. This time we trust there will be no pirates. I am sure the spirit of Hope Hubris wishes you well.”
“He does,” Hopie said with Hope's voice.
“Can I be a bridesmaid?” Amber asked. The others laughed; she was already seeing the two as marrying.
But surely they would.
“And I'll be Maid of Honor,” Hopie said. “Remember, we're your sisters, Robertico.” She looked at Helse Two. “And you will be our sister in law. Part of the family.”
The girl's eyes were shining. “I will be Helse Hubris.”
Spirit tried to maintain her composure, but her tears were already flowing. It was so right.
Thorley made a grand gesture. “Let the new order commence. Love and be loved, openly, and accomplish great things.”
Robertico and Helse Two approached each other. They embraced and kissed, tenderly. The new order commenced.
The life story of Spirit Hubris, the Iron Maiden, is not yet ended, but I chose to end the biography here for several reasons. For one thing, there has been too much of death already; I prefer to leave this narrative upbeat, to the extent possible. It seems fitting that it conclude with the re-enactment of the romance of Hope and Helse, with the prospect of a far more positive continuation this time. This is indeed the way my father Hope would have wanted it--in fact, does want it. He lost the first great love of his life, but can recover it in this manner. Robertico and Helse Two will see the Dreams of the original Beautiful Dreamer Lieutenant Repro, and Khukov, and Hope himself, to their fair completion. They will bring their children into those Dreams as citizens of the galaxy.
But there is a rather more practical reason, too. That is that the death of Spirit Hubris can not be known at this time. For she, along with the rest of us, will be going on the next mission: from Nemesis to the galaxy. That is, to an unnamed, numbered star approximately fifty light years distant that has a family of planets. The light transmission technology has been proven, and the colonization of galactic space is commencing. We mean to be part of that--the Fifteen, and their associates, and the personnel of the Nemesis project. We have labored in darkness for two years, and now are ready for the sight of our own colony star. The folk of Nemesis have worked together, and believe in their competence to do it again, this time for real, as it were. So the bases on Nemesis will remain, and the orbiting farm bubbles, buttressed by further bubbles from Sol, but the origin city-bubble will restock and ship out. That's the problem.
Think of the time element: to us, the transmission will seem instant, but it will be fifty years. A return message will take another fifty years. It will be a full century before news of our colony reaches the Solar System. So if the system is to have Spirit's biography, it can not be complete. It must end with her departure from the System. It may be that our beam will pass through a meteor shower in deep space and be disrupted, so that we never materialize at our star. Or we may be completely successful. But no one remaining at the Solar System will know, either way. Only their descendants. Spirit's life to this point is all that can be made available.
Meanwhile we have indeed been becoming a family, Thorley, Spirit, and I, together with Robertico and Amber when they wish to participate. We do family things together, and discuss things other than politics, getting more comfortable with each other. It is quietly pleasant, between the chronic emergencies of the colony construction work. I think Spirit appreciates it too, though she has difficulty unbending enough to say so. The iron fades slowly from the maiden.
And so we prepare to go, together as a family and as a wider family of the rest of the Fifteen. This volume will be the final one to be done by this editor, at least for this System. There remains one question that perhaps should be addressed. I am the daughter of the Tyrant, by whatever convention, and related to him by blood. At times I seem to have close rapport with him, such as when I completed his final volume. I sometimes shared his visions when he was alive. Taken as a whole, he was considered at times to be mad. Now he visits me on occasion; I feel his presence, and speak with his voice. Thorley considers it to be hysteria, but he does not know the range and depth of what I experience. Have I inherited Hope's madness?
I rather think I have. That pleases me.