The Sails of Tau Ceti (29 page)

Though the system council’s publicists had recently taken to referring to it as “The Parliament of Humanity,” its roots were far more humble. The council had originally been established by the newly independent space colonies to present Earth with a united front on matters of mutual interest. The first terrestrial nation to join had been France in 2120. The French had petitioned for membership to argue in favor of a voluntary limit on the export of vacuum distilled spirits to Earth.

The unofficial bar to terrestrial nations broken, several others had petitioned over the next few decades. They had been admitted as observers, and later, as full-fledged voting members. It had not been long after that the council headquarters had been moved to New York from Luna City.

It had been twelve weeks since the Phelan petition for a colony site had been formally presented to the council. As Tory, Faslorn and Maratel arrived for their usual Wednesday session, Tory wondered if today’s meeting would be different from the previous eleven. If their informants were right, they would be offered the Australian site.

The three of them made their way toward the public lifts. Despite the presence of a sound-deadening field, Tory’s footsteps echoed hollowly in the vast open space, while the Phelan knuckle walk was silent. Rising above them was a tall atrium roofed over by translucent panels. Surrounding the atrium was a dizzying collection of office balconies from which several heads watched the two aliens.

“Tory, may I speak with you a second?”

The call to her implant startled her for a moment, almost making her lose stride. Not only had such direct messages been few since she had taken up service with the Phelan, the source was unexpected. The voice that echoed in her brain was that of Ben Tallen.

“Where are you?”
she asked to cover up her surprise.

“Look to your left.”

She did so and discovered Tallen standing next to an island of potted plants that broke up the glimmering expanse of marble floor. He waved to her.

“What is it?” Faslorn asked.

“Ben Tallen. He wants to speak to me.”

Faslorn consulted the human watch he wore on us upper left wrist, and said, “Make it quick. We’re due in the committee room in five minutes.”

Tory strode to where Tallen was standing. The two Phelan watched her go. She had long since gotten used to their silent gazes that followed her everywhere. Despite the terrible secret that bound her to them, Tory knew they worried about her loyalty. She could not blame them. She often worried about it herself.

“What do you want, Ben?”

He smiled. “First, I want to apologize for the way I acted aboard Elysium Station. I was a fool for blowing up the way I did, and an even bigger one for trying to get you to go against your employers.”

“It’s been almost two years. Why apologize now?”

He shrugged. “I guess it’s taken me this long to realize what a jackass I was. You have your reasons for going over to the Phelan and I should have respected them.”

“I didn’t ‘go over’ to them, Ben” she replied with a hint of frost in her voice. “I’m aiding them because they need my help, and because I think it benefits both of our species.”

He held up his hands as though to ward off her attack. “Peace! I never meant to imply anything else. Like I said, I should never have yelled at you the way I did.”

“Then why did you?”

“I suppose I was hurt. I had plans for us, and they didn’t include yonder beasties.”

“So what do you want?”

“How about having dinner with me this evening?”

“Why?”

“I’d hoped you might want to. If you need another reason, I have something to discuss that your bosses might like to hear.”

“What is it?”

“Unh, unh. I’ll only tell you over dinner.”

She chewed her lower lip and weighed the possibility that this was a ruse to get her drunk and take her to bed. In truth, she would not mind all that much. She had been celibate since that night she and Garth had said goodbye aboard
Austria
. She missed having a warm body to cuddle with. She was also tired of being on duty every second of every day. She wanted to let her hair down, if only for a while.

“Very well, I’ll go out with you.”

“Excellent. Where should I pick you up?”

“It isn’t necessary. I can meet you.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it. Shall we say the penthouse, about twenty-hundred?”

“Twenty-hundred is fine.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He turned and walked toward a side entrance leading down to the tube station. Tory hurried back to where Faslorn and Maratel waited.

“What was that about?” Faslorn asked.

She recounted the conversation, finishing with, “As to what he really wanted, I guess I’ll find out this evening.”

#

Ben arrived precisely on time. He was wearing a formal dinner outfit consisting of cerise coat, shorts, and calf-length boots. For her part, Tory was outfitted in a conservative sleeveless jumpsuit.

“I forgot to ask you what sort of dinner it was to be,” she said. “Shall I change into something more formal?”

“No need,” he replied with a smile as he presented her with a small bouquet of flowers. “You look beautiful just the way you are.”

She made a show of smelling the flowers. “Thank you, Ben, but you really shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? As I remember, you always liked flowers.”

“I still do, but they aren’t really appropriate at a business dinner.”

He grinned at her. “Then we’ll just have to talk about something else, won’t we? Ready to go?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

“I know a little Italian restaurant out on the island.”

“Sounds wonderful. I haven’t had Italian food since I left Mars.”

Half an hour later, they were wending their way along a country road. The only sign of civilization was the distant row of lights that marked the residence towers that stood three deep along the Long Island shore.

The restaurant was housed in a small building that had once been a private home. Ground cars were parked haphazardly in front, forcing Ben to park on the narrow street. Ben folded her arm in his and guided her to the entrance under a small sign that read, “Emilio’s.” He halted on the front step and suggested that she run her hand across the building’s facade. She did so, and then peered closely at the ancient surface.

“Is that real wood?”

“The same.”

Mentally, she let out a low whistle. Trees were precious in the domed cities of Mars and the idea of cutting one down for building materials was close to sacrilegious. Yet, here before her was proof of the outlandish notion that people had indeed once felled trees to build homes.

The maitre’ d was an ebullient man with a waxed mustache and a belly that hung over his belt. Their table was covered with a white-and-red checked tablecloth and had the required candle atop a wine bottle. They were handed a wine list, from which Ben ordered Chianti. She noticed as she looked it over that there were no prices on the list.

“Nor the menu,” he replied to her question. “You know the old saying. ‘If you have to ask…”

“You can’t afford it,” she finished. “Can you afford a place like this?”

He grinned. “I’m not quite as impoverished as when we met.”

“Neither of us is.”

He reached out across the table and laid a hand atop hers. “Do you miss those days?”

“More than is good for me sometimes. The universe was such a simple place then. All we really had to worry about was finals week.”

“And getting our research papers done.”

She laughed. Early in their relationship, they had often been in bed before 22:00, but had seldom gotten to sleep until well after midnight. She had accused him of trying to keep her from completing her senior thesis. It had become a private joke between them.

“I miss you, Tory,” he said as he squeezed both her hands. “It’s a damned shame we have to be on opposite sides of this Phelan thing.”

“As I tell everyone who will listen, Ben, we aren’t on opposite sides. We are on the same side. You haven’t seen
Far Horizons
.”

“I’ve seen the pictures of it.”

“Not the same at all. You have to stand at the base of the end cap and stare out across the habitat volume toward Spiral Falls before you can get an idea of the size of the thing. It would be a damned shame for them to come so far and fail. They deserve better than that.”

He grinned. “You never could resist taking in strays, could you?”

She felt a moment of irritation at his comment, and then wondered if he were not right … just a little. After all, she had been in the Phelan camp even before they had revealed the horrible truth to her. That was the main reason they had approached her. How much of that sympathy remained? She probed gently at her conscience and concluded that she could not answer the question. This proves that old adage, she thought, about people’s motives being mysterious, even to themselves. After a long silence, she asked, “What would you have us do? Turn them away?”

He shrugged. “That’s up to the council. I certainly didn’t ask them to come here.”

“Neither did they. People forget that the Phelan who launched
Far Horizons
are long dead. Faslorn and the others had no say in the matter. Now that they are here, they have no choice but to stop. There are no other stars within reach.”

“We on the advisory committee are well aware of the situation.”

“If you know that, then why all this foot dragging? Why not pass the resolution welcoming them and cease these endless Wednesday interrogations?”

“You know how the bureaucracy works. We have to at least pretend we are earning our pay. Besides, who is foot dragging? Didn’t we offer them a site at today’s meeting?”

“I thought that was supposed to be secret,” she said. At the meeting, Science Minister de Pasqual had emphasized that there was to be no public announcement until the council cleared it. He was clearly concerned about upsetting Australian sensibilities.

“You forget who I work for. My boss had to sign off on the selection. One thing bothers me, though.”

“What’s that?”

“The three sites your bosses asked for. Why did they choose such God-forsaken places to settle?”

“I don’t understand the question,” Tory replied. In truth, she understood it all too well. The Phelan had asked for the three sites because they were surrounded by vast tracts of sparsely populated land that would be needed by the Third Fleet. She could not very well tell Ben that, of course.

“What do they find so attractive about the hinterlands?” he asked.

She forced a laugh and hoped it would not sound too phony. “Actually, Antarctica and the Sahara were my ideas.”

“I thought you liked the Phelan.”

“I figured that the assimilation would go better if they were isolated from the major centers of population. Not all the Phelan are like Faslorn and the others, you know. On average, they’re about as diplomatic as the ordinary human.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Perhaps I exaggerate just a bit. Still, it would be better if the two populations do not mix until the Phelan get used to us. Then there is the need for land to grow crops on. You have no idea how difficult it will be for them to compete with the Earth’s natural biosphere.”

“Just so they don’t release any plagues or anything.”

“Impossible,” she replied.

“That’s what the biologists tell me. I hope they’re right.”

Tory emptied her glass. Ben refilled it for her. He studied her for a long moment, and then cleared his throat. “Have your people given any thought when we should hold the vote?”

“Is that why you invited me to dinner this evening?”

“My boss thought we could discuss a few dates in private and see if we could come up with one that is mutually agreeable.”

“How about scheduling the vote for next week?”

He shook his head. “Too soon. The population has to be psychologically prepared for it, otherwise the anti-Phelan factions will monopolize the agenda and the news.”

“You have a better idea?”

“We thought two weeks after the starship’s close encounter with Sol.”

“Why so late?”

“Easy. You people are planning an extravaganza when the light sail dips down into the corona, aren’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

“The council’s intelligence agents would be a sorry bunch of spies if they didn’t. How about briefing me on your plans?”

Tory quickly sketched the embassy’s arrangements to publicize the starship’s brush with Sol. The event was sufficiently newsworthy that the major news organs would cover it. They would be drawn by the drama of the encounter and the very real possibility that
Far Horizons
might not survive its plunge into the thick soup that surrounds Sol. The embassy’s contribution was to make available sympathetic experts who would emphasize the aliens’ courage. Besides straight news reports, the Phelan planned a live telecast of the several-hours-long encounter. The program would be loaded with pro-Phelan propaganda and every trick of the advertisers’ art.

When Tory finished, Tallen nodded. “As soon as the starship rounds the sun, we will officially schedule the vote. If your embassy has done its job, the vote will be overwhelming in favor.”

“Besides if
Far Horizons
doesn’t make it, the council will be off the hook,” Tory observed.

“There is that factor to consider, of course. Let us be optimistic. Assuming the resolution passes, when does Faslorn propose to turn the Phelan library over to us?”

“First disclosure will coincide with the first shipload to land on the colony site. We’ll make further disclosures as the colony is constructed, and the final one at the end of the tenth successful year.”

“Agreed,” Ben said. “It will take us a good decade to absorb the new technology anyway. The first councilor has asked for a demonstration of good faith by the Phelan.”

“What sort of demonstration?”

“Nothing major. Perhaps a few medical tricks we can display to the populace. You will make points with Hoffenzoller if the Phelan can do something about his stomach pains. It seems that he has ulcers in an age when ulcers have been eradicated…”