Stephen Baxter - Ark

“I did some research in the archive. We’re not the only society to face this kind of challenge-resource-stretched, yet having to deal with miscreant individuals. Medieval England, for instance, and western Europe. They evolved punishments the criminal would have to live with the rest of his or her life-and a visible deterrent to others-yet that wouldn’t stop him working. And so-” She glanced at Masayo. “You can bring him out now.”

Masayo looked highly uncomfortable, Holle thought. He pulled himself over to the door of the cabin behind Kelly, but before he opened it he glanced around, his arms folded, his chest out. “I don’t want any trouble over this. We all need to deal with it calmly, however you’re feeling. OK?”

Venus looked furious. Wilson was cold-eyed, watchful. Zane looked amused.

Masayo opened the cabin door. The interior was dark. “Come on out.” Holding onto the door frame for balance, he extended an arm into the cabin.

Thomas Windrup emerged into the light. He hung onto Masayo’s arm, and wouldn’t look anybody in the eye. His face was still puffy from the beating he’d received when Paul and a few of his illegal buddies had managed to get hold of him. But Holle thought he looked paler, more sick; he had suffered something worse than a beating.

Kelly said, “Show them.”

Clearly shamed, Thomas lifted one leg. The boot dangled, floating free in the air, and the trouser leg twisted, empty.

There were gasps, muttered oaths. Zane Glemp laughed out loud.

“Shit,” Venus said. “You took his foot. ”

Kelly said, “It will make no difference in free fall. Clearly he’ll be impeded under gravity, on the Ark and on Earth II. But the doctor is working on a crutch for him, even an artificial foot. Obviously this won’t make any difference to the work he does for you, Venus-”

Venus turned on Wetherbee. “You did this? You’re a doctor. You mutilated him?”

Holle had never seen Mike Wetherbee more unhappy than right now. “You would say that. Everybody knows Thomas is one of yours. Anyhow it was a direct order. And who would you rather did it? Should I have let Paul Shaughnessy loose with a chain saw?”

“Don’t blame him,” Kelly said, and she drifted down so she came between Venus and Wetherbee. “The decision, the responsibility, were all mine.”

Venus took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d find myself saying this, Kelly. You know I admire you, what you’ve done for us. You’ve held us together through some tough years, especially since we lost contact with Earth. But I can’t accept your judgment over this grotesque mutilation. You maimed a healthy crewman. You compromised the doctor, and Masayo, who you turned into a strong-arm thug.

“Kelly, you hold your position as speaker through consensus. Well, I withdraw from that consensus.”

There was a lethal silence.

Holle was well aware that there had always been heated confrontations behind the scenes as Kelly tried to get decisions made. But this was the first time anybody remotely as senior as Venus had challenged Kelly in public.

Kelly snapped back, “You want the job, Venus?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you need to stand down. And when you’re gone, we’ll deal with the consequences.”

“You’re just pissed because I meddled with your fiefdom. Well, I don’t have to respond to the challenge of a single individual-”

“Venus is right,” Wilson said. He had been sitting on a microgravity T-stool, his legs wrapped around its struts. Now he straightened up so he faced Kelly himself.

Kelly stared. “Wilson? What are you doing?”

“Kelly, you’ve done a great job. But things have been off course for a while. Not keeping to the cleanup rotas-we wouldn’t be in this mess if not for that.” He gestured at Thomas. “And you sure got this wrong. This isn’t a road we can go down. You need to let somebody else take this burden off your shoulders.”

“Like who? You?” But he didn’t back down. Kelly’s face worked, her eyes hard yet red-rimmed, as if she might cry. “You bastard, Wilson. You’re betraying me. Did you set this up? Cook it up between you behind my back?”

Wilson spread his hands. “We’re just two crew members expressing an opinion.”

“Fine. If that’s what you want. I stand down.” She folded her arms and pushed herself back, so she drifted between Masayo and Thomas.

There was another long silence. Nobody moved.

Holle realized that Kelly hadn’t just given up her post as speaker, she’d abandoned chairing this meeting too. As an instinctive backroom worker Holle didn’t like to be personally exposed in this kind of charged atmosphere. But she was always prodded by duty, duty. If nobody else shoveled the shit, she would. Even literally, sometimes.

She pulled herself into the space Kelly had vacated. “We need to move on. Anybody object if I chair the meeting from here on in?”

There was a rumble of assent. Crucially, Kelly, Venus and Wilson all nodded. But Wilson sneered. “That’s typical of you, Groundwater. Why aren’t you up here challenging yourself? Pointless little mouse.”

Holle ignored him. “Let’s wrap this up as quickly as possible. We need a new speaker. Can I have a show of candidates? Raise your hand if you want to put yourself forward.”

Kelly’s arm snapped up.

Venus raised her hand, grave.

And then, slowly, as if reluctantly, as if his arm was being dragged up, Wilson raised his right hand. Kelly shot him a look of sheer loathing.

Holle proceeded cautiously. “OK. Kelly Kenzie, Venus Jenning, Wilson Argent, all declare their interest. But not all the crew is here.” She glanced up at the nearest camera. “Grace, you’re in the cupola?”

Grace Gray was on watch today. Her voice boomed from the PA. “Here, Holle. We see you. Helen says hi.”

Holle grinned. “I wish I was in there with you,” she said ruefully. “Grace, please send a message out through Seba, and over to Halivah. Anybody who wants to declare their candidacy for this post should show themselves now.” She looked up into the nearest camera. “Guys, everybody, let’s be thorough about this. We don’t want any second-guessing. If your neighbor is sleeping wake him up, and don’t let him miss his chance. I’ll allow fifteen minutes for responses. Everybody comfortable with that?” She glanced around again. There were no objections.

It was the longest fifteen minutes in Holle’s life, at least since she’d waited on the pad at Gunnison for a nuclear bomb to go off under her butt. Everybody on Deck Ten stayed where they were, silent as stones.

After the fifteen minutes there were no more candidates, to Holle’s relief.

“OK,” she said. “Then I guess we proceed to the choice itself. How do you want to do this-a show of hands? Grace, if you can keep track of what’s happening in Halivah-”

“No,” said Wilson. He spoke strongly and clearly. “This is too important a decision to screw around with. It’s not like when we left Jupiter, when we didn’t have any serious divisions over policy, any personal splits. Now there’s an argument to be had.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“That we take our time. Say, a week. What’s the rush? In that interval Holle can stand as acting speaker. In that time we will have a chance to debate where we’re going as a crew, as a community. And then we can hold a proper election.”

Neither Venus nor Kelly looked happy, but neither was objecting out loud.

“OK. So at the end of the week, then what? We gather for a vote by acclamation?”

“Hell, no. We have a secret ballot. We can find some way to manage that. I suggest we have two rounds-eliminate third place, have a runoff between the top two-”