David Brin - The Heart of the Comet

Cruz turned back as Dr. Bethany Oakes said something to him. His laughter was deep and rich as he shared his second-in-command’s joke.

Saul did not know Oakes as well, but what he had seen of the strong-jawed, brown-haired woman had impressed him. As well as assisting the captain in administering the vast, complex project, Oakes was also head of the Science Division.

Near the leaders stood the section heads—all except Matsudo, who presumably was still treating his patient. Nick Malenkov or Dr. Marguerite van Zoon could have handled the minor emergency just as easily. Even Saul, rusty as his clinical skills were, could certainly have managed a simple splint.

But rank hath its privileges. Akio had been bored, lately. Accidents that weren’t instantly fatal had been rare. With this infernally healthy crew, there wasn’t much for a physician to do except oversee the sleep slots, and occasionally release challenge parasites to keep everyone’s immune systems up to par.

Physician, heal thyself, Saul thought. He had made up a special batch of dexbrompheniramine maleate, a long-obsolete antihistamine but one easy to synthesize, so that he wouldn’t have to prescribe for himself out of the expedition pharmacy and leave an inventory record.

He knew he was being a tad unethical, hiding this from Matsudo. But Saul had no intention of being sleep slotted over yet another blasted head cold. Not at one of the most exciting moments in the history of science.

More than a hundred people gathered on the shallowly curved floor of the chamber. Except for a score or so on watch duty elsewhere, all of Edmund’s crew were present—along with about thirty temporarily awakened slot sleepers, identifiable by their pale complexions and still slightly jerky movements.

A few people sat down out of habit, but most simply rested on their toes, knees bent and arms hanging before them in the almost fetal spacer’s crouch.

Captain Cruz and Dr. Oakes stepped up onto a platform set on the girders of the gutted slot tug. Cruz raised his hands and the low murmuring of conversation died away.

“Well!” The tall astronaut rubbed his hands together. “Anyone for a snowcone?”

The assembled spacers and scientists chuckled. In spite of all the diverse cultures and beliefs represented here, it was clear that nearly everyone liked and admired their commander.

Cruz warmed them up a little more.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming all these millions of miles to attend this meeting. I’ve called you up here from Earth to tell you that, alas, the mission has been canceled. We’re all to pack up and head for home tonight.”

That got them. The hall erupted in laughter and applause. Saul grinned and clapped as well. Cruz was a genius at the subtle art of morale—of drawing the best out of a group.

Of course, there was no way any of them were returning to Earth…not before the appointed seventy-odd years had passed. They were riding Halley out of the planetary system at thirty kilometers per second right now, swooping up and out of the sun’s deep gravity well. That streaking velocity had to ebb and die—and the great comet begin to fall again—before anyone here was, going home.

Caught up in his thoughts, Saul missed the next jest. But the reaction was the same. Laughing together, they seemed a happy crew. Cruz was being deliberately folksy, loosening the crowd while at the same time maintaining his aura of complete, relaxed control.

And yet even now Saul could see the divisions. The really experienced spacers, for instance, were mostly gathered over to the left. The scientific specialists in Oakes’s division tended toward the front. Behind them were spread out technicians and engineers from more than two dozen nations.

There were many small clusterings according to geography or native tongue. And nearly everywhere was the subtle but clear separation between the “Ortho” majority and the tall. handsome young Percells.

Of course there was some mixing, especially among the professional spacers. Saul saw Carl Osborn lean over and whisper something to the Ortho girl, Lani Nguyen. She laughed in a single high chirp and hurriedly covered her mouth, blushing. Lani looked up at Carl with shining eyes, but Carl had turned away again, his attention once more on his captain.

“Why have we come here?” Cruz asked, his fists on his hips, legs apart. Now that he had warmed them, he was gliding into a higher tone. “There are many reasons given. Philosophers speak of pure scientific research, of the great questions of the origin of the solar system which might be solved by understanding the most primordial matter in space.

“Others believe we are at Halley’s Comet because it is there!… Or rather, here.” He grinned. “And why not just go because it is fascinating to do so? This flying iceberg has been swooping down on us Earthlings for thousands of years, enthralling so many of our ancestors…” Cruz lifted an eyebrow, “and scaring the shit out of quite a few of them.”

Again, the delighted hilarity. Saul watched the Hawaiian contingent, eight men and women out of thirty sent by their vigorous, future-hungry land. They had put on bright, floral shirts over their long johns. Evenly split between Percell and Ortho, the group was a flamboyant mixture of types and colors. As they joined in the laughter, one head turned. Virginia Kaninamanu Herbert lifted her eyes and looked back his way. She saw Saul and smiled brilliantly. Saul winked back at her.

“… Search for new chemical compounds, or perhaps to be used in the terraforming of worlds, bringing life to our sister planets which were less bounteously endowed than our beloved Earth.

“Maybe some of you volunteered for all that promised duty pay—mostly for seventy-five years’ sleeping on the job.”

Cheers, this time. Whistling approval.

Cruz spread his hands.

“But there are two special reasons why we have come here, so far from home, on a mission that will separate most of us permanently from all family and acquaintances.

“First, and I’ll be frank with you, many on Earth are looking to this mission—with its many members of genetically altered extraction—as a test of humanity’s ability to rise above superstitions and prejudice. For a hundred years, people of good will have been fighting to wean our species of the most deep-seated tribal reaction for all—that fear of otherness that has caused such hatred and horror since time immemorial…”

Since time immemorial… Saul closed his eyes, remembering Jerusalem.

“…Will achieve a great thing if we prove to those on Earth that so-called Orthos and so-called Percells, living and working together on a long and dangerous mission, can rely on each other simply as fellow human beings, and bring home great discoveries to benefit all mankind.

“The same goes for the many national and ethnic groups represented here. We are emissaries from the twenty-first century into the future. For seventy and more years, people back home will know we are up here, cooperating for the greater good.”

Cruz let the words settle over them. Saul saw that many of those present were looking at their feet, suddenly uncomfortable, as if they were not sure they were worthy of this trust.

“And of course there is also the fun stuff.” Cruz grinned and rubbed his hands together. “We came out here to test a lot of technological toys! Collecting comets into accessible orbits may forever unlock the door to space. The new toehold on prosperity mankind has regained, after the Hell Century, will be secure for all time.

“And if we demonstrate dramatically that sleep slots work well for over seventy years—as all the data indicates they will—we’ll have established that humanity need not be locked into the solar system. The stars, the very stars themselves, will be ours.”