David Brin - The Heart of the Comet

Another bad thought. Why were these things all coming to the surface right now?

Because we’ve begun killing each other, here and now? Is that why I’m so depressed?

Or is it because I’m lonely, and no longer young?

Virginia finished dressing and slipped a worn tabard over her suit. She didn’t even have one of her own— had never bothered designing one. This one— depicting a sheaf of wheat above three gold balls— had belonged to Dr. Evans, a Hydroponics man firmly dead for twenty years, now. The suit matron had reregistered it to Virginia and she had decided to live with it.

I wish it weren’t necessary to come up here in person at all, she thought as she began cycling through the lock.

But this business was too important to discuss over any comm line. It wasn’t just fear of being tapped. She wanted to watch Carl’s face when she confronted him.

The outer doors opened and the scene was briefly obscured by a fog of condensing vapor. The snowflakes blew away into space and she looked out across the open icescape.

In a sense it was a bit disappointing. Her linkage with remotes had grown so good that her vision on the surface actually seemed better in surrogate than in person. Skim-walking carefully out onto the grimy crust felt somehow more removed than controlling a mech out here.

There was a fluttering sensation of nakedness, too. After all, she had many mechs, but only one body. And it was out on the surface now, under the unwinking stars.

The landscape was less scarred, out here by Shaft 6, than where her mechs and Jeffers’s factory hands had gouged and rutted the ancient comet. Here the dominant feature was a looming edifice that looked something like a cross between a glass Ferris wheel and a web spun of liquid spider’s silk.

A number of spacers were gathered at its base, gesturing from it to a point in the glittering blackness. She recognized the tabards of Carl Osborn and Andy Carroll, as well as several others— mostly members of the Plateau Three and Survivors’ factions. Virginia mumbled command phrases until she was able to latch on to the frequency they were using. It was child’s play to break their coding.

—… tell you I think the thing is just too damn small! They may have made advances since we left, sure. But even that hot fusion torch can’t have pushed more than twenty tons at that kind of acceleration for so long.—

—Yeah? Well, even if it is just twenty tons, think of all that could include. Faster logic quips for better computers and mechs. Hybrid seeds to improve our hydro. And tritium fuses! Twenty tons of stuff like that could make all the difference.—

They were talking about the Care Package, obviously. As she approached, skirting a cracked area in the ice, she heard Carl’s voice cut in.

—You’re hoping the Christmas gifts will change the Arcists’ mind Andy?—

—Or give us something to use to wipe ’em out. I don’t really care which. Anything that’ll shake them out of the south pole so we could go back to the Jupiter maneuver and save the original mission. Th’ Mars fling’s all right, as a second choice. But Captain Cruz would’ve wanted us to…—

The words stopped as Andy Carroll noticed that Carl had turned to greet Virginia.

—Osborn, open channel to Herbert. Hello, Virginia.—

His stained spacesuit was a mixture of cannibalized parts. Over it was draped a dingy white cloth emblazoned with a picture of a red crustacean. His visor cleared and she saw his face. Gray at his temples and lines on his brow had not robbed Carl of his strong-jawed, boyish charm.

—It was good of you to come up, Virginia. There is something special we’d like to ask you to do for us.—

She nodded, then remembered that she was facing the distant sun. Although it was not much more than a very bright star now, her visor might still have automatically dimmed and hidden the gesture.

“I’ll help any way I can,” she began. “But…”

—That’s great. ’Cause we’re getting concerned about the first Care Package from Earth. Don’t want anything to go wrong when it arrives.—

“What could go wrong?”

—How — bout it fallin’ into the wrong hands?—Carroll suggested.

Carl shrugged.

—Quiverian denies responsibility for that attack down at the equator. Says they were renegades, acting without sanction. Still, I see your point. I don’t think we want the Care Package coming down at the south pole by mistake. It may be better to have a mech go out and escort the cargo vessel in.—

Virginia understood. It wouldn’t do to have the rescue package hijacked. Then the Arcists would have a total lock. They’d be in complete control.

“Fine. I’ll start working with Jeffers on the details,” she said. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, though.”

—Sure. What is it?—When she shook her head and remained silent, he turned to the others.

—Be right back. guys. See if you can tune this antenna better, will you? I want a good fix on that thing as it gets nearer.—

—Right, Carl.—

He led her over behind a great pile of mine tailings. Making sure she could see him do it, he reached up and switched off his transmitter. Nodding, she did the same. He bent over to touch helmets.

“What’s bothering you, Virginia? You seem so… subdued. Is it Saul? I’d heard—”

“No,” she cut in hurriedly. His face was so close. The double layer of separating crystal seemed to pass a warm breath. “No, that’s not it, Carl.”

At least it’s not the reason why I came up here.

“But there is something the matter, between you two,” he insisted.

She nodded, a quick, short jerk. “Nothing, really. Just, well, one of those things. Time.”

“Time changes all of us, Virginia. I never did apologize to both of you for the way I behaved, so many years ago. I was an idiot.” There was an earnestness in his eyes.

“You were young, Carl. We were all younger.”

Except for Saul. With the perfect immune system, won’t he live forever? Is that, maybe, a source of friction between us?

Carl looked down for a moment, then met her eyes. “That doesn’t mean my basic feelings have altered, Virginia. If you’re ready for a change…” Carl let his sentence hang, and Virginia suddenly could see something deeper than earnestness, deeper even than the sternness of command. Her gloved hand came up, touched glass.

“Oh, Carl. You’ve hurt so much.”

He shrugged, caught between conflicting feelings.” You came up to see me because—” There was hope in his voice.

Virginia shook her head, blinking aside the weakness that threatened her determination. “Carl…” She swallowed. “Carl, I want to know why you are planning to kill us all.”

“Uh.” He stared. “How… What do you mean?”

Her hand dropped. “Oh, you were always a lousy liar, Carl. At least to me you were. The others seem to have swallowed your Judas goat act, thinking Earth really plans a rescue, all that crap about a tight flick past Mars, then on to Jupiter and Venus, then back to Mars and quarantine…”

“What are you.”

“Come to think of it, though, Jeffers and his bunch would back you even if they knew the truth, wouldn’t they?”

Carl broke contact, stepping back before she had even finished. His lips were drawn tight. When he spoke, the movements of his mouth seemed to convey a pungent if silent, bitterness. Virginia gestured at her ears. With an impatient shake of his head he brought their helmets back together jarringly.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

At least Carl did not insult her intelligence with further pretense. He knew she would have run simulations a dozen different ways before ever accusing him like this.