What a fool he felt! He had meant to use his unsuccessful surveys to lobby for just such an expedition, one that would follow in reverse their ancestors’ migration route from Earth and yes. Yes, an expedition to the Hallowed Vasties would require an immense stretch of time. Centuries.
Given the distance and the risks it was unlikely anyone who signed on would ever return, but what did it matter? Those who wanted to go need not send their core selves. They could create avatars for the purpose. A version of themselves to stay, and one to go. The knowledge they gathered might be sent back to Deception Well in a series of robotic messenger ships propelled by the zero-point reef.
A grand project, truly. An inspirational project. A project Riffan had hoped to ignite and to take part in.
Others had lobbied for such a project in the past. The resources were within reach and there had never been a shortage of volunteers. But each time the idea had been proposed, the security council had withheld approval. Deception Well’s founding generation remembered too well the perils and fraught choices of the past. They feared such an expedition would draw the attention of the Chenzeme, and that the trajectory of such a starship would be mapped back to the Well.
Riffan had been resolved to try the idea again, he’d invested years in preparation, but now here was Urban, embarked on the voyage Riffan had dreamed of undertaking, asking no one’s permission. Seeking an answer to the unanswerable question.
Riffan’s frustration was so acute it was all he could do not to pound his fist against the soft, fleshy structure of his console.
“I want to go with you,” he blurted out before he quite knew what he was saying. But then, disoriented by his own boldness, he looked away—and discovered Pasha adrift beside him. The upwelling light of the console highlighted the fierce set of her brow, an expression suggesting he was not the only one with secret dreams. “And you?” he whispered.
She nodded.
But did it make sense when there was a chance of a well-planned, fully staffed expedition, launched under the authority of the security council, in a starship of human design?
Yes. It took only a moment of reflection to know he had to try for this. This was real and imminent, while there had only ever been the slightest chance that he could sway the council.
Resolved now, he turned again to the screen to find Clemantine regarding him with curious interest—but he saw only skepticism in Urban’s gaze.
Convince him, you fool, he thought. If you want this, it’s now or never.
He drew a deep breath. “I want to go with you,” he repeated, this time in a calm, determined tone. “I want to be part of it. I’ve wanted this all my life. And I think Pasha wants this too.”
“Yes,” she said, leaning into the screen. “I want to go. I would not miss an opportunity like this. Not for anything. And I know there are others who would seize this chance too, if you offered it to them, to us. If you’re willing to host an expedition like the great ships of old.”
Urban traded an uneasy look with Clemantine. Riffan imagined a silent conversation bouncing back and forth between their atriums. Then Clemantine brought that conversation out into the open. Speaking aloud, she said to Urban, “It’s true an expanded ship’s company will complicate things. You’ll need to consider the welfare and goals of others. But with the right people, you’ll gain by their knowledge, their experience, their viewpoints. And a thousand years from now, when you’re tired of me and yet you’ve found nothing human in all the Hallowed Vasties, you’re going to be grateful to have others to talk to.”
Urban scowled resentfully. “It’s you who wants it.” Words spoken like an accusation. If Clemantine made an answer, it wasn’t out loud, but after a few seconds, Urban turned to the screen. “You understand that if you come, you’ll only be sending a ghost.” He gestured at Riffan and Pasha. “These versions of you will stay here.”
“Of course,” Riffan answered.
Urban went on, “You also need to understand that the ghost you send, that version of you, won’t be coming back. Your timeline will split into two and you will never know what happens to that other version of yourself. Even if you do somehow make it back to Deception Well, millennia will have passed. Nothing will be the same.”
“I understand all that,” Riffan said, feeling hollow with fear but excited too. “And I’m still eager to do it.” Eager to go, but also to stay. Two versions of him, soon to be bound to separate fates. No doubt each would be jealous of the other.
Pasha nodded her affirmation. “Yes, I understand all the implications too.”
Urban turned again to Clemantine. She gave him an encouraging nod, but he still did not look convinced. He said, “No one needs to decide yet. No one goes until Clemantine’s ghost reports back. So you’ll have hours to reconsider.”
Riffan suspected it was Urban who needed time to consider the wisdom of this move. Wanting to reassure him and ensure his place on the ship, he said, “I want you to know this is no sudden fancy. I’ve thought about this for years. I’ve had time to ponder the practical aspects—the slow pace of discovery, the unresolvable timelines, the… the…” He stammered as pain welled behind his eyes. “The heartbreaking reality of leaving everyone and everything I know. And I’ve made my peace with it. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Neither am I,” Pasha said. “But will you make this a real expedition, with a ship’s company larger than just Riffan and me? I can find the people for you. Good people.”
Urban drew back, but before he could say no, Clemantine again intervened. “Can Dragon support more people?” she asked him. “Does it have the resources?”
“Sure,” Urban answered reluctantly. “Given time to prepare.”
Clemantine shrugged. “And we’ll have plenty of time, once our ghosts transfer in. So there’s no reason we can’t expand the ship’s company. I think we’ll be better off with a larger group. It’ll give us more options, more flexibility.”
“More conflict,” Urban groused.
“Conflicts can be worked out,” Riffan said, determined to be helpful. “And I promise we won’t be difficult company. I’m psychologically qualified for this. So is Pasha. We’ve both reached fifth level. We wouldn’t have been posted to Long Watch, otherwise. You can make fifth a requirement. Reject anyone who doesn’t have it. That way you’ll know that none of us are going to break down or exhibit toxic behavior.”
Urban cocked his head. His eyes narrowed. A crooked smile. “I’m not fifth level. You sure you want to take a chance?”
Pasha leaned closer to the screen and said, very firmly, “Yes, we’re willing to risk it.” In a more conciliatory tone she added, “You’re the ship’s captain. On the old expeditions, the captain was the final authority. I recognize that. I’m sure Riffan, as acting commander of Long Watch, recognizes that too.”
“Well actually,” Riffan said, “our situation on Long Watch is different because our command rotates, and ultimate authority lies with the security council.”
“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Clemantine said quickly. She looked at Pasha. “Ask if anyone else is interested. Qualified people, with diverse specialties. Let us know.”
Urban looked ready to object, but the link cut out before Riffan could hear what he had to say.
Chapter
5