If she was there to see the white color then she would sit cross-legged, waiting, watching, meditating, until, without further warning, the plant darkened and within a few seconds crumbled in on itself, collapsing in a layer of granular humus that fell like a shroud over the half-exposed rhizomes. Those seemingly lifeless roots would not quicken again until they received a new feast of nutrients.
The first time Urban had seen the collapse he’d been angry over it. “That’s horrible. Why do you want it to do that? Why don’t you make the flowers perpetual instead?”
“A false promise?” she’d asked him.
He hadn’t bothered to answer that. Just shook his head and moved on. Never questioned her on it again—though she’d seen him watching the transformation since then.
She meant for the rise and fall of the flowers to symbolize renewal, not death. More than once in her life she had lost all and grown again from nothing. Even in this peaceful succession of days, as she strove to live in the present, she thought it wise to be reminded of that.
She composed a message and sent it off to her separated self: *I think I understand why you want it this way.
Later, when dinner was finished, she would send a submind to that other version of her, and share her experience of this day.
Chapter
23
The fleet’s array of telescopes engaged in a continuous slow survey of the Near Vicinity, seeking for anomalies near enough to constitute a threat. Only once a year did the Astronomer focus the array on the individual star systems of the Hallowed Vasties, to capture updated images.
Pasha had sought out Vytet as soon as she learned of this schedule, wanting his explanation for it before confronting Urban directly. “It makes no sense,” she’d insisted to him. “We should be monitoring the Vasties more often. Twice a year, at minimum. It’s why we’re here.”
Vytet had given up his archaic beard, revealing a refined face, one that now wore an ambivalent expression. “I don’t disagree, but Urban’s priority is protecting the fleet from near-term threats, so that’s where the telescope time goes. The Astronomer has advised him an annual survey of the Vasties is sufficient to capture evidence of change.”
“Maybe in the past,” Pasha had conceded. “Maybe even now, for the more distant systems. But we’re closing on Tanjiri and Ryo. Both should be monitored on a much more frequent schedule.”
Vytet had advised patience. “The annual survey is coming up,” he’d reminded her. “Let’s wait. See what it reveals. And then make the argument.”
A shiver of excitement touched her as she left her cottage. The annual survey was finally underway. In minutes, the first new images of Tanjiri in a year would begin to come in.
For once, as she hurried along the path, she did not hear the annoying hum of a flying fox. It was late afternoon, the favorite time to play the game, but today there was only birdsong, the buzz of bees, and quiet chatter as people made their way to the amphitheater, where they would watch together as the new images arrived.
She thought she’d left early, but most of the front-row seats were taken by the time she arrived. Fortunately, Tarnya was there at the center of the row, along with Shoran and Mikael. They waved at her, calling out, “Pasha! We’ve saved you a seat.”
She hurried to join them, as walls descended from the perimeter of the sheltering pergola and the canopy shifted to impenetrable black, blocking out the afternoon sunlight. As the walls bonded to one another and to the floor, the temperature dropped—appropriately, Pasha thought, given the sudden fall of night. On the curved projection screen, a starfield blazed in sudden glory.
A rustling and murmuring as those still standing hurried to find seats, guided by tiny points of blue light on the floor.
“What do you think we’ll see?” Shoran asked, starlight reflecting in her eyes, along with an excitement that echoed Pasha’s own.
“I hope we’ll see what’s casting shadows on the star,” she said. “If it’s a planet, or a disc of debris, or a surviving structure.”
“You want it to be a structure,” Tarnya teased.
“Yes! That would be amazing. Our first hint of the kind of habitats that combined to create the cordon.”
The gathering settled, murmurs faded. A shiver ran up Pasha’s spine—from the cold or from anticipation? She couldn’t say.
She looked for Vytet and saw him standing beside the dais, a tall silhouette limned in starlight, his long hair loosely tied. Vytet had organized this gathering. Now he acknowledged the restless silence by gesturing at the projected starfield. “We have the grandest of views,” he said in his gentle, contemplative voice. “But it’s a view that changes only slowly. It’s not as if we can turn a corner and encounter a new vista. All that is, is out there in front of us but at such a distance details are elusive. Only slowly, gradually, as we draw closer to a target star do we have a real chance of discerning what might still exist in orbit around it.”
A doorway peeled open. Light washed in, inciting annoyed murmurs. A man’s handsome silhouette, against the afternoon glare. Pasha recognized Riffan.
“Pardon me,” he said contritely as the doorway sealed shut behind him. “I’m a minute late.”
Good-humored teasing erupted. People liked Riffan. They clapped and whistled and called out, “Find the man a seat!”
Not Pasha. She stayed silent, and under cover of darkness, allowed herself an irritated snarl. Are we friends, Pasha? he’d asked, but she’d skirted the question. Now she bit her lip and conceded, if only to herself, Jealousy is the worst emotion.
It was not his fault he’d been privileged to go on the expedition to the beacon. Urban had picked him out of the archive, ostensibly because Riffan was an anthropologist. Yet an exobiologist would have made sense too. More sense. But Urban had met the two of them aboard Long Watch, and he had chosen Riffan.
She chided herself, You are so petty!
And still, it rankled. She’d worked so hard in her career. She’d had to push at every stage to advance in the sclerotic hierarchy of Deception Well. The quality of her work had always earned praise and yet it did not bring her the reward of new projects. Always, she had to take the initiative, put herself forward, or be forgotten. Over the years she’d often felt invisible.
None of it was Riffan’s fault, but she could not help a stab of jealousy every time she saw him, so she did her best not to see him. It was that simple.
Shuffling sounds from the back indicated Riffan was still making his way to an open seat, but Pasha raised her chin and fixed her attention forward as Vytet resumed his introductory remarks.
“The ingredients of life are all still present at Tanjiri,” he said. “Past surveys have detected water, oxygen, and abundant organic molecules. Whether those are associated with biological life we can’t know, but the situation is intriguing.
“Throughout our journey, we’ve tracked irregular but easily measurable variations in Tanjiri’s luminosity. And yet historically, the star is known to be stable. We have data from centuries of observations, predating the expansion, that prove this.”
Shoran interrupted with a half-raised hand. “You’re assuming the people of the Hallowed Vasties did not manipulate and destabilize the star itself,” she said.