No human hands had built the nanos that dwelt in Saturn’s rings. They were alien constructs, left behind by intelligent extraterrestrials who had once visited the solar system.
But none of that interested Pancho Lane at this particular moment. She was striding along one of the habitat’s flower-bordered lanes, muttering a string of choice curses under her breath.
She was a tall, lean, long-legged woman who had once been a daredevil astronaut, then worked her way up the organizational ladder to become head of the vast Astro Manufacturing Corporation. Long since retired, she still had the restless energy and keen intelligence that had carried her across the solar system.
She was a West Texas girl, partly of African American descent. Her years as a corporate executive had not changed her outlook on life very much. With the West Texas twang that still marked her speech, she called a spade a spade. Or more often, a goddamned shovel.
Pancho had come to Goddard not as an exile, but as a VIP visitor, years after the habitat had established itself in orbit around Saturn. She had stayed for more than three decades, married her erstwhile bodyguard, and had a daughter by him. A daughter who was now eight point six light-years away.
“What’s got you so riled up?” asked Jake Wanamaker, striding along beside her. A retired admiral and onetime security chief for Astro Corporation’s CEO, her husband was taller than Pancho by half a dozen centimeters, broad shouldered, thick bodied, his craggy face ruggedly handsome.
Pancho just kept on muttering.
“What is it?” Wanamaker asked again, his gravelly voice taking on an edge.
Pancho gave him a look. “Mark Twain said, ‘When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear.’ So I’m swearing.”
“About what?”
“Those pansy-livered paper-pushing brain-dead flatlanders back Earthside.”
Understanding dawned. “The IAA.”
“And the World Council. That damned Chiang and the whole bunch of ’em.”
“And Trish,” Wanamaker added.
Pancho acknowledged the fact with an angry nod. “They’re leaving her and the others hanging out there, on their own. No backup. Twelve people, out there by themselves.”
“Trish knew the risks when she signed on for the mission,” Wanamaker said tightly.
“That’s your navy background talking,” Pancho muttered.
Wanamaker grasped her forearm, gently but firmly enough to stop her single-minded march. With a crooked grin, he asked his wife, “Where’re you heading, lady?”
“Comm center, over in the village.”
“To call who?”
“Whom.”
“Whatever. What’re you up to, Panch?”
“I’m gonna call Doug Stavenger. He’s the only one in this whole twirling solar system whose got two grams of brains in his head.”
“Thank you!”
“Aw, Jake, you know what I mean.”
“What do you intend to tell Stavenger? You can’t expect Selene to go to the expense of building another starship.”
“No, we’re gonna do that.”
“We are? Goddard?” Wanamaker’s surprise was palpable.
Pancho resumed striding toward the nearby village, with its whitewashed buildings that housed government offices and the communications center. Wanamaker hurried to keep pace with her.
“We’ve got another habitat module half built, parked alongside us. Why not convert it into a starship?”
“Convert it…?” Wanamaker looked stunned. “And what do we do, just donate it to those flatlanders?”
“Yup.”
“Our governing council will never go for it, Pancho, you know that. Even if they did, the people would call for a general vote and they’d turn it down flat.”
“Not if there’s a quid pro quo.”
“What’s the quid and what’s the quo?”
“We turn the habitat we’re building into a starship. Outfit it with fusion engines, and offer it to the IAA. A ship that’ll hold hundreds of scientists! Thousands!”
“In return for…?”
“Full official pardons for each and every mother-loving person aboard Goddard. Total exoneration.”
Wanamaker frowned with thought. “But they’ve been living here for more than half a century, Panch. Most of them won’t want to return to Earth. This is their home now.”
Nodding, Pancho said, “I know that. But dontcha think they’d like to have the freedom to return to Earth if they want to? To visit the world they were born on? To have the stigma of exile wiped away, so that their children could go to Earth if they’d like?”
“The way Trish went to Earth,” Wanamaker murmured.
“To build her own life, yeah. The exiles’ kids can’t do that. Not yet.”
Musing aloud, Wanamaker said, “So we offer a completed starship to the IAA.”
“In return for full pardons for each of the exiles.”
“Stavenger and Selene lead the effort to staff a backup mission to Sirius.”
“So Trish won’t be stuck out there for the rest of her life.”
“And the World Council will be too embarrassed to turn down your offer.”
“They know most of the exiles’ll stay here. It’s home for them now. Has been for decades. But their kids will be free to go Earthside.”
Wanamaker rubbed his square jaw as they walked. “Pancho, I’ve got to hand it to you. It might work. It really might work.”
“It’s a win-win proposition. And we’ll be making sure that Trish gets back okay.”
Her husband broke into a low chuckle.
“What’s funny?” Pancho asked.
“If I were Chiang, I’d look out for my job. You’re going to wind up running the World Council, Panch.”
She shook her head vigorously. “Hell no!” Then a sly grin crept across her lean face. “But I wouldn’t mind takin’ a ride out to Sirius.”
UNDERSTANDING
For what a man had rather were true he more readily believes.… Numberless, in short, are the ways, and sometimes imperceptible, in which the affections color and infect the understanding.
Back to the City
Jordan found himself whistling as he walked briskly through the woods toward the city. He chuckled to himself at Thornberry’s depiction of diplomats in striped trousers. He was wearing casual pearl gray slacks and an open-necked light blue shirt, and looking forward to returning to the city. To Adri and his enigmatic smiles. To Aditi and her warmth.
The morning was cool, but bright shafts of sunlight filtered through the tall trees rising all around him. The forest seemed alive with buzzing insects and small, furry animals that scampered up the tree trunks or through the bushes at the trees’ bases. Birds cawed as they swooped high above.
He marveled at his cheerful mood.
What are you so chipper about? he asked himself. And answered, I’m going to see Aditi again. Why shouldn’t I be chipper?
But then he thought, Meek is right, you know. We’re in over our heads, involved in some vast interstellar intrigue, whether we like it or not.
Well, I like it. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. An interstellar mystery! Fascinating. We have so much to learn, so much to gain.
Then he remembered an old admonition. H. G. Wells, he recalled. Wells was the one who said that when kindly aliens visit Earth and say they’ve come to serve Man, we should ask if they intend to serve us baked or fried.