Again, Montero’s face reddened, but more in mild impatience this time than in frustration. “How about where?”
She stood, addressing the room at large. “Australia is a continent in the southern hemisphere of Earth, settled and colonized much the same way we bring planets into the Hundred Worlds. But most of Australia has an incredibly harsh environment, and although many of its cities became metropolises they still were separated by tremendous distances with little between them even at the height of its population in the late twenty-third century. Pallatin is the same; although you’re beginning to see individual settlements in the intervening spaces between centers, the rough environment here—the hot summers and almost constant seismic activity—will most likely keep this world on the same level as Australia. I doubt seriously that Pallatin will ever ‘fill up.’ ”
Montero’s jaw tightened as if he were gritting his teeth, which he probably was. He was aware of her place of importance, not only to the mission but to the Emperor himself, and he spoke in carefully modulated tones as he addressed Adela. “I fail to see what Old Earth history has to do with our current mission here.”
Adela had enjoyed baiting him, prodding at his pompous nature, but every bit of pleasure drained from her at the remark. “Commander Montero, everything we do here relates to Earth. Our whole purpose for being here is because of Earth’s importance.” She retook her seat before continuing, taking in the others in the briefing room as she went on. “The more all of us know about Earth, the better the chances of our success here. Everything I’ve talked about is available in the ship’s files, of course, easily accessible to anyone with an interest in learning more. In fact, I’ll be happy to give the code numbers for the files to anyone who—”
“Dr. Montgarde—” The sudden timbre of his voice silenced her immediately, and several of the uniformed people around her instantly—if not involuntarily—sat straighter in their chairs. It was obvious that while Montero may not enjoy protocol-required briefings, he still was in command aboard the ship. “Not everyone on board this ship is as convinced at the necessity of saving your precious Earth as you.” He lowered his gaze on her, one eyebrow arched, and a look in his eyes told her more than his words that he was here because he was ordered to be. It became clear to Adela that his interests concerned forcing Pallatin back into line as a member of the Hundred Worlds, and not as a means of furthering the project.
She leaned back in her seat and tried to read the faces on those around her. Who among them agreed with Montero, and who believed that Emperor Nicholas’ dream was a worthy goal? She had no way of telling, but decided that until she found out just who was on her side it might be better not to antagonize Montero further.
“The politics of the two halves of the continent,” he went on as if nothing had happened, “seem as ideologically divided as their geography. Those in Eastland remain as uncooperative as they were at the time of Emperor Nicholas’ address. Those in Westland, however, appear to be leaning toward a normalization of relations with the Hundred Worlds. This, after our long voyage, is a pleasant surprise…” He continued his briefing, taking questions as they came, until finishing up a half hour later. Leaving the holoscreen set on a view of the planet itself, he dismissed the meeting. The uniformed members of the team snapped smartly to attention as he left the room without a word, either to her or to anyone else.
Several people asked politely for the code numbers for the Old Earth history files before they left. As she spoke briefly to them, Adela got the impression that many of the contact team cared no more for Montero or his ways than she did, although she had spent so little time out of the tank on this trip that she hadn’t gotten to know any of them well enough that they actually said anything specific to her in that regard. As to how the crew members scattered around the briefing room felt about their commanding officer, she could only guess.
A chime sounded, indicating that the ship’s mess had opened, and the room cleared quickly. As she made her way to the starboard corridor a uniformed crewman approached her. Not unhandsome, he was of medium build with dark, almost black skin, brown eyes that peered intensely out from beneath a thick, low brow, and wavy black hair that, like many of his crewmates, was pulled back and tied into a short ponytail that just touched the high collar of his uniform. The tabs on his collar indicated that he was a Lieutenant. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties—but then, so did she. “Dr. Montgarde, may I walk with you for a few minutes?”
She knew little about him, other than the fact that he was a specialist in Imperial law, and that he had spent only half the trip in cryosleep. She had met him at one of the pre-embarkation meetings, but had spoken to him only momentarily and couldn’t remember his name. “Certainly. Lieutenant… ?”
“Woorunmarra.”
“Lieutenant Woorunmarra, of course. I’m sorry. I’m usually better at names.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, smiling, flashing very white teeth, “it’s not an easy one to remember.” As he spoke, she tried to place the odd accent. She’d heard many accents in the last several decades as she traveled from planet to planet among the Hundred Worlds since the beginning of the project. But this one seemed stranger than most: harsh, guttural, and yet, each word perfectly formed and melodically enunciated. “I wanted to thank you, back there,” he went on, nodding over his shoulder in the direction of the briefing room.
“Thank me?” Adela responded, not understanding. “Thank me for what?”
“Perhaps I should explain. I’m an Earther. I signed on with the Imperial forces when the Empire began its resettlement on Luna.” He stopped, looked at her. “Not everyone on Earth is against the Emperor’s plan. I wanted to do what I could to help, if only in a small way, so I enlisted.” They resumed walking, taking the corridor leading to the officers’ mess.
“But what did I do that—”
He silenced her with a raised hand. “You know Earth, spoke well of her.” He stopped, a smile spreading across his face. “And you spoke of my homeland as though you knew it.”
“Homeland… You’re from Australia?”
“I am Aborigine. My people, the Arunta, are among the oldest civilizations on Earth, and the only people who remain unchanged.”
“Unchanged?” Adela looked at him dubiously, and without talking down to him, said in a friendly tone of voice, “You’re an officer aboard one of the Empire’s fastest starships, approaching a planet sixteen and a half light-years away from Australia. I’d say that qualifies as change.”
The Lieutenant smiled again, the sound of his laughter as melodic as his words. “You take the word too literally, Dr. Montgarde. I speak of not changin’ here”—he lightly touched his forehead—“and here.” He placed the palm of his hand over his heart. “While Earth grew, and her population went out, first to the solar system and then the stars, her people became different. Their values, their lives. Sometimes, I think their very souls changed. But it was different for us. In the outback, our lives continued as they always did. The family group was always central. The land. The sky. All a part of the Dream Lines and at the heart of who we are. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” They reached the entrance to the officers’ mess and stood to one side of the doorway as they spoke. There was little traffic in the corridor now; the two of them had taken their time and most of the officers were already inside.
“But then the world changed back,” he said, tilting his head. There was a distant look on his face, as though his eyes were watching the scene he described so very far away. “Most of Earth’s people left, and those who remained returned to many of the same old values the Aborigine tribes never abandoned.”