Chapters Forty-two and Forty-three

The stunned silence lasted maybe half a minute, then several people tried to talk at once.

Eran whistled softly.  “Bloody hell!”

“No longer exists?” sputtered Jordi.  “Our course no longer exists? How is that possible?”

Etsuo grunted.

Lexi asked, “Have you told the Council?  What are they going to do about it?”

“Explain please,” protested Liriene.  “What does this mean, the course no longer exists?”

Lu propped a hand on her hip.  “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard!  There must be a course.  We’re obviously on our way to somewhere.”

Rune’s raised voice cut through the hubbub.  “All right, pipe down!”  The uproar died a quick death, as Gaspar nodded toward the navigator.  “Let the man tell his story, then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do with the information.  Go ahead, Sterling.”

Gregor’s brow furrowed in concentration.  “Well, let’s see …  I first noticed the anomalies about a week ago.”

“Anomalies?” interrupted Na’weh.

“Slight differences between current readings from the Novus S system and the master charts.  Naturally, I figured the problem was on our end … it happens.  So I ran the diagnostics, then ran them again—on the cameras, spectrographs, sensors, guidance system, you name it.  Nothing turned up, the operating systems were shipshape.  That’s when it finally hit me:  If the problem wasn’t on our end, it had to be in the star system.  I couldn’t believe it at first, so I went through the whole routine all over again.  There was no mistake.  Initial indications are faint, but unless I miss my guess, the entire quadrant has been rearranged.”

I held up a hand.  “Wait.  The entire quadrant has been rearranged?”

He nodded.  “We’re still several hundred parsecs away, but … yeah, that’s what it looks like.”

“If you’re right, that means Novus S—”

“—isn’t where it used to be.”

“How could that be?” Na’weh wondered.

Gregor shrugged.  “Best guess?  A galactic collision is the only phenomenon I know of that would be powerful enough to throw things that far out of whack.  Probably happened a thousand years ago, but because the distance was so great the light—”

“Forget the cosmology lesson, Sterling,” Ziv interrupted.  “Let’s get back to the part where you said Novus S isn’t where it was.  Where does that leave us?”

“Making a beeline to where it isn’t.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Lu interjected, with a this-should-be-obvious roll of her eyes.  “All we have to do is find Novus S and set a new course that will get us there.”

“It’s not as simple as finding Novus S, I’m afraid,” Eran told her.  “If that sector underwent the kind of violent upheaval Sterling is describing, the planet’s orbit has probably changed.  It may no longer be habitable.”

“Oh, dear.”  Lu bit her lower lip in apparent consternation.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“Adapt,” Gregor answered succinctly.  “Identify another destination.  I’ve already taken some preliminary readings on star systems in this region, and I think I’ve found a likely candidate.”

“Another planet?” I asked.

Gregor nodded.  “Frankly, the only reason we didn’t spot it before is, we weren’t looking.”

Eran’s gaze sharpened.  “What can you tell us about it?”

“As near as I can tell, it’s rocky, about the same size as Earth.  Orbiting a yellow dwarf.”

“A star similar to the Earth’s sun,” Eran explained.  “Will it support life?”

“I’d say odds are in our favor,” Gregor replied.  “Like I said, I’ve only done preliminary readings, and they aren’t as clear as I would like, because the orbit is partially obscured by the outer rim of a cosmic dust cloud.  We would need to swing around to another heading to get a good look.  But the planet appears to be in the habitable zone.”

“Meaning it’s neither too near, nor too far from its star,” Eran clarified for the rest of us.  “Either condition would make life on the surface impossible.”

Isidor spoke up for the first time.  “Sounds like a reasonable alternative to me.  We should at least check it out.  What did the Council say when you suggested the change of course?”

Gregor shifted uncomfortably.  Cleared his throat.  “I haven’t talked to the Council yet.”

Eran’s eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline.  “Why ever not?”

The navigator perched on the edge of Liriene’s desk and ran a hand over his thinning brown hair.  “My psych evaluation is coming up in a few days,” he sighed.

Lu gazed at him in obvious perplexity.  “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Quite a bit, as it turns out,” Rune cut in.  “Sterling is no longer among the party faithful.”

Eran nodded.  “I thought as much.  He’s one of us.  Why else would you bring him here tonight?”

“Yeah,” said Gregor.  “Too bad I didn’t know I had a ready-made support group when I made my discovery.”  He grimaced.  “But even if I had known, it wouldn’t have made any difference; I still wouldn’t have gone straight to the Council.”

“Why not?” asked Lexi.  “It’s not like they can tell you’re one of us just by looking at you.”

“I’ll tell you why not,” Rune interjected.  “Because this latest catastrophe is going to be murder for the Council to deal with on top of the social disaster already in progress.  Face it, convincing them to completely revamp the flight plan wouldn’t be a cakewalk in the best of times.  That bunch is nothing, if not set in their ways.  Hell, that’s putting it mildly.  We’re talking about people who’ve got a death grip on a four-hundred-year-old master plan.  They won’t give it up without a fight—especially now.”

Eran nodded.  “He’s right.  The Council is already under tremendous strain, struggling to hold its world together.  At this juncture, the mere suggestion they should make a major change will encounter violent resistance.  With all their defenses up and bristling, I doubt Garan and the rest will be remotely receptive.”

“Even if we do manage to get them to listen,” Rune continued, “and there’s no guarantee we can—what happens if and when they find out about Sterling’s new outlook on life?  We all know the answer to that, right?  They won’t even investigate his data.  They’ll blow off his observation as one more delusion, at least until the anomalies become undeniable.  Who knows how long that will be?”

“I decided to turn myself into Gaspar,” Gregor explained, “because I knew I would never make it through the evaluation mentally intact; they would find out about me for sure, and erase the whole mental slate, including what I had seen.  Before that happened, I figured I had to tell someone, and the chief of Intelligence struck me as the kind of guy who wouldn’t let this anomaly business drop, no matter how crazy it sounded.  Not until he had gotten the facts for himself, anyway.”

“He asked me to come to his quarters,” Rune added, then glanced at the navigator.  “That was a good move, by the way.”

Gregor shrugged.  “I didn’t want to taint the process with a record of our conversation.  Once they caught on to me, they would never believe me or anyone I talked to.  But if I could convince you to find a way to investigate on your own, without bringing my name into it … well, a witness like you would be hard to ignore.”  He smiled ruefully at Gaspar.  “Some independent witness you turned out to be.”

Ziv’s previously troubled expression brightened.  “If you’re looking for a corroborating witness, what about the second navigator?  Get her to back you up!  There’s no way the Council can dismiss both of you as delusional.  They would have to listen!”

Gregor was already shaking his head.  “Consuela came up from Deck Three less than six months ago.  She’s busy getting her feet wet, keeping her head down, and dreaming of the day she’ll take over as first nav.”

“She also passed her psych evaluation with flying colors today,” Rune told us.  “No way that poor, brainwashed kid is ready to rock the boat.”

“But the Council has to be told,” Lu insisted.

“She’s right,” Eran said.

Rune agreed with a brief nod.  “I know.”

“Suppose they refuse to listen?” asked Alis.  “What then?”

Isidor looked at her.  “Ever hear of The Flying Dutchman?”

“No.”

“According to ancient folklore, she was a ghost ship, a glowing apparition of a vessel doomed to sail the seas forever.  Oh, I know it sounds melodramatic but trust me, if the Council won’t listen and change our course, the Janus and will suffer the Dutchman’s fate, and take everyone on board with her.”

“Not everyone.”  Rune paused.  “All right, here’s what we’re going to do.  We are going to break the bad news to the Council.  Granted, they’re not high on our list of pals right now, but they deserve at least a chance to make the smart choice.  Sterling and I will talk to them on Wednesday.”

An undercurrent in his voice caught my attention and piqued my curiosity.  “This is Saturday.  Why wait three days?  Why not tell them tomorrow?”

“Because I want things ready on our end before we take this to them.  My gut tells me the immediate outcome of the Council meeting is a forgone conclusion—denial.  Whether or not they eventually get wise, or whether they dig their heels in and keep searching for Novus S ….”  He shrugged.  “Win, lose, or draw, I want to make sure they can’t stop us.”

“Can’t stop us from what?” I asked.

His gaze kindled with fierce satisfaction.  “From leaving.”

Ω

 

Chapter 43

Three hours after Rune’s two-hour briefing I was curled up against Eran’s side, my head on his shoulder and my stocking feet tucked under the back cushions of Rune’s sofa.  I should have been exhausted, but my adrenaline output was still off the chart, my emotions seesawing between speechless awe and outright disbelief.

“I’ll say one thing,” I marveled.  “When you guys come up with a plan, it’s a doozy.  All I can say is … wow!”

Rune’s grin was on the tired side.  “Plans come easy when you can count your options on two fingers.”

“Especially if one of those two options is no option at all,” Eran put in.  “Remaining on the Janus is out of the question.”

“It’s funny,” I mused.  “It’s not like I didn’t know about the life craft, not after all those abandon-ship drills.  But actually using one to escape?”  I shook my head.  “Never entered my mind.”

“Yeah?  Well those ships popped into my head the minute I realized we weren’t going to be able to stop Ke-Ling’s broadcast,” Rune said.  “The way I saw it, odds were a hundred to one against the majority accepting the truth, even if it did slap them in the face.  I figured our ability to stay below the radar indefinitely was iffy at best.  Turns out, it was a notch or two below iffy.  I guess we could go down fighting … not the most attractive outcome, but it would be better than knuckling under.  But when it comes right down to it, the life craft are our only realistic E&E option.”

“Our what option?”

“E&E.  Escape and evasion.  Problem was, back when Eran and I first discussed it, there were some serious holes in the plan.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that there are only three mature, fully-trained pilots aboard the Janus at any one time,” Eran replied.

“Lucky for us,” Rune continued, “there are four life craft—not counting the one reserved for the younglings and their nurturers—each designed to carry one hundred people.”

I pondered that for a second, then shook my head.  “I don’t get it.  How does the number of ships work in our favor?”

Eran explained.  “In order to compensate for the fact that an emergency would find us with fewer pilots than life craft, the smaller ships were programmed to more or less pilot themselves.  If the abandon-ship order was ever given, the navigator would feed the proper coordinates into each life craft via the main computer, and off we’d go.”

“So we needed either a pilot or navigator who was on our side,” I concluded.

“Just so.”

“And some good coordinates.”

“Right again.”

“Enter Gregor to save the day.”  I tilted my head.  “Okay, he’ll program the coordinates for the new planet into our ship from the main computer.  But what’s to stop Consuela Fernandez from overriding that programming and bringing us right back?”

“Did you hear that?”  Rune beamed in fraternal pride.  “We’ll make an operator out of you yet, Red.”

Lips twitching, Eran cleared his throat.  “Yes.  Well, in answer to your question, darling, maintaining control of our on-board computer is Rune’s lookout.”

Still smiling widely, Rune nodded.  “As soon as Sterling programs the coordinates, I’ll erase any record of the transmission and disable the network connection between our ship’s computers and the Janus.”

“Won’t someone in computing notice all that activity?”  When Rune’s smile collapsed, I winced.  “Forget I asked.”

“Keep in mind,” chuckled Eran, “this bit will happen within minutes of our departure.  Gregor will send the coordinates, which Etsuo will instantly lock into our ship’s guidance computer.  Immediately after that and in less time than it takes our navigator to make his way down from the control bridge to the flight deck, Rune will work his magic on the main computer.  We’ll off before the technicians can spot a trace of Rune’s sabotage, let alone counteract it.”

“I don’t leave traces,” Rune snapped.

“There you see?”  Eran flashed a bright, airy smile.  “We haven’t a thing to worry about!”

Stifling a grin, I decided to change the subject before Rune blew his top.  “So Gregor plugged the holes in your plan.”

Rune tried to hold his glare at Eran but reluctant amusement had already crept into his dark gaze.  His lips curved as he turned to look at me.  “Getting Koizumi didn’t hurt.  The ships are solid and well maintained, but a lot of things can go haywire in flight.  We might have been able to make a successful getaway without an engineer, but I like our chances a lot better now that I know we’ll have one on board.”

“His expertise could definitely come in handy,” I conceded.

The life craft were smaller than the Janus but no less complex.  Designed to take off from a flight deck and land on a planet’s surface, they were equipped with swept-back wings and terrain-adaptable landing gear, not to mention forward cabins packed with high-backed leather seats passengers would strap into during arrival and departure.  The ships’ size pretty much dictated their no-frills interiors—no frills as in, no club deck, no dedicated office spaces or library, and personal cabins pared down to one large room and a bath.  Galley-style communal dining.  But the essentials were there, including scaled-down versions of the food production units and hydroponic garden.  Those systems wouldn’t be brought online until after we left, but given the fact that the ship was pre-stocked with enough provisions to keep a hundred people going until production was up and running, we would have more than enough to tide us over.

Each ship also had a miniature Gen-Lab.  Of course, we wouldn’t be using ours.  The DNA in our bodies would be the only genetic material on board.  It was a short mental hop from that thinking about that to thinking about the other part of their plan:  Rune’s upcoming raid on the DNA bank.  My stomach knotted with anxiety.  I knew the deed had to be done, but couldn’t help feeling a frisson of fear.

The spy in question eyed me narrowly.  “What’s on your mind, Red?”

“Your upcoming break-in,” I admitted.

He would steal into the Gen-Lab shortly after midnight on Wednesday, giving him two scant hours to complete his mission.  First he would steal the DNA, then he would flush it out the ship’s waste disposal system—since we were leaving, we weren’t even going to try to conceal the theft—then he would sanitize the main computer and hustle down to our ship in time for departure.

“I don’t see why you insist on going by yourself,” I fretted.  “Wouldn’t it be better to have help?  Maybe a lookout of some kind?”

“No way.  I’m trained for this, the rest of you aren’t.  The last thing I need is to be saddled with a bunch of amateurs.  Going solo, I can get in and out like that,” he snapped his fingers, “with no one the wiser.”

“What if there’s an alarm or something?”

He shot me a no-kidding look.  “Of course there’s an alarm … more like an alert, actually.  It sounds whenever the vault is opened and keeps sounding until someone closes it.  That and the flashing red light above the portal are supposed to notify staff that the vault is open, so they’ll remember to close it as quickly as possible to preserve the ambient temperature.  I should know, I designed the system myself.”

Translation:  He could disarm the system, take the DNA, and rearm the system with one hand tied behind his back.

I still wasn’t completely reassured.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Like what?”

“Agent Cruz has her eye on you.”

“Oh, I’ll give Marisol something a lot more interesting to do that night … a little distraction that will keep her busy plenty long enough for us to make a clean getaway.”

“It seems the Kiril is scheduled for a mysterious disappearance,” murmured Eran, and I felt my jaw drop.

“Just a short one,” Rune drawled after I managed to close my mouth, “right after my meeting with him.  See, Cruz has got no way to watch me—no reason to, for that matter—when I’m in the secure Council Chamber with a stand-up guy like Garan.  It will be a late meeting, and the First Councilor likes his decaf, so I’ll slip a little something extra into his second or third cup.”

I was fascinated in spite of my reservations.  “Then what?”

“Well, when we wind things up an hour or so later, he’ll probably start to feel disoriented, possibly on account of his pounding headache.  He’s been under a lot of stress, you know.  Stress like that takes its toll on a man, no telling how it might affect his health.  By the time we get into the Council Chamber’s private elevator, he should be leaning on me pretty heavily.  Naturally, as a concerned colleague, I’ll offer to escort him to his quarters.  Well, you can imagine my professional concern when I hurry back to his quarters with Doctor Hahona, and Garan is nowhere to be found.  We check a few places, we don’t locate him, I sound the alarm.  Each of my agents, including Marisol Cruz, will be assigned a specific search area.”  Rune paused to grin wolfishly.  “By the time they find him sleeping like a baby on Deck Three—the last place they’ll look—I’ll have jettisoned the DNA, and we’ll be long gone.”

“I guess you’ve thought of everything,” I conceded.

“Tried to,” he acknowledged.  “Of course, no plan is foolproof.  The key is to keep your wits about you and adapt on the fly as needed.”

On the fly launched another train of thought.  “Speaking of flying,” I said, “if we take one of those ships, what happens if the Quingenti do have to abandon the Janus someday?  There won’t be room for everyone on the other three life craft.  Minus the thirteen of us, that leaves eighty-seven people with no place to go.”

Rune stared at me for a moment, then sighed heavily as he dropped his head against the back of his chair.  “Yeah,” he said, gazing at the overhead.  “I can’t tell you that hasn’t kept me awake at night.”

“We discussed this at length,” Eran said with a nod toward Gaspar, “searching for a way around it.  There simply isn’t one, Kai.  They’ll kill us if we stay—one way or another.”

Rune nodded grimly as his bleak gaze dropped to meet mine.  “They’ll have to double up, that’s all.  Remember, we didn’t set these rules of engagement, they did.  Whether they knew it or not, when they reduced this situation to a case of them or us, they made our decision for us.  There’s nothing else we can do.  We have to get out, and those ships are our only means.”

“This has to be the ultimate irony,” I decided.

“How so?” Eran asked.

“More than four hundred years ago, the Quingenti felt they had no choice but to leave Earth, because no one was prepared to let them clone themselves indefinitely.  Now we have no choice but to leave the Quingenti, because they’re not prepared to let us stop.  It’s almost like history is correcting itself.”  The idea raised goose bumps on my arms.

“History as a sentient force?” Eran smiled.  “That’s a bit far fetched, even for you, darling.”

“Maybe not as far fetched as you think,” I insisted, slowly rubbing my arms as I put the pieces together.  “Let’s look at the evidence.”

Rune frowned.  “What evidence?”

“Well, we’ve already talked about how weird it is, all these people arriving at the same unheard-of conclusion within such a short period of time.  Then we find ourselves cornered, and the life craft are our only way out, except we can’t very well hijack one unless we have an a navigator who can program in a destination so the ship will fly itself.  Up pops Gregor, the perfect two-for-one solution—he’s a navigator, and he just discovered what could be a habitable world not far from our current position.  Then there’s Etsuo, of course—a complete bonus.”  I shook my head in awe.  “The odds against all those occurrences being nothing but serendipity must be astronomical!  The way we all came together, the fact that our every need has been met?  How about the fact that Gregor discovered a planet exactly when and where we needed one?  I know there’s such a thing as coincidence, but this is bizarre!  What’s so far fetched about admitting we may have had …”  I paused, gave a small, self-conscious shrug. “… help?”

Eran gazed at me curiously, head canted to one side.  “Help from history?”

“Not history … exactly.  But maybe there’s … an energy … or … a … a consciousness behind history; a force that keeps nudging mankind forward, showing us our mistakes, working to make it all turn out right in the end.”  I hesitated.  “Suppose,” I continued pensively, “just suppose, man isn’t the highest form of life in the universe.  We assume we are, we act like we are, but … what if we’re not?  What if there’s something … bigger?  What if it’s been communicating with us?”  I looked from Eran to Rune.  “And what if it’s on our side?”

Ω

© 2010, Kathy DiSanto, all arights reserved