All these earths, p.24
All These Earths, page 24
Once again in his own mind he recited the parameters of hopelessness. Fuel—enough to take them perhaps a tenth of the way to the nearest colony—assuming they reached a timeline in which colonies existed—and then coast forever at four-tenths the speed of light, as dead there as they would be here. Food—a week, perhaps two, then slow starvation. And the child—what to do? He shook his head. "It's—Raelle, Areyn dies only when we see the wasting's gone irreversible. Or to avoid leaving her alone without us."
"Yes. I suppose that's all we can do for her, now."
On the fifth day Raelle would not speak at all, nor touch him or be touched. Ignoring the breakfast he had prepared she sat at the controls. He watched her run computer simulations—when he asked what she was doing she still kept silent. He looked at Areyn— was the child worse? He could not tell. He moved to sit beside Raelle, watching her and then toying with the screen controls to look at Earth—so near in time and distance, yet unattainable.
Rage, as it had done so many times before, came strong within him and then drained away. He could put Search to ground if he wanted to—not for the first time, he thought that. And perhaps he would, Plague or no Plague—if only to show that unknown voice what his silly missiles were worth if Jay Pearsall decided to challenge them…
No. He shook his head. That was foolish. Leave Search here in orbit—a more stable one, rather—he'd have to remember to change it. Someday, perhaps, this Earth might regain its courage and look outward again. Search, left intact, could save the timeline many years of slow experiment. Yes—that was best.
He sunk into reverie, hardly noting what he saw. Childhood dreams came to mind, and his parents—then their childless counterparts on Earth-two. A flash thought of Reyez Turco and the abundant woman who waited for him. Nobody Home, the missing colony—sea devils—fighting them—the harsh life, the work of survival—Dolman Crait and his threats. Then Waterfall—Setra Tuang, Sualna, the others—and Areyn! Jarred into the present, Jay blinked and turned to see what Raelle's movements meant, that his peripheral vision had caught.
"What?—" For she was activating the Skip exciter, feeding it power. "Raelle! That won't do us any good—we'll just die out there someplace, instead of here. And here, maybe Search, someday—"
She faced him. Under her eyes the skin was pouched and darkened. Now she shook her head. "Jay—you didn't read the reports from the university on Waterfall. Neither did I, until now. But I thought—I thought I should understand why we have to die. Instead, I found—"
"But what are you doing?"
"Probabilities—sheafs of probabilities—they may duplicate themselves, or almost. We've Drifted so far—Jumped, really, with that burst at Skip ten-seventh. The old advice, to stay with a bad bet—it doesn't apply now, because if we stay, we're dead. So—"
"But we don't have fuel to go out and back!"
Wideeyed, lips stretched to a caricature of her smile, she shouted at him. "Jay! Who ever said we had to go anywhere, to get up to high Skip Factor and its Drift?"
For a moment he could not speak. In his mind his training replayed itself—when you reach certain speeds you begin to boost your Skip accordingly. Of course. When.
Abruptly he broke into laughter and reached to hug her shoulders. "Why—you're right! Right to try it, anyway. Nobody ever—I mean, Drift was a by-product, something to avoid or put up with— no one ever considered the idea of building Skip Factor by itself, at rest. How did you think of it?"
Her smile had seen better days, but she said, "Because there wasn't any other way."
As Skip Factor built—odd, how differently Search resonated to the exciter alone without the thrustors' growl—Jay made small maneuvers, shifting Search's orbit to Lunar ecliptic for the greatest stability he could compute. As he finished that chore he saw Skip pass five thousand—when he ceased drawing power the rate of increase curved upward. And they seemed to race, not coast, around Luna.
"Ten-fifth," said Raelle, "and climbing. Do you see any changes?" For a moment he didn't realize what she meant—then he studied Earth on the screen, near to passing out of view in the new orbit.
"Nothing yet. Except heavier cloud cover. Do you suppose—"
"Could be greenhouse effect, Jay. The timeline that rejected us—its Plague may have saved it from overpopulation that would have smothered in its own wastes."
"Possibly. I—" Now as Earth reappeared the screen showed change. "Look!" Gradually, orbit after orbit Jay saw Earth lose its vapor sheath, saw its oceans dwindle and vanish, then slowly reappear. For long moments he conceived these events as happening in time, in sequence—then he realized the changes were across timelines, in Drift. "Sheafs or probability, you said, Raelle! All those timelines where Earth's lifeless, uninhabitable—but it's looking better now. Maybe we should cut back on Skip and be ready to grab a viable line, if we can spot one."
"Yes. It"'s hard to understand, to know what to do—no one's ever done this before."" The sound she made was between a laugh and a hiccough. "We don't even know—are we still Drifting away, or maybe swinging back toward where we started?"
He had no answer. "Just pull down some more—on our Skip, I mean." They went behind the moon again. And when they came around it—there, rising from Earth, a ship.
"Cut it, Raelle! Cut it dead!"
Twice more they circled Luna. At each opportunity Jay put the screen to high mag and studied Earth. On the third pass he said, "Let's try it."
"Land, you mean?"
"Maybe. Leave orbit, anyway—start down slowly, see if anyone's willing to talk. And if not—now, thanks to you, we still have a choice."
This Earth fired no missiles. In short order its communication system put a picture on Search's viewscreen. The woman facing them—Jay assumed their own picture was getting through—smiled and said, "You're the new shuttle, are you? From the Mars equatorial station?"
Raelle gestured for Jay to do the talking. He said, "This could take some explaining. My first question may give you an indication." He paused. "Do you have star travel?"
After the first shock, information came quickly—from both sides. For more than a century this Earth had launched sublight ships, but Skip Drive had never been developed. Jay's brief explanation quickly brought higher authority on the circuit—his screen split into two pictures, then four, then six. The last to appear—a tall black man, nearly bald—said, "I don't have to understand all this in detail to know you're the most welcome visitors we could have. Whatever we can do for you, just name it."
Now Raelle spoke. "We have a child aboard—" and quickly she told of Areyn's plight. "We've brought a sample of the basic medicine, and all the data available. If you—"
The man shook his head. "We don't have even a start on that kind of problem." Then he must have seen, as Jay saw, how her mouth compressed. For he said, "But we have time, you see. You say you've slowed the little girl's life processes by a factor of four or five—something like that." He smiled. "We can slow them nearly to zero—virtually suspend them, indefinitely—without harm. So bring her—our people will begin work with what you've brought, and sooner or later the child will live."
This Earth's port had the same location they had known, but a different name. Search landed, and a group—including the woman who had first spoken with them—brought a ground car to greet them. The woman—short, chunky and somewhat exotic to Jay's eyes—introduced herself. "Telia Hargan—since you can't know our customs, I'm to be your mediator." Jay wondered whether the butterfly design on her left cheek were tattoo or more temporary adornment.
He said, "Will you grant us Courier privileges as we know them? Access to your computer data to see how your Earth compares with the ones we've known?"
"Give them our Earth-status sheets, too, Jay. We'll have to share."
"Of course, Raelle—next time we go aboard. I didn't think to bring them."
Telia Hargan brushed black, bushy hair back from a sawtoothed hairline. That can't be natural—what's the purpose? And the method? She said, "Plenty of time—we'll be a while, just adjusting to the concepts you bring us. Tell me—do your alternate timelines really trade back and forth between themselves? That's a fascinating possibility."
Jay realized his answer—that all interline contact was at random, that to his knowledge no one could control Drift or even calibrate it—would disappoint Hargan. And by the looks of her, it did. He added, "Keep in mind—to the worlds we've seen, the whole idea's barely a few years old. Hardly explored. There may be solutions we haven't dreamed of." Then her eyes glinted and she smiled.
A medical team brought Areyn Tuang off Search. Jay and Raelle conferred with the head of that team, gave her all the data they'd brought from Waterfall and a summary of the child's condition since leaving the colony, and received assurance that they would be kept informed of all developments. Then Jay wanted to get to a computer terminal and evaluate this Earth. But everyone else pleaded hunger—and to his surprise he found that for the moment he, too, needed food more than information.
Only Telia Hargan ate with them; the rest went elsewhere. Hargan said, "You've been isolated together—we know a large group might be a strain. Now—while we have time to relax, do you have questions?"
Jay shook his head, feeling that only the data banks, not any one individual, could have the facts he needed. But Raelle said, "Our overall question has to be, how closely related to the Earths we knew, is this one of yours?"
Grinning, Hargan shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind, ask away."
Raelle frowned. "Do you know a space officer named Forgues?"
Telia Hargan scratched her cheek; an edge of the butterfly flaked away. After a moment, she nodded. "Sure—the big brain. Oversized head on a small body, almost deformed. He's been gone ten years, in command of Bear Trap. Due back in another year or so, with luck. And the scuttle is that if his expedition has any good fortune and returns fairly near to sked, he's closely in line for command of the port."
Raelle gripped Jay's arm. "You see? Even here, where they don't have Skip Drive yet, Forgues is on his way to Admiral. And that could indicate…"
He patted her hand. "Yes—I know what you're trying to say and I hope you're right. But our hostess can't possibly know all the people we want to check on. So let's drink our coffee and go quiz the local computer terminals."
Hargan looked surprised, but she said, "I'm ready when you are."
In the booth, the keyboard closely resembled an outmoded model Jay had learned in school a decade ago. The anachronism bothered him—he made errors and irritably canceled them.
First he stayed with data in large—impersonal matters. And except for lack of Skip Drive he found that this Earth paralleled his own, remarkably.
What colonies had this timeline seeded, and how advanced were they? Waterfall, Mossback, and of course Second Chance—all the nearer ones he could remember were active and in good order. He paused to realize that these reports came from sublight travel. Expeditions might now be returning from worlds he knew about, that this Earth as yet did not. He nodded—the pattern boded well.
Raelle interrupted him; he deactivated the terminal. Arms around his neck, she said, "I'm here. Jay! Off Earth at the moment, training to leave on the longest expedition to date. But not lifting for another month or so—I'll have time to meet me again!"
He kissed her, then said, "If they have any sense, it won't leave until they've added Skip units."
And Raelle said, "Probably not. But it's the meeting that counts, not the length of it."
She left, then, to follow her own curiosities, and Jay carefully pursued his own. Setra Tuang was gone to Waterfall—her sister Sualna was also scheduled to go, but not soon. He recorded Sualna's location and access code; there was no reason to disturb this alternate of the woman—not yet, not while Areyn's fate was still in doubt. Though this Sualna had no such child…
And now he faced what he had been avoiding. He punched for data on Harwood and Glenna Pearsall—did his parents exist, here?
Yes. They had gone to space on a planet-hunting expedition. He scanned ahead—they had returned, and safely! The current data— be read it carefully and shook his head in wonder. As a result of time dilation in sublight travel the two were fifteen years short of their natural, chronological ages—and they had left the Space arm for ground duty. He read no more.
For a time Jay sat. Then he switched to the communication net and punched for the address code of Junior Commander Harwood Pearsall. Waiting, he wondered what he could possibly say to this man. For a moment his finger rested on the "Cancel" key—but he did not push it.
The screen lit. Jay saw the father he had known when he was perhaps six or seven years old—and thought, he doesn't age much.
"Yes?" The older man spoke without warmth, granting an unknown caller no prerogatives. Jay tried to think—how to breach that coldness?
Finally, "I—please be patient—but may I speak with your wife, also?"
On the screen, the face, puzzlement. "I don't recognize you."
"I know you don't—you can't—but it's important. Please…"
Woody Pearsall squinted. "There's a familiar look to you, somehow. I'll grant you five minutes. Wait, now."
"Of course." The man left the screen's view. Jay waited, and after a time Harwood Pearsall returned. With him came a woman from Jay's dreams.
Glenna—his mother as she had been—walked with assurance and pride. Her long bright hair bounced in the wild, leaping curls Jay remembered only from early childhood. Her smooth complexion bore a faint flush, as from recent exercise. She said, "The king of the mountain will be along as soon as he's washed his face and hands. Now, Woody—and you at the other end, who maybe I know and maybe I don't—what's this all about?"
Her husband said, "He's the one who called. You're not sure whether you know him?"
Her remembered gesture—one fingertip to the tiny mole beside her eye—melted Jay's feelings. All planning failed him; he said, "I know you—you don't know me. But at the port—they can tell you. Telia Hargan? And the black man—one of their top people—I don't remember his name."
"I know it," said Harwood Pearsall, "and I know Hargan, also. If you—" He turned to meet the rush of the small boy who came laughing and leaped into his arms. Pearsall grunted and caught his balance. "Well—whoever you are, meet the rest of the family. Our son Jay, age six. And isn't it about time you introduced yourself?" Unable to speak, Jay stared at the three. Now I understand what Raelle felt. And then, here I stay!
He cleared his throat. "You're going to find this a little hard to believe…"
F. M. Busby, All These Earths
