“It’s just coincidence!”
“No such thing as coincidence in Zane’s world. Only conspiracies. There’s more. To find where we’ve come from you look back at Opiuchus, the serpent-bearer. That part of the sky is blanked out, so you can’t see Sol, the home of man. But why the serpent-bearer? Zane has been into the archive and he found an account of Ouroboros, a myth of ancient Egypt, a serpent endlessly devouring its own tail. So, Zane says, what we see behind us isn’t any kind of warp cone but the mouth of Ouroboros, continually devouring our fake reality, just as a fresh reality is continually constructed ahead of us to give us the illusion of movement.”
“My God. I had no idea this had got so elaborate.”
Grace shrugged. “Sometimes I believe him myself. After eighteen years in this tank Earth does seem a remote memory, unreal. If it wasn’t for the way my feet still ache from all those years of walking on the Plains-”
Holle shook her head. “Whether we’re buried in some cage in the Nevada desert or not, the plumbing still needs fixing. That’s what I cling to. Here comes Venus. Let’s go see Wilson, and get this business about him and Steel over.”
In his cabin, Wilson wore only grimy shorts, vest and socks, and he lounged, loosely tethered to a heap of blankets. He was putting on weight, and his skin was greasy.
A couple of his buddies were here with him, illegals called Jeb Holden and Dan Xavi. They were both former eye-dees who had switched to the security services, and forced their way onto the Ark at launch. Now, overweight forty-year-old men, they hung in the corners of the cabin, saying and doing nothing, just watching the women with a faintly intimidating air.
There was no sign of Steel, the point of contention.
Wilson knew why they were here. Holle began to speak, self-conscious and nervous, working her way around the issue.
Since the Split, as far as Holle knew, Wilson had never replaced Kelly with any other long-term partner. But he had been taking lovers from throughout the crew. He had fathered a number of kids too. All this was with the consent of the women involved, and the social engineers back in Colorado would have approved of him spreading his genes around. But then Steel Antoniadi had caught Wilson’s eye, during a dance festival. Named for the color of the walls in this stripped-bare hull, she had grown up dark, willowy, unconsciously graceful in microgravity, exotic in her tunic and tattoos, and just fourteen. Her mother, an illegal called Sue Turco, had been too intimidated by Wilson to do anything about it. But her father, Joe Antoniadi, a former Candidate, had protested to the other elders about it, especially Holle, his boss.
Wilson cut Holle short. “The hell with this, Holle. I’m not forcing the kid.”
“That’s not the point, Wilson-”
“Look at me. I’m the most powerful man on the ship. Have been for ten years. And rich, too! A credit millionaire. But there’s nothing I can buy. So what’s in it for me? I’ll tell you. Only the sweetest commodity on the ship. I’m talking about young flesh, Holle. Young, just coming ripe, and as limber as all fuck after a lifetime swimming around in zero G. That’s what’s in it for me-or so I decided, when I saw Steel doing that whirling dance in the air.”
“The mission is about the kids, Wilson,” Venus said hotly. “They aren’t just some ‘commodity’ for you to indulge in. What’s next, are you going to start raiding the school groups for bait for your henchmen? I can’t believe the boy I grew up with has turned out like this.”
Wilson just laughed. One of his buddies farted, a liquid sound.
Holle said, “Well, you’re asking for trouble, Wilson. This isn’t some feudal village. In the end you govern by consent. And you’re pushing your luck.”
Wilson glanced at Jeb and Dan, who grinned back at him. “I’ll take that on advisement. Is there anything else I can do for you ladies?”
80
August 2059
There was great excitement on the morning of the arrival of the submarine from Ark Two.
Kelly watched her fellow space travelers crowding to the raft’s edge, waiting for the sub to surface. Compared to the raft’s healthy, robust crew, with skins tanned brown and swimming muscles taut, the Seba people looked like ghosts, spectral, their limbs too long, their heads too large. Their eagerness faintly worried Kelly. They had spent most or all of their lives inside an engineered environment, and were too easily distracted from the shabby garbage raft they were going to have to live on for the rest of their lives. But then it had been Kelly herself who had interrogated Thandie Jones about Ark Two, in their very first proper conversation together.
As they waited it started to rain, just gently, the drops hissing on the ocean. The sky held the remnants of a red dawn, with a faint stink of sulfur in the air. Thandie sniffed. “Volcano weather. Rain precipitating out around ash particles…”
There was a ragged cheer as the sub broke the surface. Naked brown-skinned kids swam out to it. Kelly made out a boat-shaped streamlined hull, a conning tower with periscope and radio masts, and a bold Stars and Stripes painted on its flank. The sub drew close enough that ladders could be thrown across from raft to sub, and you could simply walk across without getting your feet wet. The raft kids scampered back and forth over the ladders carelessly, playing in the water that streamed off the sub’s hull.
A couple of the sub crew emerged, a man and a woman. They were young, maybe early twenties. They wore reasonably clean-looking blue coveralls and boots, and they had their hair cropped short, military style. Sturdy-looking but pale, they had more in common with the Seba people than the rafters, Kelly thought. They crossed the ladders to the raft easily enough. Little kids swarmed around them, plucking at their hands and trouser legs.
Thandie Jones walked up to the two of them stiffly, and Kelly followed.
The young man was about Kelly’s height, his hair blond, his eyes pale blue. He wore patches on his coverall, a US flag and a mission badge, like the astronauts’ patches Gordo Alonzo used to show the Candidates. The patch was an inverted triangle containing a pie-slice of the Earth’s cross-section, with a strip of bubbling ocean and the bold words ARK TWO plastered over a schematic sky. Kelly stared. This patch was the first piece of physical evidence she had ever seen that Ark Two, hidden from her by her father’s lies and evasions, actually existed.
“Ms. Kenzie,” the young man said.
She was staring. Disconcerted, she said, “Call me Kelly.”
“Welcome home. I can’t imagine what you’ve done, what you’ve seen.” His accent was odd to Kelly’s ears, stilted, not quite American. He seemed to be having trouble making eye contact with her. “I wish I could see your ship.”
Mike snorted. “No, you don’t. After eighteen years it’s a flying toilet; best to let it burn up.” He stuck out his hand. “Mike Wetherbee.”
“I know who you are, Dr. Wetherbee. We all read the log you transmitted down to the Ark. You’re heroes to us, all of you. It’s an honor.” She shook Mike’s hand, and Masayo’s, and then bent down to inspect Eddie, who grinned back. “And I know who you are too.”
“This is the party for the Ark,” Thandie said. “Me, Kelly, Mike, Masayo, little Eddie here. You got room for us in that tub of yours?”
“It’s not the Trieste, but we do our best.” He faced Kelly, glancing at her, looking away. “You’ve come so far, across forty light-years. But it’s another twelve kilometers to Ark Two-straight down. Are you ready?”
“Help me across that ladder and I’m all yours,” Kelly said. “You’re being very generous to us-I don’t even know your name.”
He stared at her with an odd intensity. “You don’t recognize me.”
“I’m sorry.”
His face turned red. “I’m your son. Dexter. Your first son.”
This was completely unexpected. Kelly felt as if she had been punched. Eddie squealed, and she realized she was gripping his hand too tight. She deliberately let go.