‘That can't be right, Crile. You knew they were planning to go to the stars, but she said, “If you knew where we were going-” There was something you didn't know. What was it you didn't know?’
‘What are you talking about? How can anyone know what he doesn't know?’
Wyler shrugged it off. ‘Did you tell this to the Office during the debriefing?’
Fisher considered. ‘I guess not. I didn't even think of it till I started telling you the story about how I nearly stayed.’ He closed his eyes, then said slowly, ‘No, this is the first time I've talked about that. It's the first time I've let myself think about it.’
‘Very well, then. Now that you think about it - where was Rotor going? Did you hear any speculations on Rotor about that? Any rumors? Any guesses?’
‘The assumption was that it would be to Alpha Centauri. Where else? It's the nearest star.’
‘Your wife was an astronomer. What did she say about it?’
‘Nothing. She never discussed it.’
‘Rotor sent out the Far Probe.’
‘I know.’
‘And your wife was involved - as an astronomer.’
‘She was, but she never discussed it either, and I was careful not to do so. My mission would have been aborted, and perhaps I might have been imprisoned - or executed, for all I know - if I displayed an unhealthy curiosity too openly.’
‘But as an astronomer, she would know the destination. She as much as said so. “If you knew-” You see? She knew and if you knew, too-’
Fisher didn't seem interested. ‘Since she didn't tell me what she knew, I can't tell you.’
‘Are you sure? No casual remarks whose significance you didn't note at the time? After all, you're not an astronomer and she might have said something you didn't quite get. Do you remember anything at all she said that set you to puzzling?’
‘I can't think of anything.’
‘Think! Is it possible that the Far Probe located a planetary system around one or both of the Sun-like stars of Alpha Centauri?’
‘I can't say.’
‘Or planets about any star?’
Fisher shrugged.
‘Think!’ said Wyler urgently. ‘Is there any reason for you to think that she meant, “You think we're going to Alpha Centauri, but there are planets circling it and we're heading for those.” Or could she have meant, “You think we're going to Alpha Centauri, but we're going to another star where we're sure there will be a useful planet.” Something like that?’
‘I couldn't possibly guess.’
Garand Wyler's generous lips compressed themselves tightly for a moment. Then he said, ‘I'll tell you what, Crile, my old friend. There are three things that are going to happen now. First, you're going to have to undergo another debriefing. Second, I suspect we're going to have to persuade the Ceres Settlement to allow us the use of their asteroid telescope, and use it to inspect, very closely, every star within a hundred light-years of the Solar System. And, third, we'll have to whip our hyperspatialists into jumping a little higher and farther. You watch and see if that's not what happens.’
9. Erythro
There were times, once in a while, once in an ever longer while as the years passed (or so it seemed to him), when Janus Pitt found time to sit back in his chair, alone and silent, and just allow his mind to relax. Those were moments when there were no orders to give, no information to absorb, no immediate decisions to make, no farms to visit, no factories to inspect, no regions in space to penetrate, no-one to see, no-one to listen to, no-one to foil, no-one to encourage-
And always when such times came, Pitt allowed himself the final and least exhaustible luxury - that of self-pity.
It was not that he would have anything different than what it was. He had planned for all his adult life to be Commissioner because he thought that no-one could run Rotor as he could; and now that he was Commissioner, he still thought so.
But why, among all the fools of Rotor, could he find no-one who could see long-range as he could? It was fourteen years since the Leaving, and still no-one could really see the inevitable; not even after he had explained it carefully.
Someday, back in the Solar System, sooner rather than later, someone would develop hyper-assistance as the hyperspatialists on Rotor had - perhaps even in a better form. Someday humanity would set out in its hundreds and thousands of Settlements, in its millions and billions of people, to colonize the Galaxy, and that would be a brutal time.
Yes, the Galaxy was enormous. How often had he heard that? And beyond it were other galaxies. But humanity would not spread out evenly. Always, always, there would be some star systems that, for one reason or another, were better than other star systems, and they would be the ones snarled and fought over. If there were ten star systems and ten colonizing groups, all ten would zero in on one of the star systems, and one only.
And sooner or later, they would discover Nemesis and the colonizers would appear. How would Rotor survive then?
Only if Rotor gained as much time as possible, built up a strong civilization, and expanded reasonably. If they had enough time, they might expand their hold over a group of stars. If not, Nemesis alone would be enough - but it must be made impregnable.
Pitt did not dream of universal conquest, of conquest of any kind. What he wanted was an island of tranquillity and security against the days when the Galaxy would be aflame and in chaos as a result of conflicting ambitions.
But he alone could see this. He alone bore the weight of it. He might live another quarter century and might remain in power through all that time, either as actual Commissioner or as an elder statesman whose word would be decisive. Yet, eventually, he would die - and to whom could he then bequeath his far-sightedness?
Then Pitt felt a twinge of self-pity. He had labored for so many years, would labor for so many more, yet was appreciated - truly appreciated - by none. And it would all come to an end anyway, because the Idea would be drowned in the ocean of mediocrity that constantly lapped at the ankles of those few who could see beyond the years.
It was fourteen years since the Leaving and when, at any time, had he been able to be quietly confident? He went to sleep each night with the fear that he would be awakened before morning with the news that another Settlement had arrived - that Nemesis had been found.
He passed through every day with some hidden part of him paying no attention to what was immediately on the agenda, but listening - listening for the fatal words.
Fourteen years and they were still not safe. One additional Settlement had been built - New Rotor. There were people living on it, but it was a new world, of course. It still smelled of paint, as the old saying had it. Three more Settlements were in various stages of construction.
Soon - within the decade, at any rate - the number of Settlements under construction would increase, and they would be given that oldest of all commands: Be fruitful and multiply!
With the example of Earth before them, with the knowledge that each Settlement had a narrow and unexpandable capacity, procreation had always been under strict control in space. There the immovable needs of arithmetic met the possibly irresistible force of instinct and immovability won. But as the number of Settlements grew, there would come a time when more people would be needed - many more - and the urge to produce them could be unleashed.
It would be temporary, of course. No matter how many Settlements there were, they could be filled without effort by any population that could easily double its numbers every thirty-five years, or less. And when the day came when the rate of Settlement formation passed through its inflection point and began to diminish, it might be far harder to stuff the djinn back into its bottle than it had been to release it.
Who would see this well in advance, and prepare for it once Pitt himself was gone?