“This one is best. Of course, they can’t have a conversation with you in any sense. So they worked out every probable combination of relevant factors and allowed me, with Other-prime, to make the final evaluation and speak for them. Other-prime gave me a final piece of input a few minutes ago.”
“Telepathy?” Dustin said.
It tapped its ear. “More like radio. We won’t kill you all, which was an option much discussed, and still favored by a minority.”
“But you will kill some of us,” Namir said, almost a whisper.
“No, not killing, not like murder. We must take two of you, a human and a Martian, back to the planet of the Others.”
“For how long?” I asked.
It paused, I think not for drama. “It would be forever. You would be joining the Others, physically.”
“Frozen solid?” Elza said.
“You would have nitrogen, a liquid, in your veins.”
“The Martian would have to be me,” Fly-in-Amber said.
“That’s right,” Spy said. “The human…”
There was a lengthy silence. Paul half raised his hand. “I—”
“You’re the pilot,” Namir said, “and not expendable. I’m the oldest”—he looked at his spouses—“and, among the military people, I have the highest rank. The honor will be mine.”
“No!” I said. “Namir, be practical.”
“It can’t be Moonboy,” he said. “He’s not competent. Did you want to volunteer?” He was smiling, rueful rather than mocking.
“With all respect,” Dustin said, “this is not a job for an espionage specialist. You want a philosopher.”
“A doctor,” Elza said. “I know more about human beings than both of you combined.”
“We should do it by lot,” I said. “Excluding Paul and Moonboy.” When I said it, my stomach dropped. I looked at Meryl, and she nodded, looking grim.
“This is fascinating,” Spy said, “and I’m tempted to let you keep fighting it out. But what makes you think the choice is yours to make?
“The fact that Moonboy has been unconscious since arriving here makes him the most attractive of you, to the Others.”
“What?” Namir said. “He’s mentally incompetent.”
“Your mental competence is not an issue. The most intelligent of you, which would be Dustin, is still only human. What’s more interesting about Moonboy is that he’s immune to any consensus the rest of you might have arrived at since coming here. He is a tabula rasa with regard to the Others, and therefore will be easier to work with.”
“What makes you think you can wake him up?” Elza said.
“He won’t be awake when he joins the Others. He won’t even be alive, technically.”
“So the human race is going to be represented by a somewhat dead lunatic,” Namir said.
Spy paused, as if deciding whether to make a joke of that. “His individual characteristics and experiences are not particularly important. His recent experiences are, though; the less he knows about the Others, the better.”
“I think I understand,” Fly- in-Amber said. “Like positive feedback in a circuit. Interfering with the signal because of its similarity.”
That was the most science I’d ever heard from Fly-in-Amber. “You aren’t upset about this, yourself? Being kidnapped and killed and stored in a deep freeze?”
He clasped his head in appreciation of humor, a gesture he rarely used. “Another way of saying it is that it’s a chance at literal immortality, representing my race among the Others. How many foreign races would I be joining, Spy?”
“Two hundred forty-eight. Though more than half of them would be so different from you that communication would be unlikely.”
“You see, Carmen? As Namir said, it’s an honor.”
“I was not being literal, Fly- in-Amber. My feelings are more like Carmen’s.”
“I think Moonboy’s would be, too,” Meryl said, her voice thick and shaking. “We should try to revive him.”
“Shock him out of it?” Elza said. “And tell him ‘Prepare to die’?”
“That is what it would be,” Spy said. “If his comfort or happiness is at issue, I think your course is clear.”
Meryl crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself. “My course is not clear. It’s euthanasia to treat mental illness. For my husband of twenty-three years.”
“One of you is headed there.” Spy stepped toward her, and his voice lowered. “An objective observer would see that he is giving up the least. You can’t say that’s not true.”
“You’re not going to be able to care for him. He needs constant medical attention.”
Not if he’s going to die, I thought.
“In terms of duration,” Spy said, “he will spend less time going there than you will spend returning to ad Astra from here. Minutes.”
“It might be a kindness,” Dustin said. It was clear that Meryl was struggling with it—it would be a kindness to her, as well, of course.
“Take me, too?” she said.
“No. We don’t have two of any race. Not possible.”
She sat down and stared at nothing.
“I wonder if it would be possible for me to kill you,” Namir said quietly.
“It’s an interesting thought,” Spy said. “How would you propose to do it?”
“Physical force. I’ve done it to bigger and stronger creatures.”
“It wouldn’t be smart,” Paul said.
“We’re running out of smart.” Only his lips moved, and his eyes. But the quality of his poise changed. He was gathering himself, ready.
“Don’t,” I said. “They can kill you with a thought.”
“We could,” Spy said, “but might not. Go ahead and try.”
After the longest second in my life, Namir said, “It was a hypothetical question. You’ve answered it,” and relaxed, turning his back. Spy looked at each of us in turn, perhaps recording our reactions.
“So. We just go back to Earth?” Paul said. “How will that work?”
“You set up the flight as you normally would. You will begin to accelerate, then, after a period of no duration, stop. That will be at the turnaround point. You spend thirty hours or so there, turning around again, then you complete the journey, also with no duration. Almost twenty-five years will pass, of course, while you travel the twenty- four light-years.”
“Will we be seeing you again?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps you’d better hope not.”
13
END OF A WORLD
So we left Moonboy and Fly-in-Amber to the tender mercies of the Others and made our weightless way along the cable back to ad Astra. Before we got to the air lock, the starfish rose and sped away. Namir stood still and watched it depart. I wished I could have seen his face.
Once inside, I stayed close to Meryl, but she didn’t want to talk about it. We all raided the pantry for human food, however uninspiring.
“I’ll need a day or two to consolidate the data we have about the planet; make sure all of it’s mapped,” Paul said. “Though we could spend years mapping and measuring, and scientists on Earth would still want more. The first detailed observation of an Earth-like exoplanet.”
“It probably won’t be the first,” Dustin noted. “They’ll have had fifty years to explore nearer Earth.”
Paul laughed. “I hope you’re right. There ought to be robot probes all over the place.”
I pulled gecko slippers out of the rack by the air lock and followed Snowbird into the Martian quarters. Not too cold for a short visit.
She was inspecting the racks of mushroomlike plants. “Hello, Carmen.”
“Hello, Snowbird.” I didn’t know what to say. “You will be lonely?”