Nemesis (8 page)

‘Venetia, thank you for coming,’ said Bradley.

Venetia nodded. ‘Hi.’

‘And beside her is Professor Harare Tam, a senior partner at the Vartian Institute, the most highly regarded exodefence think tank in human space.’

Yunus smiled to himself. The Vartian Institute was the
only
such think tank. Nobody else bothered. Tam looked as stuffy and professorial as ever in his purple Institute hoodie, which he always wore fully zipped. The patches on his sleeves were peeling. They always wheeled Tam out when they needed a good crackpot, and Tam never disappointed. His wild eyebrows alone were enough to boost the feed’s hit-rate.

‘Thank you very much for inviting me, Bradley,’ said Tam. ‘I am glad to be here. Really very grateful.’

Yunus thought of Tam rather fondly, ridiculous figure though he was. He and the other top names in social exoscience didn’t really get along that well, but they’d all known each other for years and developed an inevitable camaraderie. Often, he and his fellow pundits found themselves competing for the same patches of limelight and the same scant government grants. Except Tam, of course, whose insular organisation never appeared to want for cash.

Yunus knew that most outsiders regarded his field as something of a joke. The healthy doses of speculation required, along with the backing from politically biased sources, tended to make it look less than rigorous. He didn’t care. It had worked very nicely for him.

This show was a perfect example. Yunus’s allies in government arranged things like this to keep him in the public eye. It was high-class propaganda, really, but for the best possible reasons. Two pro-balance pundits with differing philosophies had been brought in to fight it out, leaving him to be the voice of moderation. The Colonials didn’t get a voice, let alone bigots like the FPP. Yunus knew he’d come off in a good light; the event had been set up that way.

‘Today’s topic,’ said Bradley, waving expansively, ‘is this: in our modern age, do we still believe in benign alien mentorship? Doctor Sharp, how about we start with you?’

‘Sure, Brad. First, I feel I should clarify that when we’re talking about alien mentors, I presume we mean the Transcended. As far as I’m aware, humanity hasn’t encountered any
other
galaxy-dominating civilisations. So the question you’re asking really is: do we still trust
them
given that we haven’t heard anything from them since Monet’s first encounter?

‘The answer is yes, absolutely. And now more than ever. The reason is simply that, despite all the speculation to the contrary, nothing bad has happened to the human race since we started using the suntap technology the Transcended gave us. We’re still here running our own affairs. I’d say that leaves little room for paranoid speculation. On top of that, we have to add all the advances that access to Fecund space has given us – advances that would never have been possible without their intervention. There are the nestship technologies, all the new methods for building orbital habitats, and the unexpected bioscience benefits of having Fecund bacteria to play with, life-extension being the most obvious among them.

‘Then you have to factor in the suntap’s effect on energy prices. The ability to quantum-channel energy straight out of a star’s corona is an incredible boon for humanity. Everyone focuses on the threat of using suntaps to power weapons but that’s not their only application. Suntap power stations have made antimatter cheaper and more plentiful than at any other time in human history. If that’s not benign mentorship, I don’t know what is.’

By this time, Tam was practically vibrating in his chair.

‘Professor Tam,’ said Bradley. ‘It looks like you’ve got something to add. You disagree?’

Tam sat up straight and fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. ‘Well, yes, with all greatest possible respect to Ms Sharp, she is wrong. I know that the line she’s taking has been the popular norm for some years now, but it remains a dangerous and reckless one.’

Bradley struck a thoughtful pose. ‘How do you square that, Professor? It’s hard to argue with the Transcended silence, or the benefits we’ve gained from the Far Frontier.’

‘Neither point is strictly relevant,’ said Tam. ‘For a society such as the Transcended, thirty years is the blink of an eye. In that time, we’ve done exactly what they wanted, which is spill out into a region of the galaxy over which we already know they exercise tight control. In the meantime, we’ve learned nothing about their intentions. They’re as opaque to us as they were when they first announced their presence via the lure star. The simple fact that they haven’t once told us how we’re supposed to improve as a species or “constructively self-edit”, as they so colourfully put it, should serve as a warning.’

‘But if we don’t know what they want,’ said Bradley, ‘should we automatically assume that their goals are malign?’

Tam nodded like a badly calibrated housebot. ‘We still only know two things about the Transcended. First, that they hand out weapons to younger species. Weapons of unspeakable power. And second, that they use the stellar signature imprinted by those weapons to eradicate any species they don’t like. The only race at peer-level development to humanity that we know of is the Fecund, and our best estimates suggest that the Transcended wiped them out in a coordinated remote assault that took a little under a week. A week! This despite the fact that the Fecund had come to occupy at least twenty different star systems spread over dozens of light-years. The moment a star-faring species begins using the suntap, they essentially hand a kill-switch for their own civilisation to a race of entities about which they know
nothing
except for the nebulous agenda they choose to promote. Does that sound benign to you? A Faustian bargain is what it sounds like to me – and one we have already foolishly entered into.’

Yunus saw his opportunity to wade in. He waved a hand.

Bradley took note and shifted his attention. ‘Professor Chesterford – you see it differently?’

‘If I may, Brad. I have the utmost respect for both of my colleagues’ positions, but I think there’s room for a middle ground here. Doctor Sharp’s position is the one we’ve grown used to hearing. But as Professor Tam points out, it may be a little naive. I think we’d be crazy to dismiss Professor Tam’s concerns out of hand simply because they sound paranoid to our culturally conditioned ears. The real problem is that we don’t have a frame of reference for this topic. As Doctor Sharp mentioned, we only know of one “galaxy-dominating civilisation”, and quite frankly, we know so little about the Transcended that the actual extent of their abilities remains a mystery. It’s my opinion that we should withhold judgement until we know more. Simple as that.’

‘You appear to be suggesting that there’s more to know,’ said Bradley, one eyebrow arched. ‘Isn’t that the problem, though? That they’re not talking to us?’

‘Who’s to say they’re the only voice out there?’ said Yunus. ‘Perspective might come from anywhere. We only have the Transcended’s word that they’re the ultimate authority in this galaxy, yet we’ve never even laid eyes on them. We only need one data point to disprove their claim. And if that happens, we’ll have to start rethinking human significance in the galaxy. If it turns out that the Transcended are lying to us, as Professor Tam implies, we might have to consider whether some of our own home-grown notions of moral authority might hold a little more weight than those we’ve imported from a supposedly superior race.’

His line wasn’t the Transcendist Church orthodoxy, but that was deliberate. The people Yunus worked with were trying to reseed some of Truism’s better ideas in the public domain, particularly among the upper end of the Following class – the show’s core audience.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Venetia with a sneer, ‘but is this a discussion about aliens or church policy? Because, last I checked, we don’t
have
that other data point you’re referring to. We have ruins left by one peer-level species – the Fecund – which are ten million years old, and that’s it. Are you honestly proposing another such species exists out there for us to find? A living one?’

Yunus shrugged. ‘I’m proposing that we can’t know the answer to that question yet.’

She smiled darkly. ‘And if there is one, it automatically validates the idea of human supremacy, I take it.’

Yunus frowned. Venetia was leading them off-topic. Her remarks would lower her popularity ratings, which he didn’t mind, but ideally she shouldn’t be poking around so close to the show’s political agenda. Yunus framed a pithy reply but the recording light in his view-field snapped off. A call icon replaced it.

Bradley’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry, everyone,’ he said, glancing about. ‘Looks like we had to suspend recording. Not sure why.’

‘That’s my fault, I’m afraid,’ said Yunus. ‘It came in high priority. I’m sorry. I told them not to ping me here. I’ll be back in a moment.’

He hurried out of the recording lounge, his cheeks burning. The camera-drones darted aside to let him pass. He stopped in the waiting room to take the call.

‘Who is this?’ he said. ‘It really isn’t a good time.’

A call window opened in his contact-display. In it hovered the blandly handsome face of Ezekiel Wei, his top contact in the IPSO House Proportional.

‘Zeke!’ he said, astonished. ‘I’m sorry, I was recording a show. What can I do for you?’

‘Something’s come up,’ said Zeke tersely. ‘Do you have a secure line? You need to see this.’

Yunus glanced around and strode for the nearest privacy chamber. He waited for the anti-surveillance light to come on.

‘I’m clear,’ he said, looking into the nearest camera. ‘Show me.’

‘Word of it only just hit the House,’ said Zeke.

A separate video-window opened in Yunus’s display. In it, Tom Lark’s recording began to play.

Yunus’s skin tingled as he watched – partly in anger and partly in awe. The recording made it obvious that one of Earth’s Houses had engaged in some very public frontier jumping. Under normal circumstances that would have been cause for celebration. Earth would finally have enough political momentum to force IPSO to change the laws around planetary registration or risk war. However, the violent ending ruined everything.

Instead of a clean political lever, they had chaos. IPSO would undoubtedly assume Earth’s sects were responsible for the attack, despite the fact that it muddied Earth’s own cause. They’d point the finger because they could.

Yunus felt sure he had enough traction with Earth’s leadership to know the attack wasn’t Earth’s doing, and he doubted the Colonies would pull a stunt like this. It wasn’t their style. Which meant this was
it
– the big moment his career had been leading up to. He could forget grubbing around in Fecund garbage heaps. This event would change the human race for ever.

‘There’ll have to be a diplomatic mission,’ said Yunus breathlessly.

‘Without a doubt,’ said Zeke.

‘I want to be on it,’ said Yunus. ‘Whatever it takes, I want a place on that ship. I’m calling in my favours, Zeke. All of them. Earth’s going to need a representative.’

Zeke smiled. ‘We were hoping you’d say that. Your name was top of our list, along with Citra’s, of course. I’ll talk details with you later but for the time being, keep this quiet, okay? We can’t afford for it to go public on our watch.’

‘Of course,’ said Yunus. ‘I understand.’

As soon as the call dropped, Yunus reached for his wife’s icon and pinged her with the priority ramped to the max. Her face appeared, backed by shelves full of lab equipment.

‘Yuni?’ she said, looking confused.

‘Citra, dear,’ he said. ‘Get to a privacy box, quickly. You’re never going to believe this.’

2.4: ANN

Ann watched impatiently through her display as the
Griffin
slid towards port. She’d made the run from Yonaguni in record time but still feared it wasn’t fast enough. Ahead of them loomed the ungainly octopus that was the local Fleet HQ, straddled between the vast, dark masses of starships and buzzing with shuttles. Hundreds of kilometres below, orbital habitats formed a glittering band of pearls around their parent world: New Panama, jewel of the Far Frontier.

Despite being so close to her adopted home, Ann’s stomach refused to settle. It churned in anticipation of her meeting. The cloak-and-dagger nonsense her Rumfoord League work required sat poorly with her. Policing the Frontier had been difficult enough before she’d been required to start lying to her own people.

She’d have given anything for a day off on the surface. New Panama was, to her mind, the most optimistic of worlds – close to what she’d hoped the future would be like as a child. Bryant City was all broad, domed spaces and habitat canyons. None of the horrid supertowers that blighted other worlds. On rest days, she liked to visit the McKlusky Museum and attend the public talks. Everyone there appeared to be making deals or showing up with some new discovery. The mood of excitement the place contained just from being the gateway between the old and new frontiers hung in the air like fragrant smoke.

Before Baron and Monet’s fateful voyage, humanity had been restricted to an onion-skin layer of stars all the same distance from the galactic core – a region defined by the limitations of warp drive. But with the discovery of the nearby Penfield Lobe, everything had changed. Now they had access to a second layer of stars crammed with the ruins of the Fecund civilisation. New Panama lay at that solitary junction, a hub for trade, science and exploration.

Bryant City had half a dozen different research institutions just for studying the lobe and a dozen more dedicated to the alien remains that littered the outer system. The place had come a long way since Monet’s discovery of it. And business decrypting the Fecund technology found in the new territories never stopped booming. Ann loved the world for the hope it offered when the rest of the Far Frontier seemed so squalid.

Slowly, Fleet HQ slid up to obscure the view. Ann found herself looking out at a silver-grey horizon of metal and ceramic struts that stretched for dozens of kilometres. Here and there, sensor towers rose like gothic spires into the star-spattered sky.