Nemesis

20. Proof

Kattimoro Tanayama, with his accustomed tenacity, lived out the year he had been allotted, and was well into another year before his long battle was over. When the time came, he left the field of battle without a word or sign, so that the instruments recorded death before any onlooker could see it had come.

It made little stir on Earth and none at all in the Settlements, for the Old Man had always done his work outside the public eye and had been all the stronger for it. It was those who dealt with him who knew his power, and those who most depended on his strength and policy who were the most relieved to see him go.

The news reached Tessa Wendel early, by the special channel set up between her headquarters and World City. Somehow, the fact that it had been expected for months did not ease the shock.

What would happen now? Who would succeed Tanayama and what changes would be made? She had been speculating on the matter for a long time, but it was only now that the questions seemed to have real meaning. Obviously, despite everything, Wendel (and perhaps all who were involved) had not really expected the Old Man to die.

She turned for comfort to Crile Fisher. Wendel was realistic enough to know that it was not her now clearly middle-aged body (in less than two months, she would be reaching an incredible fifty) that held Fisher. He was forty-three now and the bloom of youth had become somewhat overblown there, too, but it wasn't as obvious in a man. In any case, he was held, and she could still make herself feel that it was she who held him, figuratively, especially on those occasions when she held him, literally.

She said to Fisher, ‘Well, now what?’

Fisher said, ‘It's no surprise, Tessa. It should have happened before this.’

‘Granted, but it's happened now. It was his blind determination that kept this project going. Now what?’

Fisher said, ‘As long as he was alive, you were eager for him to die. Now you are concerned. But I don't think you need worry. The project will continue. Something this size has a life of its own and it can't be stopped.’

‘Have you ever tried to calculate how much this has cost, Crile? There'll be a new Director of the Terrestrial Board of Inquiry and the Global Congress will certainly pick someone they can control. There'll be no new Tanayama before whom they must all cower - not in the foreseeable future. And then they'll look at their budget and, without Tanayama's gnarled hand covering it, they will see it is meters deep in red ink, and they'll want to cut it back.’

‘How can they? They've spent so much already. Are they to stop with nothing to show for it? That would really be a fiasco.’

‘They can blame it on Tanayama. “He was a madman,” they'll say, “an egomaniac, driven by an obsession” - all of which is true to a considerable extent, as we both know - and now they, who were not responsible for any of this, can return Earth to sanity and abandon something the planet can't really afford.’

Fisher smiled. ‘Tessa, my love, your penetration of the manner of political thinking is probably par for a first-class hyperspatialist genius. The Director of the Office is - in theory, and in public perception - an appointed official of narrow powers who is supposedly under the thorough control of the President-General and the Global Congress. These supposedly powerful officials, who are elected, cannot make it plain that Tanayama ruled them all and had them cowering in corners, afraid to let their hearts beat without his permission. They would reveal themselves to be cowards and incapable weaklings, and they would risk losing their positions at the next election. They will have to continue the project. They will make cosmetic cuts only.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ muttered Wendel.

‘Long experience at watching elected officialdom, Tessa. Besides, if we stop short, we're just inviting all the Settlements to get it before we do - to move out into deep space and leave us behind the way Rotor did.’

‘Oh? How will they do that?’

‘Given their knowledge of hyper-assistance, wouldn't you say that an advance to superluminal flight is inevitable?’

Wendel looked at Fisher sardonically. ‘Crile, my love, your penetration of hyperspatialism is probably par for a first-class wheedler of secrets. Is that what you think of my work? That it is an inevitable consequence of hyper-assistance? Haven't you grasped the fact that hyper-assistance is a natural consequence of relativistic thinking? It still doesn't allow travel faster than the speed of light. To move on to superluminal velocities requires a true leap in both thought and practice. It would not come naturally, and I have explained this to various people in the government. They complained about the slowness and the expense, and I had to explain the difficulties. They'll remember this now and they won't be afraid to stop us at this point. I can't whip them onward by suddenly telling them that we may be outraced.’

Fisher shook his head. ‘Of course you can tell them that. And they'll believe you, too, because it will be true. We can be easily overtaken.’

‘Haven't you listened to what I've said?’

‘I have, but you're leaving something out. Allow a little for common sense, especially from someone you've just called a first-class wheedler of secrets.’

‘What are you talking about, Crile?’

‘This vast leap from hyper-assistance to superluminal flight is only a vast leap if one begins at the beginning, as you did. The Settlements, however, are not beginning at the beginning. Do you really think they know nothing at all about our project, about Hyper City? Do you think that I and my Earthly colleagues are the only wheedlers of secrets in the Solar System? The Settlers have their wheedlers, who work just as hard as we do and just as effectively. For one thing, they've known you were on Earth almost from the day you arrived here.’

‘What if they knew?’

‘Just this. Do you think they don't have computers that will tell them you have written and published papers in the field? Do you think they don't have access to those papers? Do you think they haven't read them painstakingly and carefully and that they haven't found out you think that superluminal speeds are theoretically possible?’

Wendel bit her lip and said, ‘Well-’

‘Yes, think about it. When you wrote your thoughts on superluminal velocity, you were merely speculating. You were virtually a minority of one in thinking it might be possible. No-one took it seriously. But now you come to Earth and you stay there. You suddenly drop from sight and do not return to Adelia. They may not know all the details of what you're doing, for security on this project has been as tight as Tanayama's paranoia could make it. Still, the mere fact that you've disappeared is suggestive and there can't be any possible doubt, in the light of what you've published, as to what you're working on.

‘Something like Hyper City can't be kept a total secret. The incredible sums of money being invested must leave a noticeable trace. So every Settlement is scrabbling for odds and ends they may be able to convert into bits of knowledge. And every bit gives them hints that will enable them to progress much more quickly than you were able to. You tell them all that, Tessa, if any question arises over ending the project. We can and will be overtaken in the race if we stop running. That thought will keep the new people as fired-up over the matter as ever Tanayama was, and it all has the merit of being true.’

Wendel was silent for a considerable time while Fisher watched her carefully.

‘You're right, my dear wheedler of secrets,’ she said at last. ‘I made a mistake in thoughtlessly considering you a lover rather than an adviser.’

‘Why should the two necessarily be mutually exclusive?’ asked Fisher.

‘Although,’ said Wendel, ‘I know very well that you have your own motivations in this.’

‘What does that matter,’ said Fisher, ‘even if it's true, provided mine run parallel with yours?’

A delegation of Congressmen eventually arrived, along with Igor Koropatsky, the new Director of the Terrestrial Board of Inquiry. He had been in subordinate positions at the Office for years, so he was not completely unknown to Tessa Wendel.

He was a quiet man, with smooth, thinning gray hair, a rather bulbous nose, a comfortable double chin, who looked well-fed and good-natured. He was shrewd undoubtedly, but he obviously lacked Tanayama's almost diseased intensity. At a full kilometer, you could see that.

Congressmen were with him, of course, as though to show that this successor was their property and under their control. They must surely be hoping it would stay that way. Tanayama had been a long and bitter lesson.

No-one suggested that the project be ended. Rather, the concern was that it be hastened - if possible. Wendel's cautious attempt to stress the possibility that the Settlements might overtake Earth, or be hot on its heels, was accepted without demur, almost dismissed as obvious on the face of it.

Koropatsky, who was allowed to be spokesman and to take the responsibility, said, ‘Dr Wendel, I do not ask for a long, formal tour of Hyper City. I have been here before, and it is more important that I spend some time reorganizing the Office. I mean no disrespect to my distinguished predecessor, but any shifting of an important administrative body from one person to another requires a great deal of reorganization, especially if the predecessor's tenure has been a lengthy one. Now I am not, by nature, a formal man. Let us, therefore, speak freely and informally, and I will ask some questions which I hope you will answer in a way that a man of my own modest attainments in science will have no trouble in understanding.’

Wendel nodded. ‘I will do my best, Director.’

‘Good. When do you expect to have a superluminal starship in operation?’

‘You must realize, Director, that this is an essentially unanswerable question. We are at the mercy of unforeseen difficulties and accidents.’

‘Assume only reasonable difficulties and no accidents.’

‘In that case, since we have completed the science and need only the engineering, if we are fortunate we will have a ship in three years, perhaps.’

‘You will be ready in 2236, in other words.’

‘Certainly not sooner.’

‘How many persons will it carry?’

‘Five to seven, perhaps.’

‘How far will it go?’

‘As far as we wish, Director. That is the beauty of superluminal velocity. Because we are passing through hyperspace, where the ordinary laws of physics do not apply, not even the conservation of energy, it costs no more effort to go a thousand light-years than to go one.’

The Director stirred uneasily. ‘I am not a physicist, but I find it difficult to accept an environment without constraints. Are there not things you cannot do?’

‘There are constraints. We need a vacuum and a gravitational intensity below a certain point if we are to make the transition into and out of hyperspace. We will, with experience, undoubtedly find additional restraints which might have to be determined through test flights. The results might necessitate further delays.’

‘Once you have the ship, where will the first flight take you?’

‘It might seem prudent to allow the first trip to go no farther than the planet Pluto, for instance, but that might well be considered an unbearable waste of time. Once we have the technology with which to visit the stars, the temptation to actually visit one would be overwhelming.’

‘Such as the Neighbor Star?’

‘That would be the logical goal. Ex-Director Tanayama wanted that visited, but I must point out that there are other stars far more interesting. Sirius is only four times as far away and it would give us a chance to observe a white dwarf star at close range.’

‘Dr Wendel, I think that the Neighbor Star must be the goal, though not necessarily for Tanayama's reasons. Suppose you travel far out to some other star - any other star - and return. How would you prove that you had indeed been in the neighborhood of another star?’

Wendel looked startled. ‘Prove? I don't understand you?’

‘I mean, how would you counter accusations that the supposed flight was actually a fake.’

‘A fake?’ Wendel rose furiously to her feet. ‘That is insulting.’

Koropatsky's voice suddenly grew dominating. ‘Sit down, Dr Wendel. You are being accused of nothing. I am trying to foresee a situation and to guard against it. Humanity moved into space almost three centuries ago. It is a not-altogether-forgotten episode in history and my subdivision of the globe remembers it particularly well. When the first satellites went up in those dim days of terrestrial confinement, there were those who insisted everything presented by those satellites were fakes. The first photographs of the far side of the Moon were accused of having been faked. Even the first pictures of Earth from space were called fakes by some few who believed the Earth was flat. Now if Earth claims to have superluminal flight, we may run into similar trouble.’

‘Why, Director? Why should anyone think we would lie about a thing like that?’

‘My dear Dr Wendel, you are naïve. For over three centuries, Albert Einstein has been the demigod who invented cosmology. People, for generation after generation, have grown used to the concept of the speed of light as an absolute limit. They will not readily give it up. Even the principle of causality - and one can't think of anything more basic than that cause must precede effect - seems violated. That's one thing.

‘Another, Dr Wendel, is that the Settlements might find it politically useful to convince their peoples, and Earthmen, too, that we are lying. It will confuse us, involve us in polemics, waste our time, and give them more of a chance to catch up. So I ask you: Is there a simple proof that any flight you might make would be a truly legitimate one?’

Wendel said icily, ‘Director, we would permit scientists to inspect our ship once we return. We will undertake to explain the techniques used-’

‘No, no, no. Please. Don't go any further. That would only convince scientists as knowledgeable as yourself.’

‘Well then, when we come back we will have photographs of the sky and the nearer stars will be positioned slightly differently with respect to each other. From the change in relative positions, it will be possible to calculate exactly where we were relative to the Sun.’

‘Also just for scientists. Completely unconvincing to the average person.’

‘We'll have close-up pictures of whatever star we visit. It will be quite different from our Sun in every respect.’

‘But this sort of thing is done in every trivial holovision program dealing with interstellar travel. It is the small change of the science fiction epic. It would be no more than a “Captain Galaxy” program.’

‘In that case,’ said Wendel with teeth-clenching exasperation, ‘I don't know of any way. If people will not believe, then they will not believe. It is a problem you must handle. I am only a scientist.’

‘Now, now, Doctor. Keep your temper, please. When Columbus returned from his first trip across the ocean seven and a half centuries ago, no-one accused him of fakery. Why? Because he brought back with him native people from the new shores he had visited.’

‘Very good, but the chance of finding life-bearing worlds and bringing back specimens is very small.’

‘Perhaps not. Rotor, you know, is believed to have discovered the Neighbor Star with their Far Probe and to have left the Solar System soon after that. Since they never returned, it is possible that they traveled to the Neighbor Star and remained there and, in fact, are still there.’

‘So Director Tanayama believed. However, the trip, with hyper-assistance, would have taken over two years. It may be that through accident, through scientific failure, through psychological problems, they never completed the trip. That, too, would account for their never returning.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Koropatsky, quietly insistent, ‘they may have arrived.’

‘Even if they have arrived, they are likely to have simply gone into orbit around the star, in the certain absence of any habitable world. In isolation, the psychological strains, which didn't stop them en route, would stop them then, and it is likely there is now only a dead Settlement whirling the Neighbor Star for ever.’

‘Then you now see that it must be the goal because once you're there, you will seek out Rotor, alive or dead. Either way, you must bring back something unmistakably Rotorian and it would then be very easy for everyone to believe that you had indeed gone out to the stars and come back.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Even I would believe it, and that would answer my question as to how you would prove that you had made a superluminal trip. That will be your mission, then, and for that, never fear, Earth will continue to find you the money and resources and workers you will need.’

And when after a dinner during which technical points were not raised, Koropatsky said to Wendel, in the friendliest possible tone, but with more than a hint of ice beneath, ‘Just the same, remember that you have only three years to do it in. At the most.’

‘So my clever ploy wasn't really needed,’ said Crile Fisher with a slight air of regret.

‘No. They were determined to continue without the threat of being overtaken. The only thing that bothered them, and it was something that never seemed to bother Tanayama, was this matter of having to battle possible cases of fakery. I suppose Tanayama just wanted to destroy Rotor. As long as that was done, the world could yell “Fake” all it wanted.’

‘They wouldn't. He would have had the ship bring back something to show him that Rotor was destroyed. That would prove it to the world, too. What kind of fellow is the new Director?’

‘Quite the reverse of Tanayama. He seems soft, almost apologetic, but I have a feeling that the Global Congress is going to find him just as hard to handle as Tanayama was. He has to settle into his job, that's all.’

‘From what you've told me about the conversation, he seems more sensible than Tanayama.’

‘Yes, but it still steams me - that suggestion of fakery. Imagine thinking spaceflights would be faked. It's probably the result of Earthmen having no feel for space. No feel at all. It's you people having this endless world and, except in a microscopic fraction of cases, never leaving it.’

Fisher smiled. ‘Well, I'm one of the microscopic fraction that has left it. Often. And you're a Settler. So neither one of us is planetbound.’

‘That's right,’ said Wendel, shooting him a sidelong glance. ‘Sometimes I think you don't remember that I'm a Settler.’

‘Believe me, I never forget it. I don't go about muttering to myself, “Tessa is a Settler! Tessa is a Settler!” but, at all times, I know you are.’

‘Does anyone else, though?’ She waved her hand around as though to include an indefinite surrounding volume. ‘Here is Hyper City under unimaginably tight security and why? Against the Settlers. The whole point is to get out there with practical superluminal flight before the Settlers can even get started. And who is in complete charge of the project? A Settler.’

‘Is this the first time you've thought of that in the five years you've been on the project?’

‘No, but I think of it periodically. I just don't understand it. Aren't they afraid to trust me?’

Fisher laughed. ‘Not really. You're a scientist.’

‘So?’

‘So scientists are considered mercenaries without ties to any one society. Give a scientist a fascinating problem and all the money, equipment and help that he or she needs to tackle that problem, and that scientist wouldn't care who the source of support was. Be truthful- You care neither for Earth, nor Adelia, nor for the Settlements as a whole, nor even for humanity as a whole. You just want to work out the details of superluminal flight, and you have no loyalties beyond that.’

Wendel said haughtily, ‘That's a stereotype, and not every scientist will fit it. I may not fit it.’

‘I'm sure they realize that, too, so that you are probably under constant surveillance, Tessa. Some of your closest associates probably have, as an important aspect of their work, the constant monitoring of your activities, and the constant reporting to the government.’

‘You're not referring to yourself, I hope.’

‘Don't tell me you've never thought that I might be remaining near you entirely in my role as wheedler of secrets.’

‘As a matter of fact, the idea has occurred to me - now and then.’

‘But it's not my job. I suspect that I'm too close to you to be trusted. In fact, I'm quite sure that I'm reported on, too, and that my activity is carefully weighed. As long as I keep you happy-’

‘You're a cold-blooded person, Crile. How can you find humor in something like that?’

‘There's no humor there. I'm trying to be realistic. If you ever tire of me, I lose my function. An unhappy Tessa may be an unproductive Tessa, so I will be suddenly gotten out of your hair and the way will be smoothed for my successor. After all, your contentment is worth far more to them than mine is, and I recognize that it is only sensible that that be the case. You see my realism?’

Whereupon Wendel reached out suddenly to stroke Crile's cheek. ‘Don't worry. I think I've grown too used to you to tire of you now. In the hot blood of my youth, I could grow bored with my men and discard them, but now-’

‘It's too much of an effort, eh?’

‘If you choose to think of it that way. I might also finally be in love - in my way.’

‘I understand your meaning. Love in cool blood can be restful. But I suspect this is not the proper moment to prove it. You'll have to chew over this exchange with Koropatsky first, and get that poisonous feeling about fakery out of your system.’

‘I'll get over that someday. But there's another thing. I told you a little while ago about Earthpeople having no feel for space.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well, here's an example. Koropatsky has no feeling - no feeling at all - for the sheer size of space. He talked about going to the Neighbor Star and finding Rotor. Now how is that to be done? Every once in a while, we spot an asteroid and lose it before we can calculate its orbit. Do you know how long it takes to relocate that lost asteroid, even with all our modern devices and instruments? Years sometimes. Space is large, even in the near vicinity of a star, and Rotor is small.’

‘Yes, but we search for one asteroid among a hundred thousand. Rotor, on the other hand, will be the only object of its kind near the Neighbor Star.’

‘Who told you that? Even if the Neighbor Star doesn't have a planetary system in our sense, it is extremely unlikely that it won't be surrounded by debris of one sort or another.’

‘But it would be dead debris, like our dead asteroids. Since Rotor will be a functioning Settlement, it will be emitting a wide range of radiation, and that should be easy to detect.’

‘If Rotor is a functioning Settlement. What if it isn't? Then it's just another asteroid and finding it may prove an enormous task. We may not succeed at all in any reasonable period of time.’

Fisher could not keep his face from falling into lines of misery.

Wendel made a small sound and moved closer to him, placing an arm around his unresponsive shoulder. ‘Oh, my dear, you know the situation. You must face it.’

Fisher said in a choked voice, ‘I know. But they may have survived. Isn't that true?’

‘They may,’ said Wendel with a slightly synthetic lilt to her voice, ‘and if they have, so much the better for us. As you pointed out, it would then be easy to locate them through their radiational output. And more than that-’

‘Yes?’

‘Koropatsky wants us to bring back something that will prove we encountered Rotor, feeling that would be the best evidence that we had indeed been in deep space and returned, covering several light-years in, at most, a few months. Except- What exactly could we bring back that would be convincing? Suppose we find some drifting bits of metal or concrete. Not any bit will do. A lump of metal with nothing to identify it as Rotorian would be something we might well have taken with us. Even if we manage to find a piece that is characteristic of Rotor - some artifact that could only exist on a Settlement - it might be considered a fake.

‘If, however, Rotor were a working, living Settlement, we might be able to persuade some Rotorian to come back with us. A Rotorian can be identified as one. Fingerprints, retinal patterns, DNA analysis. There may even be people on other Settlements, or on Earth, who would be able to recognize the particular Rotorian we bring back. Koropatsky hinted heavily that we do this. He pointed out that Columbus, returning from his first voyage, brought Native Americans with him.

‘Of course’ - and Wendel sighed heavily as she went on - ‘there is a limit to how much we can bring back, animate or inanimate. Someday we may have starships as large as Settlements, but our first one is going to be a small and, by later standards, a primitive thing, I'm sure. We might be able to bring back one Rotorian; more than one would be more than we could handle, so we'll have to pick the right one.’

‘My daughter, Marlene,’ said Fisher.

‘She might not want to come. We can only take someone who's willing to return. There's bound to be one among the thousands, perhaps even a large number, but if she doesn't want to come-’

‘Marlene will be willing to come. You let me talk to her. Somehow I'll win her over.’

‘Her mother might not wish it.’

‘Somehow I'll talk her into it,’ said Fisher stubbornly. ‘Somehow I'll manage.’

Wendel sighed again. ‘I can't let you live with that thought, Crile. Don't you see that we can't take your daughter back, even if she is willing to come?’

‘Why not? Why not?’

‘She was one year old when she left. She has no memories of the Solar System. No-one in the Solar System could identify her. There are very unlikely to have been any records that could be checked independently elsewhere in the system. No, we would have to have some middle-aged person at the least, and one who has visited other Settlements or, better yet, Earth.’

She paused and then said tightly, ‘Your wife might be suitable. Didn't you once tell me that she took part of her education on Earth? There would be records and she would be identifiable. Though, to be honest, I would much rather take someone else.’

Fisher was silent.

Wendel said, almost timidly, ‘I'm sorry, Crile. It's not as I would wish it.’

And Fisher said bitterly, ‘Just let my Marlene be alive. We'll see what can be done.’