37 In Vino Veritas Next to Mirissa, Kumar was Loren’s most welcome – and most frequent – visitor. Despite his nickname, it seemed to Loren that Kumar was more like a faithful dog – or, rather, a friendly puppy – than a lion. There were a dozen much-pampered dogs in Tarna, and someday they might also live again on Sagan 2, resuming their long acquaintanceship with man. Loren had now learned what a risk the boy had taken in that tumultuous sea. It was well for them both that Kumar never left shore without a diver’s knife strapped to his leg; even so, he had been underwater for more than three minutes, sawing through the cable entangling Loren. Calypso’s crew had been certain that they had both drowned. Despite the bond that now united them, Loren found it difficult to make much conversation with Kumar. After all, there were only a limited number of ways in which one could say, ‘Thank you for saving my life’, and their backgrounds were so utterly dissimilar that they had very few common grounds of reference. If he talked to Kumar about Earth, or the ship, everything had to be explained in agonizing detail; and after a while Loren realized that he was wasting his time. Unlike his sister, Kumar lived in the world of immediate experience; only the here and now of Thalassa were important to him. ‘How I envy him!’ Kaldor had once remarked. ‘He’s a creature of today – not haunted by the past or fearful of the future!’ Loren was about to go to sleep on what he hoped would be his last night in the clinic when Kumar arrived carrying a very large bottle, which he held up in triumph. ‘Guess!’ ‘I’ve no idea,’ Loren said, quite untruthfully. ‘The first wine of the season, from Krakan. They say it will be a very good year.’ ‘How do you know anything about it?’ ‘Our family’s had a vineyard there for more than a hundred years. The Lion Brands are the most famous in the world.’ Kumar hunted around until he had produced two glasses and poured generous helpings into each. Loren took a cautious sip; it was a little sweet for his taste, but very, very smooth. ‘What do you call it?’ he asked. ‘Krakan Special.’ ‘Since Krakan’s nearly killed me once, should I risk it?’ ‘It won’t even give you a hangover.’ Loren took another, longer draught, and in a surprisingly short time the glass was empty. In an even shorter time it was full again. This seemed an excellent way of spending his last night in hospital, and Loren felt his normal gratitude towards Kumar extending to the entire world. Even one of Mayor Waldron’s visits would no longer be unwelcome. ‘By the way, how is Brant? I haven’t seen him for a week.’ ‘Still on North Island, arranging repairs to the boat and talking to the marine biologists. Everyone’s very excited about the scorps. But no one can decide what to do about them. If anything.’ ‘You know, I feel rather the same way about Brant.’ Kumar laughed. ‘Don’t worry. He’s got a girl on North Island.’ ‘Oh. Does Mirissa know?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘And she doesn’t mind?’ ‘Why should she? Bran- loves her – and he always comes back.’ Loren processed this information, though rather slowly. It occurred to him that he was a new variable in an already complex equation. Did Mirissa have any other lovers? Did he really want to know? Should he ask? ‘Anyway,’ Kumar continued as he refilled both their glasses, ‘all that really matters is that their gene maps have been approved, and they’ve been registered for a son. When he’s born, it will be different. Then they’ll only need each other. Wasn’t it the same on Earth?’ ‘Sometimes,’ Loren said. So Kumar doesn’t know; the secret was still between the two of them. At least I will see my son, Loren thought, if only for a few months. And then … To his horror, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks. When had he last cried? Two hundred years ago, looking back on the burning Earth … ‘What’s the matter?’ Kumar asked. ‘Are you thinking about your wife?’ His concern was so genuine that Loren found it impossible to take offence at his bluntness – or at his reference to a subject that by mutual consent, was seldom mentioned, because it had nothing to do with the here and now. Two hundred years ago on Earth and three hundred years hence on Sagan 2 were too far from Thalassa for his emotions to grasp, especially in his present somewhat bemused condition. ‘No, Kumar, I was not thinking of- my wife -‘ ‘Will you … ever … tell her … about Mirissa?’ ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. I really don’t know. I feel very sleepy. Did we drink the whole bottle? Kumar? Kumar!’ The nurse came in during the night, and suppressing her giggles, tucked in the sheets so that they would not fall out. Loren woke first. After the initial shock of recognition, he started to laugh. ‘What’s so funny?’ Kumar said, heaving himself rather blearily out of bed. ‘If you really want to know -I was wondering if Mirissa would be jealous.’ Kumar grinned wryly. ‘I may have been a little drunk,’ he said, ‘but I’m quite sure that nothing happened.’ ‘So am I.’ Yet he realized that he loved Kumar – not because he had saved his life or even because he was Mirissa’s brother – but simply because he was Kumar. Sex had absolutely nothing to do with it; the very idea would have filled them not with embarrassment but hilarity. That was just as well. Life on Tarna was already sufficiently complicated. ‘And you were right,’ Loren added, ‘about the Krakan Special. I don’t have a hangover. In fact, I feel wonderful. Can you send a few bottles up to the ship? Better still – a few hundred litres.’
38 Debate It was a simple question, but it did not have a simple answer: What would happen to discipline aboard Magellan if the very purpose of the ship’s mission was put to the vote? Of course, any result would not be binding, and he could override it if necessary. He would have to, if a majority decided to stay (not that for a moment he imagined …) But such an outcome would be psychologically devastating. The crew would be divided into two factions, and that could lead to situations he preferred not to contemplate. And yet – a commander had to be firm but not pig-headed. There was a good deal of sense in the proposal and it had many attractions. After all, he had enjoyed the benefits of presidential hospitality himself and had every intention of meeting that lady decathlon champion again. This was a beautiful world; perhaps they could speed up the slow process of continent building so that there was room for the extra millions. It would be infinitely easier than colonizing Sagan 2 … For that matter, they might never reach Sagan 2. Although the ship’s operational reliability was still estimated to be ninety-eight per cent, there were external hazards which no one could predict. Only a few of his most trusted officers knew about the section of the ice-shield that had been lost somewhere around light-year 48. If that interstellar meteoroid, or whatever it was, had been just a few metres closer … Someone had suggested that the thing could have been an ancient space-probe from Earth. The odds against this were literally astronomical, and of course such an ironic hypothesis could never be proved. And now his unknown petitioners were calling themselves the New Thalassans. Did that mean, Captain Bey wondered, that there were many of them and they were getting organized into a political movement? If so, perhaps the best thing would be to get them out into the open as soon as possible. Yes, it was time to call Ship’s Council. Moses Kaldor’s rejection had been swift and courteous. ‘No, Captain; I can’t get involved in the debate – pro or con. If I did, the crew would no longer trust my impartiality. But I’m willing to act as chairman, or moderator – whatever you like to call it.’ ‘Agreed,’ Captain Bey said promptly; this was as much as he had really hoped for. ‘And who will present the motions? We can’t expect the New Thalassans to come out into the open and plead their case.’ ‘I wish we could have a straight vote without any arguments and discussions,’ Deputy Captain Malina had lamented. Privately, Captain Bey agreed. But this was a democratic society of responsible, highly educated men, and Ship’s Orders recognized that fact. The New Thalassans had asked for a Council to air their views; if he refused, he would be disobeying his own letters of appointment and violating the trust given him on Earth two hundred years ago. It had not been easy to arrange the Council. Since everyone, without exception, had to be given a chance of voting, schedules and duty rosters had to be reorganized and sleep periods disrupted. The fact that half the crew was down on Thalassa presented another problem that had never arisen before – that of security. Whatever its outcome might be, it was highly undesirable that the Lassans overhear the debate … And so Loren Lorenson was alone, with the door of his Tarna office locked for the first time he could recall, when the Council began. Once again he was wearing full-view goggles; but this time he was not drifting through a submarine forest. He was aboard Magellan, in the familiar assembly room, looking at the faces of colleagues, and whenever he switched his viewpoint, at the screen on which their comments and their verdict would be displayed. At the moment it bore one brief message: RESOLVED: That the Starship Magellan terminate its mission at Thalassa as all its prime objectives can be achieved here. So Moses is up on the ship, Loren thought, as he scanned the audience; I wondered why I’d not seen him lately. He looks tired – and so does the captain. Maybe this is more serious than I’d imagined … Kaldor rapped briskly for attention. ‘Captain, officers, fellow crewmembers – although this is our first Council, you all know the rules of procedure. If you wish to speak, hold up your hand to be recognized. If you wish to make a written statement, use your keypad; the addresses have been scrambled to ensure anonymity. In either case, please be as brief as possible. ‘If there are no questions, we will open with Item 001.’ The New Thalassans had added a few arguments, but essentially 001 was still the memorandum that had jolted Captain Bey two weeks ago – a period in which he had made no progress at all in discovering its authorship. Perhaps the most telling additional point was the suggestion that it was their duty to stay here; Lassa needed them, technically, culturally, genetically. I wonder, Loren thought, tempted though he was to agree. In any event, we should ask their opinion first. We’re not old-style imperialists – or are we? Everyone had had time to reread the memorandum; Kaldor rapped for attention again. ‘No one has, ah, requested permission to speak in favour of the resolution; of course, there will be opportunities later. So I will ask Lieutenant Elgar to put the case against.’ Raymond Elgar was a thoughtful young Power and Communications engineer whom Loren knew only slightly; he had musical talents and claimed to be writing an epic poem about the voyage. When challenged to produce even a single verse, he invariably replied, ‘Wait until Sagan 2 plus one year.’ It was obvious why Lieutenant Elgar had volunteered (if indeed he had volunteered) for this role. His poetic pretensions would hardly allow him to do otherwise; and perhaps he really was working on that epic. ‘Captain – shipmates – lend me your ears -‘ That’s a striking phrase, Loren thought. I wonder if it’s original? ‘I think we will all agree, in our hearts as well as our minds, that the idea of remaining on Thalassa has a great many attractions. But consider these points: ‘There are only 161 of us. Have we the right to make an irrevocable decision for the million who are still sleeping? ‘And what of the Lassans? It’s been suggested that we’ll help them by staying on. But will we? They have a way of life that seems to suit them perfectly. Consider our background, our training – the goal to which we dedicated ourselves years ago. Do you really imagine that a million of us could become part of Thalassan society without disrupting it completely? ‘And there is the question of duty. Generations of men and women sacrificed themselves to make this mission possible – to give the human race a better chance of survival. The more suns we reach, the greater our insurance against disaster. We have seen what the Thalassan volcanoes can do; who knows what may happen here in the centuries to come? ‘There has been glib talk of tectonic engineering to make new land, to provide room for the increased population. May I remind you that even on Earth, after thousands of years of research and development, that was still not an exact science. Remember the Nazca Plate Catastrophe of 3175! I can imagine nothing more reckless than to meddle with the forces pent up inside Thalassa. ‘There’s no need to say any more. There can be only one decision in this matter. We must leave the Lassans to their own destiny; we have to go on to Sagan 2.’ Loren was not surprised at the slowly mounting applause. The interesting question was: who had not joined it? As far as he could judge, the audience was almost equally divided. Of course, some people might be applauding because they admired the very effective presentation – not necessarily because they agreed with the speaker. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant Elgar,’ Chairman Kaldor said. ‘We particularly appreciate your brevity. Now would anyone like to express the contrary opinion?’ There was an uneasy stirring, followed by a profound silence. For at least a minute, nothing happened. Then letters began to appear on the screen. 002. WOULD THE CAPTAIN PLEASE GIVE THE LATEST ESTIMATE OF PROBABLE MISSION SUCCESS 003. WHY NOT REVIVE A REPRESENTATIVE SAMPLE OF THE SLEEPERS TO POLL THEIR OPINION 004. WHY NOT ASK THE LASSANS WHAT THEY THINK. IT’S THEIR WORLD With total secrecy and neutrality, the computer stored and numbered the inputs from the Council members. In two millennia, no one had been able to invent a better way of sampling group opinion and obtaining a consensus. All over the ship – and down on Thalassa – men and women were tapping out messages on the seven buttons of their little one-hand keypads. Perhaps the earliest skill acquired by any child was the ability to touch-type all the necessary combinations without even thinking about them. Loren swept his eye across the audience and was amused to note that almost everyone had both hands in full view. He could see nobody with the typical far-off look, indicating that a private message was being transmitted via a concealed keypad. But somehow, a lot of people were talking. 015. WHAT ABOUT A COMPROMISE? SOME OF US MIGHT PREFER TO STAY. THE SHIP COULD GO ON Kaldor rapped for attention. ‘That’s not the resolution we’re discussing,’ he said, ‘but it’s been noted.’ ‘To answer Zero Zero Two,’ Captain Bey said – barely remembering in time to get a go-ahead nod from the chairman, ‘the figure is ninety-eight per cent. I wouldn’t be surprised if our chance of reaching Sagan 2 is better than that of North or South Island staying above water.’ 021. APART FROM KRAKAN, WHICH THEY CANT DO MUCH ABOUT, THE LASSANS DON’T HAVE ANY SERIOUS CHALLENGES. MAYBE WE SHOULD LEAVE THEM SOME. KNR That would be, let’s see … Of course – Kingsley Rasmussen. Obviously he had no wish to remain incognito. He was expressing a thought that at one time or other had occurred to almost everyone. 022. WE’VE ALREADY SUGGESTED THEY REBUILD THE DEEP SPACE ANTENNA ON KRAKAN TO KEEP IN TOUCH WITH US. RMM 023. A TEN YEAR JOB AT THE MOST. KNR ‘Gentlemen,’ Kaldor said a little impatiently, ‘we’re getting away from the point.’ Have I anything to contribute? Loren asked himself. No, I will sit out this debate; I can see too many sides. Sooner or later I will have to choose between duty and happiness. But not yet. Not yet . ‘I’m quite surprised,” Kaldor said after nothing more had appeared on the screen for a full two minutes, ‘that no one has anything more to say on such an important matter.’ He waited hopefully for another minute. ‘Very well. Perhaps you’d like to continue the discussion informally. We will not take a vote now, but during the next forty-eight hours you can record your opinion in the usual way. Thank you.’ He glanced at Captain Bey, who rose to his feet with a swiftness that showed his obvious relief. ‘Thank you, Dr Kaldor. Ship’s Council terminated.’ Then he looked anxiously at Kaldor, who was staring at the display screen as if he had just noticed it for the first time. ‘Are you all right, Doctor?’ ‘Sorry, Captain – I’m fine. I’ve just remembered something important, that’s all.’ Indeed he had. For the thousandth time, at least, he marvelled at the labyrinthine workings of the subconscious mind. Entry 021 had done it. ‘The Lassans don’t have any serious challenges.’ Now he knew why he had dreamed of Kilimanjaro.