In the Company of Others

Table of Contents

 

 

“I'M CONVINCED A MAN NAMED AARON PARDELL IS HERE, ON THROMBERG. . . .

“You know your people. Will he come forward of his own accord?” Gail asked.

“No, I'm sure he won't.” Forester remained standing, a position aimed not at the anxious troops but at her—as if defending one of his own.
So
, Gail told herself.
He wasn't completely motivated by self-interest.
Such an individual would have been more—straightforward—to work with, if less than trustworthy in a pinch.

“Why?” she asked, truly curious.

“You're Earthers,” Forester said, his tone making it clear her question surprised him. “If the welfare of all of us hasn't mattered to you before now—why should the welfare of one?”

“Had you considered that the welfare of this one might have an impact on everyone else on the station?” she suggested carefully, wary of what she might be revealing.

She'd misjudged Forester's intelligence, or maybe life under Thromberg's harsh conditions had honed his instincts. His response was instantaneous. “You're after the Survivor. . . .”

 

Web Shifters:
BEHOLDER'S EYE (#1)
CHANGING VISION (#2)

 

The Trade Pact Universe:
A THOUSAND WORDS FOR STRANGER (#1)
TIES OF POWER (#2)

Copyright © 2001 by Julie E. Czerneda.

eISBN : 978-1-101-46456-4

 

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead
is strictly coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Printing, June, 2001

 

 

For Veronika Komczynski Czerneda
I believe you'd have liked this one, Veronika.
Thank you for looking forward to it and encouraging me.
I thought of you as I wrote it—even if, sometimes,
I couldn't write for the thought of you. But that's what
families do. We care. I'm so very sorry you couldn't
stay with us, and that all I can give you now
are wishes. May you rest under stars.
May you feel our love.
Always.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Book five. Many endured my anxiety as I ventured into new territory. (Hey, third person can be scary!) I want to thank all of you, especially my tireless, brilliant alpha, Roxanne BB Hubbard. Thank you, Tanya Huff, for help with the First Defense Unit, as well as your “wow!” Thank you, Luis Royo, for leaping into space with me. A wonderful cover! Thank you, Eric Choi, for doing your best to keep that leap accurate. Any errors or flagrant artistic license with physical laws are mine alone. And thanks, Ruth Stuart, for the work your so-called prize entailed.

Thank you, Sheila Gilbert, for letting me run with this. I appreciate your confidence more than I can say, not to mention your keen eye. And, though sadly late, my deepest gratitude to Michael Gilbert, for not only lifting me from the slush, but gracing me with his warmth and humor. I'll always treasure the image of that Canuck Cardboard Box, dented, of course.

Several people trusted me to treat their names well. I've tried. My thanks to the real Susan P. Witts, Raymond Alexander, Josh Malley, Aya Tobo, Nalo (Aisha) Hopkinson, Dianne Peitsch, John (Temujin) Picray, Michael Picray, Chris Taggart, and Isaac Szpindel, as well as Ms. Nicoll's students: Les Baier, Mike Barber, Matt Miller, Neil Johnson, and Jana Miller. For the record, your fictional characters have nothing to do with the real you (except any nice bits).

I've also been overwhelmed by generosity this year, from good wishes to smoked albacore. You know who you are! And thank you, Jihane Billacois, Torbjørn Pettersen, Marcel de Graaff, Liz Holliday, and David D.U. Brims, for crossing oceans as well as time zones to become friends.

My best wishes and congratulations to two special readers, Ryan Hubbard and Colin Czerneda. The world awaits, gentlemen.

To Jennifer and Scott, who listened seriously to such odd comments from their mother as: “I don't want to stay on the station!” “They made me!” “I'm still on the planet!” Understanding like that is priceless. Thanks!

And Roger? Better than anyone, I know how much you've given of yourself this year. As always, you amaze me.

Titan University Archives Excerpts from the personal recordings of Chief Terraform Engineer Susan Witts Access Restricted to Clearance AA2 or Higher

... The first seeds arrived today, Raymond. I couldn't resist the urge to touch them. Dry little flecks of nothing that will change a world. The Stage One engineers can keep their comet-shifting launchers. The Stage Twos are welcome to their landform machines and atmosphere purifiers. I'll accomplish as much or more with these. One day, you'll see.

What a relief to be off the transit station! I don't care how big they are, or how modern, they still make me feel like I'm breathing yesterday's air. They're building more all the time. Eventually, there'll be enough stations to handle the passenger and freight traffic to all the systems with terraformed worlds. Glorified bus stops, crammed with customs officials and other bureaucrats. I suppose the stations have their use. But you won't catch me staying in one any longer than I must.

While I'm away, you're going to hear things on the news about me and this project. Don't worry. They'll be good things. We have a lot of support back home. Sol System is more than ready for this—Earth herself is bursting at the seams with people eager to start new lives someplace that isn't a mining dome or station. We're making those places. I'm making those places, Raymond.

I hope you'll be proud of me. I hope you know how hard it was to take you back to Earth and leave you with Grandpa and Grandma. We'll be together again. We both have to be patient.

I know that's hard, too. Back home, some people don't understand why they have to wait for Stage Three, my stage. They want these beautiful worlds now, seeing only that sixteen planets have gained blue skies and flowing water. But they have to wait, just like you and I. Right now, the land is barren. The cycling of nutrients through water, soil, and air hasn't even begun. They'll wait and be glad, Raymond, because I'm going to bring life to these worlds, life that will welcome and nourish the people who come here.

What a dream we're living! Humanity—prosperous, at peace, and ready for adventure—about to expand as never before. Within the next fifty years, the first worlds will receive their immigrants—maybe your children, Raymond—while terraformers like me will have already moved on to the next set of planets ready for Stage Three, then to the next. We'll be like waves sweeping outward until human beings are living on every suitable world we've discovered. Until we own this entire sector of space.

Not that everyone is happy about the terraforming project. You'll hear complaints, I'm sure. Not too loud or too many—it isn't fashionable to question humanity's Great Dream. But you'll read in your history books how this is a relatively new dream for us, and some people still hold to an older one.
Is anybody out there?
We all had it, you know, in one form or another. Since well before I was born, Earth and the system Universities were sending deep-space expeditions in all directions, searching for others like ourselves. True, they found life almost everywhere, but nothing with intelligence.