The Great Symmetry (4 page)

Hey, Get Off My Lawn!

When she had been his pilot, it had been their little joke. Evan had only three more years than her by count, but was seemingly decades older in attitude, experience, and, as he didn’t mind needling her about, maturity. Any time she had one of those moments, whether dismally unhelpful or merely inconvenient, they would look at each other, and one or both of them would say it.

It was always an adventure with her. Was that bad?

Then had come the moment of truth. Two days before they had been scheduled to lift, heading for Phoenix for the next expedition, a close friend
of Mira had been identified as an infoterrorist, and Mira’s credit had been instantly zeroed.

When you get zeroed, you have nothing. Can’t buy anything. Your insurance is canceled, and you can’t do anything without insurance. You are frozen out.

People who were once your friends will not help you, for fear that whatever got you zeroed will taint them. The algorithms are notorious for that. If you associate with a known infoterrorist, you will be zeroed until any questions are resolved. The chain could and did reach out to snare the unwary – it was definitely safest to have no interaction with anyone who was zeroed.

She had gone to see Evan, to tell him that he needed to find another pilot. She had wanted to tell him in person, but it had also been necessary, because her phone didn’t work. The neighbors wouldn’t even open the door for her. How had
they known so quickly? After a four-kilometer walk, she had been at Evan’s door.

Mira had explained the situation and offered her apologies. Maybe she would be in good standing in time for his next expedition. If he was willing to give her another chance, at that undefined time in the future.

After she was done, Evan had just held up his hand and seemed to ponder. “Okay,” he had
said at last. “You’ll be going on my credit.”

This was not something that anyone did. “Are you insane? They’ll zero you like it’s nothing. And then forget about the expedition.” She wasn’t going to let Evan throw it all away, even to try and help her.

“I don’t think so,” he had told her. “Anyway, it’s wrong, and we won’t have that. So, I’ll get a credit authorization sent to you. Will you be ready on schedule?”

Mira had nodded, having run out of words. Never sentimental, she had almost felt gratitu
de. Almost. “Right,” Evan had said. “Let’s go through the manifest.”

That had been four years ago. She had only once asked him why, a few weeks later. Evan had just said,
“Because you are the expedition pilot.”

Mira was nearing the Buttonwood. She had not said whether the tree or the pub, because in effect they were one and the same. The plaza that homed the tree was arrayed with places for people to sit and have their food or drink, whether purchased from the Buttonwood Pub, another nearby establishment, or simply brought along.

She walked through one of the gaps in the circle of buildings that went all the way around the tree, a respectful distance away from the trunk that defined the center of the plaza. Within the invisible boundary, there were no vehicles. Just denizens of the Untrusted Zone, eating, drinking, arguing, and otherwise enjoying the evening.

Mira and Kestrel easily spotted each other near the trunk of the tree. He called out, “Hey Mira, are we getting a beer?”

“Nope, not right now,” Mira said. “I need something from you.”

“All business tonight. Okay then! What will it be?”

“First we climb. High up.” Mira slipped off her shoes.

“After you, milady.”

If anyone could keep up with Mira in the tree, it was Kestrel. But tonight he would be hard pressed. From a standing start, she bounded straight up for three meters, catching hold of the first branch with her right hand, and then she was off to the races. Arms, legs, hands, and feet
were not so much tools to grab the tree as they were a means to adjust her course, spiraling upward through the branches. It was not just the low gravity of Kelter. Climbing the tree was an art form that she had studied since she had been in grade school.

In addition to being majestically tall, the buttonwood tree was the best possible tree for climbing. Stout branches at convenient intervals of two to three meters. A strong but smooth outer bark. No thorns, because there had never been land animals on Kelter until humans arrived. It was also the best tree because it was the only tree around.

When she was a kid, Mira had called it her tree. In some sense, it was. There was no person who knew it better. Every branch, every cluster of the thick rubbery leaves. Every move between branches, whether a static step or a bold leap.

In the intervening years, it had changed. Grown, slowly. A few branches had died, but overall it was in excellent health. The tree was well tended.

Mira wondered why she didn’t often climb the tree, these days.

“Hold on, that’s too high,” Kestrel called. “They’re getting thin up there. If you go any further, you could break a branch, and you’ll get fined. A really big fine.”

If the worst happened, Mira would pay, even if it took months or years to do so. But it was not going to be a problem. Mira knew her tree.

“Just one more,” she told him. “Come on up.”

A wary Kestrel climbed the last few meters and sat beside her on the highest cross branch of the attenuating trunk. The Untrusted Zone spread below them, with
buildings, lights, and then the dark of the undeveloped land beyond. To the south, Abilene was visible, several kilometers away, over in civilization. The Untrusted Zone and Abilene had grown toward each other over the years, so it was now difficult from this vantage point to see where one ended and the other began. On the ground, the boundary was absolutely clear.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

“I thought we were here to talk business, and we both know that didn’t end well for either of us, Mira.”

“Trust me. Just this once.”

Mira kissed him on the lips for a brief moment, then moved close to his ear. “Hold me like you want me,” she whispered. “And I will tell you what I need.”

“Kes, I need the full transmission that came from that ship.” She felt him tense.
“That one − the ship that came in from the direction of Cappella and then was destroyed. The entire encrypted portion. And most especially, it can’t come back to me.”

“Mira, I’m not − I’m not sure I can do it.
”

“For me, you will, right? It’s worth a lot to me, and I’ll pay. A thousand coins.”

Mira listened carefully to the quiet whisper in her ear. “No really, I’m not sure I can. Heavily sequestered. It was broadcast everywhere, but the monitors were just seconds behind, connecting into every civilian system, finding it and wiping. Anyway, ten thousand, if it’s even possible.”

“Okay, ten,” Mira readily agreed, even though that would wipe out most of her savings. “But w
hat about ships in orbit? They wouldn’t be directly connected to a network, right?”

“Where the monitors couldn’t access remotely, they boarded, wiping out drives or just carting them off. From what I heard, scary as anything. They meant business. They even left ships unable to navigate, just towed them to the nearest station and let the crews figure it out. It’s out there, I know, but to ask is to get stuck in the web.”

“I believe in you, Kes. Come on, too tough for you to pull it off? And you’ll want it for the Codex, anyway. Hey, don’t forget, we’re here for recreation.”
She gave his neck a sensuous rub.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Mira smiled in triumph, even as she still held him. “That means it’s in the bag. As soon as you get it, meet me here. Just send me a ping, you don’t have to say anything, and I’ll be here. Bring it on a physical device, okay? Just optical read, not radio. Kes, I really need this, at the first possible moment. I know you can help.”

“Mira, why do I find myself agreeing to do things for you?”

“Because it’s me! See you soon, right here. Ping me the moment you have it.” Mira stood up and began a backflip in the same motion, arcing down through the tree, and so she left him.

Rental Captain

Arn Lobeck ate up the corridor at more than a meter per step, reducing them to a hurrying rabble. “Sir, if you will, allow me to brief you on the situation,” Captain Roe forced out. He was making three steps for each two of Lobeck’s strides.

“I will conduct a briefing,” Lobeck told him. “Meanwhile, let me tell you my requirements. I need a full officer suite. My belongings will be placed there by a member of my staff who will board in approximately ten minutes. Thereafter, no crew members will enter my suite. I require full private use of the forward gymnasium for not less than five hours per day, at times I will determine.”

“Five hours! But sir, gym time is slotted weeks in advance, and−”

“If any of your crew have objections, I will be glad to discuss the matter with them. Do you think there will be any problem?” Lobeck did not pause for an answer.

“Sir, we work hard to keep up morale here, and as you know, sir, that’s essential on a ship like this
−”

Lobeck turned on Roe, who suddenly found himself standing with his back to the corridor wall. “Morale, yes. I can think of several things which would hurt morale more than losing gym time. Things that could happen if there is any evidence of an inability to faithfully execute orders down to the last detail. This ship is mine for as long as I need it, in service to the Affirmatix Family in accordance with our civic partnership. You are a rent-a-crew. Do I make myself clear?”

Roe looked up at Lobeck. The man was tall, and defined by muscle through his entire body. Even where his dark clothing was loose, somehow the impression of muscle underneath came through. His features, his unlined skin and absolutely white teeth, could not possibly be real for any man more than twenty years old. Lobeck’s blue eyes were directly upon Roe, unwavering.

“Yes, sir,” Roe managed.

“Then let us go to the bridge.” Lobeck again led the way. They proceeded to the anteroom, where the door shut and locked behind them before identification was scanned, and the way to the bridge opened. The party, of Lobeck, Roe, and two orderlies, stepped out onto the bridge.

“Report,” ordered Captain Roe.

“Proceeding to Top Station, sir,” Commander Varma told him. “We’re just finishing the upgrade to Status Three as ordered.”

“Mister Lobeck will be in suite one zero two. Post two men at all times to assure that he is not disturbed.”

“Make a general announcement directly to your crew, if you would be so kind.” Lobeck placed a perfect hand on the edge of the console in a model’s simulation of leisure.

Roe opened the channel. “Attention all crew. Please extend Vice President Arn Lobeck all courtesy due his position, and carry out any instructions provided by him. Roe out.”

“Good. My first order is that no person shall leave this ship without my permission. All shore leave at Top Station is cancelled.”

There was no open complaint at Lobeck’s pronouncement.

“My second order is that my staff and I
shall have access to all parts of the ship at all times. My third order is that the forward gymnasium will be cleared for my use, a quarter-hour from now. Please expedite these, Mister Roe.”

Captain Roe was feeling ill. “Yes, sir.”

Lobeck turned to Varma. “Commander, what is our ETA at Top Station?”

“Five hours and twelve minutes, sir.”

“We have the captured runabout in tow?”

“It’s in the hold, what’s left of it, sir,” Varma said.

“Hold at a distance of five kilometers from Top Station. At that time, I will require forensic and engineering experts to assist me in examining the boat.”

“I led the engineering investigation,” Varma objected. “We did a thorough job.”

“Post a copy of your results for access from my account, then. They could be of some use. Mister Roe, why don’t you show me to my suite now?”

Another little test, but one that Roe had prepared for. Lobeck would know that the only resident suite on the cruiser was that belonging to the Captain. Roe had emptied his quarters before Lobeck had arrived on board. “Right this way, sir.”

Fly In Amber

Evan could feel his forehead against the hard surface. It definitely wasn’t a pillow.

For a moment he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to face what he knew would be there. There was no avoiding the other senses. Confinement. The suit wrapped his arms and legs, not tight, but unmistakably there, and all encompassing.

Silence, except his breathing, and the low whisper of the air system.

Smell, of someone who has been in an EVA suit for too long, and of fear.

Taste, of drool thickened on his tongue while he had been asleep. He scraped some of it onto his top row of teeth, then took a sip from the straw and swirled the water around in his mouth. He wished he could spit the resulting mixture out, but that wasn’t an option. He had to swallow the viscous fluid.

“Suit,” he said. “Where are we?”

“We will enter the orbit of Foray in another two hours and twelve minutes. We will then assume a slightly eccentric but stable orbit around Foray.”

“How much air?”

“Depending on your level of activity, approximately eight hours,” the voice told him. “You gained slightly over a half hour of duration by sleeping for the past two hours.”

It was time to face reality.

Finally, Evan opened his eyes.

When he had nodded off, the unchanging star field had defined the view. Now, Foray ruled. Sharp brightness, unmuted by any air. The moon reflected back the intensity of Kelter’s white sun.

Foray occluded a full thirty degrees of arc in the lower right part of his field of view. Against a backdrop of stars and black space, it was a scene of breathtaking beauty. His entry to orbit had taken Evan between Kelter and Foray, so Foray’s visible surface looked very much like the moon he had seen on many nights as a child. Just a lot bigger.