Garden at the End of the Universe
|
|
We spent a very informative day aboard the Constellation, although both Captain Tam and Adele were uncharacteristically quiet, leaving me in the role of inquisitor-in-chief. We were presented with a ceremonial copy - printed on actual paper - of the 'Welcome to Garten' document, which was every bit as comprehensive as we had been led to believe; of course, electronic versions were also supplied. Finally, we reboarded the Clarity Space. Despite the excitement of meeting numerous previously unknown human beings and seeing the inside of a spacecraft other than our own, we were all in a rather deflated mood. It was Captain Tam who set the tone of the conversation, once we were safely under way. "I do not want my ship," she said firmly, "To end up like the Constellation, which is in my view a barely functional derelict, or any of the other ghost hulks littering these orbits." I nodded in agreement; without a fully-functional spaceship, we would be eternally trapped in this system, even if we managed to undo the - well, sabotage would be the word - inflicted by the Gods. "I think a fair number of the crew of the Endurance will want to settle down here, after the stress and confusion of the last few weeks," Adele interjected, "We'd need to discuss it fully, but I rather think John and I would jump at the chance of settling down and raising a family." John Wang was Adele's long-term partner; both had crewed together on the Endurance. I had known them both as friends and fellow professionals, and I could easily imagine them as conscientious and loving parents. "I'm sure you're right, and I have no intention of preventing anybody who wants to jump ship from doing so," Tam replied, "Nevertheless, I believe we are still fighting a war, and I want to give ourselves the best chance of success. I want to fight on." "I agree," I said, turning to Adele, "I'm sure you and John will make wonderful parents, but it's not the path I myself wish to take. In fact, I've had a thought on something we can do about the Gods." The Captain swivelled around in her chair as far as the straps would allow to look at me. "What do you have in mind?" she demanded. "I've been asking questions all day," I replied promptly, "Everybody we've met has been very willing to talk to us; I got no sense that anybody was trying to deceive us in any way." Tam nodded slowly. "We were told that the ship which rescued the Constellation was called Orion," I went on, "Although the crew was the same, judging by the audio-visual recordings we saw. The combination of Constellation and Orion is a famous one in astronomy." "That's true," Adele added. "Somehow, none of us on the Endurance had recognised the significance of the name Yelcho for our rescue ship, until after they left," I went on, "Despite the very famous Antarctic rescue operation." "That was a significant oversight," Captain Tam muttered sourly. "Yes," I agreed, "But it does suggest that the Gods, whoever they really are, have a detailed knowledge of Earth and its history, either from direct observation or from studying our own archives, and their observations, their surveillance was never detected, at least before we left Earth." "So?" Adele demanded. "So we must assume that we here - all of us, everywhere in the Sonne system - are being watched at all times," I replied immediately, "It's inconceivable that we did not bring whatever spy devices or surveillance technology they use with us from Earth." "That seems very likely," Tam agreed, "And we immediately need to avoid discussing any plans we might have." "Yes. I would strongly recommend, Captain, that you put out a directive to that effect when we return to the Endurance." Captain Tam nodded slowly. "I'll do that." "Thank you," I said, adding, "Then we can consider investigating ways of countering the Gods' spying." "What we need," Adele suggested, "Is a few samples of the actual technology of the Gods. Just so we can try and find out what they can do." "I have an idea about that," I replied slowly, "But I am not going to tell you what it is." Now, I am not normally a slovenly person: I wash both clothes and body on a regular basis. But on one occasion, when I was still sleeping regularly with Waldo, I had persuaded him to orgasm on my chest. Afterwards, in my sleepy and ultimately satisfied state, I had pulled a handkerchief from a nearby drawer and wiped myself, then languidly dropped the hanky on the floor. It was only much later, after Waldo had gone, that I discovered that the cloth I had used was an ancient and very fragile silk kerchief once presented to me by my grandmother. It would probably disintegrate with any kind of machine wash cycle; I scooped up the delicate fabric, placed it in a plastic bag and then in a drawer - resolving to carefully hand-wash it later - and promptly forgot about it. I now harboured a suspicion that whatever technology was used by the so-called Gods was probably pervasive: they appeared to be capable of replicating anything at the minutest level. Was Waldo's (mostly) human body any more 'real' or authentic than his shiny metallic arm? Maybe, just maybe, the sample of his person I had accidentally acquired might allow me to discover something about the Gods' real nature.
|
Part 4