New Earth (23 page)

Jordan was puzzled by that. “Why … how did photosynthetic plants arise on Earth? In the oceans, wasn’t it? Single-celled bacteria in the water.”

“That’s what happened on Earth, true enough,” said Longyear. “The so-called blue-green algae—”

“Cyanobacteria, actually,” Meek interrupted.

A frown flashed across Longyear’s face as he continued, “Those single-celled creatures lived deep enough in the water so that the Sun’s UV didn’t reach them.”

“The water protected them,” Jordan said.

“Right. And over many eons, they pumped enough oxygen into Earth’s atmosphere to allow an ozone layer to build up. The ozone layer protected the planet’s
surface from killing levels of ultraviolet and life could eventually evolve on land.”

Jordan spread his hands. “So the same thing has happened here, obviously.”

“Not so obvious, Jordan,” Longyear contradicted. Ticking off points on his stubby fingers, the biologist said, “One, Sirius puts out so much UV that it’s tough to see how life could have arisen in the first place.”

“Really? Even in
the oceans?”

Raising a second finger, Longyear went on, “Which brings us to point number two: time. It took billions of years for life to evolve in the oceans of Earth. Billions of years for those cyanobacteria to generate enough oxygen to change the atmosphere and form an ozone layer.”

“This planet can’t be that old,” Meek said. “Sirius itself can’t be more than half a billion years old, from
what Elyse Rudaki’s told me.”

“That’s not enough time for a thick ozone layer to be built up,” Longyear resumed.

“So how did it get there?” Meek demanded.

“How did life evolve on the ground without an ozone layer to protect it from lethal levels of UV?” Longyear added.

Jordan looked at them: Longyear earnest, serious, troubled; Meek burning with righteous indignation.

“Life couldn’t get started
on the ground without a strong UV shield, a thick ozone layer high in the atmosphere,” Longyear repeated. “But the ozone layer couldn’t get created until life spent billions of years producing oxygen.”

“And this planet can’t be more than half a billion years old,” said Meek, almost triumphantly.

Jordan sat up straighter. “Are you certain of this, Paul? Or is it unproven speculation?”

“I’ve
run the numbers through the computer. Considering the level of ultraviolet that Sirius emits, and the time scale involved, there’s no way that such a thick ozone layer could have been built up.”

“That’s … odd,” Jordan said, weakly.

“And then there’s this energy shield they’ve put up to protect against solar storms,” Longyear went on.

“That’s because there’s no planetary magnetic field, as on
Earth,” said Jordan.

“Uh-huh. And how did Adri’s people evolve to the level of high technology without a geomagnetic field to protect them?”

Jordan blinked at him.

“Adri’s been lying to us,” Meek insisted. “There’s no way that these people could have originated on this planet.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Jordan protested. “I mean, they’re
here,
they exist. Together with all the other life forms
we’ve seen.”

“Planetary engineering,” Longyear said. “Terraforming.”

“The idea of reshaping an entire planet to make it like Earth? That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” Meek snapped. “Look around you. It’s been done.”

“But the energy it would require,” Jordan argued. “The resources. The time.”

Meek said, “They’re a much older race than we are. They have a much superior technology. Look at those energy
shields, their technology is light-years ahead of ours.”

“But to transform an entire planet…”

“That’s what they’ve done,” said Longyear, totally certain.

Meek insisted, “And we’ve got to find out why.”

CONFIRMATION

Jordan’s first thought was to go to Adri and ask him about Longyear’s conclusion. But he hesitated. Instead, he decided to call his brother, still out in the field with de Falla, halfway across the planet.

Leaving Aditi in the city, Jordan joined Meek and Longyear in the buggy that the astrobiologist had driven to the city. All the way back through the shadowed, softly quiet
forest, Jordan wrestled with his conscience. He found that he didn’t want to believe that Adri was lying to him, that Aditi was part of a scheme to deceive him and the other humans. It can’t be, he told himself, over and over. It can’t be.

And yet, if Longyear was right, Adri and his people were carrying out a massive deception. And Aditi was part of it. Mata Hari indeed, he thought. More like
Delilah.

Then a new worry hit him. Can Adri tap into our phone conversations? What if he can listen to everything we say to each other?

By the time they reached the camp and Jordan had walked to the barracks tent, he had decided that there was nothing he could do about the possibility of Adri’s eavesdropping. If he can listen to our phone conversations, he surely must have overheard what Longyear
and Meek told me this morning.

Once he reached his own cubicle, Jordan reluctantly sat on the springy, narrow cot and flipped open his pocketphone. Brandon answered immediately, looking sunburnt, his hair tossed by a fresh breeze, smiling like a man happy with his work. In the phone’s small screen, Jordan could see that his brother was up in the mountains: bare slabs of jagged rock rose behind
him, and wisps of clouds threaded through the craggy peaks.

As he explained what Longyear and Meek had told him, Jordan could see his brother’s face grow somber, grave.

“They might be right, Jordy,” Brandon said. “What we’re finding out here is that this planet is much younger than Earth. A lot younger.”

“Geologically speaking,” said Jordan.

“Right. Half a billion years old, at most.”

“That
would still give it enough time to develop indigenous life, wouldn’t it? Enough time for life to evolve into an intelligent species.”

“It took more than four billion years for an intelligent species to arise on Earth,” said Brandon.

“But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen sooner, elsewhere.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Brandon. “We just don’t know. We’re trying to make valid conclusions with
just two examples. Hard to draw a curve with only two data points.”

Jordan sank back on the cot and stared at the domed ceiling of the bubble tent.

“How can we tell for sure?” he asked.

Brandon shook his head. “Jordy, if I knew, I’d tell you.”

Jordan understood the unspoken message. Ask Adri. He knows. The question is, will he tell me the truth?

And he realized that, before confronting Adri
with his suspicions, he had to face Aditi.

*   *   *

Dreading what he had to do, Jordan walked through the midafternoon heat back toward the city. Sunshine filtered through the high canopies of the trees. Birds swooped above and butterflies flitted through the foliage. Furry little animals scampered and chittered. He saw it all but paid no attention. His thoughts were entirely on Aditi.

And
there she was, standing alone on the stone walkway that circled the city’s perimeter, as if she were waiting for him.

“Hello,” he called. Then he couldn’t help adding, “Been waiting long?”

“No,” she answered. “I … I had a feeling you’d be coming.”

“Woman’s intuition?” he taunted as he stepped next to her.

Aditi looked slightly puzzled. “No … not intuition…”

“Have you been tracking me?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, of course. We track the emanations from your phone. Even when you’ve turned it off there’s enough residual radiation to be detected.”

He did not smile back. “And you listen to our phone conversations.”

“I don’t,” she said, totally serious now. “The communications technicians do.”

“So we have no privacy.”

“I’m afraid not. Adri says we need to know what you’re thinking,
how you’re reacting to finding us.”

“I see.” A part of Jordan’s mind was telling him that Adri’s eavesdropping was perfectly natural. We’d listen to his chatter if we could, he thought. Two intelligent races bumping into each other. There’s a lot to learn, a lot to find out, a lot to be afraid of.

Aditi said, “You’re not angry, are you?”

He looked into her bright brown eyes and saw that she
was worried. Or acting, he couldn’t help thinking.

“Are you?” she repeated.

“Aditi, dear, we’re lovers. We shouldn’t have secrets between us.” Then he added, “Do you really love me?”

“Oh, Jordan,” she gushed, and flung her arms around his neck. “Of course I love you! I never thought this would happen, but I do love you, truly I do.”

“And I love you, Aditi my darling. But…”

She pulled away
from him slightly. “But you’re suspicious. I can’t say I blame you.”

“It’s just that, the more we learn about you, the less it all adds up.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Pointing to a stone bench a few meters from where they stood, Jordan said, “Why don’t we sit there and you can explain it all to me.”

“I’ll explain as much as I can,” she said, sitting on the bench.

Jordan sat down beside her. The
stone was warm from the afternoon sunlight.

“Contact between two intelligent races is a very delicate matter,” Aditi began. “Especially when one of the races is so much younger than the other.”

“I understand,” he said. “But you—Adri, that is—he hasn’t been entirely truthful with us.”

“Oh no!” she blurted. “He’s been completely honest with you. He’s never told you anything that’s not true.”

“But he hasn’t told us the entire truth, has he?”

Aditi fell silent for a moment, and Jordan recognized that she was using her implanted communicator to ask for instructions.

Grasping her by the shoulders, he demanded, “Don’t ask Adri how to answer me. You tell me, yourself.”

Strangely, she smiled at him. “Very well, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Adri can hear us?”

“Not now. I’ve turned off my communicator.”

“Just like that.” Jordan snapped his fingers.

So did Aditi. “Just like that. It’s controlled by the brain’s electrical fields.”

“So we’re alone.”

“Yes. Completely.” Looking almost impishly pleased with herself, Aditi asked, “So what do you want to know?”

“Why has Adri been so … so deceptive with us?”

“It’s not deception, Jordan. Not in the least. Adri and the others decided that we would
answer all your questions completely truthfully, but only the questions that you actually ask. Nothing more. No additional information.”

“Why would—”

“You’re like schoolchildren, Jordan. We didn’t want to give you more information than you could handle. So we decided to answer your questions truthfully, but to go no further than your questions. As you learned more about us, learned to ask deeper
questions, we would answer them.”

“Like schoolchildren,” he murmured. “And you’re our teacher.”

“One of them.”

“That makes me teacher’s pet, I suppose,” he said, surprised at how bitter it sounded.

Aditi didn’t seem to notice the sharpness of his tone. With a smile, she murmured, “Much more than a pet, dearest. Much more.”

“You were … assigned by Adri to educate me?”

Her eyes went wide with
surprise. “As a teacher, I was asked to be part of the committee of welcome.” Lowering her eyes, she went on in a near-whisper, “I had no idea that I would fall in love.” She hesitated a heartbeat, then asked, “You did fall in love with me too, didn’t you, Jordan?”

His heart melted. “Yes, I did, Aditi. Hopelessly, helplessly in love.”

She beamed happily at him.

So they sat on the stone bench
in the warm afternoon light as the sun dipped lower and the shadows lengthened. Aditi explained Adri’s rationale for dealing with the visitors from Earth.

“We didn’t want to swamp you with too much information about ourselves. We decided to let you find out about us and our world at your own pace.”

“You’re a teacher, but I haven’t seen any children in your city. None at all. Do you have schoolchildren?”

“I teach adults,” Aditi replied. “Children are rare among us.”

“I see.”

“We don’t have the same kind of family relationships that you do,” she said.

“You told me that you do have marriages,” he recalled.

“Rarely.”

Suddenly he felt himself smiling. “So if I were to ask for your hand in marriage, would I have to get your parents’ consent?”

“My parents?”

“Your mother. Your father.”

Aditi
shook her head slightly. “I have no parents.”

“You’re an orphan?”

“No. You don’t understand. I wasn’t gestated in a woman’s womb. I wasn’t born, the way you were. None of us were.”

Jordon felt his insides quake. “What do you mean?”

“I was created from genetically engineered cell samples. All of us were.”

“Created…” Jordan’s mind reeled. “You mean, in a biovat? Like meat?”

“More sophisticated
than your biovats,” she replied. “An artificial womb. All of us were produced in such devices.”

“Even Adri?” Jordan heard his voice squeak.

“Yes, even Adri. Every one of us has been generated in a laboratory facility.”

MARS

Far-called, our navies melt away,

On dune and headland sinks the fire.

R
UDYARD
K
IPLING,
“Recessional”

TITHONIUM BASE

Tithonium Chasma is a part of the great Martian rift valley, which stretches nearly four thousand kilometers across the frozen rust-red desert of Mars. The rugged multihued cliffs of its south face rise some two kilometers above the valley’s dusty floor. The cliffs of the north face are not visible from where Tithonium Base stands; the valley is so broad that they are beyond
the short horizon.

Wearing a transparent nanofabric pressure suit, Jamie Waterman stood before the flat inscribed stone that marked his wife’s grave. Not that Vijay’s remains were there. On Mars you couldn’t bury a person: her decaying remains would contaminate the Martian ecology. No, Vijay had been cremated, as she had wished, and her ashes carried into space and jettisoned there by one of
the rockets returning to Earth. Her spirit became a cloud of ashes, drifting eternally in space.