Worlds in Chaos (21 page)

“People have always sought something bigger than themselves,” Sariena replied. “Something that will give their lives meaning that makes sense, that will still be there after they’re gone. Why else did medieval masons pass their skills down through sons to grandsons who would complete the cathedrals that they began?”

Keene turned his face away from the window. “Is that really true? I don’t know. It sounds too idealistic, somehow. . . . I thought ideas like that pretty much went out of style two hundred years ago.”

“True, for the most part,” Sariena agreed. “And look at the disaster that followed. The civilization that could have enlightened the world degenerated into conflicts of squabbling fanatics. Humanity should have become a vigorous, spacegoing culture by now, expanding across the Solar System and gathering itself for the move out to the stars. Instead, it has turned back within itself. We represent what could have been, and we’re considered misfits. But there are some from Earth who will never succumb to whatever the disease is. And so they come to us.”

“Maybe you’re in too much of a hurry,” Keene suggested. “Earth is tired. It’s played its part. Maybe the culture you’re talking about will have to grow from Kronia. But that won’t be for a while.”

“Maybe.”

There was a silence. Keene got the feeling that Sariena didn’t entirely agree but was not of a mind to press the subject just at the moment.

“So how does it work?” Vicki asked. “You all have this shared vision, and that somehow provides an alternative reward system to what we have? Is it something like that?”

Sariena’s brow creased. “I’m not sure I know how to explain it. I have no experience of your money systems, so it’s difficult to find the right terms. I don’t expect any overt reward for what I do. I do the things that need to be done.”

“But how do you know what’s needed?” Keene asked. He was curious himself. “Money’s only a common way of measuring obligations. What do you have instead? How do you know who owes what?”

“Owes? . . .” Sariena shook her head. “Owes to whom?”

“To each other, to society in general. . . .” Keene searched for an example. “Look, you told me you’re a planetary geologist. That involves a lot of study and ability, knowledge, hard work. Why do you do it?”

“Why? . . . It’s, simply . . . I told you. It’s what needs to be done.”

“But
why
?” Vicki pressed. “What’s in it for you? What do
you
get in return?”

Sariena looked at them uncertainly, as if hesitant to state the obvious. “In return, I am alive. I experience life. It was not
I
who designed and built this ship that we are talking in. Others did. Others made the clothes that I wear and produced the food that sustains me. And when we return to Kronia, the same will apply to everything there that keeps me alive: the habitats we live in, the machines that provide our needs. All those things exist because of the work and skills of thousands of people. And you ask me what I get in return?” Sariena shook her head again, this time with an expression of amazement. “You want me to measure
how much
I owe in return? The only answer can be, the best that I am capable of. That is my worth.”

Keene had the uncomfortable feeling that it was something she would have expected a child to understand but was being too polite to say so. But they were too close now to so many things that he too had wondered about for a long time for him to feel offended. “But wouldn’t you still have all those things if you didn’t put in the effort?” he said. “I mean, what are they going to do—throw you out on the ice?”

“Of course not—no more than they would an invalid or a mental incompetent.” Sariena shook her head again. “But why would anyone do that deliberately—deprive themselves of the fulfillment of being needed? That’s surely what the essence of being human is all about. Has Earth really forgotten?”

Keene stared at her. The message was finally getting through.

“Kropotkin,” Vicki murmured distantly. “The first base that they established on Dione was called Kropotkin, wasn’t it?”

“Some Russian, oh . . . way back, wasn’t he?” Keene said. He was still digesting what he had heard from Sariena.

“Peter Kropotkin,” Sariena confirmed, nodding. “Mondel adopted a lot of his ideas. He was a revolutionary who tried to change the face of revolution by arguing that people need each other. The necessity of mutual aid should be sufficient to guide human affairs. On Earth, he failed. But . . .” She waved a hand resignedly and let the sentence hang. Maybe it had just needed the different environment, the gesture seemed to say.

A system that measured success by giving, not taking; where “wealth” was assessed not by possessions but by what one was able to contribute. Perhaps such a scheme came naturally in an environment where the survival of all depended on the competence of each. Keene tried to visualize what it would feel like to be part of such an order, to be motivated by its values. But he was unable. He didn’t have the conditioning. Inwardly, he was also skeptical. Such utopian-sounding ideas had been tried through the ages—often with some success in the early phases—but always, invariably, as numbers grew, the ideals of the founders became diluted, and the realities of human nature asserted themselves, such experiments had ended in eventual strife and disintegration. Maybe, as Sariena said, in a new environment removed from Earth and its legacies from the past, the social dynamics could evolve differently. Time would tell.

Vicki seemed fascinated. Perhaps being away from Earth for the first time and seeing it in a new perspective against the vastness of everything else was affecting her. “Is it just a social structure?” she asked Sariena. “Or is there some deeper belief system involved too?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh . . . it sounds pretty close to what all the great religions tried to teach for thousands of years—originally, I mean; not the political counterfeits that always end up taking over.”

“Kronia doesn’t have anything like a formal church,” Sariena replied. “It’s more of an internal, personal thing.” She waved an arm at the panorama outside. “But most of our scientists believe that all of that and our being here talking and wondering about it suggests design for a purpose more than the meaningless, impossible accident that your systems teach. It means that our sciences operate within a different intellectual climate. If you insist that ‘science’ only deals with the mechanical and material by definition, you might turn out to be excluding it from the only questions that really matter.”

Sariena’s answer surprised Keene and touched a skeptical note. “So is this intelligence behind it all the same God that armies hacked each other to pieces for, and people used to get burned at stakes over?” he asked dryly.

Sariena shook her head—a trifle impatiently. “Of course not. Those are results of the political counterfeits that Vicki mentioned, when the heirs of a religious tradition sell out to the power structure and give them a means of social control. I doubt if the intelligence I’m talking about has any concern with the day-to-day affairs that we imagine are so important.”

Keene fell silent with a nod. It was close to what had been happening with the heirs of the scientific tradition on Earth, too.

“But you think it has a purpose?” Vicki said to Sariena, before Keene could pick up on the political aspect again.

Sariena’s expression became distant, highlighted by the glow from the turning pattern of stars outside. “I believe so. It all seems too directed to be otherwise: stars manufacturing elements, fine-tuned to eject them at the end of the production run; planets as assembly stations for complex organisms programmed to evolve toward the expression of consciousness; consciousness, the instrument for accumulating experiences. And if we accept whatever our role happens to be as contributing a stone to the cathedral of eventually bringing the universe to life, then maybe yes, I suppose you could say that Kronians have their religion.”

All very fine idealistic stuff; but it caused Keene’s misgivings to return. He just couldn’t see these people negotiating effectively, Earth-style with hostilely disposed Terrans. The very concept of starting with maximum demands in return for the minimum they thought they could get away with would be alien to them. Instead, they would offer the best they could afford and expect reciprocation. It was by willingness to give, not the power to take, that they valued each other.

“Is Gallian a visionary like that too?” he asked Sariena. “You know, the people that you’re going to be dealing with when you go back down there aren’t going to be exactly falling over themselves to find reasons for diverting resources out to Saturn. They’ve got too many other concerns that are closer to home. I’d just like to be sure that Gallian is mindful of things like that.”

“You sound as if you might be trying to warn me of something,” Sariena said.

“It’s just . . . What I’m trying to say is, attitudes here won’t be the way you’re used to. Hiding one’s hand is considered a mark of shrewdness on Earth. You can’t take everything you’re told at face value.”

“We have studied Terran history and ways,” Sariena said.

“And that’s good,” Keene agreed. “But I’m not sure it can be the same as living them.”

Sariena gave him a long, thoughtful look, as if she were weighing up something. Then she said, “There is something more, that we haven’t made public yet or brought up with your people so far—but nobody has specifically forbidden us from talking about it. We didn’t come here expecting to outdo Terrans at Terran political games. Our objective is a scientific one: to gain acceptance for our beliefs on the basis of the evidence, not through debating tricks.”

Keene smiled, but with an effort not to appear condescending. “That’s a nice sentiment. Maybe you manage to keep science and politics in separate compartments out at Saturn, somehow. But life here is more messy. They have this tendency to get mixed up.”

“We’re aware of that,” Sariena said. “And that was why we chose to bring our case formally to Earth now, when we did. It wasn’t just to take advantage of the Athena event—although that was certainly timely. It was to present what we think is our strongest item of proof.”

Keene frowned. This was an unexpected turn. “Proof? . . . You mean about Venus being the comet of the Exodus?”

Sariena shook her head. “Much more radical than that. I’m talking about the stability of the entire Solar System, not just a single event in Earth’s history. We’ve believed for a long time that the planets had different configurations in previous ages. Now we’re certain of it.” She shifted her eyes to look at Vicki, who was waiting just as intently. “Let’s go back. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Keene and Vicki followed Sariena back the way they had come, into the deserted part of the Command Deck. She led the way to one of the consoles and activated it. The layout was unfamiliar, but a standard communications format appeared on one of the screens. “I just want to get Gallian’s okay first,” Sariena murmured by way of explanation. Moments later, Gallian was looking out at them.

“Sariena!” he exclaimed. “I presume you’re back up in the ship by now. No problems, I trust? Have Landen and his friends arrived yet?”

“Yes. He’s here with me right now, and so is Vicki.”

“Ah, good. You have my unmitigated envy at being up off the surface, if only temporarily. Walking down here still makes me feel as if I am carrying a dead horse. Is that the correct figure of speech? Never mind. I only have a moment and must be brief. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to show them the Rhea finds,” Sariena said. “They’re relevant to something we’ve been talking about. I just wanted to check first that you have no objection.”

“The Rhea finds,” Gallian repeated. His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t want any announcement until we’ve had the reactions next week.”

“This will be strictly unofficial. You know how Lan and his associates have supported us. I don’t think we need have any fear that the information will go further.”

Were Gallian leading a political deputation on Earth, it would probably have been pointless even to have asked the question in such circumstances. The Kronian, however, thought for no more than a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. If you think it desirable, Sariena, I bow to your discretion.” He remained on the line long enough to greet Keene and Vicki, asked them what they thought of the
Osiris
, and then excused himself and was gone.

Sariena shut down the console and moved toward a doorway leading from the main floor area. “This way,” she said over her shoulder. Keene and Vicki exchanged curious looks and followed her again, this time into a small room filled with electronic equipment, screens, and panels, with a worktop extending along one wall. Sariena sat down in the chair at a station in front of a glass enclosure looking somewhat like a small fish tank and began touching buttons and entering commands. A misty glow appeared in the space, which was obviously a holo-viewer. “The articles themselves are in freeze storage in one of the
Osiris
’s other modules,” Sariena said as the glow brightened. “We’ll be taking them down to the surface with us when we return. For now I can just show you the images. We sent the same images ahead some time ago for evaluation by your experts. As Gallian said, we’re hoping for some kind of public announcement next week.”

She manipulated a control on an adjacent screen, and a form materialized behind the glass. It looked like a tablet of dark stone with fine white veins, shaped into a semicircle at the top and with a corner missing below. Sariena rotated the image slowly, bringing into view a design etched into the surface. It suggested a disk standing symmetrically on an arrowhead, pierced by a shallowly sloping line. Smaller circles and other shapes appeared to the sides, while below was what looked like the top part of a tabular array of strange symbols.

Keene shot a mystified look at Vicki, frowned, and peered closer over Sariena’s shoulder. What they were looking at was clearly a product of an artistic culture. “Did you say Rhea?” he asked her, baffled. Rhea was one of Saturn’s moons. Vicki said nothing at once, but stared at the image with an odd expression on her face.