Read Faster Than Light: Babel Among the Stars Page 16
*
Seth and Absalom stood at the window facing the stardock at Europa station, watching the mechanics outside take apart yet another starship. They were fairly far along. The Heilmann Drive had been stripped from the chassis. The shielding modules were being removed next. Working in teams of two, the crew carefully withdrew the power cells from the side of the ship with their kinetic gloves.
“We’re getting close,” the commissar said. “I’m afraid that the resistance is only going to grow. I’m afraid of what might happen as we approach the end. Did you hear about the riots on Linaria?”
“That should have been expected,” Seth replied. “After all, we’re killing their god.”
The state religion of Linaria was premised on the worship of Alena Heilmann, the inventor of the Heilmann Drive. They believed that she was a goddess who descended to the Earth to give humanity the power to travel between the stars. The Spatial Preservation Act was decried as heresy only days after it was passed. The Republic had to close its embassy and withdraw all of its citizens out of fear of reprisal.
“You are a diplomat,” Absalom said. “You’ve spent years studying how to deal with other cultures. Maybe you can talk some sense into them.”
Seth laughed. “Are you kidding me? They execute people there for defaming Alena Heilmann. If I try and explain to them that her engine is causing some kind of physical erosion of the galaxy...”
Absalom’s face twisted into a look of sheer revulsion. “They still have executions on Linaria? They’re no better than rims-damned Vangelia.”
This piqued Seth’s interest. He was surprised that Absalom was so disgusted by capital punishment. “You telling me the Republic doesn’t kill prisoners? Come on...”
“No!” Absalom exclaimed. “Of course they don’t. Sometimes, Mr. Garland, I wonder where you grew up.”
Seth leaned down and rubbed his temples. There was no official death penalty in the Republic, but Seth was certain that it was used all the time. Political opponents disappeared, the supposed terrorists arrested across Earth were detained and never heard from. Prisoners just faded into oblivion. It seemed unlikely that, even with the massive bureaucracy, they were simply lost. But why would Absalom lie to him now? After all the classified information he’d shown Seth, he wouldn’t just toe the party line on this subject.
“I still don’t know what happened to my father,” Seth said. “His prison sentence should have been up seven years ago. He never came home, not that any of us expected him to. He never wrote. He might as well have disappeared the day he was arrested.” He glared at Absalom. “Pardon me for thinking that he never made it out of that prison. Maybe he never made it in.”
“Well, I could look into that for you,” Commissar Absalom said. “I have access to all manner of databases. Maybe I can figure out where he is now.”
Seth felt his hands start to sweat. He wasn’t even sure why. “That... That would be great. But what if he’s alive? And what if he isn’t on Earth?”
“What of it?” Absalom replied. “You would know that no one killed him. And maybe you could learn to trust your government a little.”
“But it will be too late to see him,” Seth motioned towards the window, where the workers continued to pick apart the carcass of the starship outside. “What if I find out he’s still on Gammaron the day after the trade routes close? What good is that?”
Absalom shrugged. “You’ll still know.”
“Not sure what that’s worth,” Seth said. “I barely remember him. That means I barely knew him.”
“Those aren’t the same thing,” Absalom replied.
Seth didn’t reply. He wanted to end the conversation. He didn’t want to have to tell the commissar to look, or not to look. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know. No matter what he discovered, it wouldn’t change anything. The Republic still took him away, as far as Seth was concerned.
“We’re really getting close, aren’t we,” Seth said, changing the subject. “How many more ships remain?”
“Twenty-three,” Absalom replied.
Wheels began to turn in Seth’s head. He already had the basic structure of a plan to steal one of the remaining ships. Even with all of the information he gained from the Lachesis gnostin, it would be difficult. He needed everything to go just right. And he needed to be able to convince Absalom of a particular course of action. He just hoped that he’d done enough to earn his trust.
“The riots and protests are only going to increase,” Seth said. “It’s going to get ugly.”
Absalom nodded. “I know. It doesn’t seem like they’re listening to you.”
“This is a big change in everyone’s life. It’s going to take more than a RSIR student to convince them that it’s a change for the better. We need to re-evaluate how we’re presenting this to them.”
“Presenting it?”
Seth took a deep breath. He really hoped he could sound sincere. “We need to stop worrying about the other planets. They can’t do anything to us anymore. With twenty-three starships running three routes a day... The only people who can meaningfully affect Earth are people who are already here.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to convince the people of Earth that when the last ship is decommissioned, we’ve done something good,” Seth said. “It should not be a somber moment, it should be a grand celebration.”
7.
The Republic shocked everyone when it revealed that March 9, 4192 would be the last day of faster-than-light travel. It should not have come as a surprise. It has been months since the Spatial Preservation Act was passed. Every week, representatives from the Republic military briefed the people of Earth on the progress of the enforcement of the Act. They were quite candid about how many starships were decommissioned, the scientists who were isolated, the trade routes that were discontinued, and the steps the military was taking to secure all of these efforts.
But many people still refused to believe it was happening. Faster-than-light travel wasn’t just a method of transportation. It was woven into human society, and had been for almost two thousand years. People believed that Chairman Stevens and the High Council would change their minds. It wasn’t until the date was set that the truth began to set in. There were less than two dozen starships left. Soon there would be none.
Even more surprising was the Republic’s sudden shift in attitude about the Spatial Preservation Act. For months, every press release and conference had a very somber tone. It was like a slow, methodical funeral procession. But when they finally announced the date that the full provisions of the Act would take effect, everything changed.
The tone of the announcement and subsequent assembly was jubilant. Instead of dwelling on the sacrifices that the people of the galaxy would make, it celebrated them. It treated the end of faster-than-light travel as an accomplishment.
“No other society in the history of mankind would ever be able to give up this much to save its citizens.”
“This is an unprecedented act of restraint that should be applauded, not dreaded.”
“We give up interplanetary travel so that our children’s children can live, and that must be regaled.”
March 9 was declared to be “Forbearance Day” throughout the Republic. The civilian arm of the government set up huge rallies and parties across the Earth to celebrate the nobility of the sacrifice everyone was making.
There would even be a central party, on the Europa Observation Outpost, where the last three ships would be decommissioned at the end of Forbearance Day. The removal of the final Heilmann Drive would be broadcast across the Earth, as if it was a moment to rejoice.
No one knew quite how to react to the Republic’s attempt to re-brand the Spatial Preservation Act as a triumph over human nature rather than a concession to a very real danger. Either way, tickets to the celebrations across the planet were
claimed quickly—so quickly that the Republic had to plan more and more as the date grew closer.
Even though the idea of a rally to support the final steps of the Spatial Preservation Act seemed strange, people wanted to see the end. They wanted to say they were part of the of the end of faster-than-light travel.