Alien Earth. Megan Lindholm

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СКАЧАТЬ who shared his Wakeup times, or when the canned lectures became too didactic, there had been the exhilaration of sneaking away from the carefully orchestrated group activities and exploring the ship’s labyrinthine structure.

      But not too often, for such free-spirited violations of the rules were not regarded lightly. It would be a damn shame to come this far, and then become regarded as a rebel, a maverick, someone who couldn’t be a team player. He’d seen it happen to a few; they refused the discipline of the organized Wakeup times, or challenged the information and philosophy of the lectures. They probably thought it made them look smarter than people like Raef who agreed with everything and always acted just like everyone else. Fools. Really smart people stayed away from them.

      Raef remembered one man well because of his trembling paranoia. James, his name had been. And they had sat at a table during the recreation hour, aimlessly playing at checkers on a magnetic board. Raef had beaten him the last six times in a row. During the last Wakeup, Raef had beaten him every time they played. It was a new experience for Raef, who had seldom won at games before. He had just decided that it was boring when James skittered a checker across two squares and then declared hoarsely, “Know what, kid? I don’t think we’re ever going to get there.”

      “What?” Raef had said, jarred out of both game and boredom.

      “I don’t think we’re really going anywhere. I mean, think about it. These Arthroplana things, they come to Earth in their Beastships, but they never land. They tell us Earth is going to hell in a handcart, no one’s gonna survive, and we only have two, maybe three hundred years to get off the planet. If any Humans are gonna survive, we gotta start leaving now. But no one ever gets to see an Arthroplana, and no one knows where the hell these two planets are they’re offering to take us to. But they go, in our grandparents’ time, and in our parents’ childhood. And then they’re back for another load, and this time we, you and I, we get on. But how do we know they ever got there, the ones that went ahead of us? How do we know they aren’t just taking us out in space and dumping us, killing us off so they can have our planet for themselves? How do we know that?”

      People at other tables had turned to look at them. They had listened to James rave with faces either full of pity or disbelief. Perhaps a few showed signs of alarm, but surely it was only at James’s distress, not at a sudden suspicion his words might be true. Now the gazes shifted to Raef at James’s questions, waited for his answer, as if he knew something, as if he were supposed to speak for all those who had faith in the evacuation, who believed that a tomorrow awaited them on distant twin planets spinning around a different sun.

      “Well,” he had said, and faltered, wondering. How did they know? Maybe the Arthroplana had picked out the best and strongest to take into space and kill, leaving the weak and sick and elderly to die out on their own on a planet that no longer cherished life. “Well,” he had groped, “there’s the videos we have to watch. About living harmoniously with our new ecology. Someone had to make those. And, well, if they were going to kill us, why aren’t we already dead? Why bring us so far before doing it?”

      “So far?” James laughed again, a laugh that cracked suddenly. “How do you know we’re far at all? No one can see out. We’re in the belly of the Beast. How do you know it’s been so long? They say we’ve slept for years, for decades. Maybe it’s only been a single night of drugged sleep. How can we tell anything for ourselves?” James lowered his voice suddenly, and those not already clustered around the table drew closer to hear. “How do we know we aren’t dead already? How do we know this isn’t hell?”

      “Well … because …” Raef groped, and then the omnipresent voice of Tug, the Arthroplana that controlled their Beastship and announced all their hours for them, proclaimed, “Wakeup Period Twenty-seven is now drawing to a close. Please void your bladders and empty your bowels before returning to your wombs. If assistance is needed with your umbilical coupler, inform the monitor in your womb chamber. Thank you.”

      Raef was glad to unclip his safety harness and kick free of the table, leaving James to put the checkers and board away. He followed the stream of people leaving the rec chamber, to merge in the hallway with other people en route to the lavatories and then on to their womb chambers, to crawl inside and couple up to their life-support tubes and then to drift back into sleep. Now that Raef considered it, he didn’t remember ever seeing James at any of the subsequent Wakeups. What had ever happened to James?

      “Get out of there. Get out of there. Get out of there.” Raef ground out the words, trying to feel his teeth grit, his lips move as he begged his dream self to escape from the examining room. It was like an out-of-body experience as he looked down on himself, naked and vulnerable on the table, and yet was himself, waiting anxiously for the screening team’s return.

      He had to use a bathroom. After all the urine samples and blood he’d given to them, it seemed incredible that there were any liquids left in his body, but he had to piss soon or he was going to explode. The more he tried to lie still and ignore it, the more threatening the pressure in his bladder became. Had to go. Well, maybe if he was quick about it, he could be back in the examination cubicle before they came back.

      He rolled off the table, caught at a rung to still himself, and then tried to grip his paper gown closed behind him. It turned out he had a choice; holding the gown closed, or coping with low-G movement.

      “Get out of there, damn it all, get out of there,” Raef whimpered in his sleep. The small comfort of telling himself it was just a dream-remembrance was fast slipping away. If he was caught, it was all over.

      He knew the layout of the ship well from his unauthorized explorations. Lavatory was just three chambers from here, once he left the row of curtained alcoves they’d set up in the rec chamber for these final screenings. He was just leaving the chamber when he heard the screening team returning by the other entrance. He would never know what made him pause instead of immediately hastening back to his table, nor what trick of the acoustics carried the incredulous whisper to his ears.

      “You’re shitting me! Cancer? How the hell could they have missed that at boarding?”

      “Very small tumor, I guess. But it’s been growing while he was in Waitsleep. Big enough to detect now. Shut the hell up.”

      “Okay, okay. Which one was it?”

      “Raefferty, Terrence. He’s …”

      But Raef was moving down the corridor, running breathlessly along before even they could finish speaking his name. He felt shock, not at hearing it, but at finding that he was not surprised by it. There had been a chance, he had always known there had been a chance. His mom had died of it, and his grandfather. He hadn’t told them that at the preboarding exam. He’d know they’d say it constituted a genetic tendency toward the disease. They’d have refused him.

      It wasn’t fair, it was never fair to him. This shit was always happening to him, and he never deserved any of it. But he’d be punished for it just the same, just as always. Someday he’d make them all see how unfair it was, how none of it had been his fault.

      But for now, he fled, mindlessly, brachiating down the corridor rungs faster than Tarzan of the Apes could have gone. His paper gown fluttered in the wind of his passage, marking him as strange, and he deliberately took every turning that would carry him away from the normally trafficked areas of the ship. There would be a search, he knew. Eventually, they’d find him. So why not stop now, go back, get it over with?

      Because.

      It was all too familiar, this sensation of fleeing, and the hasty reconstruction of himself as someone else, as Tarzan or Peter Pan or Mega Man or Long John Silver. It used to be the big boys on the playground, СКАЧАТЬ