Anvil Of Stars Part 14

"I'm a large...thing," Rosa said, holding out her arms, fingers clutched into fists. "I was large when I was a child. Everybody stared at me and avoided me. I thought by coming here, doing the Job, I could be important to the girls and boys who ignored me and who died on Earth."

Martin took one of her fists and tried to ma.s.sage it into openness. She stared at his hands, her fist, as if they were disembodied. Her voice rose.

"I wanted to be important to them. When I got on the Dawn Treader, Dawn Treader, nothing much changed. I knew there wasn't anything I could do to make anybody think I was important." nothing much changed. I knew there wasn't anything I could do to make anybody think I was important."

"You're part of us," Martin said. He reached out and brought her to him, wrapped his arms around her, felt her hard, thick-fleshed shoulders, broad ribcage, small b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest, the strength and tension and the damp warm skin of her neck. He hugged her, chin on her shoulder, smelling her, sharp like a large, frightened animal. "We don't want to lose you, or anybody. Do what I ask, and we'll see if it comes to anything."

She pushed him back with strong, large hands and blinked at him. "I will," she said. She smiled like a little girl. Possibly no one had hugged her in years. How could all the children have so ignored one of their own? Seeing the pain and hope in her eyes-a forlorn, lost hope-Martin wondered if he had done the right thing, used the right kind of influence.

So little time.

Rosa left, subdued to her old quietness, and Alexis Baikal came in, and then Jeanette and Nancy. They did not say much, and he did not push the issue. Somehow he felt he had broken the chain of events, that everything would go more smoothly now; but had he sacrificed the last of Rosa?

Only hours. Time flying by more swiftly, more in tune with the outside universe. Another part.i.tion drill; equally successful. One last brief external drill, also successful. The children seemed as prepared as they would ever be.

Hour by hour, Hakim's search team produced more and more information.

The time of judgment had arrived.

In the schoolroom, in the presence of the War Mother, Martin set up the rules for the judgment. In the first year, Stephanie Wing Feather and Harpal Timechaser had prepared the rules, trying to catch the resonances of the justice systems established on the Ark, based on human laws back to the tablets of Hammurabi...

A jury of twelve children was chosen by lots. Each child could refuse the a.s.signment; none did. With more qualms than satisfaction, Martin saw Rosa inducted as a juror, taking the oath Stephanie herself had written: I will truly judge based on the evidence, and what I will judge is whether the evidence is sufficient, and whether it proves guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. I will not allow prejudice or hate or fear to cloud my judgment, nor will I be swayed by any emotion or rhetoric from my fellows, so help me, in the name of truth, G.o.d, the memory of Earth, my family, and whatever I hold most dear, against the eternal guilt of my soul should I err...

The choosing and swearing-in lasted a precious hour. A defense advocate was appointed by Martin; to Hakim's dismay, Martin chose him. "No one knows the weakness of your evidence more than you do," Martin said. He was acutely aware of the roughness and arbitrariness of this system they had chosen; they could do no better.

As prosecutor he appointed Luis Estevez Saguaro, Hakim's second on the search team. Martin himself presided as judge.

The War Mother listened to the trial silently, its painted black and white designs prominent in the brightly illuminated schoolroom. All eighty-two children sat in quiet attendance as Martin went over the rules.

Luis presented the older evidence, and then outlined the new. Their data on the debris fields had increased enormously. The a.s.say matches seemed indisputable.

Hakim questioned the conclusiveness of the data at this distance. Luis Estevez called on Li Mountain to explain again the functioning of the Dawn Treader's Dawn Treader's remotes and sensors, the accuracy of observations, the science behind the different methods. The children had heard much of it before. They were reminded nevertheless. remotes and sensors, the accuracy of observations, the science behind the different methods. The children had heard much of it before. They were reminded nevertheless.

Luis Estevez withheld his trump card until the final phase of the six-hour trial. Hakim fought vigorously to discredit this last bit of evidence, explaining the statistics of error on such observations at this distance, but the news made the children gasp nonetheless, more in horror than surprise.

Less than two hours away, at their present speed of three quarters c, the cloud of pre-birth material surrounding Wormwood offered one more startling confirmation.

The residue of Wormwood's birth, a roughly shaped ring around the system, with patches and extrusions streaming billions of kilometers above the ecliptic, had been extensively mined, as suspected, and few volatiles remained. No cometary chunks were left to fall slowly around Wormwood; the civilization had many thousands of years ago depleted these resources as part of a program of interstellar exploration.

Some leftovers from that program still floated amid the scoured dust of the irregular ring, spread here and there across the billions of kilometers like sand in an ocean tide.

The search team, probing the nearest extent of the ring, had found artificial needle-shaped bodies, the largest no more than a hundred meters long; inert now, perhaps experimental models, perhaps s.h.i.+ps that had malfunctioned and been abandoned after being stripped of fuel and internal workings.

Luis projected for the jury, and all the children, graphics of what these needle s.h.i.+ps looked like in their cold dusty junkyards. He then produced pictures they were all familiar with: the shapes of the killer machines when they entered Earth's solar system, when they burrowed into the asteroids between Mars and Jupiter, and into the Earth itself: Long needles. Identical in shape and size.

Hakim valiantly argued that these shapes were purely utilitarian, that any number of civilizations might produce vessels such as these, designed to fly between the stars. But the shapes of s.h.i.+ps of the Law, including Dawn Treader, Dawn Treader, countered that argument. s.p.a.ce allowed many designs for interstellar craft. countered that argument. s.p.a.ce allowed many designs for interstellar craft.

The conclusion seemed inevitable: dead killer machines...o...b..ted the extreme perimeter of the Wormwood system.

Hakim's next suggestion was that this system had itself been entered by Killers, that the inhabitants had been wiped from their worlds, and that the worlds were not perpetrators, but victims. Luis countered that in such a case, it was their duty to expunge the final traces of the Killers from the victim's corpse.

And if there were survivors?

That did not seem likely, judging from Earth's experience.

But the Earth, Hakim argued, had been an extreme case; the Killers had been faced with strong, eventually fatal opposition. Perhaps they would behave differently with more time to perform their tasks. Perhaps there were were survivors. survivors.

Luis pointed to the natural composition of Wormwood and its planets, the apparent origin of the machines themselves.

And if the machines had merely been manufactured here?

The debate went around and around, but these arguments were not convincing, however Hakim worked to make them so.

"If Wormwood is indeed the origin of the killer machines, why leave these wrecks out here for evidence?" Hakim asked, making his final attempt at a sound defense. "Why not sweep the cloud clean, and prepare for the vengeance of those you have failed to murder? Could there not be some other explanation for this evidence, allowing a reasonable doubt?"

No one could answer. No one doubted the evidence, however.

The jury was sequestered in unused quarters near the schoolroom.

The verdict was two hours in coming.

It was unanimous.

Wormwood must be cleared of all traces of Killers and their makers. Even if they had become ghosts, lost in their machines...

Hakim seemed perversely despondent that he had not presented his case more strongly. He moved to the rear of the room and curled behind the children, eyes wide and solemn.

Martin stood before the children, the weight of the judgment on his shoulders now. The hush in the schoolroom was almost deathly: no coughing, hardly a sound of breathing. The children did not move, waiting for him to issue the orders.

"We start dispersal as soon as we split," he said. "s.h.i.+pboard weapons team will launch makers into the Wormwood system. There are no visible defenses, but we'll be cautious anyway. Instead of trying for three or four large-ma.s.s gravity-fuse bombs, we'll let the makers create a few thousand smaller ones out of the rocks and debris. If we fail, makers in the outer cloud will a.s.semble their weapons and send them in later."

"That'll cost much more fuel," Hans said. Stephanie and Harpal nodded.

"There aren't enough volatiles to make enough bombs and escape quickly. We should act as soon as possible. We'll destroy the rocky worlds first, then concentrate on the bald gas giants..."

"Destroy them, too?" Ariel asked from the rear.

"If we have enough weapons," Martin said. "We can gather the remaining volatiles for fuel from the debris clouds afterward."

"All of them?" William asked.

"Every world," Martin said.

The children thought this over somberly. They would reenact the battle fought around the Sun, centuries past. This time, they they would be the murderers. would be the murderers.

"It's not murder," Martin said, antic.i.p.ating their thoughts. "It's execution. It's the Law."

That didn't make the reality any less disturbing.

"You didn't need to put me in your crew," Theresa said as they ate together in her quarters. This was the last time they would have together, alone, until the Job had been completed. These were the last four hours of the Dawn Treader Dawn Treader as a single s.h.i.+p, as they had always known her. If they survived, they might reconstruct the s.h.i.+p again, but chances were, they would have to make her much smaller, perhaps a tenth of her present size, and live in comparatively crowded conditions... as a single s.h.i.+p, as they had always known her. If they survived, they might reconstruct the s.h.i.+p again, but chances were, they would have to make her much smaller, perhaps a tenth of her present size, and live in comparatively crowded conditions...

"I had no reason not not to have you with me," Martin said. to have you with me," Martin said.

Theresa watched him, eyes bright.

"The Pan needs to think of himself now and then," Martin said softly. "I'll work better, knowing you're with me."

"When we finish the Job, where will we go?" she asked, finis.h.i.+ng her pie. The s.h.i.+p was an excellent provider; this meal, however, tasted particularly fine. There would be little time to eat after part.i.tion, and the meals would be fast and small.

"I don't know," Martin said. "They've never told us where they'll send us."

"Where would you like like to go?" to go?"

Martin chewed his last bite thoughtfully, swallowed, looked down at the empty plate. He smiled, thumped his knuckles on the small table, said, "I'd like to travel very far away. Just be free and see what there is out here. We could travel for thousands, millions of years...Away from everything."

"That would be lovely," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"And you?" Martin asked.

"A new Earth," she said. "I know that's foolish. All the Earth-like worlds are probably taken, but perhaps the moms could send us to a place where n.o.body has been, find a planet where we could be alone. Where we could make a new Earth."

"And have children," he said. "Where the moms could let us have children."

"No moms," Theresa said. "Just ourselves."

Martin considered this, saw nations arising, people disagreeing, history raising its ugly head, the inevitable round of Eden's end and reality's beginning. But he did not tell Theresa what she already knew. Fantasies were almost as important as fuel at this point.

"Do you think they'll know when they die?" Theresa asked. Martin understood whom she meant. Down at the bottom of the gravity well, on the planets. The Killers. Down at the bottom of the gravity well, on the planets. The Killers.

"If they're still alive..." Martin said, raising his eyebrows. "If there's anybody still there, still conscious...not a machine."

"Do you think they can be conscious if they've become machines?"

"The moms don't tell us about such things," Martin said.

"Can they be guilty if they're just machines now?"

"I don't know," Martin said. "They can be dangerous."

"If there are a few still in bodies, still living living as we do, do you think they are...leaders, prophets...or just slaves?" as we do, do you think they are...leaders, prophets...or just slaves?"

"Machines don't need slaves," Martin said, grinning.

Theresa shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I mean slaves to their own bodies. The others might be so much more free, immortal, able to think and do whatever they please. Haven't you ever felt as if you were a slave to your body?"

Martin shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Having to urinate every few hours, s.h.i.+t every day or two or three...Eat."

"Make love," Martin said.

"Have periods," Theresa said.

Martin touched her arm.

"I've never had a period," she said. "I've grown up, but they've taken that away from me."

"The Wendys don't seem to miss them," Martin said.

"How would we know?"

"My mother didn't miss them on the Ark," he said. "She told me she was glad." Has she had any children since we left...on Mars? Has she had any children since we left...on Mars? He had never thought of having brothers or sisters he would never know. He had never thought of having brothers or sisters he would never know.

"What if they were thinking very deeply, solving very large problems, just working all the time, without worrying about bodies?"

"No pa.s.sions, no sorrows," Martin said, trying to stay in tune with her musing.

"Maybe they feel very large pa.s.sions, larger than we can know. Pa.s.sions without physical boundaries. Curiosity. Maybe they've come to actually love love the universe, Martin." the universe, Martin."

"We don't know anything about them, except that they're quiet," Martin said.

"Are they frightened?" she asked. "Hoping not to be noticed?"

Martin shrugged. "It's not worth thinking about," he said.

"But all the strategists say we should know our enemies, be prepared for anything they might do by knowing what they must must do, what they do, what they need need to do." to do."

"I hope they die before they even know we're here," Martin said.

"Do you think that's possible?"

He paused, shook his head, no.

"Do you think they already know?"

Shook his head again, acutely uncomfortable.

"We have an hour before you go back," Theresa said. "Pan must take his scheduled free time, too. To be healthy."

"I wouldn't deny myself that. Or you," Martin said.

"Let's love," Theresa said. "As if we were free, and our own people."

And they tried. It worked, partly. At the very least it was intense, even more intense than in their first few days together.

"When I'm free," Martin said, as they floated beside each other in the darkness, "I will choose you."

"I am am free," Theresa said. "For this minute, I'm free as I'll ever be. And I choose you." free," Theresa said. "For this minute, I'm free as I'll ever be. And I choose you."