未来事件的阴影 The Shadow of Coming Events
By Clive Tern
Translate By 永远乐观
2015-05
彗星科幻
The tunnel was at the back of the asteroid, where an engine construct was bedded in. It was out-of-bounds with large notices to explain such. But notices like that are for adults to obey, not youths.
“Hey, Xian, when I close my eyes I can see shooting stars!”
“Shut up, Gillan. It’s defects in your vitreous humor.”
“Boring! They sure look like shooting stars. Wonder how I’ve never seen them before?”
“Cause your an idiot. I thought we came here to make out.”
Gillan opened her eyes and grinned. “Sure, c’m’ere and kiss me. You’ll see stars.”
They kissed, and stars sparkled.
§
“We must close the engines down. It has to be the source of radiation. A generation ship can not go about losing people, especially its youth!” Shihong’s pulse throbbed in her neck, blood hissed in her ears. Her proposal should be the obvious solution, but Yuri had so much influence on the council and they had already been arguing for an hour.
One of Yuri’s acolytes responded.
“The deaths are tragic. In such a small population it’s dreadful. But, c’mon, perspective. It’s only eight. If the engines were malfunctioning, we’d have seen more. The data is inconclusive, and we’re skirting as close to an exotic cluster as we have since launch. It’s every bit as possible that the radiation comes form there.”
Shihong looked at the council’s chair, Kendra. It was for her to lead them. She opted for cowardice.
“Let’s quarantine where the radiation is thought to have affected people, check for background levels, and have engineering inspect the engines. We’re still accelerating, and the longer we do, the shorter the trip will be for our grandchildren’s children.”
In the corridor outside Yuri waited like a leech looking for its next fleshy victim. The member who spoke for him succumbed readily, overplaying her role. Yuri expanded with pride, smiling smugly at Shihong, who headed for the travel-tube.
Back in her quarters Shihong opened her diary and recorded events from the meeting as she recalled them, as she interpreted them. Yuri was becoming too powerful, his influence spreading too far.
Nepotism and family lineage should not have prevailed on the Long March to the Stars. Control of power on the generation ship was designed to be diffuse, with patronage not an option. Yuri Dovadenko was son of the ships first captain. He was handsome and charismatic, and somehow convinced people that his father’s long years of training and service could be passed genetically - even the parts from after Yuri’s birth.
In the last year his influence had become harder to control, to deny.
The intercom pinged.
“Hello.”
“Shihong?”
“Yuri.”
“We should talk.”
Shihong closed her eyes and sighed. “We are.”
“I’m worried for you. So many years on the council, all the while remaining active in engineering. It’s taking a toll.”
“Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. My health is fine, physical and mental.”
“Yet you want to turn the engines off.”
“And for sound reason, Yuri. You need to hope there are no more deaths. They’ll be on your hands.”
“Mine? I’m not a member of the council. You work hard enough to make sure of that.”
The bitterness in Yuri’s voice was unmissable.
“I’m following the example your father set,” Shihong said.
“Well he’s dead, and your autocratic grip is slipping. Things are changing, Shihong. The Long March needs a more focused leadership, one that can ensure we achieve our objectives.” Yuri paused for a moment. “I thought you might appreciate that considering your ancestor’s history.”
Shihong cut the connection without warning. It was enough dealing with his overweening pride and manipulation of the council, without listening to vague threats. Recently she’d wondered if it was worth it. She could come off the council and concentrate on training new engineers. There was an appeal to giving up the fighting, the wrangling, and burying herself in the physical nuts, bolts, and equations that was her real passion.
Yuri’s control of the council was already widespread. Maybe it was time to step aside. Let Yuri deal with Kendra’s lack of leadership.
The com pinged again.
“Hello,” Shihong said.
“Now, that was just rude.”
“It was meant to be, Yuri.”
“But you never let me tell you why I called.”
Shihong bit back an expletive, and stayed silent.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Yuri said.
“Why did you call, Yuri?”
“There’s a message for you in The Suite.”
The line went dead. Shihong swore at his petty playing and jumped up.
The Suite was at the front of the ship, near the bridge. It contained the entangled communication system. There were few messages from home now. A handful of university departments maintained contact, but the fanfare which went with the launch was all but forgotten back on Earth and Mars. Governments had changed, priorities had changed. The twenty-third centuries grand experiment was already ancient history to the nations and peoples that launched it.
Deliberately shielded from the hubbub of the ship, the Suite was quiet. Shihong was relieved that Yuri had contented himself with passing on the message, and wasn’t there to greet her.
Shihong had been expecting the hear from her sister for a while. There used to be one message a month, in time they slowed to one a year, then they became sporadic. She was one of the last on board yet to receive a final message from home. Forty years of flight time, thirty-five of them at a velocity near enough the speed of light for her twin to have aged twice as fast, back on Mars. Each time there was a new message she readied herself best as possible, but how do you prepare to hear the last words of your sister, a twin now older than either of their parents had lived to?
She pressed the icon, and the screen filled with Meilin, in a hospital bed. The date stamp showed the message was two months old. Shihong frowned. Her sister started talking.
“Watching your messages over the years has been like looking in a mirror reflecting the younger me, the inside me. I don’t know what you think when you see how old I’ve got. For a time I thought I looked like dad, but he never got to be a hundred-and-six. Somedays I wonder who sucked the air, the life, out of me.” Meilin looked away from the camera and stopped talking. Her shallow breaths reminded Shihong of when they played with kites as children and wind whipped the twists of colored paper they tied into the kite’s tails. Eventually Meilin spoke again. “I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever told you. Missed you even more than I’ve missed Gordon since he died. Sometimes it’s like I can feel your presence, but all stretched out because of the distance between us. That’s just me being fanciful.” She coughed, and the little color in her face faded further. When the coughing stopped she said, “That’s enough. Time to say goodbye properly. I’ve recorded this while I can, but it’s not to be sent until after… until… well, you know. I love you, sister, and I’m proud of you.”
The screen went blank. Shihong stared through tears as diffracted memories of childhood played in blurry silence.
She’d wondered how it would feel when her last link home broke. The truth was she felt no different. The presence Meilin claimed to feel was manufactured, an ersatz emotion created for her missing sibling. Shihong never felt the need to create her own version. Her sorrow was real, the loss was an agony which she would carry like her mothers coffin, a burden which meant more than the weight inside. But when Shihong stepped onto the Long March to the Stars for the first time any ties to Mars, or Earth, or humanity’s home solar system, ceased to have meaning. The ship was her home, it had been since the day they accepted her to join the crew. It was her raison d’être, taking the grasping offspring of a lucky primate and thrusting it into the vast cosmos.
She was still watching memories of her sister laughing at their inept kite flying attempts when the klaxon started.
Her wrist communicator began vibrating. “Hello?”
“Shihong?” It was Kendra.
“Yes.”
“It’s the engines. You were right.”
“Shut them down now, Kendra, shut them down now.”
“I can’t.”
“Kendra, do it now. There is no alternative!”
“But—”
“How many more have to die, Kendra?”
Shihong cut the link without waiting to hear Kendra’s weak excuses for inaction. She called engineering and gave the order which should have been made hours ago. The process of shutting the engines down began. Long March to the Stars was already traveling at eighty six percent of the speed of light. The thrust that would be lost in the next few weeks or months was minimal, important only to the likes of Yuri.
She called Kendra again, noting that she was at the hospital. “How many are affected?” Shihong asked.
“There are twenty in the ICU. Maybe another ten or twelve being monitored closely.”
Over thirty, and with eight dead already. It was the worst catastrophe since ergot poisoning in the third year of travel. That had killed fifteen people in the end.
“I’ve cut the engines.” Shihong said, sure of her action.
Kendra said, “It was the right thing to do.”
“So, You’ll support me at the council?”
More silence. Would Kendra back her? Maybe not with Yuri’s influence, even if lives had been saved.
“I’m not sure I’ll be there,” Kendra said.
“Why?”
“I’m in the hospital.”
“I saw that. This isn’t a time to play the compassionate politico, Kendra.”
“I’m one of the casualties.”
“What? How?”
“I was visiting the area, meeting the families.”
Shihong groaned. Kendra continued to talk.
“They say I took a big dose. I’ve already spoken with Captain Tarnayev and you’re now acting Council Chair, becoming permanent. I—”
She broke off and Shihong heard coughing and retching. Another voice instructed Kendra to end her call, and re-attach the face mask. The connection cut off.
Shihong looked around The Suite. A few minutes ago she’d been listening to the last message of her already dead sister, and wondering if that’s what she would look like in thirty or forty years. A wizened husk who didn’t recognise herself in the mirror. She’d also been considering leaving the council & it’s responsibilities. Now she was chairing it. She opened a terminal and looked at the Hospital report. Another two deaths and more expected. And all of them avoidable.
Her intercom buzzed. It was Yuri.
“I heard what happened to Kendra,” he said. “That’s a blow.”
The months of irritation, of being needled and harassed by Yuri, had drained Shihong. Now, thanks to his meddling, people were dead or dying and he sounded like he’d misplaced a favorite item.
“I warned you, Yuri. I warned you that if there were more deaths they’d be on your hands. Kendra’s death is on you. Every person dying to day is on you, and your lackeys.” While she spoke, Shihong accessed the security systems. Her authorisation as acting Chair was already active. She opened up some screens and worked her way through the menus. “At least I can do something about it now. Sit tight, security will be with you shortly.”
She cut off Yuri’s protestations before he could formulate them. Leaning back in the chair she smiled as she remembered something Yuri had said about the Long March to the Stars needing focused leadership. She wondered how he’d enjoy the focus that was about to be put on him?
She opened her comm. “I need to speak to the Captain. There’s going to be a trial.”
End
小行星的后面是个隧道,里面嵌有一组引擎。有一个巨大的提示,写着一些禁止入内的事情。不过那样的通告只有成年人才遵守,年轻人不在乎。
“你看,娴,我闭上眼睛可以看到流星!”
“闭嘴,吉兰。那东西影响你眼睛的玻璃体。”
“真是无聊!它们肯定看上去像流星。奇怪,我以前怎么就没有见到过呢?”
“因为你是个傻瓜。我们早就应该知道。”
吉兰睁开眼睛微笑着说。“没错,过来亲我一下,你就会看到星星的。”
他们亲吻着,星星一闪一闪发着光亮。
***
“我们必须把引擎关掉。辐射源肯定就是它。不断死人的世代飞船不会有前途,特别死的还是年轻人!”师虹脖颈上的脉搏跳动的很快,血液在她的耳中发出嘶嘶的响声。她的提议显然是解决的办法,但是尤里在议会的影响力非常强大,他们已经争论了有一个小时了。
尤里的一个党羽开口回答。
“死亡确实很不幸。对于数量很小的人群来说更是糟糕。可是拜托啊,要看看全局。才8个人。假如引擎出了故障,涉及的人会更多。数据还不够有说服力,我们现在正处于发射以来最复杂的星区,辐射极有可能出自那里。”
师虹看了看议会主席,肯德拉。她应该是议会的领袖,却选择了懦弱的沉默。
“我们要封锁那些可能造成辐射的区域,检查背景辐射水平,然后派工程部检查一下引擎。我们继续加速前进,加速越久,我们的子孙后代的路程就越短。”
尤里等候在走廊里,就像是只水蛭在寻找下一个鲜活的肉体。替他发言的议会成员屈服的太爽快了,表演是有些过火。尤里带着傲气,自鸣得意地冲着走向旅行舱的师虹展开一个微笑。
回到她的住处,师虹打开日记,边回忆边解读记录下会议上的点点滴滴。尤里变得如此的强势,他的影响力波及的范围很广。
裙带关系和家族的血统不应该影响星际远征。世代飞船上的权利分配按照设计应该是分散的,并不应该有一个幕后主使。尤里·达维登科是第一任船长的儿子。长得俊俏,魅力非凡,不知怎么的就给人一种感觉,他父亲这么多年的受训和服役经历——包括那些他出生以后的经历——都能通过基因传给他。
过去的几年里,他的影响力越来越难以限制,也无法逃避。
对讲机里发出了声音。
“你好。”
“师虹吗?”
“尤里。”
“我们应该聊聊。”
师虹闭上眼睛,叹了口气说。“是该聊聊了。”
“我很担心你。这么多年在议会,一直负责工程方面的工作。负担很大啊。”
“感谢你的关心,但是这个关心是多余的。我的健康状况良好,无论在身体上还是在精神上。”
“但是你想要把引擎关掉。”
“那是有合理的原因的,尤里。你要摆出希望不能再死人的样子。他们的身家性命都掌握在你的手里。”
“我的手里?我又不是议会成员。你可是非常努力确保这一事实呢。”
尤里声音里无疑充满怨念。
“我一直是以你父亲为榜样的。”师虹说道。
“嗯,他死了,你也就没了独断的权柄。事情总是在变化的,师虹。远征需要更加专注的领导人,一个可以确保我们取得成功的人。”尤里停顿了一下,“我认为你可能会充满感激地考虑一下你祖先的过往。”
师虹毫无征兆地就切断了联系,先不管他模糊的威胁,对他的妄自尊大和对议会的操控也是受够了。近来,她怀疑这一切是否值得。她完全可以退出议会,专心于培训新工程师。不再争斗和争吵,埋头在螺栓螺母和方程式里,也很有吸引力,那才是她真正有激情的东西。
尤里对议会的操控已经人人皆知。可能该是避开的时候了,让尤里去对付肯德拉软弱的领导力。
对讲机再次响起。
“你好,”师虹说。
“嘿,刚才真是太无礼了。”
“尤里,就该那样。”
“但是你没给我机会告诉你为什么要找你。”
师虹把骂人的话咽了回去,沉默下来。
“你不打算问我吗?”
“尤里你为什么要找我?”
“你有一条消息在房间等你。”
对讲机寂静下来。师虹咒骂他耍的小把戏,跳了上去。
套房位于船的头部,舰桥附近。错综复杂的通讯系统也在那里。现在几乎没有什么家里来的消息。和一部分大学里的院系还保持着联系,在升空发射后那些大张旗鼓的宣传如今几乎被地球和火星遗忘了。政府已经易主,关注已经转移。二十三世纪的伟大试验对于那些发射他们的国家和人们而言,已经成为了久远的历史。
房间精心的设计隔开了船上的嘈杂声,相当的安静。尤里满足于只是传递消息,而不是要见她,让师虹觉得还算轻松。
师虹曾有一阵希望听到姐姐的消息。通常每个月都有一次消息,慢慢地就成了一年一次,然后就成了零零星星不定期的消息。在这飞船上,只有几个人还能从家里收到最后的消息,她算一个。40年的飞行时间,其中的35年是以几乎等同光速飞行,等回到火星时,她的双胞胎姐姐年龄就会比她大两倍 。每次,她收到一条新的消息都兴奋不已,但是听到自己的双胞胎姐姐,现在已经他们父母当初活的都要长,留下最终的遗言,要怎样才能接受这种事?
她按下了图标,屏幕上出现了师霓在医院病床上画面。日期邮戳表明这个消息已经过去两个月了。师虹皱了皱眉眉头。她姐姐开始说话了。
“看到你这么多年发来的消息,就好像看到了镜子中年轻的我,内心的我。我不知道当你看到我变得那么老的时候有什么反应。一直以来,我以为我长得像爸爸,但是他没有活到106岁。有时我会想,谁偷去了我的呼吸,我的生命。”师霓没有看镜头,停止了说话。她浅浅的呼吸使师虹想起了她们小时候一起放风筝的情景,风吹着她们绑在风筝尾巴上的彩色纸条。终于,师霓又开口说话了。“我真的想你,超过我所说出口的。我想你超过想我死去的儿子高登。有时候,我能够感觉到你的存在,但是由于我们之间的距离,所有的一切都是空。那只是我的想象而已。”她咳嗽起来。她脸上的颜色一点点褪去。等到她咳嗽停下来时说,“我受够了。该是道别的时候了。我尽量记录下这些,但是等我……到那时以后再发给你……。嗯,你知道。我爱你,妹妹,我为你感到骄傲。”
屏幕转为空白。师虹直瞪着眼睛透过泪水默默地回忆起孩提时玩耍的情景。
她想知道和家里的最后的联系断了会感觉如何。可是她没感到不同。师霓所要感受的现实是人为的。一种为她思念妹妹制造出的虚假情感。师虹从没有感到要制造自己的现实。她真切地感到难过,此种丧失是她要背负的苦痛,就像她背负母亲的棺椁,其负担远超过内在的重量。但师虹踏上了星际远征之路后,突然之间与火星、地球或者人类家园的太阳系之间的所有联系,都已经不再有意义。从他们接受她加入了船员队伍时,这艘船就成了她的家,这就是她存在的理由,一个幸运的灵长类的后代抓住机会投身到了广博的宇宙中。
她正在观看姐姐的回忆录笑谈她们笨拙的风筝放飞尝试,突然喇叭开始广播。
她手腕上的通讯器开始震动。“你好?”
“师虹吗?”这是肯德拉。
“是的。”
“引擎。你说的对。”
“马上关掉。肯德拉,马上关掉。”
“我做不到。”
“肯德拉,现在就关掉。没有选择了!”
“但是……”
“还要死多少人,肯德拉?”
师虹不等听到肯德拉不肯作为的软弱借口就切断了联系。她呼叫工程部门,下达了命令,这个命令应该在数小时之前就下达的。关闭引擎的工作开始了。星际远征已经以百分之八十六的光速行进了。推力已经很小,过几个星期或者最多几个月就会失去作用,这只对尤里这样的人才重要。
她又一次呼叫肯德拉,注意到她在医院里。“多少人被影响?”师虹问道。
“重症监护室里有20人。可能还有另外10个人或者12个在密切观察中。”
30多人,已经有8个人死亡。从旅行开始以来,除了第三年发生的麦角症中毒,这是最糟糕的一次伤亡。那次事件结束时死亡15人。
“我已经切断了引擎。”师虹说道,很确信自己的选择。
肯德拉说,“做的对。”
“所以,你会在议会里支持我吗?”
更多的沉默。肯德拉会支持她吗?没有尤里的影响可能吧,即使挽救了生命。
“我可能不会去了。”肯德拉说。
“为什么?”
“我在医院。”
“我知道。这可不是玩政客同情心的时候,肯德拉。”
“我也是伤亡人员中的一个。”
“什么? 怎么会?”
“我当时正在访问区域,见家属。”
师虹叹息了一声。肯德拉继续说下去。
“他们说我吸收的剂量很多。我已经和船长唐纳耶打过招呼了,你现在代理议会的首脑,长期的。我……”
她突然停下来,师虹听到咳嗽和干呕的声音。另外一个声音指示肯德拉结束谈话,重新戴上面罩。联系中断了。
师虹看了看房间四周。几分钟前她听到了已经去世的姐姐的最后遗言,在想她30岁或40岁的时候是什么样子。自己枯瘦的样子让她几乎在镜子中都认不出自己。她一直在考虑卸下议会的工作职责,现在她成了议会的第一把手。她开启了终端机,查看医院的报告。又有两个人死亡,预计会出现更多的死亡。这所有的一切都是无法避免的。
她的对讲机发出了嗡嗡的声音。是尤里呼叫。
“我听说了肯德拉的事情,”他说。“真受打击。”
几个月来饱受尤里的刺激,侵扰,生气使师虹身心疲惫。现在,由于他的干预,人们死去、奄奄一息,而他听上去就像是把一个心爱的东西放错了位置。
“我警告过你,尤里。我警告过你假如他们中更多的人死亡就算在你的头上。肯德拉的死算在你的头上。今天每个快要死掉的人都算在你的头上,还有你的人。”在她说话的时候,师虹进入了安全系统。她在议会的目前的领导地位已经开始生效了。她打开了一些屏幕。按照自己的方式搜索功能菜单。“至少目前我还可以做些事情。耐心等待,保安很快就会赶来。”
她赶在尤里能够制约系统前切断了他的保护系统。靠在椅子背上,她微笑的想起尤里提起星际远征需要专注的领导。她想知道如果专注的是他,他会如何享受?
她打开对讲机。“我需要和船长通话。我们要进行一场审判。”
「完」
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By Clive Tern
Translate By 永远乐观
2015-05
彗星科幻
The tunnel was at the back of the asteroid, where an engine construct was bedded in. It was out-of-bounds with large notices to explain such. But notices like that are for adults to obey, not youths.
“Hey, Xian, when I close my eyes I can see shooting stars!”
“Shut up, Gillan. It’s defects in your vitreous humor.”
“Boring! They sure look like shooting stars. Wonder how I’ve never seen them before?”
“Cause your an idiot. I thought we came here to make out.”
Gillan opened her eyes and grinned. “Sure, c’m’ere and kiss me. You’ll see stars.”
They kissed, and stars sparkled.
§
“We must close the engines down. It has to be the source of radiation. A generation ship can not go about losing people, especially its youth!” Shihong’s pulse throbbed in her neck, blood hissed in her ears. Her proposal should be the obvious solution, but Yuri had so much influence on the council and they had already been arguing for an hour.
One of Yuri’s acolytes responded.
“The deaths are tragic. In such a small population it’s dreadful. But, c’mon, perspective. It’s only eight. If the engines were malfunctioning, we’d have seen more. The data is inconclusive, and we’re skirting as close to an exotic cluster as we have since launch. It’s every bit as possible that the radiation comes form there.”
Shihong looked at the council’s chair, Kendra. It was for her to lead them. She opted for cowardice.
“Let’s quarantine where the radiation is thought to have affected people, check for background levels, and have engineering inspect the engines. We’re still accelerating, and the longer we do, the shorter the trip will be for our grandchildren’s children.”
In the corridor outside Yuri waited like a leech looking for its next fleshy victim. The member who spoke for him succumbed readily, overplaying her role. Yuri expanded with pride, smiling smugly at Shihong, who headed for the travel-tube.
Back in her quarters Shihong opened her diary and recorded events from the meeting as she recalled them, as she interpreted them. Yuri was becoming too powerful, his influence spreading too far.
Nepotism and family lineage should not have prevailed on the Long March to the Stars. Control of power on the generation ship was designed to be diffuse, with patronage not an option. Yuri Dovadenko was son of the ships first captain. He was handsome and charismatic, and somehow convinced people that his father’s long years of training and service could be passed genetically - even the parts from after Yuri’s birth.
In the last year his influence had become harder to control, to deny.
The intercom pinged.
“Hello.”
“Shihong?”
“Yuri.”
“We should talk.”
Shihong closed her eyes and sighed. “We are.”
“I’m worried for you. So many years on the council, all the while remaining active in engineering. It’s taking a toll.”
“Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. My health is fine, physical and mental.”
“Yet you want to turn the engines off.”
“And for sound reason, Yuri. You need to hope there are no more deaths. They’ll be on your hands.”
“Mine? I’m not a member of the council. You work hard enough to make sure of that.”
The bitterness in Yuri’s voice was unmissable.
“I’m following the example your father set,” Shihong said.
“Well he’s dead, and your autocratic grip is slipping. Things are changing, Shihong. The Long March needs a more focused leadership, one that can ensure we achieve our objectives.” Yuri paused for a moment. “I thought you might appreciate that considering your ancestor’s history.”
Shihong cut the connection without warning. It was enough dealing with his overweening pride and manipulation of the council, without listening to vague threats. Recently she’d wondered if it was worth it. She could come off the council and concentrate on training new engineers. There was an appeal to giving up the fighting, the wrangling, and burying herself in the physical nuts, bolts, and equations that was her real passion.
Yuri’s control of the council was already widespread. Maybe it was time to step aside. Let Yuri deal with Kendra’s lack of leadership.
The com pinged again.
“Hello,” Shihong said.
“Now, that was just rude.”
“It was meant to be, Yuri.”
“But you never let me tell you why I called.”
Shihong bit back an expletive, and stayed silent.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Yuri said.
“Why did you call, Yuri?”
“There’s a message for you in The Suite.”
The line went dead. Shihong swore at his petty playing and jumped up.
The Suite was at the front of the ship, near the bridge. It contained the entangled communication system. There were few messages from home now. A handful of university departments maintained contact, but the fanfare which went with the launch was all but forgotten back on Earth and Mars. Governments had changed, priorities had changed. The twenty-third centuries grand experiment was already ancient history to the nations and peoples that launched it.
Deliberately shielded from the hubbub of the ship, the Suite was quiet. Shihong was relieved that Yuri had contented himself with passing on the message, and wasn’t there to greet her.
Shihong had been expecting the hear from her sister for a while. There used to be one message a month, in time they slowed to one a year, then they became sporadic. She was one of the last on board yet to receive a final message from home. Forty years of flight time, thirty-five of them at a velocity near enough the speed of light for her twin to have aged twice as fast, back on Mars. Each time there was a new message she readied herself best as possible, but how do you prepare to hear the last words of your sister, a twin now older than either of their parents had lived to?
She pressed the icon, and the screen filled with Meilin, in a hospital bed. The date stamp showed the message was two months old. Shihong frowned. Her sister started talking.
“Watching your messages over the years has been like looking in a mirror reflecting the younger me, the inside me. I don’t know what you think when you see how old I’ve got. For a time I thought I looked like dad, but he never got to be a hundred-and-six. Somedays I wonder who sucked the air, the life, out of me.” Meilin looked away from the camera and stopped talking. Her shallow breaths reminded Shihong of when they played with kites as children and wind whipped the twists of colored paper they tied into the kite’s tails. Eventually Meilin spoke again. “I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever told you. Missed you even more than I’ve missed Gordon since he died. Sometimes it’s like I can feel your presence, but all stretched out because of the distance between us. That’s just me being fanciful.” She coughed, and the little color in her face faded further. When the coughing stopped she said, “That’s enough. Time to say goodbye properly. I’ve recorded this while I can, but it’s not to be sent until after… until… well, you know. I love you, sister, and I’m proud of you.”
The screen went blank. Shihong stared through tears as diffracted memories of childhood played in blurry silence.
She’d wondered how it would feel when her last link home broke. The truth was she felt no different. The presence Meilin claimed to feel was manufactured, an ersatz emotion created for her missing sibling. Shihong never felt the need to create her own version. Her sorrow was real, the loss was an agony which she would carry like her mothers coffin, a burden which meant more than the weight inside. But when Shihong stepped onto the Long March to the Stars for the first time any ties to Mars, or Earth, or humanity’s home solar system, ceased to have meaning. The ship was her home, it had been since the day they accepted her to join the crew. It was her raison d’être, taking the grasping offspring of a lucky primate and thrusting it into the vast cosmos.
She was still watching memories of her sister laughing at their inept kite flying attempts when the klaxon started.
Her wrist communicator began vibrating. “Hello?”
“Shihong?” It was Kendra.
“Yes.”
“It’s the engines. You were right.”
“Shut them down now, Kendra, shut them down now.”
“I can’t.”
“Kendra, do it now. There is no alternative!”
“But—”
“How many more have to die, Kendra?”
Shihong cut the link without waiting to hear Kendra’s weak excuses for inaction. She called engineering and gave the order which should have been made hours ago. The process of shutting the engines down began. Long March to the Stars was already traveling at eighty six percent of the speed of light. The thrust that would be lost in the next few weeks or months was minimal, important only to the likes of Yuri.
She called Kendra again, noting that she was at the hospital. “How many are affected?” Shihong asked.
“There are twenty in the ICU. Maybe another ten or twelve being monitored closely.”
Over thirty, and with eight dead already. It was the worst catastrophe since ergot poisoning in the third year of travel. That had killed fifteen people in the end.
“I’ve cut the engines.” Shihong said, sure of her action.
Kendra said, “It was the right thing to do.”
“So, You’ll support me at the council?”
More silence. Would Kendra back her? Maybe not with Yuri’s influence, even if lives had been saved.
“I’m not sure I’ll be there,” Kendra said.
“Why?”
“I’m in the hospital.”
“I saw that. This isn’t a time to play the compassionate politico, Kendra.”
“I’m one of the casualties.”
“What? How?”
“I was visiting the area, meeting the families.”
Shihong groaned. Kendra continued to talk.
“They say I took a big dose. I’ve already spoken with Captain Tarnayev and you’re now acting Council Chair, becoming permanent. I—”
She broke off and Shihong heard coughing and retching. Another voice instructed Kendra to end her call, and re-attach the face mask. The connection cut off.
Shihong looked around The Suite. A few minutes ago she’d been listening to the last message of her already dead sister, and wondering if that’s what she would look like in thirty or forty years. A wizened husk who didn’t recognise herself in the mirror. She’d also been considering leaving the council & it’s responsibilities. Now she was chairing it. She opened a terminal and looked at the Hospital report. Another two deaths and more expected. And all of them avoidable.
Her intercom buzzed. It was Yuri.
“I heard what happened to Kendra,” he said. “That’s a blow.”
The months of irritation, of being needled and harassed by Yuri, had drained Shihong. Now, thanks to his meddling, people were dead or dying and he sounded like he’d misplaced a favorite item.
“I warned you, Yuri. I warned you that if there were more deaths they’d be on your hands. Kendra’s death is on you. Every person dying to day is on you, and your lackeys.” While she spoke, Shihong accessed the security systems. Her authorisation as acting Chair was already active. She opened up some screens and worked her way through the menus. “At least I can do something about it now. Sit tight, security will be with you shortly.”
She cut off Yuri’s protestations before he could formulate them. Leaning back in the chair she smiled as she remembered something Yuri had said about the Long March to the Stars needing focused leadership. She wondered how he’d enjoy the focus that was about to be put on him?
She opened her comm. “I need to speak to the Captain. There’s going to be a trial.”
End
小行星的后面是个隧道,里面嵌有一组引擎。有一个巨大的提示,写着一些禁止入内的事情。不过那样的通告只有成年人才遵守,年轻人不在乎。
“你看,娴,我闭上眼睛可以看到流星!”
“闭嘴,吉兰。那东西影响你眼睛的玻璃体。”
“真是无聊!它们肯定看上去像流星。奇怪,我以前怎么就没有见到过呢?”
“因为你是个傻瓜。我们早就应该知道。”
吉兰睁开眼睛微笑着说。“没错,过来亲我一下,你就会看到星星的。”
他们亲吻着,星星一闪一闪发着光亮。
***
“我们必须把引擎关掉。辐射源肯定就是它。不断死人的世代飞船不会有前途,特别死的还是年轻人!”师虹脖颈上的脉搏跳动的很快,血液在她的耳中发出嘶嘶的响声。她的提议显然是解决的办法,但是尤里在议会的影响力非常强大,他们已经争论了有一个小时了。
尤里的一个党羽开口回答。
“死亡确实很不幸。对于数量很小的人群来说更是糟糕。可是拜托啊,要看看全局。才8个人。假如引擎出了故障,涉及的人会更多。数据还不够有说服力,我们现在正处于发射以来最复杂的星区,辐射极有可能出自那里。”
师虹看了看议会主席,肯德拉。她应该是议会的领袖,却选择了懦弱的沉默。
“我们要封锁那些可能造成辐射的区域,检查背景辐射水平,然后派工程部检查一下引擎。我们继续加速前进,加速越久,我们的子孙后代的路程就越短。”
尤里等候在走廊里,就像是只水蛭在寻找下一个鲜活的肉体。替他发言的议会成员屈服的太爽快了,表演是有些过火。尤里带着傲气,自鸣得意地冲着走向旅行舱的师虹展开一个微笑。
回到她的住处,师虹打开日记,边回忆边解读记录下会议上的点点滴滴。尤里变得如此的强势,他的影响力波及的范围很广。
裙带关系和家族的血统不应该影响星际远征。世代飞船上的权利分配按照设计应该是分散的,并不应该有一个幕后主使。尤里·达维登科是第一任船长的儿子。长得俊俏,魅力非凡,不知怎么的就给人一种感觉,他父亲这么多年的受训和服役经历——包括那些他出生以后的经历——都能通过基因传给他。
过去的几年里,他的影响力越来越难以限制,也无法逃避。
对讲机里发出了声音。
“你好。”
“师虹吗?”
“尤里。”
“我们应该聊聊。”
师虹闭上眼睛,叹了口气说。“是该聊聊了。”
“我很担心你。这么多年在议会,一直负责工程方面的工作。负担很大啊。”
“感谢你的关心,但是这个关心是多余的。我的健康状况良好,无论在身体上还是在精神上。”
“但是你想要把引擎关掉。”
“那是有合理的原因的,尤里。你要摆出希望不能再死人的样子。他们的身家性命都掌握在你的手里。”
“我的手里?我又不是议会成员。你可是非常努力确保这一事实呢。”
尤里声音里无疑充满怨念。
“我一直是以你父亲为榜样的。”师虹说道。
“嗯,他死了,你也就没了独断的权柄。事情总是在变化的,师虹。远征需要更加专注的领导人,一个可以确保我们取得成功的人。”尤里停顿了一下,“我认为你可能会充满感激地考虑一下你祖先的过往。”
师虹毫无征兆地就切断了联系,先不管他模糊的威胁,对他的妄自尊大和对议会的操控也是受够了。近来,她怀疑这一切是否值得。她完全可以退出议会,专心于培训新工程师。不再争斗和争吵,埋头在螺栓螺母和方程式里,也很有吸引力,那才是她真正有激情的东西。
尤里对议会的操控已经人人皆知。可能该是避开的时候了,让尤里去对付肯德拉软弱的领导力。
对讲机再次响起。
“你好,”师虹说。
“嘿,刚才真是太无礼了。”
“尤里,就该那样。”
“但是你没给我机会告诉你为什么要找你。”
师虹把骂人的话咽了回去,沉默下来。
“你不打算问我吗?”
“尤里你为什么要找我?”
“你有一条消息在房间等你。”
对讲机寂静下来。师虹咒骂他耍的小把戏,跳了上去。
套房位于船的头部,舰桥附近。错综复杂的通讯系统也在那里。现在几乎没有什么家里来的消息。和一部分大学里的院系还保持着联系,在升空发射后那些大张旗鼓的宣传如今几乎被地球和火星遗忘了。政府已经易主,关注已经转移。二十三世纪的伟大试验对于那些发射他们的国家和人们而言,已经成为了久远的历史。
房间精心的设计隔开了船上的嘈杂声,相当的安静。尤里满足于只是传递消息,而不是要见她,让师虹觉得还算轻松。
师虹曾有一阵希望听到姐姐的消息。通常每个月都有一次消息,慢慢地就成了一年一次,然后就成了零零星星不定期的消息。在这飞船上,只有几个人还能从家里收到最后的消息,她算一个。40年的飞行时间,其中的35年是以几乎等同光速飞行,等回到火星时,她的双胞胎姐姐年龄就会比她大两倍 。每次,她收到一条新的消息都兴奋不已,但是听到自己的双胞胎姐姐,现在已经他们父母当初活的都要长,留下最终的遗言,要怎样才能接受这种事?
她按下了图标,屏幕上出现了师霓在医院病床上画面。日期邮戳表明这个消息已经过去两个月了。师虹皱了皱眉眉头。她姐姐开始说话了。
“看到你这么多年发来的消息,就好像看到了镜子中年轻的我,内心的我。我不知道当你看到我变得那么老的时候有什么反应。一直以来,我以为我长得像爸爸,但是他没有活到106岁。有时我会想,谁偷去了我的呼吸,我的生命。”师霓没有看镜头,停止了说话。她浅浅的呼吸使师虹想起了她们小时候一起放风筝的情景,风吹着她们绑在风筝尾巴上的彩色纸条。终于,师霓又开口说话了。“我真的想你,超过我所说出口的。我想你超过想我死去的儿子高登。有时候,我能够感觉到你的存在,但是由于我们之间的距离,所有的一切都是空。那只是我的想象而已。”她咳嗽起来。她脸上的颜色一点点褪去。等到她咳嗽停下来时说,“我受够了。该是道别的时候了。我尽量记录下这些,但是等我……到那时以后再发给你……。嗯,你知道。我爱你,妹妹,我为你感到骄傲。”
屏幕转为空白。师虹直瞪着眼睛透过泪水默默地回忆起孩提时玩耍的情景。
她想知道和家里的最后的联系断了会感觉如何。可是她没感到不同。师霓所要感受的现实是人为的。一种为她思念妹妹制造出的虚假情感。师虹从没有感到要制造自己的现实。她真切地感到难过,此种丧失是她要背负的苦痛,就像她背负母亲的棺椁,其负担远超过内在的重量。但师虹踏上了星际远征之路后,突然之间与火星、地球或者人类家园的太阳系之间的所有联系,都已经不再有意义。从他们接受她加入了船员队伍时,这艘船就成了她的家,这就是她存在的理由,一个幸运的灵长类的后代抓住机会投身到了广博的宇宙中。
她正在观看姐姐的回忆录笑谈她们笨拙的风筝放飞尝试,突然喇叭开始广播。
她手腕上的通讯器开始震动。“你好?”
“师虹吗?”这是肯德拉。
“是的。”
“引擎。你说的对。”
“马上关掉。肯德拉,马上关掉。”
“我做不到。”
“肯德拉,现在就关掉。没有选择了!”
“但是……”
“还要死多少人,肯德拉?”
师虹不等听到肯德拉不肯作为的软弱借口就切断了联系。她呼叫工程部门,下达了命令,这个命令应该在数小时之前就下达的。关闭引擎的工作开始了。星际远征已经以百分之八十六的光速行进了。推力已经很小,过几个星期或者最多几个月就会失去作用,这只对尤里这样的人才重要。
她又一次呼叫肯德拉,注意到她在医院里。“多少人被影响?”师虹问道。
“重症监护室里有20人。可能还有另外10个人或者12个在密切观察中。”
30多人,已经有8个人死亡。从旅行开始以来,除了第三年发生的麦角症中毒,这是最糟糕的一次伤亡。那次事件结束时死亡15人。
“我已经切断了引擎。”师虹说道,很确信自己的选择。
肯德拉说,“做的对。”
“所以,你会在议会里支持我吗?”
更多的沉默。肯德拉会支持她吗?没有尤里的影响可能吧,即使挽救了生命。
“我可能不会去了。”肯德拉说。
“为什么?”
“我在医院。”
“我知道。这可不是玩政客同情心的时候,肯德拉。”
“我也是伤亡人员中的一个。”
“什么? 怎么会?”
“我当时正在访问区域,见家属。”
师虹叹息了一声。肯德拉继续说下去。
“他们说我吸收的剂量很多。我已经和船长唐纳耶打过招呼了,你现在代理议会的首脑,长期的。我……”
她突然停下来,师虹听到咳嗽和干呕的声音。另外一个声音指示肯德拉结束谈话,重新戴上面罩。联系中断了。
师虹看了看房间四周。几分钟前她听到了已经去世的姐姐的最后遗言,在想她30岁或40岁的时候是什么样子。自己枯瘦的样子让她几乎在镜子中都认不出自己。她一直在考虑卸下议会的工作职责,现在她成了议会的第一把手。她开启了终端机,查看医院的报告。又有两个人死亡,预计会出现更多的死亡。这所有的一切都是无法避免的。
她的对讲机发出了嗡嗡的声音。是尤里呼叫。
“我听说了肯德拉的事情,”他说。“真受打击。”
几个月来饱受尤里的刺激,侵扰,生气使师虹身心疲惫。现在,由于他的干预,人们死去、奄奄一息,而他听上去就像是把一个心爱的东西放错了位置。
“我警告过你,尤里。我警告过你假如他们中更多的人死亡就算在你的头上。肯德拉的死算在你的头上。今天每个快要死掉的人都算在你的头上,还有你的人。”在她说话的时候,师虹进入了安全系统。她在议会的目前的领导地位已经开始生效了。她打开了一些屏幕。按照自己的方式搜索功能菜单。“至少目前我还可以做些事情。耐心等待,保安很快就会赶来。”
她赶在尤里能够制约系统前切断了他的保护系统。靠在椅子背上,她微笑的想起尤里提起星际远征需要专注的领导。她想知道如果专注的是他,他会如何享受?
她打开对讲机。“我需要和船长通话。我们要进行一场审判。”
「完」
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