The Arrows of Time

‘You want me to set you free – and then give you your own gnat?’ Greta was incredulous. When word had reached her that Ramiro had a proposal that he would only put to her in person, she must have envisioned a deal in which he testified against a former comrade or two in exchange for a lighter punishment. ‘How could you imagine anyone agreeing to that?’

Ramiro said, ‘If you want to get rid of this problem, you need to get rid of the dissenters. But you can’t expect people to leave the Peerless behind until they know that they can survive somewhere else. I’m willing to travel to the nearest substantial orthogonal body and find out if it can be made habitable.’

A flicker of amusement crossed Greta’s face. ‘The nearest substantial body is almost certainly the Object. Are you going to try to sell people on the idea that they were inside that rock, unnoticed, living their lives backwards — while the last three generations of their ancestors were coming and going, taking samples from the surface?’

Ramiro hadn’t thought of the Object. But as satisfying as it would be to set foot on the very rock that had once threatened to annihilate him, the prospect of burrowing into it didn’t sound much like liberation, even without the bizarre twist of having to stay hidden from all the earlier visitors. ‘I meant something large enough to hold on to an atmosphere, so people could live on the surface. Something on the outskirts of the orthogonal cluster. I don’t have access to the astronomers’ catalogues, but there must be something planet-sized within reach.’

‘Within reach?’ Greta was doubtful; she paused to make use of her corset. ‘The nearest orthogonal planet would entail a round trip of a dozen years.’

Ramiro had hoped for something closer, but he persisted. ‘A dozen for the passengers,’ he stressed. ‘But still only four years for you. We could make it even less if it really mattered; I’m sure I could put up with the higher acceleration. But we’ll need to talk to the experts as to whether the cooling system would allow that.’

Greta said, ‘ “We”? You might be getting a bit ahead of yourself.’

Ramiro looked down at the hardstone fetter piercing the side of his abdomen. In the room’s low gravity, he hardly noticed it – unless he moved without thinking and the chain that joined it to the wall became taut. ‘How else should I talk, when I know that I have no chance of doing this without you? I think we’d still make a good team.’

‘Oh, I’m getting all nostalgic now,’ Greta replied sardonically. ‘Let’s reminisce about the time you lied to my face and betrayed me.’

‘You never used to take things personally,’ Ramiro complained. ‘All the time we worked together on the turnaround, did I ever make a fuss when you took all the credit with the Council? We both treated each other pretty shabbily, but we still managed to solve every problem that was thrown at us.’

Greta was unmoved. ‘Try to be objective. You’re asking me to give a gnat to an automator whose greatest claim to fame will remind anyone who might have forgotten that automating a gnat is just what you need to turn it into a weapon.’

‘That’s a very negative way of looking at it.’ Ramiro thought for a moment. ‘The biggest problem with the rogue gnat was that it took us by surprise. We can arrange things so that this craft has no way of doing that. And you can always send an observer from the messagers’ side to keep me honest – if you can find any volunteers for the job.’

Greta said, ‘Right now I’m having trouble even thinking of a pilot.’

Ramiro didn’t reply. For all the help Tarquinia had given him with the debate, after the vote she’d refused to get involved with the dissenters. A dozen years away from the mountain would be too painful a sacrifice to ask from anyone with a clear conscience.

‘You’d also need an agronomist,’ Greta added. ‘I doubt that even the diehard migrationists would take your word about the prospects for growing a crop.’

‘That’s fine with me.’ That she’d bothered to make the suggestion at all was a sign that this might not be hopeless – that he might have snagged her mind on the rough edges of his plan.

‘Do you really have no idea who the bombers are?’ Greta asked.

‘None at all.’

‘I believe you,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know how to prove it to the Council.’

‘Whatever happened to the need to prove people guilty? Half the Peerless voted the same way as I did, but I doubt you’ve even locked up all the strikers.’

Greta pretended that she hadn’t heard his last remark; he wasn’t allowed to know who else had or hadn’t been imprisoned.

‘If I put this to the Council,’ she said, ‘they’ll only agree to it if it comes from them. They have to be the peacemakers, reaching out to their enemies for the sake of the greater good.’

‘Well, naturally.’

‘And they might not even want you on the mission,’ she warned him. ‘What if they go with the idea, but then pick a crew without you?’