The Arrows of Time

Agata saw a figure approaching out of the mountain’s shadow, a little closer each time it spun into view. It was easy for Tarquinia: she had one of the new jetpacks strapped to her body. The six nozzles were all controlled by photonics, their thrust automatically balanced so they imposed no torque at all. Bulky as the things were, Agata decided that she was going to wear her own pack for the entire twelve years of the mission, rendering these dispiriting training exercises redundant.

Tarquinia collided with her roughly, grabbing hold of Agata’s arm. Agata’s gut twitched; she was tumbling in a completely different plane now, and the sudden shift in the flow of stars across her vision was more wrenching than the impact. Tarquinia seized Agata’s other shoulder and embraced her, pulling the two of them into equal intimacy with the slab of equipment that covered Tarquinia’s chest. Then she must have told the jetpack to kill their rotation: the torque itself was imperceptible, but it looked as if someone had slammed a giant brake against the spinning black bowl that held the stars.

When the sky had ceased turning, Tarquinia released her grip and hooked Agata’s belt to the front part of the jetpack.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, less brusque than usual.

‘Yes.’ Agata realised that she’d been shivering.

‘I know it isn’t easy, but you have to reach the point where things like this are just instinctive.’

‘I understand.’ Agata gazed past her into the dark hemisphere that had once held the orthogonal stars. They were still out there, in the blackness, but her own eyes were now emitting the light she no longer received from them. ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ she said. ‘I think I made a mistake.’

Tarquinia interposed her helmet into the view. ‘You want those light-deflection measurements, don’t you? I thought the fate of the cosmos hung on those fractions of an arc-flicker.’

‘You’re the astronomer. You could do a better job at that than I could.’

Tarquinia said, ‘I’m not taking any measurements that aren’t essential for navigational purposes.’

Agata doubted she was serious about that. ‘If my real job is to stop Ramiro going crazy and ramming the Peerless, why don’t they choose a pro-messager pilot to keep him in check?’

‘I don’t think they’ve been overwhelmed with applications,’ Tarquinia replied. ‘Anyway, that’s just politics; for practical deterrence, you can bet there’ll be some tamper-proof way to incinerate the Surveyor with the flick of a switch from the Council chambers.’ She squinted at Agata through their faceplates. ‘I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want to go back to the airlock right now, that’s fine with me.’

Agata was tempted, but she stopped herself. If she pulled out of the training now there’d be no chance to reconsider. ‘Why did you volunteer?’ she asked Tarquinia. ‘Do you think there’d be a war, without the Surveyor?’

Tarquinia didn’t reply immediately. ‘I’m still hoping that we’re not that suicidal, but if we are I wouldn’t pin my hopes on Esilio.’

‘Then why?’

‘Why fly to another world?’ Tarquinia frowned, as if the question were absurd: the mere grandeur of the idea was reason enough.

Agata wasn’t buying it. ‘If it could be easy and safe, then you’re right: who wouldn’t want to be on that mission? But it won’t be.’

Tarquinia said, ‘You want to know what swings it for me? I always thought I was doing something worthwhile just by helping to keep the mountain running smoothly. Given what was at stake for the home world, that was enough. But if the messaging system starts spitting out reports of the reunion, the entire reason for the journey will start to feel like something long past: still worthy, but faded, there to be taken for granted. If I can have a little excitement with a detour of my own – doing no one any harm, and maybe even helping slightly – I’d have to be insane to pass up the chance.’

‘A little excitement?’ Agata would have thought Tarquinia’s encounter with the rogue gnat had given her enough for a lifetime. ‘We’ll be unreachable. If anything goes wrong, there’ll be no one to help us.’

‘Hence…’ Tarquinia spread her arms.

‘You think these exercises are going to protect us?’

‘They’ll nudge the odds in our favour,’ Tarquinia insisted. ‘If you ever start taking them seriously. But if you want certainty, feel free to tell Greta that you refuse to fly until they’ve built the messaging system and confirmed the Surveyor’s return.’

‘Would that be so terrible?’ Agata retorted. ‘Or would the whole thing become worthless to you, if you knew you’d be safe?’

‘Not at all,’ Tarquinia said mildly. ‘But I don’t think the politics would work out. If we postponed the launch until your side achieved everything it wanted, then whatever chance the Surveyor had of defusing tensions would vanish.’

‘That’s true.’ Agata glanced back towards the mountain. ‘We’re getting awfully far from the Peerless.’