Dark Ararat - Brian Stableford [35]
“Of course we can,” Milyukov retorted. He didn’t elaborate, electing instead merely to stare at Matthew. The stare implied that a man of Matthew’s intelligence ought to have no difficulty following the thread of his argument.
What Captain Milyukov was thinking, Matthew had to suppose, was that the living colonists could indeed be replaced. Their genetic resources could be duplicated by nuclear transfer cloning, and the resultant children could be educated aboard Hope to something like the same level of attainment as the donors. When their education was deemed to be complete they could be replaced in the empty SusAn chambers, ready for decanting all over again. There would be an attrition rate, of course—but even the amnesiacs whose minds had not survived the 700 years of stasis could still be counted a genetic resource, replaceable as biological individuals. Assuming that Hope was still in contact with probes sent out from Earth—and with Earth itself, although a 58-year transmission time would make meaningful dialogue enormously difficult—the gradual loss of inbuilt knowledge and expertise could probably be compensated by imported wisdom.
There was nothing intrinsically impossible about the crew’s new plan. Hope might indeed seed a dozen worlds rather than one, if her indefatigable crew could find a dozen that were sufficiently hospitable—but any estimate of her chances of success would have to take into account her experience in attempting to seed this one. If this colony succeeded, others would probably succeed too, but if it failed, the crew’s “ultimate purpose” and “manifest destiny” might begin to seem horribly impractical. This was the critical point, at which the whole scheme might be most easily aborted. Milyukov knew and understood that. He knew that the future he and his people had planned for themselves depended very heavily on what happened here and now. If the colony succeeded, in spite of the fact that the world was a marginal candidate for acceptance as an Earth-clone, the prospects of further success would seem very rosy, but if this attempt ended in disaster the crew would have to reassess the fruits of their revolution.
“Now I understand why you need me,” Matthew said, mildly. “It will need an ecologist of genius to figure out whether a colony deposited on the surface and abandoned by Hope could ever be viable, and a televangelist of genius to sell the idea.”
The dull green gaze fixed itself upon him. “Nobody expects miracles from you, Professor Fleury,” Milyukov assured him, unable now to suppress a note of sarcasm. “You have been fully awake for less than twenty hours, and cannot hope to catch up with everything that has been learned during these last three years—but your opinion will doubtless be weighed for what it is worth. No one, incidentally, has proposed that the colony be abandoned. Everyone recognizes that there will come a time when the colony no longer needs pseudo-parental supervision—when it too, can declare its independence, its freedom, its ability to decide and define its own destiny. What we all need from the scientists on the surface is a carefully measured and meticulously reasoned account of the best strategy that will lead us to that goal. If you are to make any contribution to that mission you will need to do a great deal of work. Andrei Lityansky is ready to begin your education at a moment’s notice. He’ll give you as much help as he can while your surface-suits are made ready.”
Matthew was careful to remain impassive, although it required an effort. “You’re absolutely right, captain,” he said, calmly. “I really should get on with that as soon as possible.” He stood up immediately and moved toward the door. When Solari put his hands on the arms of his own chair, as if to lever himself up, Matthew added: “That’s okay, Vince. I dare say