Dark Ararat - Brian Stableford [72]
“It doesn’t matter that Earth didn’t die,” Vince Solari said, joining in with Matthew’s determination to make the most of the moment in spite of the awkward attitude of his suspects. “What matters is that we’re here. We’ve found an island in the void: a haven; a land of opportunity. Our Ararat.”
Solari’s eyes were roaming the horizons that could be glimpsed between the twisted purple masses. Matthew wondered whether he was trying to deflect Rand Blackstone’s attention from the fact that he was a policeman—but even if that were the case, he sounded perfectly sincere.
“This planet,” Rand Blackstone said over his shoulder, with enviable certainty, “is called Tyre. New Earth is for unimaginative sentimentalists. Ararat is a crew name. Murex is too fancy. Down here, this is Tyre, and always will be. Might as well take it aboard now—you won’t be going back to crew territory, whatever Tang may think.”
An old-style alpha male, Matthew thought. Playing the role of colonist so zealously that he’s become a parody. Now that Blackstone’s gun had had the full force of the new world’s gravity upon it for several minutes it had begun to put a severe strain on his arms, so he shifted its weight on to his shoulder, trying to disregard the absurdly macho pose that he was assuming. His legs were already protesting the effort of walking, but he only had to shorten his stride by a fraction to cause Blackstone to take note of his weakness. The Australian was quick to assure him that the walk to the bubble-complex was “very short,” without “too many” upslopes.
It didn’t take long for Matthew to appreciate just how relative such terms could be. He revised his estimate regarding the accuracy of Milyukov’s boasts; the welcome party had obviously arrived so quickly because they’d got a fix on the likely landing place long before the capsule touched down.
Matthew half-expected Blackstone to fall into step with Vince Solari as soon as the policeman demonstrated that he was the stronger of the two newcomers, but the Australian shortened his own step to take up a position at Matthew’s shoulder, letting Solari take the lead. Now that he knew what direction to take, Solari accepted the responsibility. Matthew realized why Blackstone had made the move when the tall man murmured in his ear: “Is Shen ready to take the ship yet?”
“What?” was Matthew’s astonished response.
Blackstone looked down at him impatiently. “You have seen Shen?” Rumors obviously bounded from world to world as rapidly in the new system as they had in the old. Solari hadn’t turned around, but Matthew knew that the policeman must be listening hard.
“Yes, I saw him,” he admitted, “but not for long, and only on a screen.”
“So what’s the word? Surely he gave you a message to deliver. You can trust me—I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we’re all on his side down here, because most of the bastards at Base One can’t seem to see further than their own noses, but nobody in his right mind could want that slimeball Milyukov to press on with his crazy hijack plans. Even Tang wants Shen in charge up top—he thinks he can deal with Shen.”
“Shen didn’t give me any message,” Matthew said. “He couldn’t. I was carrying bugs Milyukov’s people had planted on me.”
Blackstone sighed. “Okay, so he had to be discreet. I suppose you’re still worried about the bugs. All I want to know is whether there’ll be a settlement soon. Every day that passes raises the anxiety level down here just a little further—and that’s bad. It’s way too high already.”
“I got the impression that the situation on the ship is an impasse,” Matthew told him. “Nothing suggested that it would be resolved any time soon.”
Blackstone cursed under his breath. “It’s all so stupid,” he said. “Everybody knows that it will be at least two hundred years before the ship could leave, even if anyone were crazy enough to be in a hurry. Milyukov will be dead by then and a whole new generation will be calling themselves the crew. The so-called revolution will belong to a period of their history so obviously dead