The Sparrow - Mary Doria Russell [50]
"I know," he laughed. "So am I."
She looked around the room for allies and found none. "Am I the only one who sees how nuts this is?"
"’God does not require us to succeed. He only requires us to try,’" Emilio quoted quietly. He was sitting very still, in the farthest corner of the cubicle, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely, looking up at her with merry eyes.
"Oh, sure. Wave Mother Teresa in my face," Anne said, getting angry. "This is stupid. You guys are crazy."
"No," George insisted. "It can be done, at least in theory."
"Anne, we have, in this room, much of the expertise needed to make a go of this, or at least to attempt it," Emilio said. "Jimmy, could you navigate such an asteroid, using the same skills you use to locate astronomical targets?"
"Not this morning, but I could start working on it now and by the time everything’s ready to go, I could be ready. There are very good astronomical programs that we can use. You don’t just aim at where Alpha Centauri is now. You have to aim at where the system will be in however many years it’ll take your craft to get there. But that’s just celestial mechanics. You just have to decide to work the problem out. And you’d have to find the planet once you got to the star system. That might be harder, really."
Emilio turned to Sofia. "If you had freedom of choice, would you find it objectionable to work again for the Society of Jesus? Perhaps as a general contractor, to acquire and organize the material elements needed to put such a mission together? You have contacts in the mining industry, yes?"
"Yes. The project would be different from the kind of AI analysis I ordinarily do, but no more demanding. I could certainly pull together the materials, if I were authorized to do so."
"Even if the mission were, at its heart, religious in nature?"
"My broker would have no objections. Jaubert’s done business with the Jesuits before, obviously."
"I cannot speak for my superiors," Emilio told her, dark eyes opaque now, "but I will propose that they buy out your contract, terminate it and work with you directly as a free agent. Your choice, not the broker’s."
"My choice." She had not had a choice in so many years. "There is no objection. That is, I have none."
"Good. George, how different is the life-support system used for mining asteroids from the underwater system you are familiar with?"
George didn’t answer right away. All the technology he’d mastered, he was thinking. All the miles he’d run. Everything—his whole life was an apprenticeship for this. He looked at Sandoz and said, steady-voiced, "Same things. Only instead of extracting oxygen from water, they use rock. The oxygen is a by-product of the mining and fuel production for the engines. And, like Jimmy said, by the time we’re ready to go, I could be up to speed."
"Oh, now, stop right there," Anne said flatly and looked straight at Emilio. "This has gone far enough. Are you seriously proposing that George get involved in this?"
"I am seriously proposing that everyone in this room be involved with this. Including you. You have anthropological expertise, which would be invaluable when we make contact—"
"Oh, come on!" Anne yelled.
"—and you are a physician as well, and you can cook," he said, laughing, ignoring the howl, "which is a perfect combination of skills because we can’t afford to have a doctor along who would only wait around for someone to break a leg."
"Peter Pan. You guys are all set to go to Never-Never-Land and I get to be Wendy. Fabulous! There is a rude gesture that comes to mind," Anne snapped. "Emilio, you are the most sensible, rational priest I’ve ever met. And now you are telling me that you think God wants us to go to this planet. Us personally. The people in this room. Am I getting this straight?"
"Yes. I am afraid I think I do believe that," he said, wincing. "I’m sorry."
She looked at him, helpless with exasperation. "You are demented."
"Look, Anne. Perhaps you’re right. The whole idea is mad." He moved from his corner to her perch on