Carlos said, “A planet that happens to cross in front of its star? It sounds like we’d have to be lucky to find anything that way.”
“You’re right,” Blake said. “We were lucky. If we had the supplies, we could sit here for years without finding a better possible home. And maybe not find any.”
Five light-years to the nearest star, Carlos thought. Fourteen to the nearest candidate habitable planet. He could die in the pod the next time. But for certain, he’d starve to death if he refused.
When push came to shove, what choice did he have?
“Oxygen and water,” Li said. “Do we have anything more to go on?”
“By inference,” Antonio said. “The star is…K class. Orange, like Alpha Centauri B would have been. By quite straightforward math we—”
“Skip the math,” Carlos snapped.
Skipping the math rendered Antonio speechless. He turned again to Rikki for help.
She said, “The planet orbits maybe a tenth closer to its primary than Earth does to the sun. But this star is only half as luminous as Sol, so the planet we glimpsed may be cold. But maybe not. Even trace amounts of some greenhouse gases will warm a planet substantially—and water vapor is a greenhouse gas. Oh, and the planet may be a tad larger than Earth.
“That’s where the data run out. Does the planet have moons? What’s its land-to-sea ratio? Are there other planets in the system? We have no idea.”
“‘The planet,’” Li echoed. “‘Its primary.’ I thought we had agreed on some names.”
Carlos said, “Me, too. For certain, I thought we’d converged on Plato as the name for whatever star we end up at.”
Li turned, looking surprised. She patted his hand. “Thank you, Carlos.”
After that misunderstanding back in Sol system, he must be the last person she would have expected to support her. But that was light-years and decades ago. Since then, she had saved his life.
Plato, Pluto, Plutarch, or Pippi Longstocking—what the hell did he care what anyone called the star? If calling it Plato fixed things up with Li—
And if he made it out of the pod alive—
There weren’t enough women left in the universe.
“Let’s hold off on names,” Dana said. “Antonio and Rikki recommend that we set a course for this planet. You’ve heard what they’ve learned. You’ve heard why we’re unlikely to find somewhere better, or closer, even if we keep searching. Does anyone disagree?”
No one did.
“Excellent,” Dana said. “As there is nothing to be gained by delay, as soon as Marvin has navigational guidance for the trip we’ll—”
“Excuse me, Captain,” Carlos said. “There is something to be gained. Before I go under, it would be prudent for Blake to take more training on programming nanites and using the synth vats.” Because next time, I may not come out alive. And because Blake can’t make a glass of milk that will stay down, much less do gengineering or other precision work.
Dana nodded. “I’m confident you’ll be fine, Carlos, but to be extra safe we can afford a few days. Barring equipment emergencies, Blake’s top priority will be to take more training from you. Will three days suffice?”
You’re confident of my safety, are you? I still plan to enjoy my last cigar before we go. “Yes, Captain,” Carlos said. “I can promise that by then he’ll know a lot more about using the synthesis equipment.”
And that I’ll have synthed enough tequila to get me back into a pod.
DISCORD
(About twenty-four years later)
19
Her head throbbing, hollow with hunger, aching from head to toe as though she had been pounded on by experts, Dana gazed without insight at the nav graphic on the main bridge display. “Only” twenty-four years, but she felt more wretched than she had waking from cold sleep the first time. She would not have believed that possible. Maybe the pods were wearing out. She knew she was.
None of that mattered. Not on this mission.
Dana had the pilot’s chair. Antonio stood behind her, leaning, the weight of his forearms squashing her headrest. Blake, looking pale and a bit queasy, had the copilot’s seat. Carlos, coughing tubercularly, but having reached the infirmary under his own power this time, was getting examined by Li. A clatter of plates and cutlery located Rikki in the galley.
Dana wished Rikki would move faster, at least with some coffee.
“Okay, Marvin,” Dana said. “I see a star field. The very bright star straight ahead must be our target. What else should I be seeing?”
“That some of those ‘stars’ move,” the AI said. “There are planets.”
“We came because of a planet,” Dana said. “Extras aren’t a surprise, are they?”
“No,” Marvin agreed. “Still, we did not know.”
“Any signs of life?” Dana asked. “Of intelligence?”
“Life, to be sure,” Marvin said. “As you know, a planet doesn’t keep free oxygen otherwise. Intelligence, indeterminate. The only detectable RF is noise from the star and one of the gas-giant planets. We remain too distant to see any surface details.”
“Show us all the orbits,” Antonio said.
The star field disappeared, displaced by a graphic with six nested bright loops. From innermost to outermost, the colors ran the gamut from purple to red. At this scale the orbits looked like perfect circles, and their differing tilts scarcely registered. A white-orange spark shone at the center.
“The star first,” Marvin began. “It is about what we expected. Compared to our former sun, this star has ninety-one percent of the mass. It is about nine percent cooler and its radius is about fourteen percent smaller. The star is fifty-one percent as luminous as the sun.
“As for the planetary system, we now know much more. While decelerating I identified six planets. The orbital determinations are most precise for the innermost planets, but they all should be accurate to within two percent.
“Closest to the star, its orbit shown
