CHAPTER ELEVEN: SIGNS

There were signs in the sky, but the people of Lan-Sui City could not observe them directly. The shutters remained closed, and so the people clustered around their television sets to see the weekly pictures of Lan-Sui that came in from the moons Gutien and Nan, and they listened to the commentaries and raging debates among experts enjoying sudden fame from exposure to the public eye.

In the vicinity of the city, the changes were subtle. The colors of the great storm, swirling only a thousand kilometers below, had lightened somewhat; instruments attributed this to a sudden increase in helium content and its precipitation with other gases such as neon. Local wind velocities increased from two hundred eighty to three hundred twenty kilometers per hour over a period of seven months, but with no observable effect on the city.

To the north and south, the changes in Lan-Sui were not so subtle. The zones of high winds at thirty degrees north and south latitudes seemed to change daily, a complex whirl of colorful vortices coming and going, and occasional eruption of plumes the experts said were a mixture of hydrogen and ammonia ice. It was in these regions that a temperature increase was first noted, climbing steadily from one hundred fifty degrees to two hundred twenty absolute over a year's time, then steadying there. While the temperature was rising, there was tremendous excitement; the television networks were saturated with requests for advertising, and the evening news enjoyed its highest ratings in history. An enterprising young blue-collar worker, named Win, initiated a lottery, selling twenty-lan tickets to match future dates with temperature, and became a multi-millionaire in four months.

All of it seemed transient. After three weeks of constant planetary temperature, the lottery had faded away, and news networks were again hustling for advertising in the light of plunging ratings. Still, they had hope, for a huge audience remained for the weekly pictorial up-dates from Lan-Sui's moons.

It was different for the workers of Gutien and Nan, especially those who spent their shifts on the surface. They did not have black shutters to cover the sky, keeping in their heat, or keeping out whatever might threaten them from the changes on Lan-Sui. What they had was a marvelous view, working long, hard shifts at minimum wages under a naked sky to pay inflated prices at company stores and feed families living in cramped, cold quarters of dimly lit rock.

They were not happy people to begin with. And when Yesui worked her early changes of Lan-Sui, it was the moon-workers who felt the effects, not the people in Lan-Sui City.

The first relevant sign was the observation of an increase in radiation levels on the surface of Gutien. Radiation levels had always been monitored, for the moon lay near the inner edge of a torus of particles trapped by the strong magnetic field of Lan-Sui. Film badges routinely worn by surface workers were developed weekly to check their exposures. Suddenly, within weeks after the temperature had steadied on Lan-Sui, those films were turning up black in the developer.

Dosimeters were placed on the surface, then scintillators for spectral analysis. The radiation level was up by a factor of fifteen, and rising daily. Protons and unusually energetic electrons were the prime culprits, but the worst news was X-rays, broad spectrum, highly penetrating.

Company officials huddled together, calculating exposure rates and the cost of insurance for additional risks to the workers.

The hours of workers on the surface were promptly cut by fifty percent, without consulting the union, and single paragraph announcements were sent to each affected worker without warning.

The union called a general strike meeting for the following morning, and sent one paragraph invitations for attendance by company officials.

The attendance was one hundred percent. No room was large enough to hold them all, so they met in a warehouse, and the meeting was delayed through lunchtime for four hours while crawlers moved tons of shipping and storage containers around for a standing-room-only crowd of sullen, hungry men who had abandoned their shifts for the meeting. On the surface of Gutien, nothing moved. And all production had been shut down the night before.

Two thousand men stood packed together on a hard stone floor to bake under hot warehouse lights and hear why the company had decided not to pay them a livable wage. Another three hundred watched with them through closed-circuit television on Nan.

A kind of podium had been made by placing boards on four upturned packing modules, and Chief Steward Mamai Jumdshan ascended to it on a ladder, followed by two pale-faced representatives from the company. Every man on the floor was shouting to be heard by the guy next to him, and Jumdshan had to wave his arms for a long time before everyone finally quieted down.

"Okay, that's enough! We're all here, so let's get on with it. But let's get one thing straight at the start. This is a strike meeting. We're here to ask questions, and get the answers, but if we don't like what we hear, we're gonna take a vote! Agreed?"

The chorus of assenting howls echoed from the walls and high ceiling of rock.

"All right! This here is Isrow Den, and he's representing the company officers who oughta be here, but aren't. They were too busy with other things, I'm told."

Catcalls, from all over the room.

"Now Isrow, here, is just a liaison man, a kind of secretary, and he's been given a lousy job to do, so be polite to him. The real people responsible for this mess aren't even here. Be quiet, now, while Isrow reads you a prepared statement from his bosses, and then you ask your questions. Got it?"

Heads nodded, and it was quiet again.

Den was in his twenties, a kid just out of school, and looked terrified. At least he'd had sense enough not to wear a suit. Someone had given him a worker's canvas jumper to wear, and that was smart. Give the poor kid a chance, they thought. The guy with him was forgotten quickly, a kind of aide who'd set up some recording equipment and was now fiddling with it. Den started to read from a single sheet of paper, but his voice came out a squeak, and then he looked ready to faint. Somebody near the front of the crowd yelled out, "Relax, kid. It'll be weeks before we're ready to eat people," and everyone laughed. Den smiled faintly and tried again, and this time his voice came out loud and clear.

"Radiation levels on Gutien and Nan have become a threat to the health of all surface workers," he read. "It is for this reason alone that working hours have been greatly reduced. We expect this situation to be temporary, until safeguards against overexposure can be provided. New environmental suits are being fabricated at this moment, and shielded cabs will be installed on all crawlers within the next few months. Until then, your stewards are authorized to make job reassignments within the current budget and wage designations. We regret this complication in your lives, but we must react to this change in nature that threatens your safety. Please bear with us for the few months it will take us to get you outside at full schedule again. You are important to us, as members of the corporate family. We will protect you and your families, at all costs, from changes within Lan-Sui that are beyond our control, both now and in the future."

Den paused. "It is signed by Mondo Bator, Chief Executive Officer. And now your questions, please."

Steward Jumdshan waved his arms to silence the many who called out for attention. "Let me get mine in, first! Isrow, I've seen the budget. All hazard pay for the surface workers has been pulled out of it, and they even took the expendibles' money for the crawlers. How do they expect me to make job reassignments when I have nothing to reallocate? Where did the money go?"

"Well, there are expenses," said Den. "The new safeguards will be expensive, and product cannot be shipped until they're in place. There will be no income for the next few months, so—"

"So the expenses for safeguards come out of the hides of the workers. I can invent new jobs, and the surface workers do work they're not supposed to do with a forty percent cut. Have you even read our collective bargaining agreement, young man?"

"Of course I have," said Den, looking nervously at his sullen audience.

"Then you know that transfer from one job classification to another is not a part of it. We all have our assignments, and that is the thing we do."

"That decision is being left up to you, Steward," said Den, glowering at him. "You might consider making changes in the agreement, if it's a problem."

"Should we do that, boys? Throw out what we worked years for, and start over again?"

"NO!" The walls seemed to tremble with the sound, and then Jumdshan pointed down at a man who'd been waving for attention for minutes. "You, Ghaimish. You got something to say? Get up here."

Den looked curiously at the steward, for he'd picked that one man without even looking at the others. The man came up the ladder like an athlete, his bare arms muscled hard, and his face was square, eyes slits, a prominent cleft in his chin. Den drew back instinctively, feeling as if a predator had neared him, prepared to strike him down.

"Identify yourself," said Jumdshan gruffly.

"Oghul Ghaimish, crawler foreman, third shift. And the last time I looked, I still had my balls!"

"Hey, Oghul!" someone called out, and everyone laughed.

" 'Course I don't need 'em much. No wife or family, like a lot of you guys. Look, it's the families we gotta think of. Us singles can bunk together, and cut expenses. We can donate extra hours to the guys with wives and kids for a little while, only it ain't gonna be for a little while! We've all seen the reports. The radiation levels are still rising, and this is all just a stall by the company. These new safeguards we're hearing about will be no good by the time they come, and we'll have to do this shit over and over again. The real problem is what's goin' on with Lan-Sui, and it's gotta stop!"

"Yeah! Tell 'em, Oghul!"

"I don't believe some supernatural girl is doin' it. Do you?"

"NO!"

"It's all lies. The Governor is doin' it. His scientists have found a way to heat the planet, to make things comfy and warm in the city, and he doesn't give a damn about what happens to us!"

Screams turned to howls. The podium shuddered and Den felt paralyzed, unable to speak.

"I say we stop it now! Show our independence from folks who treat us like slaughter animals. There's only one customer for what we produce, and that's Meng-shi-jie. Their ships are still here, loaded with troops. I say we shut everything down, and stay shut down until Meng-shi-jie takes out the Governor and puts someone in there who cares about the people who make the fuels they need. And I say stop the changes on Lan-Sui before we die here!"

"STRIKE!" shouted someone in the back, and that was the trigger. Everyone was stomping their feet, and screaming, "VOTE, VOTE, VOTE . . ."

Den grabbed Jumdshan by the arm, but the man jerked it away from him. "Careful, son. It's a long way to the floor, here."

"You're the Chief Steward. Do something!"

"I have," said Jumdshan, "and now you can tell your bosses to go piss on themselves." He stepped up to Ghaimish, took his hand, and they raised their arms together. "All in favor of a strike, let me hear it!"

The response was like thunder.

"Opposed?"

Total silence, except for cheering coming from a video receiver off to one side of the crowd, and someone yelled, "The vote on Nan is unanimous!"

Chaos erupted, everyone screaming and stomping their feet. The man named Ghaimish turned and stepped up to Den, face so close he sprayed him with spittle when he spoke. "Now, you get the fuck out of here, and go warn your Governor that the time for him and his kind has come to an end."

 

At the back of the warehouse cavern, two men dressed in the orange jumpsuits of electromagnetic separation workers watched the celebration calmly, and smiled. One turned to the other, and said, "Oghul Ghaimish, a crawler operator of all things. Tough, hazardous work. I never would have guessed."

"Crawler foreman," the other corrected. "A leader of men. He looks lean, and fit, compared to the last time I saw him, but he still looks better in uniform."

"Same face, though. The thought of smashing that face was all that kept me alive during the dust storms."

"Well then, let's see to it," said his companion. The two men left quietly, while the din of the strike celebration was still going on, and they took the stairs down two levels to where the transmitter linking them to Yesugen's flagship was hidden.

 

The seven debris rings of Lan-Sui were not ancient by any standard. Two hundred thousand years before civilization had arrived at the planet, there had been a catastrophe of sorts, the capture of two moderate-sized asteroids which settled into seemingly stable orbits around the gaseous giant. Unfortunately for the captives, they were not the hardiest of specimens, composed primarily of silicates and water ice, loosely compacted around iron cores, and the orbits they settled into were within the Roche limit of their captor. Within centuries of their capture, both asteroids had thus been torn to pieces by the strong tidal forces of Lan-Sui and scattered by collisions within the orbital plane. Over the next hundred thousand years, pieces of rock and ice ranging in size from centimeters to a hundred meters interacted with the gravitational forces of Lan-Sui, Gutien, and Nan, and came into resonance with them, forming seven beautiful rings about the planet.

No ring system is permanent. There are constant collisions within the rings which tend to disperse them, and the most stable are those blessed with "shepherd moons" which patrol their inner and outer boundaries. Their gravitational perturbations set up a new resonance with the protected ring, and provide a delicate check on its dispersal. But even this is not perfect, and the spaces between the rings are constantly populated by pebbles, even boulders, of rock and ice that have wandered from home. And for twelve centuries, it had been the task of the daring pilots of Debris Control ships to hunt down these wayward missiles, to remove them as hazards to shipping and Lan-Sui City itself.

The ships were the size of light cruisers, heavily armored and fusion powered, with hypergolic thrusters port and starboard for rapid maneuvering. They bristled with weaponry: twelve laser canons fore and aft, fourteen turrets with rail-guns protecting their flanks. But the weapons were mostly used for harvesting, rather than destruction, for over the centuries a secondary industry for Gutien and Nan had been built on the collection of debris between the rings and the refinement of metals, mostly iron, aluminum, and indium. Once a target was reduced to fine rubble, electromagnetic scoops swept it up into the open maws of the ships for transport back to the moons.

The pilots were all young and single, with egos the size of the ships they flew. With luck, they might live to see age forty, rewarded with huge pensions subsidized by Lan-Sui City, for the hazards of their work were historically extreme. Every young boy dreamed of being like them, and they were the fantasy of women, their adventures fictionally exaggerated and exploited in books and television.

They were based on Gutien and Nan, but had no permanent quarters there, living on their ships, and since they spent most of their time patrolling the alpha-ring nearest the planet, enjoyed most of their port time in Lan-Sui City itself. Their adventures in the bars and nightclubs there only added to the mythology about them.

But in fact, their lives were no longer so hazardous, for centuries of debris patrol had cleared away most of the wanderers between the rings, and many of their days were spent in fruitless search of new targets.

And then Yesui began her work with Lan-Sui, adding mass to it.

The effects were most extreme in the alpha-ring, its inner edge only twenty thousand kilometers above Lan-Sui City. There, the ring was shepherded by the iron cores of the system's ancestor asteroids, both of them solid chunks some twenty kilometers in diameter. Each chunk, each pebble in the ring, rotated at a distance and velocity defined by the mass of Lan-Sui, and suddenly that mass was increasing.

Now gravity is a central force, and does no work on an orbiting object. Orbital velocity remains constant, but its radius increases with increasing central mass, and larger objects respond less quickly to changes in forces.

So one day, as Yesui added new mass to Lan-Sui, the outer edge of the alpha-ring struck a glancing blow on its shepherding moon, and scattering began, pebbles and boulders flying off in every direction with the sudden disruption of a resonance established over tens of thousands of years.

In fact, given time, the entire ring system was now doomed.

Lingdan Zedenbal was only a day out from Lan-Sui City when radar showed a shower of debris coming right at his ship. The alarm was sounded, the captain was called, but efforts to revive him were futile. After three nights of partying in Lan-Sui City, he'd returned to the ship again with sufficient smuggled reserves to keep him drunk another day or two. This was not a new phenomenon, and for nearly a year the crew had seen Lingdan Zedenbal as Captain, not First Officer. He was always there, always alert, although he partied with them, and when he was not on station he was in the simulator, constantly working.

Everything he'd learned and practiced was suddenly necessary to their survival, and he was ready for it.

"All fore and aft stations, hands off! We're doing this by computer, so enjoy the ride! Turret gunners only, hands on! Watch our flanks for anything near a meter, and take it out!"

The computer gave him the necessary simulations: the cone of particles, its trajectory intersecting Lan-Sui City's orbit, the zone of collision. He set the forward laser canons for a six degree spread at full, continuous power, beginning at a range of two hundred kilometers.

"Into the breach, gentlemen, at full thrust, and hold onto your asses!"

Lights dimmed and stayed dimmed as the lasers fired, and ahead was a continuous lightshow as a thing like a living cloud hurtled towards them at awful speed.

"Eiiyaa!" he shouted as the thing swept past them. The hull of his ship screamed with the shriek of rock on metal and shuddered with bursts of rail-gun fire, lurching only once when something big hit them.

Then silence.

"All stations, damage reports!" He looked at the radar screen, holding his breath, then let out a sigh of relief. The cone of debris was now hollow, a huge shadow zone with the computer projecting Lan-Sui City to be at its center.

One turret had been evacuated upon decompression, and the storage chamber forward had lost all pressure from a breach in the armored hull. No injuries were reported, but he had a damaged ship.

He turned the ship around, and headed back to Lan-Sui City for repairs. Half-way back, his Captain was finally revived, but the man still did not look well under the lights of the television crews who fought their way through the mob of people there to greet them.

The whole thing had been seen on television, taken by cameras on board a sister ship, and the high resolution system keeping watch on the city's surface. The streets had been filled with people to hear the clattering of fine pebbles on the black, shuttered sky as the hollowed cone of debris safely passed by them to burn up in Lan-Sui's thick atmosphere.

Before the day was over, Lingdan Zedenbal had been interviewed a hundred times, his "I was only doing my job" attitude romancing the entire audience. His Captain was interviewed only once, by the Company, and summarily dismissed from his position.

There were parties and receptions for Lingdan and his crew, but then came the hard part, the audience with Governor Wizera and his presentation with the City's Order of Merit. Lingdan accepted the medal stoically and shook the man's hand, though he despised him.

In the middle of a lavish party at the Governor's mansion, a messenger sought him out in the middle of the dance floor and delivered his new orders. He was now a Captain, and the ship under repair was now his to command. Crew members pounded him on the back, and his dancing partner, a lovely brunette, rewarded him with a wet kiss.

In the wee hours of the morning, Lingdan Zedenbal returned to his hotel room numb but elated, humble yet euphoric. Most of all, he was deeply grateful. Sleep would not come, and so he placed a videophone call to Gutien to thank the man most responsible for putting him in the right place at the right time.

The face of Mamai Jumdshan appeared on the screen, haggard-looking, but smiling when he saw who his caller was. "Lingdan, my lad, I've heard the news. How wonderful for you, and well deserved. Lan-Sui needs more heroes like you in these times."

Lingdan did not wonder about how Mamai had received news of his promotion so quickly. "I owe it all to you, Mamai. Without your recommendation, I'd still be piloting a freighter. I'm in your debt, sir."

"You did it yourself, Lingdan," said Mamai. "When the job needed to be done, you were ready for it, and I'm proud of you. It pleases me to have had a small part in what has happened for you. My days have not been pleasant lately, with the strike. I've made many new enemies in the Company."

"We have plenty of old ones. It will be that way until we gain our independence," said Lingdan.

"Then you still believe?"

"I do. And if things go badly, I'll support any call for a strike by Debris Control as well."

Mamai shook his head. "I have no intentions of risking lives, Lingdan. The common people aren't responsible for what Wizera and his scientists are doing to Lan-Sui. It's people like you and me who have to deal with the effects, and protect the helpless. I fear for you, Lingdan, and the crews of all Debris Control ships. Until we get rid of Wizera, and stop the changes in Lan-Sui, your lives will be increasingly dangerous."

"We can only do our best," said Lingdan. "In the meantime, remember my support for independence, and call on me if there's anything else I can do to help you."

Mamai seemed to choke back a sob, and there was a little tear in his right eye. "Thank you for that, lad. I'm sure there will be something. And thank you so much for your call."

The connection was broken, Mamai sobbing as he disappeared from the screen. So much for the man to bear, all because of a Governor who thought only of warmth for the city people, and not of the consequences for working people on the moons. Yesterday, Lingdan had saved the lives of people in the city. But what about tomorrow?

He could not think about it now. Having given thanks to his greatest benefactor, Lingdan's mind was empty. He went to bed, and quickly fell into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

 

Abagai was sitting up in bed, reading, when Yesugen came to see her. It was early evening, and the blinds were up, allowing the light of Tengri-Nayon to warm her chest and relieve the suffocating feeling she'd had for most of the day.

Yesugen led Niki by the hand, but he let go and ran to the bedside to peek over the edge at his grandmother.

"I see you," said Abagai. "Now give me a hug."

The five-year-old scrambled up on the bed, threw his little arms around her neck, and hugged her fiercely. "Ohhh, you're getting so strong," she gasped, then sat him beside her, cuddling him.

"How are you feeling?" asked Yesugen, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Better. At least I can breathe when I sit up. When I lie down my lungs seem to fill up within minutes."

"I can bring in another physician if you like," said Yesugen, her brows knitted with concern. "Your medications don't seem to be helping."

"What can be done is being done, dear. My lungs are dried up like old leather. They've lost their resiliency, and it's not reversible. I must accept that and live life one breath at a time. Your mask is up, dear. Is there news that troubles you?"

"There have been unforeseen complications in Yesui's work, Mother. The additional mass has increased the size of the radiation belts and produced instabilities in the rings. Wizera is quite concerned about it, but he hasn't asked for a halt in the operation."

Abagai studied her daughter's face, and probed at her. "Is that all?"

"For now. We're watching closely to see if the rebels will use these new events to incite riot, and I ordered the return of two cruisers to Lan-Sui this morning."

"Then you're expecting trouble," said Abagai, grabbing at Niki's hands when he began tickling her for attention. "Oh, you are a squirmy worm," she said to him, and tickled him back.

"Yes," said Yesugen, smiling at the two of them, the serene smile of a woman newly pregnant with her second child.

"Have you talked to Yesui about these new problems?" asked Abagai.

"Just yesterday I did, Mother, but you know her attitude. She says the effects are transient and will cease once Lan-Sui has its proper mass. And if the moons remain in danger, she will move them to a safe place."

Yesugen raised her eyebrows as she said it. "Can she do that, Mother?"

Abagai laughed, and fought off a new attack by her grandson by wrapping her arms around him. "She only works for short times with Lan-Sui, dear. The rest of the time, she and her brother are constantly experimenting with new things, so I wouldn't be surprised at anything she does."

"Mengjai wasn't with her when we talked," said Yesugen, and then her face brightened. "She has a new manifestation in the gong-shi-jie, Mother, and wanted me to tell you about it. For the first time, I've seen her face. She really is quite beautiful, and shows her entire figure in that fan of green we've known for years."

"How wonderful. I must see her soon, and ask how she finally overcame her shyness."

"She said nothing, except that she knew you'd be pleased by it."

"And I am," said Abagai. Niki had ceased his attempts to tickle her, and now nestled in her arms, eyelids drooping. Abagai turned her head, and coughed softly, a deep, rattling sound, a bubbly feeling in her chest. Yesugen shifted herself, put a hand on her mother's where it rested on the grandson's little shoulder.

"There's more, daughter, but you choose not to tell me. You are Empress, now, not I. It won't be long before the people know. You are struggling with hard decisions, and I trust you to make them. You can mask your mind from me, but not your heart. I think you'll do well when I'm gone."

She reached over, and put her hand on Yesugen's stomach. "The finest thing you can do for me now, is to give us a granddaughter to continue our line, but even that is beyond our control. So many things are that way. Things happen, and we can only react to them as wisely as we can."

Yesugen stroked her mother's hand. Niki now dozed, his cheek against Abagai's chest.

"Mother, just how firm is your commitment to Wizera, and the rejuvenation of Lan-Sui?"

"It's absolute, dear."

Yesugen nodded, and smiled. "That's all I really needed to hear from you." She reached over, and picked up her son, his head lolling over on her shoulder. "Rest, now, and I will go do the things I must do."

Yesugen stood up, and walked out of the room, leaving Abagai with empty arms and an open book in her lap. I must see Kati and Yesui at least one more time, thought Abagai, and then she gasped for breath as her chest spasmed once again.

 

Niki was awakened by the food odors as he approached the table, and Yesugen sat him down next to his father. Kabul served his son, looked up at her. "Aren't you joining us?"

"In a few minutes, darling. I have one more thing to do." She leaned over and kissed him, and he took her chin in his hand.

"How is she?"

"Very bad. And there's nothing we can do about it."

Kabul nodded, and squeezed her chin. "Hurry back. I'll make up a plate for you."

Yesugen went to her office in the adjoining room, the only light coming from the console screen, the received messages still there: the strike; the new, periodic showers of debris threatening Lan-Sui City; the discovery of an enemy whose request for support was also there. Her fingers moved over the keyboard, composing a short message to her flagship.

 

DELTACOM:YES:GSJ40

NEW OPS:

 

1. Zeta one and two to Nan, on station.

2. Alpha to Gutien, all troops in harness.

3. Beta to City, stand by to evac Governor and family.

4. Gamma, monitor all freighter and Debris Control activity, and
report.

5. Gutien probes one and two, moni- tor activities, stand ready to terminate subjects with extreme prejudice on short notice.

 

YES:GSJ40:FLD:COM

 

A strike of her index finger, and the message was sent.

Yesugen turned off the monitor, leaving the computer on for a reply, and went back to the dining table to join her family.