Probability Sun (40 page)

W
hile he waited for the elevator that would take him down to the living levels of Luna City, Kaufman studied the park. He hadn’t seen it since he’d recruited Marbet Grant for the World mission well over a year ago. The park hadn’t changed. It still looked dark to him compared to Martian parks. On Mars, the sky had a pinkish light, its intensity depending on the day’s dust count. Here, the only light was artificial, unless you counted either the stars shining coldly through the piezoelectric dome or the earthlight from the monstrous blue-and-green world suspended above. Or maybe, on Luna, this was the world and Earth qualified as a moon. It all depended on how you looked at it.

As in his last visit, the fenced play yard held squealing toddlers and their caretakers, toddlers who could jump almost as high as the top of their very high slide. The scientific experiments under clear plastic domes still dotted a restricted area, which was still not restricted very much. There was little crime in Luna City’s carefully pre-selected population. On benches set between beds of flowers genemod for the low light, people talked or star-gazed or kissed.

The flowers didn’t remind Kaufman much of World. These were too small, too subdued, to evoke World’s riot of glorious blossoms.

The elevator came, and he stepped inside.

At H Level, he stepped into a wide corridor curving away at both ends. A small tram said cheerfully, “Hello! I make a circuit of this residential level every ten minutes, stopping whenever you instruct me to do so. Or, if you prefer, you can walk. All entrances to residential clusters are found on or just off this main circular corridor.”

“I’ll walk,” Kaufman said, and the tram fell silent.

The corridor was utilitarian, except for soft patterns of lights playing over the walls. The doors opening directly off the corridor, numbered consecutively, were as plain as the walkway. Evidently Lunarians saved their decoration for their residences.

The tram passed him, carrying an elderly lady. Two walkers nodded to him pleasantly without interrupting their conversation. In fifteen minutes he reached Marbet’s cluster. In another five he stood in front of her apartment door.

She opened it even before he signaled; she’d been watching for him. “Lyle! Hello!”

“Hello, Marbet,” he said, and wondered if it had really been more than a year, and then how he had let it be more than a year. Not that he’d had much choice. She looked as unchanged as the park above, no older, her auburn curls as bright and her genemod-green cat’s eyes as startlingly vivid. She wore a long tunic of some fine, ivory-colored material that floated around her, and a dramatic gold necklace.

“Come in. What can I give you to drink? A fizzie? Some wine? I have wine from Chile.”

“Sounds expensive. A fizzy is fine. You look wonderful, Marbet.”

“Thank you. You look tired.”

“I am.”

He’d forgotten how it felt to be with her: that strange combination of ease and stimulation, laced with discomfort about what she might be reading from his face, his body, the tone of his voice. Had she decorated her home to offset that discomfort, making it as welcoming and reassuring as possible? Large comfortable pillows, bright floral fabrics, soft lighting and minimal clutter. A room to relax in. In these surroundings, his dress uniform felt stiff.

He said, “What have you been doing?” She hadn’t appeared lately in the newscasts; he’d had a search program scan Mars’s central library.

“A few small jobs on Earth, mostly private businesses wanting intelligence during negotiations. Nothing very compelling lately, I’m afraid. Have you heard about Tom?”

“Capelo? No, what?”

“He’s back at Harvard, expanding his probon theory, and his papers are making all sorts of waves in the physics world. But you already knew that. The news is that he’s getting married.”

Kaufman almost sputtered into his drink. “
Tom
?”

“Yes. It seems he met her at some sort of physics conference and fell like a ship into a black hole. He comlinked me last week. I was as surprised as you look.”

“I thought he’d mourn his dead wife forever.”

“Nothing as unpredictable as people. Quantum particles are nothing compared to us. Although actually, I think something else happened with Tom. I think he exorcised something out there on the World mission. It made him open again to caring for someone else besides his daughters. Who apparently are delighted with their new stepmother, Tom says.”

“I wish him all happiness,” Kaufman said.

They sat quietly, drinking their fizzies, each contemplating the strange places in the human soul. Kaufman was more at home with such contemplations than he’d once been, he thought wryly. Although not as a result of any exorcism. Kaufman said finally, “The artifact’s been a great success. Hidden somewhere in the Solar System, ‘safeguarding the cradle of humanity,’ as the flimsies say.”

Marbet said, “Do you think it’s actually activated at setting prime eleven?”

“Who knows? Tom showed us that if it is, it’s undetectable unless someone brings in another one and tries to fry Sol. Unless that happens, we’ll never really know if it works or not. It’s like that old joke about the witch doctor who gives the explorer a charm against ferocious man-eating tigers. The guy says, ‘But there aren’t any tigers on Mars,’ and—”

“—and the witch doctor says, ‘See? It’s working already.’ Lyle, that joke’s
ancient
.”

“But applicable. All you can do is figure the probabilities that the artifact is guarding Sol.”

“Probability sun,” Marbet said.

“Exactly.”

“What about you? What have you been doing?”

He said, “I’ve resigned from the military, Marbet, effective next week. I’m on my way to debriefing on Mars.”

“I know.”

“How? How could you know I’m on my way to debriefing?”

She laughed. “I didn’t know that part But I did know you’ve resigned. It’s in the way you wear your uniform now … I can’t explain in words.”

“They stuck me out in Ariel System, at the ass-end of the galaxy. You think World was isolated … I commanded a space station.”

“And you hated it.”

“And I hated it. So I’ve resigned, honorable discharge, out as soon as I debrief.”

She set down her fizzy on a small table woven of some strong grass, or of something that looked like grass. “Mars is between here and the space tunnel. You’ve taken a long detour for somebody who’s on his way to a debrief on Mars.”

“Yes. I was hoping I could persuade you to go with me.”

“To where?”

He breathed deep. This was it. Although being Marbet, she might already know. “Back to World. A private expedition, privately funded. To search for Ann Sikorski and Dieter Gruber, if they’re still alive, and bring them home. If they want to come.”

“To bring home Ann and Gruber? Is that really the reason?”

He said, “It’s a reason.”

“Lyle,” she said softly, “it isn’t your fault. Whatever has happened to World, it isn’t your fault. You had no choice.”

“I know. But it’s odd, isn’t it? Most of the world’s Prometheuses have destroyed worlds by bringing new technology: fire, bombs, whatever. I destroyed one by removing technology.”

“But, Lyle—”

He didn’t want to talk about it any longer. He interrupted Marbet. “Will you go with me? To Mars and then back to World?”

“Yes. I’ll go with you.”

He sipped his fizzy. Eventually he said, “Did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Lyle, a Sensitive is not clairvoyant. No, I didn’t know you were going to ask that.”

“Good,” he said, put down his drink, and took her hand.

*   *   *

Enli and Essa sat outside their house in the cool evening air. Enli was cross. How had she become responsible for Essa, anyway? And why? The girl would wilt anyone.

“Essa, did you hear what I said? His mother is taking Serlit away from here because of you. He’s too young for … for that kind of mating play, and you know it, and you did it with him anyway.”

“He liked it,” Essa said, unperturbed.

“I’m sure he did. But he’s still too young, not even past his youth-planting ceremony. Shared reality…” She stopped. The words had just slipped out. Even after so long.

Essa ignored Enli’s crossness. “Look at the stars come out, Enli. They’re so bright ’cause Ral is the only moon up and it’s only part curvy. Look at that bright one just above the top of the stockade.”

“Essa—”

“I’m going to the stars one day. I am. Pek Sikorski says there are other Worlds out there, and she saw them in a big metal flying boat. I will, too.”

“You won’t go anywhere if you don’t behave.”

“Listen! Pek Ramul’s starting!”

The sounds of the pipe drifted in from the green, signaling the start of the dancing. Essa leaped up and ran off. Enli scowled. Such a girl! And O, Enli was too tired to go after her tonight. Calin was on guard duty—there had been some more threats from Gofkit Firtoe—and Enli had cooked for both her family and for Ann, who had a flower sickness and was isolated in her hut in atonement. Since trade with the capital had stopped (Gofkit Shamloe had nothing to trade), there was no more antihistamine. Dieter was off on a foraging trip and Ann was worried about him, and worry only made flower sickness worse. Added to all that, the little one kicked hard inside Enli’s belly, and her back hurt.

Nonetheless, she lumbered to her feet and went after Essa. It
was
a lovely night. Enli stopped to sniff the sweet warm air. Slowly, a blossom unfolded inside her, its petals delicate and perfumed and blessed as a perfect allabenirib. She felt the blossom bud, open, fully flower.

Happiness.

Enli stood a moment longer, and then she continued along the path, into the deep shadow of the stockade and then out again, walking off-balance under the emerging stars and the one small, waning moon.

BY NANCY KRESS

NOVELS

Prince of Morning Bells

The White Pipes

The Golden Grove

An Alien Light

Brainrose

Beggars in Spain

Beggars and Choosers

Oaths and Miracles

Beggars Ride

Maximum Light

Stinger

Yanked!

Probability Moon

Probability Sun

Probability Space

Crossfire

STORY COLLECTIONS

Trinity and Other Stories

The Aliens of Earth

Beaker’s Dozen

Praise for
PROBABILITY SUN

“The author grounds her morally complex plot in the physics of probability. As usual with Kress, her eccentric characters add depth. Readers will start this novel because of Kress’s reputation, will read it for the adventure and will like it for the characters and the science.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“The immediate sequel to
Probability Moon
(2000). The questions that permeate the tightly paced story are whether scientists and the military can cooperate to learn the nature of the artifact—scientific storehouse or doomsday machine—and whether either of those parties will procure the cooperation of the captive Faller, whose perception of reality is unfathomably different from that of any of the humans. Displaying a typically strong synthesis of Kress’ many gifts, the novel leaves the door wide open for at least one successor.”

—
Booklist

“Kress had blended such a nice set of surprises and inevitabilities that you should learn and read and enjoy them for yourself. You don’t have to read
Probability Moon
to have a good time, but you’ll probably search it out anyway.”

—
San Diego Union-Tribune

Praise for
PROBABILITY MOON

“The author also weaves a fascinating tale exploring the norms of each society. The mystery slowly unravels as the two cultures interact. Each member of the large cast of characters has an individual struggle and quest, creating an intriguing plot. This book has something for everyone.”

—
VOYA

“Kress’s
Sleepless
trilogy proved that she was a serious writer, worthy of considered attention.
Probability Moon
only emphasizes that.”

—
Locus

“Kress’ characterizations are as sound as ever, but many will be agreeably surprised at her proficiency with military hardware and action scenes. Very impressive.”

—
Booklist

* “Twisty and compelling, brimful of ideas, with Kress’s usual life-sized characters; top-notch work from a major talent.”

—
Kirkus Reviews
(starred review)

“… Naturally all of this is moving toward an explosive that Kress resolves handily in this volume while leaving plenty of intriguing quests for a future novel or two. Her characters and the planetary setting are well developed and the story moves at a brisk, suspenseful pace.”

—
Portsmouth Herald

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

PROBABILITY SUN

Copyright © 2001 by Nancy Kress

All rights reserved.

Edited by James Minz

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

ISBN: 0-765-34355-X

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2001027119

eISBN 9781466825260

First eBook edition: July 2012