Faster Than Light: Babel Among the Stars

7.

TheRepublic shocked everyone when it revealed that March 9, 4192 wouldbe the last day of faster-than-light travel. It should not have comeas a surprise. It has been months since the Spatial Preservation Actwas passed. Every week, representatives from the Republic militarybriefed the people of Earth on the progress of the enforcement of theAct. They were quite candid about how many starships weredecommissioned, the scientists who were isolated, the trade routesthat were discontinued, and the steps the military was taking tosecure all of these efforts.

Butmany people still refused to believe it was happening. Faster-than-light travel wasn’t just a method of transportation. It was woven into human society, and had been for almost two thousandyears. People believed that Chairman Stevens and the High Councilwould change their minds. It wasn’t until the date was set thatthe truth began to set in. There were less than two dozen starshipsleft. Soon there would be none.

Evenmore surprising was the Republic’s sudden shift in attitude aboutthe Spatial Preservation Act. For months, every press release andconference had a very somber tone. It was like a slow, methodicalfuneral procession. But when they finally announced the date thatthe full provisions of the Act would take effect, everything changed.

Thetone of the announcement and subsequent assembly was jubilant. Instead of dwelling on the sacrifices that the people of the galaxywould make, it celebrated them. It treated the end offaster-than-light travel as an accomplishment.

“Noother society in the history of mankind would ever be able to give upthis much to save its citizens.”

“Thisis an unprecedented act of restraint that should be applauded, notdreaded.”

“Wegive up interplanetary travel so that our children’s children canlive, and that must be regaled.”

March9 was declared to be “Forbearance Day” throughout the Republic. The civilian arm of the government set up huge rallies and partiesacross the Earth to celebrate the nobility of the sacrifice everyonewas making.

Therewould even be a central party, on the Europa Observation Outpost,where the last three ships would be decommissioned at the end ofForbearance Day. The removal of the final Heilmann Drive would bebroadcast across the Earth, as if it was a moment to rejoice.

Noone knew quite how to react to the Republic’s attempt to re-brandthe Spatial Preservation Act as a triumph over human nature ratherthan a concession to a very real danger. Either way, tickets to thecelebrations across the planet were claimed quickly—so quickly thatthe Republic had to plan more and more as the date grew closer.

Eventhough the idea of a rally to support the final steps of the SpatialPreservation Act seemed strange, people wanted to see the end. Theywanted to say they were part of the of the end of faster-than-lighttravel.

*

Thelast days of the Heilmann Drive were a chaotic storm of relocation. The trade routes were winnowed down and, one-by-one, the planets werecut off from the rest of human society. They were on their own,perhaps forever. The last Heilmann Leap, between Earth and Rogovia,occurred with little fanfare. The celebration was saved for thedecommissioning ceremony, which would occur when the final threestarships were destroyed aboard the Europa Station.

Sethtried to quell the churning in his stomach as he watched the workmenmove about the large warehouse of the station. They were convertingit into a dance hall. One of the men was resurfacing the metalfloor, running a large motorized device over it to give it a glossysheen. Several others were installing makeshift bars and tables nearthe edges of the room. An engineer, rappelling from the roof,measured spots where windows could be installed to look out on thebrilliant glow of the Europa sky.

Hehad to remind himself that he did all of this. It was his idea tospin the last days before the Fall as a jubilee rather than a deathmarch. He proposed all of this, and had to convince CommissarAbsalom that it was a good idea.

Itwasn’t easy. At first, Absalom called the idea “bread andcircuses”. He claimed this was a Vangelian phrase used to describethe hedonistic Republic lifestyle. Seth couldn’t bring himself tocorrect the commissar about the origin of the term, since he agreedwith him in principle. Celebrating the end of faster-than-lighttravel, and the dark age it brought, was in poor taste. Still, heconvinced Absalom that it was the right thing to do and the way towin the support of the people on Earth.

Atthe moment, it just made Seth uneasy. He still had trouble wrappinghis mind around just how much he’d helped the Republic over thelast couple of months. First he became their unofficial spokesmanfor the Fall, issuing a speech every week in support of the SpatialPreservation Act. Then he saved the life of Commissar Absalom. Nowhe was advising the commissar how turn the tide of public support infavor of the SPA.

Thiswas all part of his plan. Everything he did, he did for a reason. He was the only person in the galaxy who could prevent the Fall. Hethought he could do it by copying the Heilmann Drive designdocuments, but that failed. Now, the only hope he had was to hijackone of the few remaining starships before they could all bedecommissioned.

Tosteal a ship right out from under the nose of the Republic, he neededtwo things. First, he needed their trust. Months of supporting theRepublic agenda and schilling for the Spatial Preservation Act puthim in Absalom’s good graces. He wasn’t sure if Chairman Stevensor the High Council trusted him, but that wasn’t important Absalomhad jurisdiction over all aspects of the SPA. He was the one Sethneeded to convince, and that was all but done.

Second,Seth needed chaos. The Europa Station was heavily guarded. Soldierswere stationed at every doorway, in every storage bay, and patrolledevery hallway with clockwork vigilance. If Seth tried to enter oneof the repair bays, or leave the airlock and head out onto the dock,he wouldn’t make it five feet. Even with the trust of theRepublic, approaching the starships was out of the question. Heneeded to pull the guards off the ships. He needed to give them areason to panic and abandon their duties.

That’swhere the parties came in.

Sethhad spent the last few years studying the quirks of offworldsocieties, but he knew more about the Republic than any of them. Thepeople on Earth were weak-willed, coddled by centuries of prosperityand indulgence. They embraced fads and new experiences, and theyfollowed the lead of their government to a fault. He knew as soon asthe Republic began to advertise massive parties, they would becomethe hottest ticket on the planet.

Andthe most exclusive party would be on the Europa station, where thelast ship would actually be decommissioned. Everyone who was anyonewould beg and barter their way inside. On the last night offaster-than-light travel, the Europa Station would be full of some ofthe most important people in the Republic. High Council members,commissars, celebrities, and their children would fill the dance hallthat was now being constructed.

Theywould be Seth’s key to success. But if he didn’t succeed? If hedidn’t manage to steal one of the last starships? Then he would donothing but help sell the Fall to the people of Earth.

“Whata bizarre sight this all is.”

Sethfelt his heart leap in his chest. He glanced behind him to seeCommissar Absalom standing near the doorway. He was leaning againstthe bulkhead, watching the workers re-fit the cargo bay. A disgustedlook was twisted upon his face. He looked even more unhappy thanSeth.

Thecommissar pushed himself away from the wall and started to limptowards the middle of the bay. “I never thought I’d see the daywe turned the Europa Station into a hell-bound dance hall. What haveyou done, Mr. Garland?”

“Approvalfor the Spatial Preservation Act is up ten percent on Earth. I thinkI made your life a little easier.”

Absalomclapped him on the back. “That you did. I guess I should countmyself lucky that you’re on my side.” Seth forced a smile. “Nowcome on, there’s no reason to sit around watching these men teardown a cargo bay. Let’s go get a drink. The best part of yourridiculous scheme is that it gave me an excuse to requisition somequality spirits for this station.”

Sethfurrowed his brow. It was the first time Absalom had invited him toanything outside of their work with the Spatial Preservation Act. The commissar’s life was his job. Seth had never seen him doanything but work and sleep. He didn’t quite know how to react,and ended up saying the first thing that came to mind. “I thoughtVangelians didn’t drink.”

Thecommissar leaned towards him. “And I thought you weren’t stupidenough to ever call me a Vangelian.” A moment of pained silencepassed between them as Seth started to wonder if he’d committed anunthinkable faux pas. But then the commissar smiled. “Do notworry about it, Mr. Garland,” he said. “You can make it up to meby buying the first round.”

Nervouslaughter bubbled up from Seth’s chest as he realized that thecommissar was just joking with him. Absalom’s sense of humor wasalmost as surprising as Absalom’s invitation to go drinking. “Sure. Let’s go.”

*

“Youdon’t believe in any of this, do you?”

Sethfelt his heart leap in his chest as he looked over at the commissar. They were sitting on two stools at a half-finished bar on theobservation deck of the Europa Station. The two men had been therefor almost half an hour, sampling the various Earth whiskeys, butthey’d been mostly silent. With all the chaos on the station, ithad been nice to have a little peace and quiet. Now, out of nowhere,Absalom broke the silence with an accusation that cut to the heart ofSeth’s plan.

“Why... Why would you say that?” Seth asked, downing another gulp from hisglass. It barely burned in his throat, which made him wonder justhow many drinks he’d had. Was he so intoxicated that he might letsomething slip to the commissar? Would he even know?

Absalomhad kept up with him, glass-to-glass, and the effects were clearlyshowing on his face. His pale cheeks were flush and his eyeswandered to the corners of the room a bit more than usual. Still, hespoke clearly and directly as he explained himself:

“Acouple months ago, you risked your freedom to try and convince thepeople of this Republic that we were doing an evil thing. And nowyou instigate a grand plan to win their hearts and minds with emptycelebration. What do you believe in?”

Sethtook a deep breath and considered his answer. “Is it so hard tothink that you managed to convince me that you’re right about allof this?” Seth asked, turning the question around on him.

Absalomconsidered this. “No, I don’t think I convinced you ofanything,” he said with a smile. “But you have been a great allyto the Republic, so I want to understand what motivates you. Yousaid that you were writing a book about the Spatial Preservation Act,but I never see you even taking notes.”

“Idon’t need to take notes,” Seth answered, though he didn’telaborate further. He came close to revealing his photographicmemory, but he decided that it was best to keep that from thecommissar. Even though he’d long abandoned his plot to memorizeand reproduce the Heilmann Drive design documents, he still felt itwas a valuable tool to keep hidden.

“Interesting,”Absalom replied. He put his glass on the bar and picked up one ofthe bottles. He awkwardly poured himself another drink. UnlikeSeth, who had realized he should start pacing himself, it didn’tappear that the commissar had any intention of slowing down. “Icannot wait to read this book when it comes out. I will be sofascinated to hear what you think of all of this.”

Sethnodded and decided to elaborate on the lie. “I’ll let you readit first, if you like, but don’t think you’ll be able to editme.” He wasn’t sure if that made it more or less convincing. Absalom didn’t seem to notice either way.

“Idon’t care what you write in your damned book,” Absalom said. “What you say about me next year won’t matter.”

“Youthink history will redeem you?” Seth asked, then quickly correctedhimself. “You think it will redeem us?”

Absalomgrinned. He liked that Seth was including himself. “No. Itdoesn’t matter what they say about us in the future, either. Therewouldn’t be a future without us. Because of us, these moments willbecome history instead of the end of everything.”

“Youreally believe that, don’t you?”

“Ofcourse I do!” Absalom took another drink, then slammed his glassdown on the table. “How can you question it? You have seen thepictures. You’ve read the reports.” He leaned back on his seatand laughed. It filled the air, echoing through the empty room, andset Seth ill-at-ease. The commissar’s tone became manic as hecontinued. “And you didn’t even see all of them. You stoppedlooking. You stopped reading. I never did. I went through everypage, I looked at every picture, and I gazed at the collapse ofreality as we know it.” He grabbed Seth’s shoulders. “We arestopping that, Mr. Garland!”

Lookinginto Absalom’s eyes, Seth almost started to believe him. Heremembered the way he felt when he looked over the photographs andjournals from the station in the warped space. It made him sick tohis stomach and scared. He couldn’t even put into words why it hadthat effect on him. It was just so mystifying and horrifying that itoverwhelmed his common sense and forced those feelings on him.

Forjust a moment, Seth wondered if he was doing the right thing. MaybeAbsalom was right. Maybe the threat from the warped space was enoughto justify the end of faster-than-light travel. The thought ofspending his entire life on Earth scared Seth, but it was nothingcompared to the possibility that the warped space would expand,perhaps engulfing the entire galaxy.

Sethwas about to start questioning his plan, and his motivations, butthen Absalom kept talking. The commissar would never know the chancehe ruined that night, as he continued to opine on his beliefs aboutthe Fall.

“Iwant to tell you something I have never told anyone before,”Absalom whispered. “Because I am afraid of what they would sayabout me. You are right about one thing, Mr. Garland. The Republicis very inflexible about certain beliefs.”

Sethdidn’t know how to respond. He didn’t really want the commissarto open up to him. That was only going to make it more difficult toeventually betray him. Still... He was curious. “Sure. We’reoff the record now. Nothing you say will show up in my book.”

“Theold stories tell us of the first time that man attempted to reach thestars,” Absalom said. “This was long before we even knew whatthe stars were, let alone how to traverse them. Still, man wasprideful, and saw fit to build a tower which would stretch to theheavens. The audacity of this act displeased God, and God punishedman. God split the land of the Earth into many continents,scattering man across the globe. And God confounded the language ofman, so that he would never be able to unite and work with suchpurpose again. Why? Because mankind had grasped beyond its reach. Does any of this sound familiar?”

Along silence filled the room as Seth tried to wrap his mind aroundwhat he was hearing. “You think that God is doing this to us?”he asked finally.

Absalomsighed. “I only know what our stories tell us, and certain storiestend to repeat themselves throughout history. Think about it, Mr.Garland. We sit here, tonight, on the eve of a new diaspora. TheHeilmann Drive was our Tower of Babel. It is about to be struck downfrom the heavens once again, and we are about to become a nomadicpeople once more.”

Sethhad to restrain the anger inside of him. He couldn’t believe whathe was hearing. He took a deep breath, hoping that he would catchhis outrage before it came bursting forth. “But God isn’t theone scattering us among the stars. We are.”

Thecommissar pursed his lips as he thought about this. “The metaphoris not perfect,” he said. “But the point still stands. Perhapswe have grasped beyond our reach. Our arrogance is destroying thegalaxy, and we are about to be punished for it.”

Suddenly,it was like everything made sense to Seth. He understood whyCommissar Absalom was so dedicated to the Spatial Preservation Act.This was why he was so zealous. Despite everything that happened onVangelia, he was still stuck with the teachings of his homeworld.

Absalom’srole with the Republic wasn’t a coincidence. He was handpicked bythe High Council to enforce the Spatial Preservation Act. He wasgiven an unprecedented amount of power for someone so young, andespecially someone who was not born on Earth. Seth had alwayswondered how Absalom managed to get such a high profile job. Now heknew. His background gave him some special quality that set himapart from the other commissars and high-ranking officers.

Eversince Seth started working with Absalom, he’d been researchingVangelian religion. He’d never learned about their beliefs duringhis time at RSIR. The class that covered Vangelia was reserved forupperclassmen so Seth was a few months away from being able to join. These days he took his education into his own hands, scouring the netand old news bulletins for information about Absalom’s home.

Oneof the core concepts of Homeworld Christianity, which was the basisfor Vangelian Theology, was original sin. The concept, as Sethunderstood it, was that all humanity was stained with the sin of thefirst man and woman on Earth, who betrayed God by choosing knowledgeover faith. Like many religious tenants throughout the galaxy, Sethcouldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. Why would anyone see thepursuit of knowledge as a sinful thing? Fortunately, he’d learnedlong ago that there was no point in questioning the logic ofreligion.

Allof mankind was sinful, and the only way to be absolved of this sinwas through accepting the sacrifice of the messiah. Most offshootsof Homeworld Christianity called this man Jesus, or Christ, but overtime the Vangelians adopted the name Aesu, because they believed heneeded to be differentiated from the meek philosopher of other sects.

Aesuwas a violent man who, according to the Vangelians, was torn apart byhis enemies on the field of battle when he led a small band of hisfollowers against the mighty Roman Empire thousands of years beforethe age of space travel. As Seth understood it, this made a mess ofboth theology and history, but it was the fundamental story of theVangelian faith. The martyrdom of Aesu allowed future generations toabsolve themselves of their original sin. Anyone who lived accordingto Aesu’s principles and died serving his name would be allowedinto heaven despite the sin of a mortal existence.

Thebrutal structure of Vangelian society was built on the supposedprinciples of Aesu. Seth knew that these “teachings” werearbitrary and so attenuated from Homeworld Christianity that they hadno legitimate philosophical basis. That didn’t matter any more. Vangelian Theology was over a thousand years old, it was now aslegitimate as anything in the galaxy that survived for so long.

Thiswas where Commissar Absalom was raised. Even though he escaped, andeven though he had every reason to hate his former world, he couldnot strip its influence from him. He still believed in original sin. He still believed that there was something fundamentally wrong withhumanity, and that it was within God’s power to punish the entiregalaxy for it.

Sethwanted to be angry with the commissar. He wanted to throw his glassagainst the wall and scream at him. It was all so ridiculous tothink that disruption of space-time was some divine punishment ratherthan a quirk of physics or an easily fixable flaw in an otherwiseincredible human invention. But Seth couldn’t be angry. He knewthat none of this was Absalom’s fault. He’d done as much asanyone to rise above the repressive culture he was born into.

Besides,the High Council was using Absalom, just like they used everyone.

“Youknow I can’t believe what you believe,” Seth said. “And ifyou’re making any decision about the Spatial Preservation Actbecause of your religion--”

Suddenly,Absalom looked up at Seth and fixed him with a furious stare. “Itis not my religion,” he insisted. “And you are beingfoolish if you discount everything I say. Think about it, Mr.Garland. Why is it that we cannot leap outside of the galaxy? Whydoes every ship that attempts it disappear? Perhaps we there areplaces we are simply not meant to go.”

Sethstood up. He was done drinking and talking with the commissar. Heput his glass on the bar and leaned over to stare into his eyes. “IfGod constrains us, then he should not be worshipped. If God punishesus for building a better galaxy, then God is our enemy.”

Absalomstared at Seth, stunned. “How prideful can you be?” he shouted. “It was one thing when you were judging the Republic. Now you darejudge even God?” Seth realized as he heard the passion in thecommissar’s voice that he’d crossed a line.

Underdifferent conditions, he might have jeopardized the relationship hebuilt with the commissar. But Absalom was so drunk that he probablywouldn’t remember much of anything in the morning.

“Ithink we’ve both had enough,” Seth said. “We should get somesleep.”

Absalomlaughed. “You are right, Mr. Garland. Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow we will save humanity from itself. Together, we will usherin a new era of sacrifice. Maybe we will be remembered as heroes. Maybe not. What is important is that there will be people toremember us.”

Sethfelt his heart leap in his chest. He’d forgotten how close theywere. The remodeling of the station would be done in the afternoon. The party would begin in the evening. And at midnight, the Republicwould decommission the last starship in the galaxy.