CHAPTER 52.
“Do you remember that first fossil we found, back in Montana, more than fifteen years ago?” Helen asked.
The question was more rhetorical than anything else. Three of the people in the Meru’s medical observation deck had been involved in that discovery. Jackie had found the fossil, Joe had been with Helen when she first saw it, and A.J. had been drawn into the investigation only a few days later.
“Sure do,” said Joe. His eyes were on the huge blue, white, and brown globe of Earth below, which—now that the the medical staff had given the all-clear—they would finally be returning to, after so very long. “You’re thinking we’ve come full circle, aren’t you?”
Helen shrugged. “In a way, yes. Emotionally, at least. Nemo and his folk aren’t really Bemmies, if I wanted to be biologically precise about the matter. But…”
“What’s the difference?” A.J. said. “They’re descended one way or another from the people whose fossil we found, aren’t they? And what’s most important is the term itself. ‘People.’” He paused, his tone full of wonder. “Bemmies are people now. Not fossils, not abstractions, not ancient history. People, living right here in our own solar system. In stellar terms, just a block or two away.”
He grinned. “Hell, even the United Nations agrees. Unanimous resolution. How many times has that ever happened?”
A little chuckle swept through the deck. A short time ago, the vote had been announced: the United Nations General Assembly had voted to classify Europa and its inhabitants as a nation.
That would no doubt have come as a surprise to Nemo and his folk. Who knew if they even had the concept of a “nation”? But the issue was really one derived from human history, not alien history. True, the Bemmie descendants on Europa did not—yet, anyway—belong to the UN. But the Bemmies were a people, sure enough, and entitled to all the rights pertaining to any sovereign nation. There wouldn’t be any fiddling with colonies or protectorates or such.
Of course, the unanimous vote over and done with, the wrangling had already started. Where, precisely, did Bemmie territory begin? At least one prominent school of thought insisted that it only began where the moon’s ocean existed. And therefore it was perfectly legitimate for human nations and enterprises to create settlements on the surface of Europa, where, after all, no Bemmies lived nor could live without human assistance.
And were the Bemmies one nation—or many? No one knew. Yet, at least.
There was just as much wrangling on the flip side of that equation. However many polities the Bemmies were divided into, exactly which human polity or polities was to be the one sending them ambassadors, when that time came?
(If that time came, some people insisted. But their number, never large to begin with, was dwindling rapidly. Helen smiled to herself and glanced at A.J. and Joe. Their dream had finally become reality. Whatever else might come, the expedition to Jupiter had settled once and for all the question of whether space exploration was worth the cost.)
Was the United Nations itself to send ambassadors to the Bemmies? But the United Nations had never before sent ambassadors to anyone. Ambassadors were sent to the United Nations, not from it. To now do otherwise brought at least the suggestion that the UN was to become a state of its own. That thought was enough to produce a ruckus in practically every nation on Earth, none more so than the United States and China—who, each for its own reasons, were particularly touchy on the question of national sovereignty.
But if there was no supranational regulation of human-Bemmie relations, any number of unfortunate developments might occur. Even possibly outright disasters. All anyone had to do was look at human history to imagine an arms race between clashing Bemmie nations, each seeking advanced weaponry from different human nations.
Or from corporations out of control, she thought. And there is another ruckus.
The news of Osterhoudt’s arrest was now on the front page of every major newspaper in the world and was usually the lead story in every major television newscast. The second or third story, at the very least.
The European Space Development Corporation’s officials were scrambling frantically to distance themselves from the actions of the company’s Chief Operations Officer, and it looked like they might be successful—at least in keeping themselves from being arrested on criminal charges. It did now seem as if Osterhoudt had not directly involved any of the ESDC’s other officers in the scheme which led to the catastrophe that killed most of the Odin’s crew.
But even if they managed to avoid prison, there was no longer much doubt that the careers of those corporate officials were over. Indeed, it was now deemed likely that the ESDC itself would be destroyed. At best, it would be subjected in the future to regulation and oversight so strict that it might as well just become an official agency of the European Union.
Oh, indeed. Ruckus after ruckus after ruckus. The controversies were in some cases so sharp that many commentators were prone to using the term “crisis” in every other sentence.
But it didn’t really feel like a crisis to most people. And the reason was because for most people the news that another intelligent species had finally been discovered was a source of hope rather than anxiety.
Not all, of course. Any number of religious figures and denominations were unhappy at the news, and in some cases downright livid. But most of the world’s religious currents and all of the major ones were taking the news reasonably well, if not exactly in stride.
And on a positive note, the profession of theologian was undergoing a sudden rise in popularity and was likely to be booming for at least a generation. Enrollment in religious schools was climbing sharply.
It helped that the Bemmies on Europa obviously posed no threat to human beings. True, there might be some species out there in the galaxy—perhaps related to the Bemmies, perhaps altogether new—which could and would threaten humanity. But that was a problem for another day, and probably not a day that would come anytime soon. One other thing that the Bemmie expeditions of the past few years seemed to have definitely established was that interstellar travel was possible, but extremely slow. There wasn’t much likelihood that a fleet of invading aliens would be appearing in the Earth’s skies. Not today, not tomorrow—and judging from the record, not for millions of years if ever.
Very few human beings, even ones prone to hysteria, can really work themselves into a panic over a threat that might loom eons after their death.
And in the meantime, there were those images and videos of Nemo and his kin that the expedition had brought back. Enrollment in courses that might lead someone to qualify for space exploration were now booming even more than enrollment in theological schools. And there was a veritable slew of babies being named “Nemo.”
“Yes, full circle,” Helen said finally, realizing the others had also paused, lost in their own thoughts. “But the close is also a beginning. I always wondered when our discoveries concerning the Bemmies would eventually end. Now, I know. Never. We’ll be at this the rest of our lives. So will our own descendants—and if Bemmies are any gauge, those descendants of ours will still be around tens of millions of years from now.”
Silence fell over the people on the deck again. It seemed enough—more than enough—just to watch the planet below in its stately rotation.
They’d known that species came and species went. But the great fear that had always lurked somewhere in the back of every intelligent person’s mind had now vanished.
Yes, species came and species went—but life continued. So, it now seemed certain, did intelligence. Not the intelligence of your own species, beyond a certain time, most likely. But what did it matter? A descendant species would keep the spark alive, and that species would surely have others to share the universe with.
Whatever else, the universe was not and never would be a dumb, mindless thing. For the people on the observation deck of the Meru, that was an assurance of immortality than no previous generation had ever enjoyed. Not personal immortality, to be sure, but it was still immortality.
“Millions of years…” Madeleine murmured.
Joe smiled fondly at her. “If you’re in charge, at least that.”
The observation deck airlock opened and a tall Indian officer stepped through. “Your down capsule is docked and cleared for departure, ladies, gentlemen. Your luggage has been loaded. Whenever you are ready, we can depart.”
A.J. bounced to his feet, grabbing his carryon that lay near his chair. Helen smiled at the movement. A few weeks in medical have done wonders for us all; now it just feels heavy, not oppressive.
“Wait,” Horst said. He reached into his carryon, and drew out a dark green bottle.
Helen and the others stared in disbelief. “There is no way, absolutely no way, that you’ve had that with you all along,” Joe said bluntly.
“Naturally not,” Madeline said. “So that was what Nicholas had to talk to you about.”
There was a pop! as the champagne cork ejected itself to bounce around the room. “Yes,” Horst said. “Since we could not partake in any such celebration until the medical staff cleared us, I asked Nicholas for one bottle…for our departure.” He looked around.”One toast?”
There were no wineglasses, but plenty of little water cups; it didn’t take long for everyone to get a small cup of the bubbly liquid. Horst looked at her. “Helen?”
“Me?”
“Of course,” A.J. said, and Jackie continued, “You kinda started it, didn’t you? Shouldn’t you…close the circle?”
For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.
But then she did. Close the circle.
She raised her cup. “To the end…”
The others began to echo her, but she shook her head, smiling.
“To the end…of the beginning.”