Between the Strokes of Night

“I don’t need to find a logical gap,” he said at last. “Tolider’s story doesn’t fail on logical grounds, it fails on sense. People do things for reasons. If Earth had recovered and gone back to space, they might have sent ships out to look for us, sure — and for the other ships that supposedly left at the same time we did. Suppose that’s true, and suppose they eventually found us. Then they’d come and tell us we had been discovered. Why would they ever not want to tell us? Tolider is repeating old stories. Nothing wrong with that, but you don’t expect legends to make sense. Let me ask you a question that doesn’t depend on myths for an answer. Supposedly we get scientific information from the Immortals, and they drop off a new batch of ideas every twenty years, along with a few rare materials that are in short supply in the Cass system. Right?” “I think that’s definitely true. Tolider says he has actually been involved in the materials transfer. He also says that the government down on Pentecost is obsessed with control and maintaining the status quo, and that they use new technology to remain in power. That’s why we’ve had a stable, single regime ever since we were contacted by the Immortals, and that’s one reason he prefers to stay out in space where there’s more freedom.”

“He should meet my father — he’s been saying for years that the government is run by a bunch of repressive tyrants. But don’t you see the problem? The Immortals give us things, and it’s a one-way transfer. Nobody, not even a machine, will stand for a one-way trade for four hundred and fifty years. If all they wanted to do was give us information, they could do that using radio signals. But they actually come here. So here’s my question: What do the Immortals get from their visits to Pentecost?”

“Some of us, if you want to believe Tolider. You and me, that’s what the government trades to get new information.”

“That makes even less sense if we want to believe Tolider. We winners are a talented group, but we’re not that special. If Earth had been repopulated to the point where they could explore the stars again, they’d have thousands like us.” “Tolider told me that we are an unusual group. Rumor says it’s the first time for many games that all the top five in the Planetfest games are

‘troublemakers’ — he couldn’t define the term for me.”

“I think I can. We won’t take answers without digging for ourselves. That’s one reason I feel so comfortable with the rest of you.”

“I’ll accept that. So let me point out one other thing. You can tell me what it means. The contestant groups for surface visits to Glug and Bedlam and Crater and Camel and the other planets were all some random mixture of all twenty-five winners. But look who’s here on Whirlygig: Sy, me, you, Kallen, and Lum — the top five, all ‘troublemakers,’ plus Rosanne and Wilmer. I think Rosanne can be classed as a wild one, too, difficult to control — your hair would curl if I told you some of the things she’s done. And we all wonder about Wilmer. We’ve been specially picked for this trip, and I’m worried about what might happen here.” Peron moved their suits closer together so that he could see her face. He realized she was genuinely worried, not just joking. He reached across to take her suit glove. “Relax, Elissa. You’re as bad as Tolider, all wild surmises. They wouldn’t bring us all this way to dispose of us on Whirlygig. If we are that much nuisance we could have been chucked out of the contest back on Pentecost, and nobody would ever have suspected a thing.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. Now we’ve landed we’re safe enough on Whirlygig.”

They had made good progress. The north pole would soon be in sight. And in less than an hour, Peron would know the falseness of his final words.

* * *

The dome was a hemisphere of tough, flexible polymer, roughly twenty meters across. It was located on the exact axis of rotation of the planet. That axis was highly tilted to Whirlygig’s orbit plane, so at this time of year the golden sun of Cassay was permanently invisible, hovering down over the other pole. Only the weak companion, Cassby, threw its ruddy glow across the landscape, providing adequate light but little heat. There were no free volatiles on Whirlygig, but the surface temperature at polar midwinter would be cold enough to liquefy methane.

Peron and Elissa had been too engrossed in their conversation to make the best speed from the equator, and they arrived last. The others were already landed, clustered around the dome. Sy, Lum and Rosanne were inspecting the entry airlock, without touching any part of the door. Kallen and Wilmer were away around the back, on the opposite side of the dome, looking at something on the wall.

Elissa stepped close to see what Sy was doing. “Problems?”

Lum turned and nodded. “Wondered when you two would get here. Problems. Maybe we won’t have a pleasant night out of our suits after all.”