Звезда Пандоры

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Oh, yes, Oscar, you know me.”

Oscar walked over to the sofa and looked closely, trying to fit the face he saw into his own past. “I don’t…”

“Don’t try and place me from memory. There’s nothing left of what I used to look like. I’ve been reprofiled a hundred times over the decades, staying a couple of steps ahead of the law all this time.”

“Oh, holy fuck.” The strength went out of Oscar’s legs. He sat heavily at the other end of the sofa. “Adam? Adam, is that you?”

“None other.”

“Oh, God. It’s been forty years.”

“Thirty-nine.”

Oscar looked with real dread at the man who had once been his friend and comrade. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet an old comrade?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Adam spat. “Don’t remind you what you once were? Don’t remind you that you used to have ideals? Principles? Don’t remind you what you did for the cause?”

“I never fucking forgot!” Oscar shouted. “Dear Christ. Nobody could forget. Not that. Not what we did.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Here I was thinking you’d gone to work for the biggest corporation the human race has ever known, helping them spread their oppression and corruption to new worlds.”

“Forty years and you still haven’t come up with a new goddamn speech. Do you have any idea how tired that crap is? And don’t forget to use the word ‘plutocrat,’ big words like that always impress the poor ignorant saps you con into giving up their lives for your cause. It makes them think you’re an intellectual, someone they can trust, someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“It used to be your cause, Oscar. Have you given up on social justice? Is that the price of rejuvenation these days? Is that what the new young Oscar Monroe uses for currency?”

“Oh, spare me. I was only young once, and I was a fucking hothead buffoon, an easy target for bastards like Professor Grayva to exploit. Damnit, we were just fucking kids. Just kids, we didn’t know anything. You talk about being corrupted, you haven’t got to look far to see where it really happens.”

“The Party is right, and you know it. This society is not a just one.”

“Go on, say it!” Oscar leaned forward, his fingers contracting into fists. “Go on, you miserable bastard. Say it! Say it for fuck’s sake. Say: The Ends Justify The Means. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? That’s what you wanted one last time.”

Adam turned away from the fury in his eyes. “Nothing justifies what we did,” he said so quietly Oscar could barely hear it. “We both know that.”

They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, not looking at each other. After a minute, Adam grunted dismissively. “How about this. We’re like an old married couple, always arguing.”

“What are you here for, Adam? Come to bring me down in a blaze of glory?”

“Oh, no, you don’t get off that lightly.”

“Then what do you want?” His eyes narrowed as he took in his old friend. “Money? You must need rejuvenation pretty soon.”

“I’m not sure I care to carry on living in this universe.”

“Not even you are that stupid. You can’t die. That means you’ve wasted your whole life.”

“It’s a life lived true to myself and my principles. Can you say that?”

“Yes. I’ve helped find dozens of new worlds. I’ve given our species a whole load of fresh starts. Phase three space isn’t the same as one and two. There’s no revolution, not one with Molotovs and people beating the shit out of each other on the street, but there’s a difference.”

“Humm.” Adam nodded, as if some question had been answered correctly. “Same cause, different angle of attack, huh?”

“Whatever. I’m not here to re-live old battles with you. They’ve all been fought and lost, by both of us. What the hell do you want, Adam?”

“I was sent to ask you something you won’t like.”

It was the way he said it that finally alarmed Oscar; it was almost as if he was ashamed. Except Adam Elvin was never ashamed of what he did. Not ever. That was his whole problem. The reason for them turning their backs on each other all those decades ago. A truly venomous parting. “I doubt this day could get any worse.”

“Don’t be so sure. I want you to review the Second Chance flight data.”

“Review the…” Oscar almost started choking. “Wait. You said sent. Who sent you? What do you mean, sent?”

“The man I work with on occasion believes there was an alien influence on board the Second Chance when you flew to the Dyson Pair. If the flight logs are given a professional analysis, they may show the evidence he needs to prove this.”

Oscar stared at the old man from his terrible past, his thoughts examining what had been said one word at a time. “Bradley Johansson,” he said at last. “You work with Bradley Johansson? You joined the Guardians of Selfhood? That bunch of nutters? Jesus fucking wept, Adam. Tell me you’re joking. This is a sick joke. It has to be. It fucking has to be.”

“I have not joined the Guardians. I do know Johansson. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“You.” Oscar pointed at him with a trembling finger. “OhmyGod, you attacked the Second Chance. It was you.”