John Scalzi - Earth Below, Sky Above

Im not going to lie to you, Harry, Hart Schmidt said. Im a little concerned that youve taken me to a maintenance airlock.

Im not going to toss you into space, Hart, Wilson said. He tapped the outer portal of the airlock, which had among its features a small porthole made of a thick, transparent alloy. Its just that the airlocks are one of the only places on this whole godforsaken tub where you can find an actual one of these.

Dont let Captain Coloma catch you calling the Clarke a tub, Schmidt said.

She knows its a tub, Wilson said.

Yes, but she wouldnt like you to say it, Schmidt said. Shed start the purge cycle on this airlock.

The captains on the bridge, Wilson said. And anyway, shes got a lot of better reasons to space me than me making a crack about her ship.

Schmidt peered at the porthole. This isnt going to be a very good view, he said.

Itll do well enough, Wilson said.

There are lots of monitors on the ship that will give you a better look, Schmidt said.

Its not the same, Wilson said.

The resolution on the displays is better than your eyes can resolve, Schmidt said. As far as your eyes are concerned, it will be exactly the same. Even better, since youll be able to see more.

Its not the eyes that matter, Wilson said. Its the brain. And my brain would know.

Schmidt said nothing to this.

You have to understand, Hart, Wilson said. When you leave, they tell you that you can never come back. Its not an idle threat. They take everything from you before you go. Youre declared legally dead. Everything you own is parceled out according to your will, if you have one. When you say good-bye to people, it really is for the last time. You dont see them again. You never see them again. You wont know anything that ever happens to them again. It really is like youve died. Then you get on a delta, ride up the beanstalk and get on a ship. The ship takes you away. They never let you come back again.

You never considered the idea you might come back one day? Schmidt said.

Wilson shook his head. No one ever did. No one. The closest anyone ever comes to it are the guys on the transport ships who stand in front of the room full of new recruits and tell them that in ten years, most of them will be stone dead, he said. But even they dont ever come back, really. They dont leave the ships, at least not until they get back to Phoenix Station. When youre gone, youre gone. Youre gone forever.

Wilson looked out the porthole. Its a hell of a thing, Hart, he said. At the time, it might not seem like a bad deal. When the Colonial Union takes you, youre seventy-five years old, youve probably had some major health scare and a few minor ones, you might have bad knees and bad eyes and maybe you havent been able to get it up for a while. If you dont go, then youre going to be dead. Which means youll be gone anyway. Better to be gone and live.

It seems reasonable, Schmidt said.

Yes, Wilson agreed. But then you do go. And you do live. And the longer you live-the longer you live in this universe-the more you miss it. The more you miss the places you lived, and the people you know. The more you realize that you made a hard bargain. The more you realize you might have made a mistake in leaving.

Youve never said anything about this before, Schmidt said.

What is there to say? Wilson said, looking back at his friend. My grandfather used to tell me that his grandfather told him a story about his grandfather, who immigrated to the United States from some other country. What other country, he wouldnt say; he never talked about the old country to anyone, Grandpa said, not even his wife. When they asked him why, he said he left it behind for a reason, and whether that reason was good or bad, it was enough.

It didnt bother his wife not knowing where he came from? Schmidt asked.

Its just a story, Wilson said. Im pretty sure Grandpa embroidered that part. But the point is that the past is the past and you let things go because you cant change them anyway. My grandfather many times over didnt talk about where he came from because he was never going back. For better or worse, that part of his life was done. For me, it was the same thing. That part of my life was done. What else was there to say?

Until now, Schmidt said.

Until now, Wilson agreed, and checked his BrainPal. Quite literally now. We skip in ten seconds. He turned his attention back to the porthole, silently counting off the seconds.

The skip was like all skips: quiet, unimpressive, anticlimactic. The glare of the lights in the airlock were enough to wash out the sky on the other side of the porthole, but Wilsons genetically-engineered eyes were good enough that he could make out a few of the stars.

I think I see Orion, he said.

Whats Orion? Schmidt asked. Wilson ignored him.

The Clarke turned, and a planet rolled into view.

The Earth.

Hello, gorgeous, Wilson said, through the porthole. I missed you.

How does it feel to be home? Schmidt asked.

Like I never left, Wilson said, and then lapsed into silence.

Schmidt gave him a few moments and then tapped him on the shoulder. Okay, my turn, he said.

Go look at a display, Wilson said.

Schmidt smiled. Come on, Harry, he said. You know its not the same.

This is a bad idea, Colonel Abel Rigney said to Colonel Liz Egan over pasta.

I agree, Egan said. I wanted Thai.

One, you know that it was my turn to pick, Rigney said. Two, you know thats not what Im talking about.

Were talking yet again about the summit between us and the Earthlings at Earth Station, Egan said.

Yes, Rigney said.

Is this an official thing? Egan asked. Are you, Colonel Rigney, communicating to me, the Colonial Defense Forces liaison to the Department of State, a statement from your superiors that I will be obliged to deliver to the secretary?

Dont be like that, Liz, Rigney said.

So, no, Egan said. Its not an official communication and youre just taking advantage of our lunchtime to kvetch again in my general direction.

Im not comfortable with that assessment of the situation, Rigney said. But yes, thats basically correct.

Are you opposed to the summit? Egan said, twirling her pasta on a fork. Have you joined the ranks of those in the CDF who think we need to go to Earth with guns blazing and try to take over the place? Because that will be an adventure, I have to tell you.

I think the summit is likely to be a waste of time, Rigney admitted. There are still too many people pissed at the CDF down there on Earth. Then there are the people who are pissed at the Earth governments for not letting them emigrate or enlist before they die. Then theres the fact there are still a couple hundred sovereign states on that planet, none of which wants to agree with anyone else, except on the subject of being unhappy with us. It will all end up with yelling and screaming and time being wasted, time that neither we nor the Earth really have. So, yes, waste of time.

If the summit were to go off as originally planned, I would agree, Egan said. Although the alternative-no summit, the Earth turning away from the Colonial Union, the Conclave waiting in the wings to sweep it up as a member-is considerably worse. Engagement is key, even if nothing gets done, which it wont.

Thats not my actual concern, Rigney said. If our diplomats and theirs want to talk until they are blue in the face, then I wish them joy. I have problems with the setup.

You mean having it on Earth Station, Egan said.

Right, Rigney said. Itd be better to have it here at Phoenix Station.

Because theres no environment the Earthlings will find