Citadel Stories, Book 0 "Warm ghosts"
Chapter 4: The skin of our teeth
A map is not the thing mapped
"Are we there yet?"
In the shuttle's tac sim, the radar map filled with wrinkles, a proper topography. It might as well have been void, for all it showed of civilization.
"Doesn't look like much, EDI. We came so far for this? I guess Tevos warned me."
"It is not unexpected, Jeff." EDI examined him, a little concerned.
Through the windows Joker perceived little; vision reported only a white expanse where continents had been.
"What we see is consistent with the reports of the deep-space cruiser which laid the conduit relay. I doubt anything has changed since then."
"Even so. Wouldn't mind checking with their pilot, to get their radar maps."
"The cruiser will take two more months, in our rest frame, to reach its next defunct colony and advance the chain head. The crew is in cold sleep."
"Won't appreciate being woken, mid-transit. Gotcha."
"Remember, this sector of the galaxy is still a post-Reaper wilderness. It was easier to open up new worlds in regions not served by the old Reaper mass relays."
"Yeah, I know. No more than one per cent of Milky Way star systems were even charted. Who'd spend money linking to dead worlds while live ones are close?"
"Those looking to colonize. There is hope, even so. Tiptree is still a garden world."
"Even with an ice age going on?"
"Yes, Jeff. Such worlds can be terraformed and reverted cheaply. Which is why having the last small colonies re-linked to the transport network is profitable."
"Market forces at work, huh. But there's no market here, yet. How am I going to rebuild our old farmhouse? Never mind the barn. And I can't afford the machinery."
"I cannot be sure. But Councilor Tevos whispered I should keep you happy."
"Hah. Actually, EDI, having you around does make me feel better. If not happy, quite, although last night was a very pleasant surprise."
"My point is, if keeping you happy is important to the council, then transport assistance might not be out of the question. As far as money is concerned…"
"I am not accepting a wad of cash from the likes of Brooks or some richer-than-Croesus Lawson! Too many hooks I'll never see till it's too late!"
"Even Oriana?" This abruptly held Joker's attention.
"Wait – is she offering?"
"I'm sure she would, Jeff. So would Shepard. If not, I will."
Similar structures
Joker hadn't lived all his youth at the Tiptree house. In fact, he grew up on Arcturus station. Nonetheless, he could have piloted to the old homestead in his sleep, if nearby landmarks had not been obliterated by glacier flow.
It was clear now that the tide of ice was drawing back; but he still had to provide EDI with grid references. Even then, the grid was no longer tied to obvious landmarks, and Tiptree's satellites were dust on the stellar wind. It took time to pin down sufficient trig points.
Once they had located the nearest large port, though, it was easy, and Joker was able to guide the shuttle straight home by visual flight rules.
"Some structures still exist, Jeff."
The shuttle was still hovering. The local construction was actually timber from forests now retreated fifty kilometres towards the equator. Joker could imagine those being exploited again some day, but:
"Right now it's simpler to plant a prefab here. Except a shuttle won't hold one."
"No, Jeff. I mean, I agree with you."
They contemplated a scene of decay. The barn's far wall was flattened, along with part of the roof; the house, still standing, but the stained timbers were grey with age.
Some of the windows were blown, too. "Where's the glass gone?"
"I would speculate the panes were pushed in from the outside, Jeff. By snow. There is every indication the whole area was blanketed by snowdrifts for decades, at least."
"Damn." He guided the shuttle slowly in a loop around the old fence line, then returned to the flat area in front of the house where there had been a lawn. "Landing."
This shuttle had modern thrusters with a turbofan option usable in atmosphere. They disembarked, EDI carrying a stack of silver duffels. Joker could still hear the whine dying down as they approached the house.
"Jesus, I hope I don't find everyone's bones in here."
"You will not, Jeff." EDI began donning a light coverall over her skinsuit.
"No, really? How would you know?"
"Really, no. And I will not say. But you can ask Shepard, if we see him again. You can go in the house; bearing walls appear intact. Do not go near the barn till I say so."
"Why not?"
"There are combat residues."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Hair. Bones. Teeth. Unexpended munitions. Are you familiar with the individual known as Gilles de Retz? Or in fiction, the legend of Bluebeard's Castle, Jeff?"
"Er – no?"
"This is me saying, do not go near the castle, I mean the barn."
"Oh."
"It also means really, really, don't open any doors except the ones I say you can."
The house door was off all its hinges, except for the bottom one. Pre-opened. Probably not a good idea to get pedantic, though.
"All right, already. Sheesh."
Joker circumnavigated the house, listening to the crash of barn timbers being tossed like cabers by an Alliance infiltration unit with all the upgrades of the last few centuries applied. Still took her twenty-five minutes, picking up oddments from the ground beneath, carrying them back to the shuttle. Finally on her return to the house carrying the sole remaining silver duffel, the world's normal hush had been restored, except for a faint creak as breezes worked their airy magic on the unhinged door.
"I can open this one, right?"
"It is already open, Jeff. But yes, you may cross the portal."
The rooms inside were…
"Decayed."
"Yes, Jeff. You will have to build again, I fear."
The oven was a heap of rust with stainless steel trim. The fridge was, oddly, intact.
"Rubberized parts, to soften vibration. It also inhibits electrochemical redox action."
"Eh?"
"Rust sleeps, Jeff."
Joker stopped into Hilary's bedroom, sighed. "All the pictures are faded totally." EDI nodded, ran a finger over a dusty bookshelf. She held open the duffel. Joker began filling it with objets d'art, and obscure items.
"The buffers in the emulsions are only metastable, Jeff. If you want an image to last for centuries, oil paints are a better choice."
Now EDI could hear Jeff's teeth grinding.
"Perhaps you did not need to hear that."
He left the room, poked his head into the bathroom. Turned the cold tap, for laughs.
"Hey, there's actual water in the tank."
EDI responded, still in Hilary's room, placing a hairbrush and dead datapad with the rest of the collection:
"Probably snowmelt. Drinking it would be bad for you, Jeff."
Another sigh. Joker went out the front door, turned to face the barn, and spoke low:
(*Goodbye, Dad. 'Bye, Gunny. 'Bye, everyone.*)
Friday, June 3, 2016 -3/3-