alwaysbeen part of the past. The Observer Effect won. It always does.
But not before she and I had done something that also became part of the past.
He had learned that from his great, great, great grandson, in 1865, across the James River from the smoldering ruins of Richmond, Virginia. And now he could never look at any North Americans or West Indians of obviously African descent without wondering if his own genes slumbered within them.
He returned to the here-and-now, and saw Rojas’ quizzical look. He saw no pressing need to enlighten her.
“Well,” he sighed, standing up, “I’ll take your concerns under advisement. But unless you can give me any specific, concrete reasons to doubt Dr. Frey’s loyalty—and so far you haven’t—I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. And, as I mentioned before, she’s my responsibility in my capacity as ranking representative of the Temporal Regulatory Authority.”
Rojas also rose to her feet. Her eyes squarely met his—she was very nearly his height—and while they held no overt hostility they were equally devoid of any flexibility. “I must beg to differ, Commander. I remind you that this is an IDRF investigation, of which I am in charge. All of its personnel are my responsibility. And it is my duty to be suspicious. I am disinclined to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.”
Jason met her eyes for a perceptible instant, then relaxed into the insouciance he had always found to be the best way of irritating Rutherford. “Well, then, Major, I suppose Dr. Frey will just have to rely on your objectivity and fair-mindedness, which of course will prevent your judgment from being clouded by either preconceptions or personal animosity.”
Rojas, unable to come up with an acceptable response to that beyond a muttered echo of Jason’s “Of course,” tossed off her Scotch and stalked from the lounge.
Thus matters stood when a Sol-like G0v star in the constellation of Serpens waxed in the forward viewports until it passed the ill-defined dividing line between “star” and “sun,” and the Comet ’s drive field switched off as they passed the Secondary Limit of the Zirankhu system.
CHAPTER SIX
Strictly speaking, the star’s astronomical designation was HC-4 9701 III, but of course no one ever called it that. And the system had a ready-made name, courtesy of its inhabitants, for it was home to that great rarity, a nonhuman civilization.
Only a tiny minority of planets were of the “Goldilocks” variety capable of giving birth to life, and not all of those were old enough to have done so yet. But, as had become clear even as early as the turn of the twenty-first century, there were a lot of planets. So, in absolute numbers though not in percentages, quite a few worlds were life-bearing. Many of those, like Jason’s native Hesperia, were too young for life to have evolved much beyond the level of seaweed. But that still left a significant number of planets with highly developed biospheres, some of which included tool-using animals whose “intelligence” (to the extent that quality could be defined and measured) was comparable to that of humans.
Civilization, though, was a freak. Most tool-using species made do without it. Their lack of cities sometimes made it difficult for humans to recognize such species as intelligent, until such time as they demonstrated their intelligence by turning captured weapons against colonizers from Earth with a disconcerting degree of tactical cunning, providing employment opportunities for mercenary free companies. Or unless they lived contentedly among the crumbling, vegetation-overgrown ruins of a former civilization’s cities.
Why this was so—or, to put it another way, why humans had developed civilization and kept it—was a subject of learned dispute. Traditionally, the prevailing view had held that intelligent beings lock themselves into civilized states only under pressure. To put it simplistically, the
But not before she and I had done something that also became part of the past.
He had learned that from his great, great, great grandson, in 1865, across the James River from the smoldering ruins of Richmond, Virginia. And now he could never look at any North Americans or West Indians of obviously African descent without wondering if his own genes slumbered within them.
He returned to the here-and-now, and saw Rojas’ quizzical look. He saw no pressing need to enlighten her.
“Well,” he sighed, standing up, “I’ll take your concerns under advisement. But unless you can give me any specific, concrete reasons to doubt Dr. Frey’s loyalty—and so far you haven’t—I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. And, as I mentioned before, she’s my responsibility in my capacity as ranking representative of the Temporal Regulatory Authority.”
Rojas also rose to her feet. Her eyes squarely met his—she was very nearly his height—and while they held no overt hostility they were equally devoid of any flexibility. “I must beg to differ, Commander. I remind you that this is an IDRF investigation, of which I am in charge. All of its personnel are my responsibility. And it is my duty to be suspicious. I am disinclined to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.”
Jason met her eyes for a perceptible instant, then relaxed into the insouciance he had always found to be the best way of irritating Rutherford. “Well, then, Major, I suppose Dr. Frey will just have to rely on your objectivity and fair-mindedness, which of course will prevent your judgment from being clouded by either preconceptions or personal animosity.”
Rojas, unable to come up with an acceptable response to that beyond a muttered echo of Jason’s “Of course,” tossed off her Scotch and stalked from the lounge.
Thus matters stood when a Sol-like G0v star in the constellation of Serpens waxed in the forward viewports until it passed the ill-defined dividing line between “star” and “sun,” and the Comet ’s drive field switched off as they passed the Secondary Limit of the Zirankhu system.
CHAPTER SIX
Strictly speaking, the star’s astronomical designation was HC-4 9701 III, but of course no one ever called it that. And the system had a ready-made name, courtesy of its inhabitants, for it was home to that great rarity, a nonhuman civilization.
Only a tiny minority of planets were of the “Goldilocks” variety capable of giving birth to life, and not all of those were old enough to have done so yet. But, as had become clear even as early as the turn of the twenty-first century, there were a lot of planets. So, in absolute numbers though not in percentages, quite a few worlds were life-bearing. Many of those, like Jason’s native Hesperia, were too young for life to have evolved much beyond the level of seaweed. But that still left a significant number of planets with highly developed biospheres, some of which included tool-using animals whose “intelligence” (to the extent that quality could be defined and measured) was comparable to that of humans.
Civilization, though, was a freak. Most tool-using species made do without it. Their lack of cities sometimes made it difficult for humans to recognize such species as intelligent, until such time as they demonstrated their intelligence by turning captured weapons against colonizers from Earth with a disconcerting degree of tactical cunning, providing employment opportunities for mercenary free companies. Or unless they lived contentedly among the crumbling, vegetation-overgrown ruins of a former civilization’s cities.
Why this was so—or, to put it another way, why humans had developed civilization and kept it—was a subject of learned dispute. Traditionally, the prevailing view had held that intelligent beings lock themselves into civilized states only under pressure. To put it simplistically, the
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