Tales of Three Worlds - 14. Fragment 14: Blood?

“How much longer do we have?”

For a moment Harman looked around the room to find a clock, then remembered he wasn’t on Earth anymore with its limits to advanced implant technology. He wondered too why Silver Eagle hadn’t consulted his own implant for the answer, then realized there was no schedule for the trip they were about to make. The entire meeting with Magrithe Derichs had been surreal even to thoughts that had become used to the differences between Earth and Lunatic societies.

The grey-haired woman gave off an air of grace and sharp intelligence from the moment the two had entered her office. They had followed a holographic sphere from the apartment’s entry door to her inner sanctum where she stood to greet them. Harman estimated her height to be about two and a half meters with little to denote her age, though her pale green eyes seemed to hold a deep awareness that came only with experience. She was dressed in a lavender tunic and pants that held only a single amethyst brooch as decoration.

“Welcome, I’m Magrithe Derichs, Chief Officer of the Luna Genealogical Society.” Her extended hand motioned them to a pair of plush chairs opposite her own on the other side of an ornate wooden desk. “I try to make the acquaintance of every new immigrant from Earth, and try to integrate any information gained into the Society’s files.”

Harman exchanged glances with his co-mate and risked a question that might lead to answers for their main source of confusion: Why were they there? “I don’t know what I could do to help you since all my records are available via commlink…”

Magrithe smiled, taking her own seat and making a waving motion over a small hemispherical ornament to her left. A moment later the door opened, admitting an automated trolley containing a variety of drink options. “May I offer some refreshments? Tea, coffee, wine…”

Harman was surprised at the wine, but a glance to Silver Eagle giving him a small smile reassured him. “Thank you, I’d enjoy a glass of wine,” and his co-mate chose the same.

The woman sat back and another motion of her hand brought up a holoscreen displaying what they soon found to be Harman’s public records from Luna’s central archives. “Ah, well, you see we have a small problem,” she said. “Before your school records in Denver, references seem to be…missing. Your application at the Academy give your place of birth as ‘Hallbach-Sommers Compound, Finland’, and any attempts to access that location all give us a ‘Data Not Found’ message….”

The two co-mates exchanged a puzzled look before the light began to dawn in the human’s eyes. “I think I understand, at least a bit. I came up from Earth two years ago, about the same time as the Finland Compound was destroyed. I didn’t know their records weren’t available elsewhere.”

Magrithe’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but she only gave a slight nod to acknowledge the information. “With all the multiple modes of record-keeping, it’s unusual for such things to happen, which is one reason for the Society’s existence. Genealogy goes back centuries before the advent of computers, and while technology has made some aspects easier to maintain, others are subject to human errors—like not updating public files frequently enough to suit our purposes.

“So long as matters of inheritance and breeding have existed, some ways to oversee such things were necessary, and for most of that time our main occupation was to track marriages, births and deaths. If a married couple were too closely related it could cause genetic problems for their offspring. The ancient Egyptians in particular, often had siblings marry to keep the royal bloodline ‘pure’, but this often led to many cases of birth defects or even still-born fetuses. Tutankhamen was the most famous example, having several genetic problems due to inbreeding over generations, and he fathered no living heirs before his early death….”

“So you’d like Harman to provide access to his personal files to update your records,” Silver Eagle asked. Personal privacy was a highly prized commodity on Luna, and indeed on Mars also, both worlds very wary of any such information being used by Earth’s Genetic Authority. Naturally laws had long been established to control access to private data, and though safeguards were in place, no one cared to underestimate the skills of determined data-pirates.

The woman nodded, retrieving a document from a drawer on her right. “This is a standard Information Release form; we agree to keep all data private, to be used only for historic research…and you, Harman, give us only such information as you wish to provide. Just use the optical scanner to sign the paper once you’ve read it.”

The two boys read the document carefully, Harman to assure himself of its contents, and Silver Eagle to have his implant compare it to items stored in Tycho’s Legal Archive. No problems came up for either teen, so Harman had his retina scanned by a device Magrithe Derichs produced from beneath her desk.

“How do we proceed,” he asked when she scanned the paper into her files.

“Basically, you fill out forms…the bane of all officialdom,” she chuckled softly. “Do you prefer virtual interfaces or physical? Both are equally effective and secure, being connected only to the Society’s database.”

Harman opted for the virtual system, and began filling out the forms that appeared on the holoscreen. He often consulted his personal files through his implant to be certain of the names, places and dates requested, and in the end had given her all the data he could on his family for the past eight generations.

“I see your great-great-grandfather was Hartmann Hallbach…no doubt the differences in spelling are due to some consonantal drift…perhaps yours is a cadet branch of the main line?”

She smiled at the confused look on both her visitors’ faces. “Nothing to worry about, boys. Family structures are far more involved than most people realize—immediate family such as parents, children and brothers and sisters are just the tip of the iceberg. Among the oldest families in Europe the intermarriages became so complex they were all related in one way or another, hence the need for a genealogical society to keep things in order and giving better odds for healthy offspring.

“Our Neanderthal brethren have no such worries with their Triad Board and computerized records going right back to their creation.”

Silver Eagle nodded his agreement with her statement. “What happens now that your have Harman’s information?”

Magrithe steepled her fingers together and smiled before answering.

“With the new data, we can go back beyond the Compound’s destruction as far back as records allow, and that will provide us with the key to determine whether you have any relatives in the Three Worlds you didn’t know about previously…”

Harman’s mouth frowned and his brows lowered. “I don’t think that’s very likely, since the few others who came up at the same time I did were what remained of my family on Earth. Less than a dozen if I recall….”

Silver Eagle placed a hand on his co-mates forearm and rubbed it gently. “It was all hushed up on the newsfeeds, but the Finland explosion was no accident—fusion plants just don’t do that…and those who escaped were assassinated by teams sent out by the Genetic Authority. Two-Sapphire says we keep this quiet so the refugees may live as normal a life as they can.”

“So far as I know, my oldest remaining relative is Great-Uncle Ernst-Karl Hallbach, who lives on Mars at Riverview. His husband is in charge of the Terraforming Project there. He was Hartmann’s brother.”

“Isn’t he…” Magrithe began in a hushed voice.

“The creator of my people,” Silver Eagle finished with a dip of his head and the circular motion over his heart showing respect for his own distant ‘Father.’

The woman bowed her own head slightly. “You do have some famous ancestors, young man.”

“So, what happens now,” Harman asked once more.

“Now, we upload your information…” she pressed a particular spot on the virtual interface screen, “…and we wait to see what turns up on possible relatives here on Luna or Mars. After that, it’s entirely up to you.”

She smiled at the looks of confusion on both their faces.

“With the privacy laws, we cannot put you in direct contact with any relatives—but we can send them a request for further contact on your behalf. If both sides agree, then you arrange to meet, and see what occurs from that point on. In some respects, that part functions like an old-style ‘dating service’ which helped potential spouses to meet and go on to a deeper relationship, or not. It was all subject to compatibility, despite attempts to give it a firm scientific basis as far back as the Twentieth Century.”

“Wouldn’t this be simpler using my genomic profile?”

“Not entirely, Harman,” she paused for a moment to arrange her thoughts. “Your profile can confirm or deny any results our systems turn up, but by intermarriage over time the blood link can become lost in those of other families. In some ways, every human is related to another if you go back far enough, but what good is that in trying to locate lost or missing relatives who may share more than a cursory link to you? In many ways the ancient adage is still true in this era of genetic confusion: ‘Blood is thicker than water’.”

Harman had to agree that that made sense, though he held faint hope of finding any ‘lost’ relatives. Still, any chance was better than not trying at all. “How soon until we learn anything?”

“Who can say? With the mix of recording media to go through, and having to do it on two worlds, it could take several hours…or even days. My advice is to go home and put it out of your head until I contact you with any results, then we can go through them and decide who you wish to meet. May I contact you via commlink to speed things up a bit?”

That meeting had been several days ago, and they had not yet heard back from M. Derichs or the Society. The two boys attended their classes, now being in their final year, after which they would go on to specialized training in their chosen fields and eventual employment. Guidance was available throughout this process to ensure a student would find a career that truly fulfilled his wishes and could provide them with gainful rewards. Silver Eagle’s interests lay in the sciences and Engineering, while Harman’s indicated a sharing of those along with a streak of imagination that could lead to either the Arts or an inventive bent in either of their shared fields.

Though neither had made any final decisions toward a future career, like most of the younger generations of Lunaticks, they had an interest in the work being done on Star Seeker II, hopefully the next ship to make a try at carrying people into interstellar space. If a suitable destination were found, then it would be far more than a quest for new knowledge—it would become a ship intended to build a new home for Mankind’s two species, forever ensuring they would be safe from Earth’s repressive Genetic Authority.

As Harman waited for news from M. Derichs, he couldn’t help being slightly distracted by her offer of new family ties, despite his more practical side telling him it was quite unlikely. “She must not have found anything after all,” he said wryly over lunch three days after their initial meeting.

Silver Eagle shrugged his broad shoulders and gave him a grin that still caused his heart to race even two years after their first class together.

“Perhaps, and perhaps not. Sure, Luna and Mars have smaller populations than Earth, but our settlements are also more scattered and not so centralized when it comes down to consistent data sharing. She has the task of finding where these relatives live now…not always easy if the location is a new one, or the records aren’t yet accessible on the public feeds.”

The next afternoon Harman received a message: “Would you like to meet with some relatives on Farside? The group appears to be of multiple ages and genders, and have agreed for you to visit…”

From the records provided, the group seemed to number about twenty five members ranging in age from children under ten years of age, and those who were in their fifteenth decade or so thanks to nano-bots and Luna’s advanced medical systems. He wasn’t sure just how they were related to him, though some seemed to be from Pavel Svoboda’s lineage. Even by marriage, a relative is a relative, and beggars can’t be choosers as he’d once heard his mother say.

“The only references I could find for the Van Dalen Science Center refer to an abandoned radio astronomical observatory that closed late in the Twenty-Third Century,” Silver Eagle had reported when they learned of the family’s existence. “I suppose it could have been repurposed after that, since it would have been an already constructed center that would save time and money for any new inhabitants.”

“Who is our contact, again?” Harman had been distracted by a new message that appeared on a screen next to the station’s far left air-lock:

Pod Arriving, Destination Daedalus Crater—Farside.

They picked up their two small pieces of luggage and walked toward the cycling doorway and their first steps into the promising unknown weekend adventure that awaited them in a place that had never seen the blue glory of its nearby primary.

“Says here, his name’s Matthias Joossens…”