Lost Worlds (my sci-fi short collection)

Van Gogh

Van Gogh 

(Dedicated to my Dad, a true artist, who passed away 25/2/2013) 

The Chairman of Neutronium Enterprises was an artist, at least in his spare time. With a name like Vincent Van Gogh, he felt he had to be. Therefore when Chief Engineer Klarett could not find him in his office, he sought him in the top storey studio. The chairman was giving the final touches to a painting of a hideous mass of dark blue triangles in a storm, or so it seemed to Klarett.  

Van Gogh stepped back and after a few minutes said sadly, "The lighting seems to have gone wrong." He paused, "Would you have guessed it was 'Mountains Bathing in Moonlight'?" 

The engineer replied consideringly, "Well ... I gathered it was night." 

Van Gogh sighed. That was always the way. Would he never create something worthwhile, something beautiful, something at which everyone would exclaim with wonder and awe? 

Frustration welled up and out. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn and damn again! Klarett, I know you and most of the staff think I'm wasting my time up here, but do you realise that in perhaps a hundred years or even less, Neutronium Enterprises will be dead and forgotten? Not like art. Not like Van Gogh who died two thousand years ago and is still remembered. That is real success, Klarett, not like earning a few paltry millions a week. True art is immortal." 

Klarett looked up, startled at this poetic flight of fancy. Van Gogh stopped, embarrassed. "Well, what did you want me for?"  

"The Federation wants us to shift Poseidon." 

"What! Do they realise how much that will cost?" 

"Yes, they do. It's an emergency. It's playing havoc with Aster's tides. As you'd know, ever since its planet Canute exploded, Poseidon has been moving steadily nearer Aster. The government's been hoping it will stop soon but now they can't wait any longer, it's causing too much trouble. Tide movements have increased by ten times the norm and they're worried about earthquakes. We're to get on to the job immediately. Our price is ours to name." 

The terse sentences stunned Van Gogh only momentarily. He sped to his office, issuing orders to Klarett over his shoulder. Although he was a washout at painting, the chairman knew his job inside out. This was the third time they had had to shift a planet, or in this case, a moon, this year. 

Poseidon was most unusual in that its surface was covered entirely by water. It had been the only satellite of the planet Canute until the latter had exploded from internal pressures a year ago. Since then Poseidon had been steadily attracted to the mass of Aster, the capital planet of the Alpha Centauri solar system with a population of two billion. The fourth planet in the system, Illya, was uninhabited. It was slightly larger than Aster and it was towards this planet that Poseidon had to be drawn. Poseidon would have to be moved twenty million kays before it would be caught by Illya's own gravity. It was an extremely cumbersome and potentially dangerous job for Neutronium Enterprises. The action and effect were relatively straight forward. With the neutronium supply of a galaxy at its disposal, Neutronium Enterprises could assemble a fleet of ships equalling the mass of a small planet. The fleet would gradually draw the target away from the danger zone until it was attracted to a still greater mass. 

The mathematics and computation involved in this was tremendous. To say it was a tricky business was laughable yet on the other hand the company paid so much attention to detail that the risk of failure was less than one per cent. 

When the majority of instructions were given, Van Gogh spent a few minutes idly speculating what would happen to the oceans on Poseidon. He froze. A brilliant idea struck him like a bolt from Poseidon's triton. 

He would paint a planet! Those twenty million kays further away from the sun would freeze the oceans solid, creating twisted mountains of ice, tortured into incredible shapes by the gigantic forces competing for possession. 

What colours would he pour into the water before he started to move it? They'd be bound to mingle during the journey so he'd have to be careful. Perhaps only two colours would be wisest, red and yellow, or yellow and blue or blue and red? Orange, green or purple? He liked the idea of blue and green ice but felt a bit doubtful about the yellow. Yes, on consideration, the red and blue would be much better. 

He opened his console unit and began jotting down equations, how much dye would he need? The moon was two thousand kays in diameter ... fourteen million tons, seven of each. His mind racing, he directed enquiries around the solar system, including a request to the Federation for permission to dye the planet in return for a slight reduction in the price. He got it. 

By nightfall Van Gogh had all the essential information and began issuing orders. Still drowsy merchants began buying up all available stocks of dye from equally drowsy manufacturers. All ships belonging to Neutronium Enterprises, at least those not carrying neutronium for the move, plus hundreds of hired vessels put into ports around the galaxy and began loading their cargos of red and blue dye. Console units turned out hundred of maps according to Van Gogh's instructions, with the placement points marked for each assignment of dye. The next evening, the first load of dye settled on the ocean bed, encased in its waterproof protector. Van Gogh didn't want the dye to dissolve until he was ready. 

Eventually all the dye was deposited and the Neutronium fleet moved in to capture Poseidon. They began the long slow journey to Illya, the moon's oceans swirling. Half way to Illya, the oceans began to freeze and Van Gogh released the first containers of dye. The fleet gradually reduced speed, letting the pull of Illya take over more and more until Poseidon was trapped by the planet's gravitational force. Then, with self congratulations for a job well done, the ships separated and returned to their various ports and Poseidon began to orbit its new home. Another successful operation. The Asterian government heaved a sigh of relief, until they remembered the huge debt now owing. 

Van Gogh chartered his private space yacht immediately for Poseidon, filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety, accompanied by a sceptical Klarett. As they drew near both men took up position in front of the view port. There was one more blackout while the ship shot through space and then it was before them. 

Klarett's mouth fell open and both men gazed in awe. Tourmaline, amethyst, rubies, sapphires, quartz. Ice glistened from a million twisted mountains, a thousand shimmering plains and endless canyons. Poseidon, the most incredibly beautiful jewel in the universe, in a setting of black velvet space.  

Van Gogh drew himself up proudly, tears in his eyes. 

He was an artist.