Half Way Home

by Hugh Howey

  “It’s because of the creature back there, right?” Mindy asked.

  “What’s the rocket for?” another said.

  I waved them off and reached for the flashlight, finding comfort in just holding it as the completed puzzle danced in my vision. “Mica was right,” I said. I looked up from the flashlight. “She was right about why this planet was on-edge. Why the AI couldn’t make up its mind. There’s a deficiency of metals in the crust. The planet is ideal, but only for life. Not so much for making more colonies and sending them out to the stars.”

  “We already know this,” someone said.

  “But I think I know why,” I countered. “That . . . thing back there—”

  “The monster,” Karl said. “Porter, we’ve already been talking about this—”

  I waved him off. “That thing came for the tractor, not us. It had already eaten another one some time earlier.” I looked at Tarsi. “What was left of that other tractor blocked the mine shaft up where you and Mindy were.”

  She nodded. “I saw it. What was left of it, anyway. There were pieces of tread.”

  “So there’s no metal because something eats it all?” someone asked.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Did you see that thing? Its teeth, the sides of its body, they looked like metal. I don’t think it was a giant robot, I think it uses ore the way we use calcium. To build bones. Skin. Whatever.”

  “Holy shit,” Kelvin whispered.

  “You still haven’t explained why our colony was almost aborted,” someone said.

  “That’s why the farming was stopped,” Kelvin suggested, pointing out a connection I hadn’t seen yet. “Colony was worried about drawing attention to itself. The farms were shut down right after the tremors that day. Tremors drawn from the tractors.”

  “If the thing actually meant to eat the dozer,” Jorge said. “So far it sounds like a bunch of bullshit and nothing.”

  “Are you kidding?” Samson asked. “It went through two of them.”

  “They left it idling,” Tarsi whispered.

  “Think about it,” I said. “Just follow me for a second. For years, the colony is vacillating on viability or abort. You’ve got a decent planet here, not toxic, some tricky flora, but otherwise pretty habitable. You start setting up and deploying the primary automations, but right off the soil samples come up ugly—”

  “Mica’s theory,” someone interjected.

  “Right. But everything else is perfect, so you get trapped in this logic loop. The AI is in some kind of if-then-else-goto programming hell. It finds a normal amount of gold in the soil, so it substitutes and makes an alloy impure enough to be strong. And here’s where the big event happens. A month ago, the first tunnel back there is formed by whatever that was.”

  “How do you know a month ago?” Jorge asked.

  Kelvin waved his fist at Jorge. “Because it’s a theory of our fucking birth, genius. Shut up and listen.”

  I nodded and kept going. “A month ago,” I shot Jorge a glance, “one of the mining tractors gets eaten, and maybe that was enough to push the AI over the edge and toward abort. A predator that size must’ve finally tipped the scales. Let’s say another dozer came in and investigated. It would’ve seen the damage and the size of the shaft—hell, maybe it figured out what all the seismic activity was from and got scared—”

  “AIs don’t get scared,” someone said.

  “Or changed its mind, just bear with me—”

  “But then why save us? Why change its mind again?”

  “Because it found the gold in the tunnel.” I pointed to the gun. “Maybe it spotted it from the mine shaft, or maybe it did more exploring. It could’ve spent days puzzling through all this.”

  “It shits gold,” Leila said. “Those big clumps of gold were some kinda bowel movement by the super vinnie.” She looked at the gun. “That thing must’ve passed through its gut.”

  I turned to Leila. “Or fell out of its mouth. You remember what you told me about gold? Back in camp? You said gold was worth a lot of money because it was nonreactive. Something about valuable electrons.”

  “Valence electrons,” she said, smiling.

  “Right. Well, what if that thing can’t digest gold? What if it can’t process it for the same reason that other things don’t react with the stuff? What if it can chew through solid rock and uptake all the metals it comes in contact with, but it leaves the gold behind with maybe a few other things mixed in?”

  “Holy shit,” Kelvin said

  “What?” Jorge asked. “It’s still Mica’s theory. Why save us?”

  “To build the rocket,” Tarsi said.

  “Yeah, but why build the rocket?”

  “Because this is a secret worth warring over,” I told him. “It’s probably the greatest find in the history of galactic exploration.”

  In the glow of sunset, I could see an expression of impatience and fury come across Jorge’s face, one best not tested lest he and Kelvin come to blows.

  “I was on the payload team,” I reminded Jorge. “The main body was being built to carry six cylinders. Several of us knew this. I’ve even told some of you about it, trying to postulate what might go in them. Memory cells, lessons on what went wrong here, DNA samples . . . it might be some of the latter, but I think that rocket is being built to deliver whatever enzymes or acids these creatures use. Imagine if you could synthesize it—”

  “Or engineer bigger versions of the beasts,” Samson said.

  “You could turn them loose on entire planets,” Tarsi whispered. “Why colonize a planet when you can transmute it into gold?”

  “Forget the gold,” Leila said. “It’d be as abundant and valuable as our crap. Think of the useful metals like titanium, cerium, neodymium, all the rare earths. Everything worth anything could be extracted. Maybe you could even reprogram their DNA to build specific things, just like they build their skin and teeth and what-not. If so, you could do what nano-tech never could.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like build colonies from scratch. Or subdue entire worlds in a single generation.”

  “Holy shit,” Kelvin said again.

  “World eaters,” Mindy whispered.

  “That’s why Colony can’t just beam the information back with the satellite,” I said. “Sure, it’ll get there quicker, but if they’re paranoid enough to abort and nuke unviable colonies, I bet every transmission is in jeopardy of being intercepted and decoded. Radio waves propagate in every direction but a physical package the size we’re sending? It would be practically invisible.”

  “So it woke us up to use us?” Mindy asked.

  “There was never a long-term solution,” Kelvin said. “The farms. They were never gonna get started.”

  “Fucking Colony,” Jorge spat.

  “Fucking Colony,” Karl agreed.

  “We have to stop it,” I said, looking out at the trees between us and the base.

  “Are you crazy?” Jorge asked. “How many more people have to die over this bullshit?”

  “Think about what this will mean,” I said. “Not just for us, but for the rest of the galaxy. Our lives are nothing. We are specks compared to this.”

  The last of the light wilted away outside, the sun disappearing with the suddenness only mountains provide. A shadow fell, like something the day forgot. In the barest of glows, I watched my friends consider what I’d said, knowing they would be chewing most strenuously on the last—on my recommendation for action. Kelvin gave me the barest of nods, his jaw flexing as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Tarsi reached an arm around me and squeezed. The rest looked like they were having problems imagining what to do next.

  I knew precisely how they felt.

  • 33 • Half-Assed Plans

  That night, we all slept as best as we could in the mouth of the mine, adjusting to make room for Mica and Vincent after they woke up and came looking for us. I rested my head on Tarsi and kept a hand on Kelvin, needing—as always—to know
they were both there. What I really needed, I think, was someone touching me back, reminding me that I was a thing.

  That I existed.

  That I wasn’t the speck I feared, far less important than six gold vials full of information.

  For most of the night, I stayed awake and dwelled on the sounds of my world: the occasional whistle of a bombfruit before it thudded in the distant moss, the twitter of night bugs as they sang their nocturnal tunes, the snoring and grunts of my luckier companions as they managed to win sleep.

  While I listened, I turned my theory over and over in my mind, inspecting it from all angles. I put myself in the AI’s place, watching one discovery trigger an abort sequence, then seeing the potential in a subsequent find and fighting to undo the nasty process. There was still a lot I didn’t know or understand, but the theory fit too many of the puzzle pieces together to be completely wrong.

  That left the next troublesome question: What to do about it?

  In an angered state, I had convinced most of my companions that we should risk ourselves to prevent the rocket from launching. But how could we stop that from happening? I felt certain we could turn the rest of the colony against the AI if they knew what was going on—when they found out there had never been a long-term plan for our survival. For all I knew, the AI planned on nuking the base as soon as the rocket went off. The patents wouldn’t be much good if we established this world and became their primary competitors—or our ancestors lived to fight off their ancestors.

  But how could we get a message to the rest of the colonists without the transmission being intercepted by brainwashed enforcers or the AI itself? Do we walk back to base and shout it over the fence? What would stop Colony from nuking the base and going with a far riskier satellite transmission?

  I hatched many a wild plan that night. I thought about taking the remaining mine digger, boring a hole right underneath the rocket and leaving it to idle, then hoping one of those metal critters would come through and destroy the blasted thing. But that would only adjust timetables rather than solve the source of the problem. And we’d probably get eaten on the way there.

  The enforcers posed a major hurdle. With their daily target practice, they would be more formidable. And they probably couldn’t be trusted with the information we had. Loyalty to Colony—for Hickson especially—trumped all else.

  I could think of so many vulnerabilities. The Colony simply wasn’t designed to defend against sentient beings, especially from within. Even so, I couldn’t see how to exploit them. It would take a concerted surprise attack from dozens of colonists at once. There would have to be a signal of some sort. We didn’t have that many people, and we were on the wrong side of the fence.

  Around and around I went, dreaming up ways to send a code in to the workers, figuring out some sort of defense against the guns, but it seemed impossible. Every solution had a hole in it or just caused two more problems. I spent the night tossing and turning, my brain racing, a nervous energy coursing through me that probably would’ve tortured me with bad dreams had I been able to sleep.

  When dawn came, it finally gave me an excuse to get up and relieve my anxiety with real motion. I strolled out across the dried mud that delimitated the mine complex. Some of the deep tracks from Oliver’s tractor were puddled with rain, but the ground had absorbed the rest. I tried the door to the module again, but it was locked.

  I picked up a rock and considered bashing my way into the digger, but then had images of gashing myself on the glass and having to wake everyone else up and explain the stupid injury. I left the break-in for one of the more “manly” men to perform later in the day. At least, if they cut themselves, they’d be able to brag about it to the girls.

  As I came down from the tractor, I saw someone walking out from the mine. It was Kelvin. He wore a frown as he approached, his usual morning cheerfulness conspicuously absent.

  “You okay?” I asked him.

  He crossed the last dozen paces without a word, then wrapped me in a massive embrace.

  “I’m sorry about Oliver,” he whispered.

  I squeezed him back, wishing I could hold him longer—or be held by him longer—but feared my body would give me away. I wasn’t sure how to admit that I’d only thought of Oliver’s death a few times during the night. Much larger problems had occupied my mind, so I lied and told him I was feeling sorry as well.

  “I know you guys were close,” he said.

  “To tell you the truth, I felt betrayed by him.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

  Yeah, I wanted to say. It does.

  We both gazed out toward the trees for a moment, then Kelvin squeezed my shoulder. “I have to tell you the truth about something,” he said.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “It’s hard to see you guys together. You and Tarsi. I find myself, well, I hate the things it makes me think, you know? I don’t know if there’s anything you can maybe tell me, something psychological, that might help.”

  I ran my hand up through my hair, which felt nasty and clumped together. I turned away from Kelvin and looked back up the slope of the mountains.

  Kelvin turned around as well. He reached down and picked up a rock, then studied it, rolling it around between his fingers.

  “I think I just need to find someone for myself,” he said. “You know, to make it feel more comfortable for us to be around each other. It’s just, there’s not many available girls in our group. I know Karl and Mindy are together, and I don’t know what the fuck Leila sees in Jorge, but it’s enough. Hell, I think it’s creepy and a tad fast, but I can see Mica and Vincent developing into something after last night.”

  “It is quick,” I said.

  “Yeah, but time’s short, right?” He threw the small rock sidearm. We watched it bounce through the dirt before catching in one of the tracks with a small splash.

  “That leaves me and Samson to snuggle up together, right? How gross would that be?” He laughed.

  I tried to laugh as well, but I could feel my face burning.

  “Pretty gross,” I said. And I meant it, but not for the same reason he did. I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Kelvin, look, I didn’t mean to start something with her, okay? I know we had that talk before, and I want you to know I never made a move, it’s just—”

  “Stop.”

  “No, I want you to hear this. She’s felt like a sister to me from day one. I mean, we were born side by side, you know? Like adjoining wombs. Besides, I try and imagine having children with her, and it just doesn’t compute. Raising a little family? I don’t think I was built for that.”

  “You’ll be a great dad,” Kelvin said.

  I cupped my hands over my face and groaned.

  “I’m sorry I keep bringing this shit up, man.” He squeezed my shoulder and I felt myself lean into him, resting my head against his arm and trusting him to hold me up.

  “Things were so much easier when the three of us were just friends,” I said. “I’d almost rather you and Tarsi be together and let me just love her as a sister and you as—”

  “A brother?”

  “Yeah. A brother.”

  “Well, I think that’s how she loves me,” Kelvin said. “As a big brother, so it doesn’t much matter.”

  “It’s crazy that we even think about this stuff, you know? I mean, think about how the universe is going to change when that rocket goes up. And we have a rough life ahead of us as colony outcasts. Yet here we are complaining about who’s dating who.”

  “Speaking of the rocket,” Kelvin said, “I’ve got a great idea on how to stop it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. We break in that digger, bore it under the base—”

  “And leave it idling,” I said. “Then we wait for a metal vinnie to eat the rocket.”

  I watched Kelvin deflate, his shoulders and cheeks drooping.

  “Colony still has the nukes,” I said. “And there’s no stopping it from for
cing someone to build another one or just sending off a satellite message. No, what we need is a concerted attack from all the colonists with the enforcers completely unaware. And there’s no way to pull that off. Not without someone getting shot or the AI doing something drastic.”

  He whistled in awe of the task before us, or at least I thought he had. I turned to see his mouth was closed, the noise coming from elsewhere. I looked back to the trees, but the bombfruit had already landed in the distance.

  Kelvin sighed. “I say we just move on. Let’s go live a simple life someplace. These things we’re worrying about will happen hundreds of years from now, long after we’re dead and gone. In the meantime, we can build a little village up in the trees—”

  “So you and Samson can raise a family?” I asked.

  He punched me playfully, but it didn’t make us laugh the way Tarsi’s slaps could.

  Another bombfruit fell in the distance, an unusual pairing when so many hours could go by without a single drop. I spotted it before it hit and buried itself in the mud.

  “Kelvin.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to wake the others.”

  “Now? Why?”

  I squeezed his arm. “I know how to stop Colony,” I said.

  • 34 • Execution

  Tarsi, Kelvin, Leila, and I stood at the main gate, waiting to be noticed. After the four-day hike around the trees and back to base, it took absolutely no effort on our parts to appear physically defeated, ready to throw ourselves on the mercy of the colony. Several times during our hike, I had come uncomfortably close to admitting just such a defeat. I felt broken, nearly to the point of acquiescence. We were all half-starved, barely pausing to eat raw bombfruit, and our bodies were so tender that the soft mosses were causing our feet to split open. We didn’t even have the energy to shout for attention once we arrived. We just waited for someone on the rocket scaffolding to spot us and send the enforcers our way.

  They eventually came, just as expected, the glimmer of their guns bouncing up and down on their own emaciated hips. It had been just over a week, but I hardly recognized Hickson with his stubbly beard and gaunt cheeks. The humming in the fence fell silent, then the electric lock clicked loudly, allowing the group on the inside to pull the gates inward.