Another World

by Samuel Best

  I’ll have time, she thought sadly.

  Even with the warmth of a sunset sky embracing the planet, Leera felt cold inside. Her family was ten-thousand light years away — which meant that unless someone built another vessel capable of traversing the Rip, she would never see them again. It was an impossible distance, and it boggled her mind to comprehend such a vast, empty space between Earth and Galena.

  Leera walked up the sharp hill to its plateau, where a little more than sixty colonists waited. Medical supplies from the main settlement had been hauled the short distance to the hill and were being used to sustain two critically injured survivors that had been found that same day. Niku sat on an empty crate near the injured, conversing with the explorer, Henry Tolbard, and the wounded ship foreman, Willef. The foreman leaned back against a crate, an intravenous line pumping fluid into his veins. Corporal Turner slept on a stretcher nearby, a white medical bandage wrapped firmly around his head.

  Niku smiled at Leera as she walked past, and she waved. Uda joined his small group a moment later, sitting on the ground next to Niku and handing out strips of soy jerky.

  Behind them, in the distance, a thin trail of smoke rose toward the sky. Leera had seen the stolen shuttle take off from the colony and head west. Not long after, it descended into the trees much too quickly to be a controlled landing.

  And now, the smoke.

  She walked toward the eastern end of the flat-topped hill.

  Two out of the three people she’d journeyed with from Earth had survived. The memory of the terrified look on Walter’s face as he’d been sucked from the cockpit of their crashing shuttle brought tears to her eyes.

  There was a chorus of excitement behind her.

  The crabs had emerged from the forest.

  Leera didn’t look back as she walked to the far side of the hill. She didn’t need to see.

  Merritt Alder and his son, Gavin, were sitting on the spongy green ground. Gavin was wrapped in a silver heat blanket despite the warm breeze flowing over the hill from the direction of the narrow eastern sea. The breeze ruffled his brown hair. He looked worlds better than he did when she’d brought him to the grove of red moss.

  The scientist in her, the one tasked with the preservation of the life-forms she studied, wasn’t given a voice in the decision to bring him to the grove. She knew the moss creatures would die if they healed Gavin the way they had healed her broken leg, and it hurt her soul to start her tenure on a new world by bringing death to its inhabitants.

  After Skip finished complaining about what the crabs would do to his houses, he had agreed to keep the healing abilities of the red moss to himself. Leera had asked the others who witnessed the two healing events to keep the secret as well. The small injuries that ailed most of the wounded could be patched with the meager supplies the wardens had brought down to the nascent colony before the destruction of the Halcyon. Leera still held out hope more supplies could be found in the wreckage.

  Merritt greeted her with a nod as she stood beside him, watching the distant sea. Enormous gray triangular waves rose from the churning waters — rose, but didn’t crash down. They hovered in mid-formation, buffeted by strong winds that streaked white foam across their curved faces. Waves near the shore curled and crashed against black sand beaches, dragging white foam back into the sea.

  Something moved under the water, between the risen waves. A massive bulk disturbed the surface, rolling lazily, its wet skin flashing gold in the fading light of day. A darkness spread across the water from the creature, like black ink.

  The water exploded upward behind it, and a great winged beast shot out of the sea. Perhaps it was the same creature that had attacked her shuttle. It carried a chunk of flesh bigger than its own massive body in its wide, pyramidal beak. Leathery wings beat the top of the water as it took to the air, rising above the looming waves. It flew west, toward the two mountains Leera had flown over to reach the colony.

  A world of danger and wonder, she thought as she watched the slow, graceful flapping of the creature’s giant wings. A lifetime of discoveries waiting to be made.

  Yet would the discoveries be hollow without her family? Could she build a new home for herself on Galena knowing that her family was worrying about her ten-thousand light years away?

  Leera closed her eyes and took a deep breath of warm, salty air.

  If there was one thing she could do to keep her mind off unwanted thoughts, it was drown it in work — and there would be no shortage of projects in the years to come.

  Leera walked back to the ragged band of colonists on the hill, eager to get started.

  EPILOGUE

  Emily,

  It’s been a long time since I’ve written to you, and I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for my terrible handwriting. Some things never change. I haven’t held a real pen in so long it’s a wonder I even remember how to spell.

  The supply manager here at the colony found a crate of paper notepads and ink pens hiding in the scavenged supplies, complete with a golden letterhead bearing the logo of the Halcyon. I think the notepads were for the luxury cabins on the ship because I was never in one and I’ve never seen the pads before. At any rate, it will be nice writing to you again instead of having to think of what to say as it happens.

  Gavin has nearly fully recovered from his accident. I spoke to you about that a few weeks ago. Not sure if you heard me. I’ll tell you again soon, but not right now. It’s too nice of a day for it. His left leg has a slight limp that I don’t think will ever go away. There’s also a small scar that looks like a half-moon just under his eye. Other than that, he looks just the same as the last time you saw him. Maybe a little taller.

  He’s outside right now, playing. Did I ever tell you he had half our fields planted before I ever made it back to the colony? Our first crop is already a head taller than the rest. It’s healthier, too. I think I’ll leave him in charge and retire early.

  The food is treating him poorly, as always. We can’t find any edible native plants, at least on the surface. If I ever get the courage to go back under the mountains, maybe I can find something down there. Until then, every meal is soy.

  You wanted to leave Earth so our family could have a better life. I’m working on it. Every day I feel like I’m failing, but then Gavin hugs me, and because of that I’m able to wake up in the morning and start over.

  We’ve started planting your seeds. Most of them don’t sprout, and the ones that do aren’t producing anything edible. I had high hopes for the corn and the carrots, but the acid in the soil is too much for the seeds. The onions fared better, for a short time. I’ve planted thirty seeds so far. The pouch is lighter, but there are still many drops of hope left inside. Gavin’s even more enthusiastic about it than I am. He’s outside constantly, checking the soil and perfecting his irrigation system. If anyone could conjure a sprout just by staring at the soil, it would be Gavin.

  We’re planning on growing a lot of soy here, and I don’t think there will ever be enough of us to eat it. I mentioned the woman that saved Gavin’s life, Dr. Leera James. She plotted a population chart for the colony. Without growth tanks or incubation farms from a lab on Earth, the best we could do is a two percent increase every few years. Factor in death rates, and it balances out. More than a few of the farmers might even tip the scales toward the negative within the next decade.

  No one would be worried about it if we thought someone else was coming through the Rip. It would take the fastest shipyard in Earth orbit at least six years to make a vessel Rip-capable, longer if they build it from scratch. But no company has the money. Dr. James says the government is too strapped to afford another ship, so there it is, and here we’ll sit.

  It’s not all bleak. We’ve had three survivors wander in from the wild this week already. I’m sure more are out there. A friend of mine, Henry Tolbard, is leading small teams farther away from the colony, mapping the terrain and searching for others.

  Most people who aren’t farmi
ng have found some way to keep busy. Niku and a few others went back to the first colony and found some usable scientific equipment. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so happy to hold a microscope. He’s very interested in the seeds you gave me, and he’s doing everything he can to help.

  Between all the smart folks working around the clock to learn everything they can about our new home, discoveries are being made every other day. Their excitement is infectious, even though I don’t know what they’re talking about half the time.

  And what a home it is, Em. This planet is truly remarkable. You would love it here because it’s everything Earth wasn’t: green and blue…and alive. It’s the perfect place to raise our son.

  But there are dangers.

  One colonist died from an infected cut. It was such a simple thing, just a little nick on his wrist that he picked up on a scavenging run. He turned feverish that night and died the next day. Niku thinks it’s bacteria from something in the wild, but he doesn’t know what. The man who died couldn’t speak to tell anyone once he recognized the infection.

  The colony council has added a policy of ‘observation only’ to its growing list of laws. In other words, they don’t want curious colonists touching anything dangerous until we know what’s what. (Oh yes, we have laws! You would be so proud of us.)

  We haven’t seen any crabs since the migration swept past our site after we first arrived. Our best guess is that it will take them the better part of two years to circumnavigate the planet and make it back to this spot, if that’s their true migratory pattern. Leera calculated there were about six million of them in a single migration. She called it a moving continent.

  I miss you. I feel guilty watching our son live his life all by myself. You’d be doing a lot better job than I am. Some days he won’t listen to me, other days he ignores me altogether. Skip says it’s ‘early onset teenager syndrome’. He would know better than anyone. If another ship ever comes through the Rip, he’s expecting his family to be on it.

  Some folks here are surprised that others want to stay, even if there’s a chance of rescue…even after everything that’s happened. I just tell them this is our home now. It was always going to be our home. Most of the colonists are dealing with the situation well. The ones that aren’t will come around eventually, I think. As I said, it’s a beautiful world.

  I hope, wherever you are, that you can read this. Expect many more letters to follow. I don’t see our supply of pen and paper running out any time soon.

  I’ll kiss Gavin for you.

  All my love now and forever,

  Merritt

  MERRITT

  He set the pen down and leaned back in his chair. Evening sunlight beamed in through the window he’d cut in the corrugated metal dome house on his farm. The house had once been the rounded top of a tall grain silo, repurposed in the housing initiative that swept the colony in the first few months. The council, of which Merritt was a member, decreed that everyone should have a home.

  A few of the farmers got what they paid for before leaving Earth. Small two-bedroom Wilderness Cabins dotted the fields, along with the occasional sprawling Pioneer Lodge. Those farmers who had paid extra for the latter soon found that it took up too much precious crop space on their land.

  Skip didn’t mind. After it was decided he could receive both of his purchased lodges, he put them next to each other and connected their master bedrooms, trimming his arable land by thirty percent. When Merritt suggested getting rid of one, Skip furrowed his brow, and said, “But then I wouldn’t have two.”

  The farmers who hadn’t purchased a pre-fabricated cabin and the colonists who were never intending to be colonists in the first place got homes, as well. Some, like Merritt, made their shelters from spare silos that were delivered before the colonists had arrived, as well as salvaged debris.

  As Merritt looked out the window of his home, beyond the tall stalks of soyflower bending gently in a light breeze, he saw a smattering of makeshift houses on the neighboring farms.

  Uda had claimed the land directly adjacent to Merritt’s to the east after the original owner was declared lost in the crash. She had turned a cross-section of a cylindrical silo into her home. It loomed over her property like a watchtower. The flaps of her canvas roof flapped in the breeze, as did a line of drying clothes near the always-open front door.

  As Merritt watched the clothes move in the wind, Niku approached the silo tower with a slight grin on his face and disappeared inside.

  There was talk of collecting material for more structures from the first colony, but the council had been unable to reach a decision when it came to, as Uda called it, “disturbing the dead”.

  Leera suggested it would be a bad idea to use the trees for timber after what occurred when Tulliver emptied a few rounds from Turner’s rifle into the soil. Most of the colonists agreed with her. They were making do with what they could lash together from the wreckage of the Halcyon. The unspoken consensus seemed to be that they would cross that bridge later.

  The sound of laughing children drifted across the air outside. Merritt walked to the arched doorway of his home and leaned against the metal frame. A young boy, the deceased Warden Cohen’s son, ran through the soyflower stalks, giggling as the broad leafs slapped his chest and shoulders. His sister chased him, laughing loudly.

  Next came Gavin, silent but smiling, crashing through the crop with all the grace of an elephant in a tea room. He tripped and fell, but was back on his feet in a flash, chasing after the other two.

  Phobis was just above the horizon, descending quickly, casting long shadows from the stalks of soyflower.

  Merritt took a long drink of water from his hip flask and wiped his mouth. He squinted into the brilliant yellow light as he walked the short distance to the edge of the crop field. He rubbed a broad greenish leaf between his thumb and fingers.

  Several stars glimmered in the darkening sky. A portion of the six nearest to Phobis were always the first to appear. That night it was Aegea, Cyphus, and Bolon, spread across the sky like gleaming jewels. After the light of Phobis receded below the horizon, a web of distant stars would bloom, followed by the twin nebulae to the west.

  And, somewhere north of those, invisible to the naked eye, was the Rip.

  Every day, Earth seemed more a passing memory. Merritt tried to hold on to its sights and sounds in his mind, but his experiences on Galena pushed those memories farther away.

  He wondered what it was like for Gavin. The boy had spent much of his time cooped up in their apartment on Earth. There had been no parks to explore, no playgrounds safe enough to visit.

  On Galena, there was nothing but open space.

  Will we tell the children about Earth? Merritt wondered. Will they tell their children?

  He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Gavin ran up to him, breathing hard, a wild look of excitement on his face. He clutched something in his hand, held on to it like he thought it would slip away at any moment.

  Merritt knelt down in the cool soil so he was face-to-face with his son.

  What did you find? he signed.

  Gavin opened his hand to reveal a small yellow potato, perfectly formed. Tendrils of thin, fibrous roots covered its soft flesh.

  He looked down on it in wonder.

  Merritt rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. His eyes welled with tears, and he smiled.

  AUTHOR NOTE

  Thank you for taking this journey to Galena with me, Dear Reader. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

  I’m currently working on the third book in my Infinite Sky series, which began with Mission One and continued in Deep Black. You can read more about the series on Amazon here. If you’d like to receive a reminder email when the third book is released, as well as some free scifi short stories while you wait, you can sign up for my newsletter here.

  Please feel free to send an email to samuel@sam-best.com and let me know what you thought of Another World. I’d love to hear from you.
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br />   Stay safe out there, and thank you for your support. If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing.

  See you next time.

  Warm regards,

  Samuel

  ANOTHER WORLD © 2020 Samuel Best

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.