Gliese 581

by Christine D. Shuck

  Wes Perdue had taken a day off from watching the artificial wombs grow their first round of cattle to join Daniel in scouting this ridge.

  “I need a break, damn it.” He had said jumping into the flitter.

  “All I do is hover over the damned wombs, charting every fluctuation. I can’t stand another minute of it. And new buildings are on hold until they figure out the source of those underground springs.”

  Daniel laughed, “Well, I’m glad to have you. You gotta see the land from up on that ridge, it’s flat out stunning. I’ve been trying to get Sam out here but she’s crazy busy with the greenhouse and the trial rounds of squash they started last week.”

  The temperatures varied according to geography, but remained the same, no matter the time of day. And day was quite a subjective thing since this world was tidally locked to its sun and experienced synchronous rotation. It was a constant state of twilight, something that had concerned the scientists who worried that Terran plants would not thrive in this alien environment where there were no direct rays of sunlight. The sky varied from an off-white color to a rose red. Right now it was especially rosy. This was in part due to a volcano to the west which had greeted their arrival to Zarmina’s World with a massive eruption soon after planetfall. This had served to vindicate those who had voted for the northeastern option which was slightly cooler, but without any threats of volcanic or seismic activity.

  Daniel tapped the built-in communicator on the left breast of his suit, “NARA, submit my diagnostics to Command, please.”

  NARA responded.

  SCANNING TEMPERATURE AND VITALS FOR MEDRY, DANIEL

  The data he was collecting was vital to the future of the colony. Knowing how his body was responding to the unique composition of the planetary atmosphere, the water, and local plant life would provide a road map for future generations. One of the requirements the Landing Committee had set forth and approved were regular monitoring of vitals and real-time reports for the database. And NARA was critical to that.

  “I’m pretty sure no one needs to know my temperature and vitals,” Wes commented, walking up from behind.

  In his hands were several bags filled with plant samples. One of them was a rather familiar dark purple berry.

  “Take that purple one there and NARA will definitely need your temperature and vitals.” Daniel quipped.

  “Are you going to tell me what will happen if I eat the purple berries?” Wes asked.

  “What and let you miss out on it? Hell no.” Daniel grinned at the younger man. “These experiences build character.”

  Daniel took another gulp of the sweet, ice-cold water from his flask and handed the container to Wes, who sniffed it and also took a swig.

  Daniel grimaced, Sam would gripe at him when she found out. He had sampled several things since landfall, including the dark purple berry which had given him the squirts for a full week.

  There was only so much that lab tests could tell you, he reasoned, after that, you have to just jump off the cliff.

  “Damn, that tastes amazing.”

  “Sure as hell does.” Daniel nodded, “I have to wonder if Earth’s water tasted like that once. So sweet, I can barely stand to drink the canned stuff now.”

  Sam and Carrie had taken turns laying into Daniel about being a good example to the kids that were now running about on the surface, along with admonitions that everyone was needed.

  He had taken his verbal tongue-lashing, dutifully listed the effects of the purple berry and added a request in the colony files to officially name it Emesis Colonicus.

  Afterwards, he had behaved, for a week or so.

  There was a low-growing bush that had a kind of yellow fruit that apparently mimicked the hallucinogenic side effects of psilocybin mushrooms, but with fewer side effects. He had tripped the light fantastic for a full hour and then, just as suddenly as the hallucinations had hit, they were gone. He had elected not to tell Sam about that but had logged it in the records as well. Someone would read it eventually and there would be fallout, but he didn’t need another scolding right now.

  After all, he reasoned, man had learned by trial and error, so why couldn’t he?

  He smiled, Sam would have plenty to say about that line of reasoning, especially now that she was pregnant. Not by him, and not even with her own ova, but through the seed bank on board the ship. It had been a requirement that they had all agreed to. Not just their genetic heritage, but Earth’s, was even more important now.

  Daniel sighed and thought of his family. They were never far from his thoughts, really. And especially now that he was here, off of the spaceship, exploring this new world. He wondered if Toby was doing well. He would be in his teens now, and there was talk of increasing the turnaround time in communications, thanks to a project that had been underway when Calypso left. Calypso had dropped relays at every warp jump. In another year, after each of the relays connected, it was possible that they could contact the Earth and communicate in transmission packets that had a twelve month turnaround time. There was even a chance he could find and contact Toby.

  Daniel had finally accepted it. His life was here now, as painful as it was to let go.

  He had felt such despair in not knowing what had happened to Luke and Janine, such guilt in leaving his son behind. Sam had held him, not making any promises, not uttering banal reassurances. There was no changing the past, anyway. There was only the future.

  “How’s Sam doing? Still getting morning sickness?” Wes asked.

  “Nah, she had it right at first, which made the ride down to the surface rather challenging, and she gets all green when riding in the flitter, but the worst of it seems to be over.”

  “When will you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

  Daniel grinned, “Next week. Carrie’s said she’s doing great and we can get a full scan.”

  Wes nodded, “I’ve been seeing Kit.” He stopped, scuffed the ground with his shoe, “informal and all that. Just dinner, a couple of walks."

  “I heard.”

  “It’s no rush or anything, I mean, her and Deeks, they...”

  Daniel slapped Wes on the shoulder, “Wes, it is okay. You’re a good guy, Kit’s an amazing woman, believe me, I get it.”

  Wes relaxed visibly. “You were friends and all with Deeks. So was I, I mean, hell, I miss the guy. I just didn’t want you to think I was moving in where I shouldn’t be.”

  “We have the chance to make this world a good place, Wes. If that means you and Kit, then good for you. Don’t let anyone else tell you how to think, all right?”

  “Thanks man.”

  “De nada.”

  It was time to head back. He had found, sketched, photographed and taken samples of a score of plants, dirt, and more. His comm link beeped and he answered it while easing his way down a section of slippery rock. He had almost fully recovered from his injuries sustained in the fight with Zradce, but there were still a few aches and pains that slowed him down.

  It was Sam.

  “What’s your ETA?”

  Brief, business-like as always. Sam was not the type to waste words.

  “I should be back to the flitter in about 30 minutes and then I’m another half hour out. So...maybe one hour?”

  They had maintained Earth time despite the vast gulf in orbits. Zarmina’s World jetted around its sun in the equivalent of 1/10 of a Terran year, with little or no change in season at the meridian, or change in light, as the meridian remained in perpetual twilight on the orbitally-locked world. This allowed the colonists to create their own time measurements with little repercussions. Keeping Terran time had helped avoid confusion.

  “Great,” returned Sam’s voice, “I’ll see you at home then.”

  Home.

  It was a strange thought. The walls of their pre-fab on the residential side of Sagan Base had been printed with the same 3D printer as everyone else’s. They had been given a choice of five hundred different layouts to choose from once the streets
had been mapped. Eventually the streets would be paved, but that would take getting the enormous machines printed and before that could happen they would need the metal mined. Until then, they dealt with mud and tried to ignore how much of the green-tinged earth ended up on the floors of their houses.

  The wealth of choice in house design had resulted in a hodgepodge of homes representing nearly 2,000 years in construction design throughout the colony. The houses were guaranteed up to 20 years in their current location and were placed on tracts of land with plenty of room for expansion.

  Despite this, many of the colonists were already making plans to move out to larger plots of land once the colony had been fully established. The desire for room more space to themselves was something that most of the colonists could not shake. They were in the process now of dividing the land plats and allocating them via a lottery system. At that time, they could either move their current building or choose to build a new one.

  “See that forest to the west?” Daniel pointed to a dark grouping of trees in the distance and thought of the gnarled wood he had seen there.

  Wes angled his binoculars towards the dark spot, “Oh yeah, wow, and those trees are enormous!”

  “They’re huge, gotta be two hundred feet high. I’m going to look into building a house out of them.”

  “A house made out of wood?” Wes sounded incredulous.

  “It used to be the material of choice.”

  “And you see where that got us.”

  “We can do it sustainably,” Daniel insisted.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I think I’ll stay with the 3D printed homes for now, though.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Daniel couldn’t help but dream of a small tribe of children, all with Toby’s face, filling those future walls.

  This planet was home. Daniel and Sam had formally established their partnership, and their pillow talk at night usually centered on how many children they should have.

  Daniel and Wes began picking their way along the ridge, slowly making their way back to the flitter.

  “There’s a meeting tonight,” Wes said, nearly tripping on an exposed root.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Kit has some ideas on how the colony could co-parent the first generation. She’s hoping it quiets down the women who think we are planning to use them as brood mares.”

  Daniel laughed, “As if any of us could. These women, all their high IQs make them even more formidable foes.”

  Wes snickered and then swore as he tripped on another rough patch. “Well, several of the older women, those who already had children prior to the voyage and aren’t planning on having more have stepped forward with an idea for a communal care facility. Any present and future children can attend.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that from Sam.” Daniel nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

  They finished the journey back to the flitter and Daniel instructed the machine to return to base, leaned back, and rubbed his face. As the wind picked up outside of the flitter, Sagan Base slowly came into view. The buildings were low-slung, only a handful of them more than one level high. The lights in the greenhouses glowed steadily and Wes and Daniel could see the children playing on a small playground, which was dotted with a native grass that looked more like a moss, but was incredibly hardy.

  In the distance on the opposite side of town were the houses. Here at the landing strip were the buildings that housed the enormous 3D printers. Inside, the printers worked almost non-stop printing everything from furniture to buildings to dishes for the colonists.

  “See you at the meeting,” Wes called, jumping out. “Thanks for today!”

  Daniel waved back, dropped off his samples and headed across town. He knew Sam was waiting for him, probably working on dinner, hoping to get it done and eaten before the meeting.

  In a back room of the newly established Medical Unit of Sagan Base, the machines beeped steadily. The tiny, darkened room was empty except for one bed. It was near shift change, but that didn’t matter, the machines kept the man alive and there was little reason for anyone to ever enter the room. No one particularly wanted to anyway.

  Every morning Dr. Schrader would come in, review the reports and check the man’s vitals. She did so with no more emotion than if she were handling a side of beef. In truth, that is how she thought of him. There had been little responsiveness after his brain swelling had gone down, and the only reason to keep him alive was the usefulness his organs might provide if there was a need.

  His wife Jennifer had visited only once, while he was still in Medical Bay. She had sat next to his side, murmuring to him, before leaving without a word to anyone.

  Jennifer Zradce had been remarkably close-mouthed about all of it after she stood up at the memorial, saying, “I have no idea why my husband did this terrible thing. I cannot understand it, but I am truly and deeply sorry for his behavior.”

  A few blamed her, but most were sympathetic. After all, he had tried to kill her as well in the Cryo sabotage. She was a victim too.

  It was evening now, and Carrie was eager to return home to her little prefab, cook dinner and relax. The extra gravity was exhausting, and her schedule was even more so. She had chosen to implant her ova with donor semen from A.R.C. and she was still struggling to acclimate to pregnancy. Martin Phoenix was definitely making that easier, having visited twice in the past week to bring her lunch. Tonight she had promised to cook for him, but she was counting on the former first officer and new mayor to follow through on his promise to bring dessert.

  The door closed softly behind her. The machines continued to beep, rising up just a notch or two. There were no alarms for the natural return to consciousness, only ones for a steady decline.

  Nathaniel Zradce opened his eyes.

  Thanks for reading! Please take a moment and post a review on the book you just read. Put simply, reviews indicate that someone has a) read the book and b) thought enough of it (either way) to post a review of it. Your opinion does matter and I would really appreciate it.

  So...do you like to read for free?

  Sign up for my monthly newsletter and you can read a brand-new, never seen before short story set within the Kapalaran Universe. (Learn more about the Kapalaran Universe at my author website: http://christineshuck.com.

  You don’t ever have to spend a dime. You can read the short story of the month and nothing more.

  I promise to never sell/share your email address and to make unsubscribing as easy as pushing a button.

  Interested? Great! Join the newsletter list here: https://mailchi.mp/c05ceb84e66a/subscribe-me

  And now, just for you, here is the first chapter of Shicksal Turnpike, another book in the Kapalaran Universe.

  Chapter One of Schicksal Turnpike...

  What You Ask of Me

  Tuesday, June 14th, 1930

  The child kicked inside of her. Zenobia placed her hands over her belly, feeling the tiny foot move again, sliding along the wall of her uterus. It wouldn’t be long now. She had done what she could, eaten sparingly, and altered her clothing to conceal the burgeoning belly. She created spells that hung in the air, sliding around her, giving the illusion of a far smaller belly to the world. She had become so good at it that even she was fooled. Anyone who saw her would think she was perhaps four or five months along at most. Her stomach growled with hunger. Another spell made her face rounder, the bones less prominent. No one must suspect.

  She caressed her belly. Her fingers found his head and stroked it. She would not lose him. Not this child, not again. It had been two years now and she still felt sick at the memory of it. Her hands around her firstborn son’s tiny neck, squeezing before he could draw a second breath in the world. It had felt wrong, so wrong, and she would never let it happen again. She had sworn to die childless rather than risk bearing a son on Litha or Yule again. But fate, and the Arbre Genealogic had other plans for her.

  “You must bear a child, your World will require a Prote
ctorate.” The instruction had been clear. It had to be her. They had ample examples of what happened when the World lost its Protectorate. It could not happen here. It would destroy everything. And Zenobia was the only daughter among one son and one Regional. There was no one else to do this. And so, she had allowed herself to be bred, yet again.

  The boy’s head moved, sliding slowly under her fingers as he rotated in the ever-diminishing space her womb provided. He was a boy, she was sure of it. And Greta had confirmed it, her thin, bony fingers pausing when she had touched Zenobia’s womb, her rheumy, clouded eyes narrowing in confusion at the taut, rounded skin. Zenobia had held her breath, prayed to the Goddess that the old woman was too far gone to recognize how far along she was.

  “He says his name is Conor,” the old woman had croaked. “You don’t have long, my dear, perhaps a week or two? Is it summer yet?”

  “Yes, Greta, just one more week.” Zenobia had answered quickly, “But it is nearly August now.”

  Greta frowned for a moment, “But wasn’t it Beltane, just a while ago?”

  “Oh Greta, how I wish it were so early in the year. I have so much to do before winter, and the days already beginning to shorten.” She laughed, her heartbeat speeding up. The baby kicked inside of her, responding to the fear that ran through her

  The old woman’s eyes couldn’t be fooled by spells, for she was blind, and had been for two years. Her mind wandered too. Their people lived far longer than most, but after nearly 125 years of age, Greta was pushing the upper limits. It was precisely why Zenobia had kept her close. If she was required to keep a far-seer, she would have one that was virtually ineffective. Anything to keep the secret.

  “But I thought...”

  “Greta, dear,” Zenobia lay a hand on the old woman’s shoulder, forcing her tone to remain calm, even concerned, “Are you feeling well? I know you were ill during Litha. It took so long for you to feel better, but perhaps you need to rest again.”

  “I was ill during Litha?”