by M. D. Cooper
But there were always those few from each new batch of colonists who needed extra help. Many of them were ship’s crew who did not expect to find themselves joining the colony mission. The ones Isa had been assigned also all seemed to have personality traits that made them difficult to place in a role—they were indecisive or capricious, or they had the type of worldview that made them find fault with everything. Isa called them ‘the complainers’. More than half of her clients who requested personal consults were complainers. The worst of them always seemed to be Victorians, like her.
It made sense. Hard-to-please people would have been screened out from the original applicants on Sol. They tended to make life difficult for everyone else, and that wasn’t desirable on a new colony. But the Victorians who decided they wanted to join the Intrepid as the ship continued her journey hadn’t been so strictly vetted. This allowed some whiners to slip through, and it was her job to deal with them.
Isa sighed. She was so tired of their bellyaching. Maybe I need a new job.
As she lifted her hand to the security panel for a third time, the door opened. A tall, young man with messy hair and a few days’ worth of stubble said, “Sorry. I was asleep.”
“Mr. Hart? I’m from Placement Services. Isa Chen.”
“Yes. Thanks for coming. Come in.”
Isa followed him into the small apartment. The temporary accommodations for people newly out of stasis were all the same: simple and functional. They differed only in the number of rooms, according to the size of the family. Hart’s apartment was a studio, which meant he was single.
He turned the windows from opaque to transparent, allowing sunlight to flood in and reveal an untidy living room. Isa’s client pushed aside clothes and cushions on the sofa and invited her to sit down.
“These apartments are so cramped, don’t you think?” Hart said. “Nowhere to put anything.”
So she had a complainer on her hands. Great. “They’re all right,” Isa replied. “They’re only supposed to be a stopgap until you move into your new place, which you’ll do once you decide what you want to do. OK if I use your holo?”
“Sure. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m OK, thanks.” Isa planned on making the visit as short as possible.
Hart started up the holo embedded in his living room table and began to make himself some coffee. Isa accessed her files, and brought up an image of Carthage, which slowly rotated above the tabletop.
The archipelago of large and small islands that ran in a wide belt around the middle of the globe was lush and green. Isa had already visited many of its islands. The landscapes were packed with interesting topographical features like gullies, cliffs, plains, and wetlands. The holo displayed oceans and seas that were cobalt at their deepest points, and turquoise and aquamarine where the water was shallower at the coasts.
Carthage was a beautiful world, and Isa was glad she’d chosen it as her home. The FGT had done an amazing job transforming the planet into a place anyone would be happy to inhabit—everyone except those few clients of hers who sometimes seemed impossible to satisfy.
Isa eyed Hart as he sat down opposite her on the other side of Carthage’s spinning globe. The moving continents and waters semi-obscured his features.
“I saw in your file that you have a background in security,” she said. “There are plenty of opportunities available in that area right now. Did you read the listings? Nearly every active government project must have a security element.”
Hart leaned back in his seat. “I did read the listings, but nothing appealed. In fact, I’m thinking of moving away from security. I feel like doing something more…organic. I worked ore processing at Sirius, then after we escaped, I helped with the terraforming of Victoria. But it was all indoor work. I’ve been either underground or inside manufacturing plants for most of my life. It seems like coming to Carthage is a chance to change track, make a new start. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Isa had worked on the SK-87 mining platform too, a long time ago, in the bad old days of enslavement to the Lumins. She’d made big career changes over the years on Victoria, and now here, at what would probably be her final home.
“Did you have anything particular in mind?” she asked.
“Sorry, I’m still undecided. That’s why I asked to speak to someone.”
“OK. You mentioned doing something organic. Do you mean farming? If that’s the case, I’d suggest looking at Tyre. It’s perfect for farming, and there are billions of hectares of land still available. You’d have your pick.”
“Hmm… I’d rather remain on Carthage. This is where all the action is, right?”
“I guess so. Well, there are opportunities for farming here, too.”
“Maybe not farming. But I’d like to do something outdoors.”
“Have you considered recreational services?”
“You mean like leading groups of hikers?”
“Sure, that kind of thing. It’s a wide area. Marine, land, and air leisure activities are popular, and they’ll become more so as more colonists leave stasis. Everyone needs something to do on their days off.”
“I don’t know. The idea doesn’t appeal.”
“Right.”
Isa sensed the conversation taking a predictable turn. She would suggest a long list of possible occupations one by one, and then Hart would think up an objection to each of them. Finally, when she had nothing left to offer, he would say he’d think about it, and his case would remain frustratingly open.
She decided to try something different. “Have you been out to have a look around yet?”
“I’ve looked around Landfall, if that’s what you mean. When I first came out of stasis.”
“You haven’t been any farther? What do you say to a little excursion? We could take a shuttle to Naxos. They leave every half hour.”
“What, right now?”
“Sure. A holo can only show you so much. Maybe if you take a look at another part of Carthage, something will pique your interest. It would be a start.”
“I don’t see why not. But are you sure about this? You don’t have other people to see today?”
“I have a feeling this will save us both time.” In truth, Isa didn’t know if her idea really would help Hart figure out what he wanted to do with his new life, but it would make a change from the long-winded, circular conversations.
“I’ll get ready, then.” Hart got up and went into his bathroom.
Isa also stood. She walked to the window and looked down into the courtyard at the center of the apartment block. Crowds of children were playing on the equipment, and adults hung around the edges, watching them and chatting. Next week, probably all but a few of the people below would be replaced by others who were fresh from stasis. And another group the next week, and so on, until the Intrepid was finally empty of its millions, and New Canaan was active with human life.
Isa too wanted something new. She was always starting her clients on new adventures, but never embarking on one herself. Her days were spent talking about exciting possibilities in life, but never taking advantage of them. It was high time for her to practice what she preached.
“I’m ready,” Hart said as he emerged from the other room.
He’d removed his stubble and tamed his hair, and he’d changed from leisure wear for slopping about at home into a fitted suit in a fashion that was beginning to sweep the new colony. He was handsome.
Too bad Isa’s tastes rarely leaned toward men.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Outside, the air had turned sultry, though every so often, a cooler breeze would sweep through the boulevard that the two were following to reach Landfall’s shuttle station. An autocar would have been faster, and a call through the Link would have brought one to the apartment block within minutes, but Isa preferred to walk when she could.
In the far distance, to their right, hung the gaseous clouds that rose into space, co
oling the planet’s core. They were catching the slanting rays of Canaan Prime, and glowing magnificently.
“Of course,” Isa said, “you don’t need to do anything for a while if you don’t want to. The colony will support your basic needs for as long as you like. You could take a few months to make a decision if you need the time. Though I was assigned to you, Placement Services is just that—a service. It’s not a requirement that you do anything productive immediately.”
“I understand,” Hart replied. “But if I want anything more than the basics, I have to contribute to the system. I don’t want to live in a tiny studio all my life. I want a nicer place. And I’d like to travel and visit the other planets. I can’t do that unless I earn extra credits, right?”
“That’s right. So it would suit you to come to a decision eventually. I’m just saying there’s no hurry.” The shuttle station was coming into view. A wedge-shaped craft was lifting to the skies. It looked like a surface-to-starship vessel rather than one of the domestic shuttles. “When we get to Naxos, we can take a maglev across to the second largest city, Laynesville, and you can get a good look at the landscape. Naxos is more topographically varied than Landfall. Maybe it’ll spark some ideas of what you might do outdoors.”
“Sounds good.”
Isa was glad she’d had the idea of getting Hart out of his apartment. The afternoon was turning out better than she’d hoped.
Though her client had been correct that traveling off-planet cost extra credits, domestic flights were free, and at that time of day, none of the routes were busy. They walked straight through the barriers and onto the Naxos shuttle, strapping themselves in for take-off.
Isa had taken the flight several times before. After she came out of stasis, she’d spent some time exploring Carthage before settling on Landfall as her home. There was already something historic about the place, where the first people from the Intrepid had set foot. Living there gave her a sense of having roots, of belonging, which was something she’d never experienced on Victoria. That had always felt like a temporary refuge, and the memories of Sirius had stayed strong.
During the flight, as was usual with former Victorians, neither she nor Hart mentioned their mutual background. It was an unspoken agreement not to go over the past, but to focus on the present and the future, which were much brighter topics of conversation.
After landing at Naxos, they had to traverse the shuttle station to reach the maglev. Isa was surprised to see that the automated walkway wasn’t yet operating. The structure was in place, but its insides were visible, wiring spilling out behind the safety tape.
“Looks like we’ll have to hoof it,” she said to Hart. “The platform isn’t far.”
When they arrived at the maglev, she consulted the board that displayed the routes across the island. The operational routes were lit, but they made up only half the options on the board—roughly the same number she’d seen two months earlier, on her last visit.
“Look at this,” she remarked to Hart. “Things are moving slowly around here. It’s lucky we don’t want to go anywhere more remote than the next city.”
Hart’s eyebrows lifted. “I would have expected the maglev system to be up and running by now. Maybe I should re-train as an engineer; it looks like they’re short-handed.”
“Maybe you should.”
They boarded the maglev that would take them to Laynesville. The journey time would be twenty-three minutes. Not long, but long enough for Hart to take a good look at some of what the continent had to offer. Isa recalled a wide lake for boating, jet-skiing, wind-surfing, diving, and other water sports. A deep canyon was also along the way, where speed-freaks frequently raced, and a-grav gliders flew.
“Hey,” she said to Hart as they took their seats, “I have an idea. Maybe you could go into forestry. Laynesville’s encircled by rainforest. They’ll need people to oversee it. You’d be outdoors in a beautiful environment most days, and the accommodation that goes with those kinds of jobs is fabulous, I’ve heard.”
“Hmm… maybe.”
Isa turned to the window and rolled her eyes. There really is no pleasing some people.
The maglev pulled away, acceleration pushing them back into their soft, cushioned seats. As they left the station, brilliant sunlight made Isa squint momentarily before the windows quickly cut the glare. The countryside of Naxos opened around them.
Even if I don’t find Mr. Difficult something to do on Carthage, I will have had a nice excursion.
Just as she was about to suggest getting something from the buffet bar, the lights went out. Then the maglev rapidly decelerated, and Isa was thrown forward into the edge of the table in front of her. Cries and exclamations of surprise erupted in the carriage, and a hissing sound came from below, as the maglev drew to a controlled but abrupt stop.
A moment later, the lights flickered on. Conversation became noisy as the passengers reacted to the unexpected delay.
“What was that?” Hart asked. “Did we hit something?”
“No idea.” Isa peered out the window, angling her head down, but it was impossible for her to see anything more than the side of the carriage. She tried looking ahead, with the same result.
“I apologize for the interruption to this service,” the maglev NSAI said through a speaker. “A failure in the track ahead has triggered an emergency stop. As soon as the problem is fixed, we will resume our journey. Please address your inquiries through the Link or via the interfaces in your seat arms. I apologize again and assure you that we’re doing everything within our power to return to our normal service as quickly as possible.”
Isa said, “This is unbelievable.”
“You’re not kidding,” Hart replied.
“I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to take you on a trip back to the days of colonizing Victoria.”
“Ha. Don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault.”
“I have a further announcement,” said the maglev’s NSAI. “I’ve received an update on the state of the track: the repair is going to take longer than anticipated. Your only option is to return to the station, where you may board a second service to take you to Laynesville via a different route, or you may book a shuttle flight.”
The maglev started to move backward, accompanied by loud comments of incredulity and frustration from the passengers.
“Stars,” said Isa with a laugh, “maybe we should both go back into stasis for a year or two. Maybe then Carthage will be operational.”
UPDATE
STELLAR DATE: 11.22.8935 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Landfall, Knossos Island
REGION: Carthage, 3rd Planet in the New Canaan System
That evening, Nathan Hart took a seat at a bar in downtown Landfall. The name of the place had been sent to his apartment while he’d been out with the woman from Placement Services. The message contained only the bar’s name and a time, but that was all he needed to know. He wasn’t in any doubt about why he’d been summoned, or who he would meet there, though he didn’t know what his contact looked like.
He ordered a craft beer, one of the many that were flooding the market as new colonists started up small-scale breweries. As a servitor brought him his drink, Hart smiled to himself. He’d had fun frustrating the woman—Isa—with his vacillations about what he wanted to do on Carthage. He’d been deliberately difficult and annoying, as instructed. He estimated that he’d done a pretty good job.
An air of excitement pervaded the drinking lounge, stronger than the usual atmosphere in places where people socialized and flirted. It was an air that permeated the new colony, a heady spirit that sprang from the hope and anticipation of the populace. Finally, they had reached their home. It was the start of the rest of their lives.
Hart took a sip of the yeasty brew, and scanned the room. Though the evening was young, the bar was already half full. A group of men barely old enough to be drinking took up one corner, from where they watched the socializers and tried to catch the
gaze of potential mates. The men were nervous and animated, downing their drinks too fast. In another corner, a couple canoodled. The largest table, which was squeezed against a wall to make room for a small dancing area, was taken by five older men and women; the group looked like co-workers, judging by their formal clothes and friendly-but-not-flirtatious behavior. Finally, a handful of men and women sat on barstools at the bar, where they were striking up shy conversations. Servitors glided between the patrons, the mild hum of their progress drowned out by music.
None of those present was Hart’s contact. He was sure of it. These were just ordinary Carthaginians. The person he was about to meet had to be someone significant in the government or military to override the security to his apartment, and leave an untraceable note. Though the person might disguise themselves to look like an average member of society, there was always something in the attitude and bearing of people high up in the hierarchy that set them apart.
Hart drank his beer, ordered another, and waited.
In the end, it was the way the figure met his gaze as soon as they entered the bar that told Hart this was the person he was there to meet. Myrrdan’s agent.
He put down his glass as the figure approached. His heart began to race. The afternoon’s events had been a frippery, a distraction compared to what was to come. Now he would learn the true purpose of his presence on Carthage.
As the person sat down, the conversation and noise of the bar became dulled and muffled, as if heard through thick wads of cloth. Hart’s view of his surroundings also became blurred and distorted.
As Hart looked about, confused, the person said, “No one will be able to hear us or read our lips.” Myrrdan’s agent had activated a privacy barrier around them.
“Won’t they notice that we look strange?”
“No. They see us as we appear. Please, listen carefully. You have been brought to New Canaan to steal the picotech technology. You are aware of it?”