by M. D. Cooper
“Seems like there’s a lot we don’t know about him,” Erin said. “Except that I think he may be operating alone. If he had associates, why wouldn’t they launch a full-scale assault? We couldn’t have defended the site from a surprise attack.”
“We would have been hard pushed to do that, certainly,” Cullen said.
“I really gotta insist that you come with us to Landfall now,” urged the medic.
“Yes,” said Cullen. “You should go.”
Erin went with the medic to the shuttle. As she went inside, she saw Sasha. She was unconscious, though the color had returned to her face.
Guilt twinged in Erin’s stomach. More than ever, she regretted her decision to get the young woman involved in the dangerous exploit. She’d also failed to capture Hart.
A dangerous traitor was now roaming around Carthage, and Erin couldn’t help but feel it was her fault.
RESUMPTION
STELLAR DATE: 11.30.8935 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Marine Eco Station #14, Knossos Island
REGION: Carthage, 3rd Planet in the New Canaan System
When Martin went outside to go to work the following morning, he was amazed to see that a section of the cover over the construction site on the bluffs above the beach was tattered and burned.
After climbing the narrow path to the top of the rise, he approached the men and women of the construction team to ask them what had happened.
The man he asked only shrugged and said, “No one’s told us anything. They only said we have to clear this away. Looks like there’s been a fight, though, doesn’t it? That’s what my money’s on, anyway.”
“Sure does,” Martin agreed. “Do you know what’s happening now? Is the construction still going ahead?”
“Yeah, it is,” the worker replied. “When we’ve finished tidying up, we’re starting work on fitting out the interior. Should be here another two or three weeks.”
After thanking the man, Martin went away down the beach. There was someone he needed to speak to over the Link.
Erin replied.
As Martin walked through the sand to return to his office and dwelling, his disappointment at the news that Erin had left continued to bother him—irrationally so. I have so much to do, I don’t need the engineer as a distraction.
Yet, he remembered, his first thought on waking that morning had been to wonder where he could take her next. He’d decided that they could go to see the archelon nursery. Now it looked like that would probably never happen.
Eamon said.
Martin had been walking around the other side of the promontory while speaking to Erin and Eamon. He arrived at his small facility and entered his lab, heading for the tiny stasis chambers on the wall. He’d been anticipating working with these creatures for ages, and now seemed a good time to indulge himself and try to dispel the glum mood that had settled over him.
It wasn’t only that he was disappointed he probably wouldn’t see Erin again—he was also worried about her. It sounded like her work put her in danger.
Martin took the tiny embryos in their containers out of their stasis chambers, and transferred them to a receptacle that would protect them on their journey to their nursery site.
Martin took the receptacle out to the boat. He pushed it into the waves, jumped in, and started the engine. He’d prepared the artificial offshore wombs months ago, but for this creature, a plentiful food supply was essential, and Carthage’s oceans were only just beginning to fill with suitable organisms. Martin would start a hundred of the embryos to begin with, then add to the number later, enriching the gene pool over the coming years.
As he steered the boat out to sea, bringing it to the windward side of the promontory, he saw that the covering over the construction site in the cliffs had been taken down, and a rectangular hole now gaped in the cliff face. Martin wondered how Erin had managed to create it without explosives or using directed energy devices. Perhaps that was what the fight had been about.
He recalled his complaint about the vibrations damaging his stock, and felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Did Erin get hurt because she was accommodating my wishes?
Martin replied.
His gloomy mood continued as he piloted his boat out to the artificial wombs he’d set up, and it didn’t dissipate after he arrived and cast the anchor.
Like many days on Carthage, the weather was perfect. The air was a comfortable temperature, the sky held only high, white, fluffy clouds, and the sea was a shimmering, liquid crystal blue. Martin donned his diving gear, picked up the receptacle that held the embryos, and slipped beneath the waves.
The site was at the limit of the depth he could safely dive without specialized apparatus. Some marine biologists went the whole hog and had their bodies engineered to dive a couple of hundred meters or more without the need for decompressing when they surfaced, but Martin preferred not to do that. He was happy with a rebreather and fins.
When the time came, he would spread the artificial wombs out wider, and eventually he would move them into deeper water to accommodate the growing creatures’ large forms.
He swam to the first womb, opened the receptacle, and took out one of the containers. He eased the embryo, no longer than the palm of his hand,
into the womb’s chamber. The embryo’s umbilicus and placenta were immediately sucked into place against the screen. Oxygen and nutrients would filter through to it for the next eleven months.
Martin waited, watching carefully for signs of life. When the embryo gave a small twitch, he nodded, satisfied, and swam to the next womb.
When the receptacle was finally empty, he swam back to the boat. He threw the receptacle in and clung to the gunwale. Bobbing along with the boat in the waves, he pulled off his mask and also tossed that into the boat.
he said to Eamon.
Releasing his hold, Martin sank into the waves and set off for the distant shore. As he swam, he reflected on completing the task he’d been looking forward to for so long. Starting off the blue whale embryos in their wombs should have given him a lot of satisfaction. He loved what he was doing on Carthage, and the blue whales were among his favorite animals. He felt privileged to have the opportunity to work with them up close.
One day he would open the wombs and set the largest creatures in Carthage free to roam the oceans.
Yet the task hadn’t given him the pleasure he’d anticipated. Instead, he felt sad and hollow. Was it only that he felt responsible for the problems at the construction site? Like Eamon had said, it wasn’t like he could have predicted what would happen. There was no way he could have known. And he’d been justified in defending his work; it was important that Carthage had a complete, healthy, self-sustaining marine ecosystem.
His reaction was due to more than that, he realized. He was worried that Erin had been hurt. He missed her already. The thought that he might never see her again made him despondent. He hadn’t understood just how much he liked her.
But a relationship with Erin would never work, he realized. She was just as focused on her job as he was. When would they ever find time to be together? And if they didn’t spend time together, things would fizzle out eventually. There really wasn’t any point in him attempting to take things further.
ATHENS
STELLAR DATE: 12.02.8935 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Marathon, Grecia
REGION: Athens, 4th Planet in the New Canaan System
The last time Isa had been tsunami surfing had been on the oceans of Victoria. The waves there caused by the terraforming process had been wild to say the least, and Athens’ promised to be nearly as intense. As the shuttle came in to land and she saw the planet’s landscape close up, she expected no less excitement from this trip.
Outside the small city that surrounded the air and spaceport, much of the ground was black or grey volcanic soil. In some places, smoke or steam streamed from cracks or pools of bubbling mud, and bright yellow sulfur stained the ground around the vents. Other areas were covered in mountainous, brilliant green, tropical rainforest.
At the edge of the coast where the shuttle was coming in to land, an angry ocean churned. The gigantic orbital ring, which the FGT called a PETER, surrounded the planet—drawing out the heat and helping to settle the crust—formed a broad band across the sky. Though Isa had read about the PETER, seeing it hulking in the sky was another thing entirely. She was struck by how awe-inspiring a process terraforming truly was.
“What do you think?” Usef asked. He was sitting next to her for the journey down to the planet.
“Looks great,” Isa replied. “I can’t wait to hit the waves.”
“You’ll have to wait a couple of days for that; I read the surf report, and we’re landing during an ‘off’ phase. The crust shifts regularly for three or four days at a time, then it stops to settle for a few days.”
“Oh, OK. Well, what else is there to do? What would you recommend? Do you have any suggestions?”
“Boy, do I. Just wait. Where are you staying?”
“I hadn’t booked anywhere yet. This is a bit of a spur-of the-moment trip.”
“In that case, it looks like you’re staying where I am.’ He gave her a friendly wink. “There’s no better hotel on the whole planet.”
Isa laughed. “Looks like I am.”
“Great. As soon as you’re settled in, I’ll take you out to one of my favorite places.”
After the shuttle landed, Isa accompanied Usef to his hotel. Human greeters waited at the entrance, ready to welcome the guests, holding out cocktails that gave off enticing vapors. During the two-day flight to the planet, Isa had drunk six Hot Buttered Fusion Flames in total. She didn’t fancy going in for a liver rejuvenation just yet, so she politely refused the drinks.
“Good idea,” said Usef as they went to check in.
“Yeah,” Isa agreed. “I don’t want to overdo it. I better pace myself.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” said Usef. “There are much better drinks up in the rooms.”
When Isa saw the cost of a room, it made her wince. Her savings were being eaten up fast. On the other hand, if the trip gave her a better perspective on her life, it would be worth it.
The elevators were on a constant rotation and had no doors. Isa stepped onto the first one that arrived, and was carried up with her small bag of belongings. She went down the hallway and opened the door to her room. It was the most luxurious place she’d ever been.
She walked in, put down her bag, and wandered around the space. For a brief moment, she felt a stab of jealousy that the Intrepid’s colonists had not built places like this on Victoria.
I can’t blame them, though, she thought. They never intended to stay; it wasn’t home to them. This is where they’re putting down roots.
Her gaze swept across the room, landing on the furniture, which bore the grain of real wood. She noted that the bed linen was woven in intricate patterns, and made from some kind of silken material, and thick, heavy drapes framed the windows.
Drapes!
Isa had only ever seen drapes in vids. Everywhere she’d ever been had windows that turned opaque or transparent or mirrored when you told them. More expensive windows showed attractive pictures or scenes, too.
She went across the room and pulled the drapes closed. They slid smoothly over their runners, and the place fell into darkness. She found her room on the Link and turned on the lights. The ceiling lit up in a gorgeous glow that managed to make the furnishings look even more opulent.
A drink in a slim glass stood on the dresser. Ah, this must be one of the ‘better’ ones Usef mentioned. She sat down and took a sip, enjoying the smooth, tangy flavor that glided over her tongue and spread warmth down her throat.
The drink was so light and refreshing, she’d soon drunk it all, despite her earlier reservations about over-indulging. The alcohol it contained made her sleepy, however, and though the long shuttle flight hadn’t particularly tired her, she had a strong urge to take a nap.
She stripped off and eased under the bed covers, quickly slipping into sleep.
* * * * *
Isa was choking.
Her ventilator was breaking down. She cursed the supervisor; the Lumin bitch hadn’t delivered new ones like she’d promised. She had the old ventilators renovated instead, and probably pocketed the difference—but the old machines were past saving. Their filters were too worn to catch anything but the largest particulates, and the gas exchange system needed repeated calibration to maintain the correct levels.
Isa looked up at the metal mesh bridge, where the supervisor stood overlooking the mine that snaked through the asteroid, following the valuable vein of minerals. She gestured at the woman to get her attention. When she’d caught her gaze, Isa rapped on her helmet. It was the universal signal that she had a problem.
The supervisor looked purposefully away, ignoring her. Then she turned and left the catwalk.
Isa cursed again. She threw down her drill, drawing fearful glances from her companions. Her lungs were working hard, trying to draw in what oxygen they could. Isa felt wo
ozy and tired. If she didn’t get a working ventilator soon, she would collapse. Then she would be written up for not working.
She fiddled with her ventilator controls, but she couldn’t fix the problem. The system needed calibrating again, and to do that, she would have to leave the mine face. Another reportable offense.
But what choice did she have? It was either that or pass out…and probably die. Damn the Lumins and their eternal exploitation. What wouldn’t she give to wrap her ventilator hose around the supervisor’s neck and choke her until she too knew what it felt like to be unable to breathe.
Isa turned and headed for the exit, leaving her drill where it floated. She stumbled on the rubble that littered the ground and some that drifted past—jagged pieces of worthless rock from either side of the fine seam they were digging out. She slowed her pace, partly because she couldn’t risk tearing her suit on the sharp edges, and partly because she couldn’t have gone any faster if she’d wanted to. It felt like her ventilator wasn’t supplying her with any oxygen at all.
The tunnel that led to the exit seemed impossibly long. Isa forced herself to keep going. She struggled to place one foot in front of the other. Before she knew it, she’d fallen to her knees. Her vision swam. She crawled on. If she could just make it to the prep room, she would be OK. The room was pressurized and would have breathable atmosphere.
She only had to make it as far as the air lock.
She only had to open the lock and get inside. It would automatically seal and then open its inner door.
She only had to make it as far as the airlock.
A mad urge gripped her. She fought the impulse to tear off her helmet, as if that would allow her to breathe.
To breathe. She had to breathe.
Her vision was narrowing. She saw a red, lit button. The airlock. It was the button for the airlock. She’d made it. With the last of her strength, she slapped the red surface. The airlock door slid back, but she couldn’t move inside. Her limbs were paralyzed.