by M. D. Cooper
Eamon’s tone was mocking.
Martin began to feel a little uncomfortable.
When he didn’t reply, Eamon asked,
Martin winced.
Martin chuckled.
Martin checked the current maps and the weather reports, ensuring that everything was still favorable for the trip.
Martin laughed.
They were well out to sea now, and Knossos’ coastline had disappeared behind them. Martin considered recording a reply to Isa’s message while he had some time to spare. He’d been hard at work ever since returning from Athens, only stopping to eat and sleep. The animals required more checks as they grew larger, and he was constantly starting off more species. Getting the balance right was delicate work. Timing was vital too. He stressed over each release because the animals were on their own from that point on. If he hadn’t laid the groundwork properly, they would starve to death or be hunted to extinction by other predators.
Martin forced himself to stop thinking about work. Perhaps he could send Isa a vid of the new island when he reached it. She might like that, and it would be something he could offer in return for the recordings she’d promised to send of the sights of Tyre.
Isa remained somewhat of a puzzle to him. He got along with her better than he did with Erin, yet that was strange because of the two of them, Erin was the one he felt he understood best. It was probably because they were both from Sol, they both had AIs, and they both had demanding jobs that they loved. By contrast, Isa’s background and upbringing were something he could barely imagine. And what made her harder to understand was the fact that she rarely spoke about her past before her time on Victoria. Her days enslaved by the Lumins were almost a taboo subject.
Martin regretted it, because he thought that if she would tell him more about her former life, he would understand her better.
Isa was far more vulnerable than Erin, and more willing to bend to keep the peace. She would always intervene when he and Erin bickered. She didn’t seem to understand that their little arguments were only an aspect of how they related to each other, and entirely harmless. Playing peacekeeper between himself and Erin wasn’t necessary, but it touched him that Isa cared and was doing her best to protect their little family.
He only wished that he could help her too. He sensed that there was a deep, old sorrow in Isa that was difficult, if not impossible, to heal.
Clouds of gas were erupting from the ocean all across the horizon, cooling Carthage’s interior. A gust of sea breeze parted them for a moment, revealing a large black hill. Lava oozed down its side like a waterfall, only composed of molten rock.
Martin stopped the boat and threw out the anchor. He had to keep a safe distance from the island. The water around it seethed and bubbled, and steam rose from the spot where the orange-white lava hit the ocean. He recorded his sight of the new patch of land for a while as his boat bobbed on the waves.
I’ll look into seeding the surrounding area with tropical fish, he decided. They would thrive in the warm water.
But time was pressing. He had a lot to do that day. He lifted the anchor and started up the boat, inputting a new destination. That morning would be taken up with checking that the animals in artificial wombs were growing well. He was a little concerned about the blue whales.
Mammals were always tricky. When they were finally born, he would face the challenge of supplying enormous volumes of specially formulated, high-fat milk for six months, and then teaching them how to feed themselves before he could wean them. Compared to that gargantuan task, everything he’d done up until now was simple and easy.
In the end, it was well after lunchtime before Martin completed his tasks. Bone-tired and hungry, he headed home. He decided he would grab some food to take out with him that afternoon, when he was traveling offshore again to add some more coral species to the reef he was building.
A few meters from the shoreline, he hopped out of the boat and pushed it up onto the sand. After washing off the sand that clung to him in his outdoor shower, Martin walked into his home.
He stopped dead.
There was sand on the floor. A whole trail of it. Martin’s gaze followed the outrageous messiness until he found its source: a man was sitting in his armchair.
The man’s feet and calves were coated in sand. He shifted position as Martin’s gaze met his, and an avalanche of grains fell from his legs, adding to the pool of sand he’d already created.
“Hi,” the man said cheerfully. “I arrived a while ago. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. There was nowhere to sit down and wait for you outside. I tried to tell you I was here, but you’d disabled your message queues.”
Words whirled through Martin’s mind but refused to come out of his mouth.
All he could think to say was, “You couldn’t find anywhere to sit? On a beach?”
“Yeah, well, I guess I could have sat on the sand, you know, but I didn’t want to get dirty.”
Martin stared at the man’s sand-coated legs and then at his face and then at his legs again. Nothing in his expression indicated that he was speaking ironically.
Martin clenched his jaw. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who the hell are you?”
“Huh?” The young man stood up. Martin flinched as more sand fell. “I’m sorry. I thought you were the scientist in charge of this site. I must have made a mistake. I’m looking for Dr. Ryland.”
Eamon was right. As soon as he’d returned from Athens, Martin had gone to check on his animals. In his urgency to reassure himself that all his projects hadn’t been affected by his absence, he’d entirely forgotten to read his friend’s note. And then when Eamon had reminded him, he’d put it off; he’d seen with his own eyes that everything was fine with his site, what else did he need to know?
The man was waiting for him to reply.
“I’m Dr. Ryland,” said Martin. “Uh, I forgot to, uh…. Wait here a minute, please.”
He about-faced and stepped quickly outside, then closed the door and leaned on the exterior wall while he read Cameron’s message.
‘Hey buddy
Sweet site you have. I did everything you asked; boy, that was some list you left me. I checked every nursery, hatchery, and artificial womb, but I have to say, it nearly killed me. I
was certainly glad when you said you were coming home early. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you.
It looks like you’re having the same problems as me…. Now that the organisms we’re nurturing are growing bigger it’s becoming more challenging to keep on top of everything, right? I realized this weeks ago at my site, which is smaller than yours. The days just aren’t long enough to get everything done.
The only reason I could help you out was because I asked Murry if he could find me a young biologist to take on some of my workload. He was happy to oblige, and now I have Gemma to do the grunt work while I do the more specialized stuff. She learns on the job, and I get to concentrate on the things that really matter. It’s a win-win.
So before I left, I asked Murry to find someone for you too. He told me he’s sending along a young man named Malcolm Spearpoint. He’s done all his training, but he doesn’t have any practical experience yet. He’s very keen to learn, though. Should be a big help to you. You’ll certainly need him when those blue whales are ready to be born. What beauties! I admit I was jealous, but I’ll look forward to seeing them heading up my way one day.
Have fun with your new assistant. No need to thank me.
Cameron’
Martin cursed.
said Martin.
Martin barely heard Eamon’s attempts to put his situation in a good light. He was struggling to grasp the idea of another person working with him on his project. What could he trust this Malcolm with? Nothing. He couldn't think of a single task that he would feel happy about handing over to someone else.
Cameron was an idiot. He might be okay with sharing his workload, but Martin most certainly was not.
But what could he do? This Malcolm—or ‘Sand Man’, as Martin was beginning to think of him—had arrived expecting to have an apprenticeship awaiting him. Could Martin turn him away? What would he tell Murry, after the AI had gone to the trouble of finding him? And, after all, almost everything Martin knew, he’d learned by working with experts. It would be churlish of him to deny someone else the same opportunity.
Yet every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea of another person taking over some of his responsibilities. No one else would do as good a job as he would. It wasn’t possible.
Martin cursed again. He couldn’t think of a way out of the situation.
Grimacing as he resigned himself to his fate, he set his shoulders and entered his home once more. While he’d been gone, Malcolm had left his seat and was now standing in Martin’s kitchen. The sand trail told the tale, even if the young man hadn’t been right in front of him, cooking.
Cooking. In Martin’s own kitchen. With Martin’s food.
Malcolm asked brightly. “Did you get it done?”
“Did I get what done?”
“The thing you forgot to do.”
“Oh. Uh, yes.”
“Great. So you’re back.”
It was all Martin could do to prevent himself from replying, ‘Well spotted’.
“Yes,” he said instead. “Uh, there’s no need for you to do that.”
“Oh, I’m happy to,” said Malcolm. “I love cooking. It’s one of my favorite hobbies, you know. And I want to pull my weight while I’m here—I don’t want to be a drain on your time. I’m here to help, and to learn.”
He gave Martin a grin and then returned his attention to lunch.
“Great,” Martin said. “That’s just great.”
HEAT
STELLAR DATE: 03.17.8937 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Crystal Cave, Mount Ida Caverns
REGION: Tyre, New Canaan System
Isa was hot. Unbearably hot. Her clothes clung to her, soaked in sweat, and her hair was plastered to her head. She pushed away the strands sticking to her face. Where was she? All she could see were white geometrically shaped blocks. Was she dreaming? She struggled to sit up. Something sharp had dug a painful ridge in her back. As she pushed her upper half to a sitting position, more of the white blocks came into view.
Where the hell am I?
The events of the previous few hours began to flash into Isa’s mind. She’d taken the chute through Mount Athos. Then she’d flown the pinnace to…. She remembered the gold in the cave’s walls. And a lake. And crystals.
She was in the crystal cave. What had happened to her? She’d been taking in the wonder of the place, then she seemed to remember becoming confused.
Did I pass out due to the heat? Or maybe I tripped and hit my head?
Still groggy, she managed to orientate herself and remember the return route to the tunnel. She turned on her knees, rose and crawled, then rose and staggered, weaving, to the cave’s exit. Once she was through it, the moving air in the tunnel hit her like a wave of fresh, cool water. Isa dropped to the floor, unable to move any farther. She lay on her stomach, resting the side of her face on the chilly stone. Her head hurt so much, she could hardly focus her vision or her mind.
Isa silently thanked herself for dropping the Link relays. Though she’d finally come around, she didn’t think she could make it all the way out of the cave without help, and so few people visited the place, she might not have been found until it was too late.
Isa’s heart rate was slowing, and the ache on the right side of her head had eased a notch. She tried to recall her last memory before she heard Onyx speaking to her. She’d gone into the cave of crystals and had been amazed by the sight of them.
Then…
Isa closed her eyes as she tried to concentrate. She recalled feeling
panicky and trapped.
No. Not trapped. Abandoned. She’d been terrified that she was being left behind.
A horrible familiarity swept over her. The memory of her strange mental attack had returned. Before she’d lost awareness of where she was, Isa had been experiencing one of her habitual nightmares. It was one of a few that still visited her with depressing regularity. One of the nightmares entailed reliving a moment when she’d nearly died, after a Lumin supervisor had refused to supply new respirators to the Noctus mining teams. That was the most common one. The nightmare she’d just experienced was another. It wasn’t based in reality, only fear. In the dream, she’d missed her group’s desperate escape attempt, to remain stuck in slavery to the Lumins for the rest of her life.
But up until then, the nightmare had only visited her while she was sleeping. This time she’d been fully awake. What had triggered it? Had it been the enclosed conditions or the heat? It was odd. Right when the delusion had struck, she’d been elated at the breathtaking sight of the crystal cave. Had her heightened emotion sparked some kind of psychological crash, taking her to the opposite extreme? Perhaps that had been it.
With an effort, Isa turned onto her back and lay gazing up at the crystal-striped ceiling. Perhaps somewhere deep inside, she’d decided she was too happy. Ever since she’d come out of stasis and learned of the fate of the people she’d left behind, she’d struggled to come to grips with what had happened at Kapteyn’s Star after the colonists left.
Underlying every moment of pleasure and joy was a sense of guilt. She had been so lucky in her life. Too lucky. All the Noctus that had been left behind at Sirius had remained in slavery. Everyone who had remained behind at the Kap had died. She was a survivor of survivors. What had she done to deserve her happy, easy life? Nothing. Or at least, she’d done no more than others who had died—in many ways she’d done a lot less. What right did she have to see places like the golden cavern or the crystal cave? Why should she be in a loving relationship with two wonderful people when so many thousands had never had that chance?