The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2)

by J. S. Harbour

  Jack turned to look back at his home. The top of the first dome rose out of the ground like an uncovered fossil bowl—one of a dozen such underground domes, most of which were deeper underground than the first one. The old spaceport was the most visible landmark, with its charred concrete pads and exposed airlock openings jutting up from the underground. A new spaceport was built outside the overdome near the rim of the crater. Most food was still grown in the hydroponic dome since greedy Earth crops consumed soil at an alarming rate. A couple square miles of engineered crops were visible north of the old spaceport. Copses were growing toward each other into forests on either side of the road.

  “Beautiful,” Jack said, helmet in hand, and everyone followed suit. Soon they were murmuring about the vista, pointing out landmarks. They could breathe the native air for only a few minutes.

  The interior of the crater now revealed very little of the original colony. Overhead was the rim of the crater and the dome that enclosed it, made of opaque, triangular-shaped panels. It was breathtakingly beautiful to a Harmony colonist, not because of its appearance but because of what is represented. There was no marveling at the majesty of the universe from inside the colony, not with the naked eye anyway, since the dome was opaque. But down inside one of the early domes, the entire ceiling displayed a live, panoramic view of the sky, from a series of cameras on top. Jupiter came into view like clockwork, returning to the same point once per week.

  Boosted by the energetic conversation, Daniel Grant smiled at the vista. He was awed by their progress in just one decade. He blamed himself partially for their slow recovery after the loss of automation—after they were abandoned by Decatur.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Dan?” Megumi asked.

  He looked at her, startled. “Oh, I was just. . . .” He gave her a pained look. “I was just reflecting on how much progress we would have made if Decatur were still here.”

  Megumi pulled on his shoulder, causing him to face her. “Look, Dan, I know you blame yourself, but you really need to stop that. Just look at it, would you? It’s magnificent! The overdome alone, not to mention the Ring—”

  “—was built by Decatur,” he said.

  “Of course, it was. You’re being ridiculous. But who built Decatur? Do you resent a backhoe for digging a trench faster than a man with a shovel?”

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Emma walked toward them. “Everything okay?”

  “Beating himself up again,” Megumi said quietly.

  Emma frowned, not wanting to criticize her husband, knowing that he needed to get out of this state, not driven deeper into it.

  “I’m growing angrier about this rather than coming to terms with it,” Dan said.

  “But, just look at this,” Emma whispered, pointing at the horizon—the other side of the overdome was at the horizon level due to curvature. “A hundred fifty miles across. That’s seventeen thousand square miles of dome, Dan—without columns. It’s an extraordinary feat of engineering. Nothing on Earth comes close. We can’t even see the other side from here, even here on the slope. I’m in awe, Dan, and I’ve lived here for years.”

  “I hear you. Eventually, this will be a sustained ecosystem,” Dan said, snapping out of his mood. “I’m thinking of what might have been, of the betrayal.”

  “Think instead,” Megumi said, “of where we are, right now, at this moment.”

  Jack knelt down and set the canister on a rock, shifted it so the etched plaque was facing Harmony a few miles away. “My darling, you will always be here with us. It’s because of you that we made it this far. You gave your life to make it happen.” He stood aside to make room as each charter member of the colony paid their respects.

  Deeptimoy was last. He knelt and touched the canister, saying, “My dear friend and colleague. Rest in peace, Ari.”

  The group began to replace their helmets and fade back down the slope, leaving Jack alone. He knelt beside the container, touching the nameplate with gloved fingers, and tried to keep his emotions in check.

  Arianne Collins-Seerva

  6/16/1991 – 4/08/2031

  Beloved Wife, Colleague, Friend

  Four suited figures lingered halfway down the slope, one of them looking up at Jack. “You know he’s—”

  “Not out here, our voices will carry,” another said. The four waited for Jack, who soon joined them for the walk back. No one felt like talking so they walked quietly. Jack always clammed up when she was on his mind anyway.

  The four were met by two others in an unused conference room on the other side of the cargo warehouse. Andy Grant looked at the faces around the room, feeling out of place among the elders—Daniel, his father; Megumi Endo; Chase van Allen; Deeptimoy Danir; and Tom Baker, Andy’s father-in-law. This was a family meeting of founders, original colonists. Not everyone, just those most concerned about the Elder—a reverential name they used for Jack even though some members (like Tom) were older than Jack.

  “You know why we’re all here again,” Chase said to get the meeting started.

  “Of course, we know,” Megumi said, frowning. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “He never recovered,” Chase said. “You were all there, but I tracked him down in Christchurch. I’m telling you, he didn’t want to come back. He was done. I . . . should have left him there that day.”

  “He never stopped grieving,” Deeptimoy said.

  “It’s safe to assume now after so long that he never will,” Tom said. “It took him this long to give her a final resting place. He’ll never let her go, even with that gesture. I’m not unsympathetic, but we need to think of our future.”

  Megumi looked pained. “I don’t see how we can broach the subject without him feeling . . . betrayed.”

  Chase leaned back, irritated. “It’s not betrayal! We all care deeply for him. But, he just . . . won’t move on! He’s reliving the day she died, over and over.”

  “Slowly going mad?” Daniel dared suggest.

  “Daniel!” Megumi chided.

  “It’s not as offensive as it sounds,” Tom said.

  “Andy, what do you think?” Deeptimoy asked.

  Andy sat up in his chair, suddenly yanked out of his thoughts. “What do I think?”

  “Sure,” his father said. “What’s your take on the situation?”

  “I . . . I don’t think he’s losing it,” Andy said, “but what you see is what you get. That’s all there is to him, a man who lost the love of his life while accomplishing his greatest dream. That’s a dichotomy few could cope with.”

  “Maybe Decatur can do something for him?” Megumi said.

  Daniel’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Meg, you know that’s a dead end for us now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, “ Megumi said. “I think Dee is still with us. Or, some part of him is, somewhere. He’s just up to something.”

  “It, you mean,” Tom suggested.

  “They is a more accurate word,” Daniel added.

  “We haven’t heard a single word from them in—how long?—two years?” Daniel said. “That’s not a good sign with techsystem time dilation. It literally takes no effort for Dee to talk to us. The gap between each word is a whole day to him.”

  Andy said, “Well, what do you think happened to Dee and the rest of them? Where did they go?”

  Everyone sat quietly for long seconds. Daniel shook his head and shrugged. “No one knows.”

  “They did so much for us. It’s hard to believe they all just left,” Andy said.

  “Men have become the tools of their tools,” Andy said.

  “What’s that?” Deeptimoy asked.

  “Oh, just something I read once,” Andy replied. “Uh, Thoreau, I think.”

  “Good one,” Megumi said, smiling.

  “I suspected something was wrong when the hypercomm went offline,” Daniel said. “It just doesn’t stop working like that.”

  “Oh, we’ve been over that so
many times before, Dan,” Megumi said.

  “I know,” Daniel said. “But, it’s relevant again. We have no idea what’s happening on Earth.”

  “Now, that’s a telling point,” Tom said.

  “Oh?” Deeptimoy said.

  “Of course,” Tom said. “The Decaturians stopped communicating with us at the same time that the hypercomm went offline. Coincidence?”

  “Could be,” Chase said.

  “Yes, it could,” Tom said, “but the simpler answer is that the two events are related.”

  “Occam’s Razor,” Andy said.

  “What would it take to disable a hypercomm device? And, more importantly, why haven’t we just built another?” Chase asked.

  No one spoke up and they all looked to Deeptimoy for an answer. He shrugged and said, “We did try to build one. These devices were built by Erik Smirnov, but we have the blueprints.”

  “Why didn’t it work?” Andy asked.

  “A key schematic was missing,” Deeptimoy said. “I . . . can’t follow the equations to kickstart a hypercomm. We have one—apparently working—but no way to turn it on.”

  “What piece is missing?” Megumi asked.

  “Correction,” Deeptimoy said quickly, “it’s on but we don’t know how to tune it. And, we don’t know what’s missing, exactly—a separate piece? We don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s essential. Like the eyepiece on a telescope, maybe. It must have been intentionally removed.”

  “So,” Daniel said, “we don’t even know what we don’t know, because the blueprints were altered.”

  “Classic radio still works. We just don’t have anyone to talk to on Earth or Mars,” Deeptimoy said.

  “I still find that hard to believe,” Andy said.

  “Wait a minute,” Megumi said, “shouldn’t we be able to talk to Earth with radio?”

  “Sure,” Deeptimoy said, “That’s no problem. Except, we were using hypercomm for nearly a decade so the old radios were—”

  “Abandoned,” Andy offered.

  “That’s my guess,” Deeptimoy said. “I mean, think about it, we don’t know what frequency anyone back home—er, back on Earth—is using today. Shouldn’t be a problem, just scan the frequencies. Except—”

  “There’s nothing?” Tom suggested.

  “Not to mention, encryption keys,” Daniel added.

  “That’s probably the main reason rather than an additional point,” Andy said.

  “Why can’t we broadcast across—”

  “Wait a minute!” Chase said. “We had hypercomm, but no one else on Earth had it. Shouldn’t they still be using radio?”

  “Erik Smirnov had his prototype,” Megumi said.

  “Look, sorry to interrupt,” Daniel said, “but we’ve been through all this . . . years ago! We monitor all frequencies even now. But, Decatur handled all communication and encryption for us. We became so dependent on the AI that we became hopelessly dependent. It’s why we haven’t built another spacecraft after the colony ship.”

  “Yeah,” Chase said, “and we have no idea what became of her, either.”

  “I remember, a few months after we arrived,” Megumi said. “What can we assume from that? All we know for sure is that the ship stopped transmitting when it arrived at Earth. The ship might still be in Earth orbit.”

  “Look, we have more than enough resources,” Chase said, “plus the manufacturing capacity. Our emphasis has been on colony growth and stability. We have achieved that. But, something is amiss, and we need to get to the bottom of it. We have allowed this mystery to remain unsolved for far too long. I say we build another ship and go find out what’s going on.”

  “And look in on the Mars colony while we’re at it,” Megumi added.

  “Yes! That’s right, Meg, we need to go find out what’s going on,” Tom said. “I, for one, am tired of feeling left in the dark out here, incommunicado.”

  “We have done well for ourselves here,” Andy said, “but the loss of Decatur was a terrible blow. We’ve had to start over from scratch with some of the machines. We’re making progress again after the setback, but it was a blow.”

  “No one is pointing any fingers,” Chase said in a fatherly tone. “We have done exceptionally well here. You should be proud of your accomplishments. But, we have been insular, not really trying to reach anyone. Let’s not forget, we have massive capacity here that’s totally underutilized. We have done far better than any of us could have imagined, and the Ring is mind boggling. Frankly, no one will believe it and photos are too easy to simulate. Let’s get this new ship underway as soon as possible and—among other things—see if anyone back on Earth wants to join us out here.”

  Daniel said, “Look, we keep having these . . . unofficial policy meetings on behalf of the colony, but it’s quite fascist.”

  “Hey!” Megumi said, with others mirroring her tone.

  “Hang on! Hear me out,” Daniel said. “I was going to add, ‘were it not us making the decisions.’ We can’t keep doing this ‘for the good of the colony’ justification for elite rule.”

  “Dan, come on, it’s just us here, and we’ve been trying to survive, and no one in the colony has ever complained about frontier justice,” Deeptimoy said.

  “Granted, we have a good legal system, but that only works because we’re a small colony,” Chase said. “It won’t always be just us. We need to set up a real government.”

  “I don’t like it, but he’s right,” Tom said.

  “I’m going to have a talk with Jack today to discuss the need for a constitution and a parliament—or whatever the constitutional convention decides on,” Chase said.

  “Don’t we have enough on our plate right now without introducing politics?” Andy suggested.

  “It must be done,” Chase said, and that was that.

  “Jack, I need to talk to you,” Chase said from behind Jack on a faux hardwood balcony looking over Harmony Lake under the dome.

  “Sure, have a seat,” Jack told him. “You know, I was proud when we made this lake. Or, pond, really, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

  “Chase, dear, nice day for a drink over the pond,” a cheerful woman said a moment later. “What’ll you have? I’ll bring you another, Jack.”

  “Fine, thanks, Bev,” Jack said without looking up.

  “Hi, Beverly. It is a lovely day. How’s Ward doing?”

  “Ward is fine, dear; working the blunt edge again.”

  “I’ll have a dry martini,” Chase said, still amazed that he could order such a drink. They had been limited to plain water, tea, and coffee for so many years. “The blunt edge, you say? Which side?”

  “South side, he said. I haven’t been over in a while,” Beverly said. “Be right back, gents.”

  “Know what I miss the most from Earth?” Jack asked.

  “What’s that?” Chase said.

  “Movies. Books. Music.”

  “Huh? We have the entire library—”

  “I know,” Jack interrupted quickly, “I’m talking about new works of art. I miss that.”

  Chase looked thoughtful. “The media library is so large from the past century that no one could go through all of it. But I know what you mean.”

  “I used to go to the movie theater often, back on Earth,” he said, jerking a thumb as if Earth was behind him. “Before they all closed down.” Then, eyes bright, he suddenly turned to Chase, “We should build one! A real theater with a huge screen and seating, and even popcorn!”

  Chase laughed. “That’s not a bad idea. Everyone just uses tablets now.”

  “I know, and it doesn’t begin to compare to the big-screen experience. I don’t know how you can enjoy a show on a tablet.”

  “I’ll mention it at the next council meeting. They’re always in favor of team-building activities or anything that might improve morale. Which hasn’t been so great lately, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I like this place,” Jack said, ignoring the last remark. “It�
�s the closest thing we’ve got to a real beach. Wonder if we could fill in a smaller crater out there with water? Make a real lake. Get some fish next time we’re back at Earth.”

  Chase looked out at the pond and frowned. “Speaking of which . . . Jack, we need to talk. The council has been discussing our future.”

  Jack grunted but didn’t look up. Instead, he finished off his drink. “Okay, talk.”

  “Uh, okay, the—”

  “Here you go, boys,” Beverly said while setting their drinks on the table. She quickly left, sensing their need for private conversation.

  “. . . the council wants to go public, create a legitimate colony government. They’re concerned about you, Jack. But also about ourselves. We can’t treat this like a . . . a claim or small town. Not forever. They want a constitutional convention to draft something up.”

  “Oh? That’s good. Wise decision. Should’ve been done long ago.”

  “Good, I’ll tell them,” Chase said.

  Jack turned, sat up in his chair, and looked right at him. “You’re not asking for my approval, are you?”

  Chase stammered, “As a matter of fact, yes; we are. You built—”

  “Nonsense!” Jack boomed, slamming a fist onto the table, rattling the glasses. “You were all partners the day we launched from Earth. I gave up all my shares, remember? At that moment, every person on the ship became an equal partner.”

  “Y—yes, we know that, but—”

  “My god, you know I hate being treated like the boss. I can’t shake it no matter how angry it makes me?”

  “Sir, you are loved and respected. This is your doing. We helped. But you made it happen.”

  “Bah! Someone to blame if it all goes to hell,” Jack yelled, then downed the second glass in one gulp. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he said with a sudden change of pace, “about Decatur.”