Blue Planet

by S E T Ferguson

  Chapter Nine

  Beryl’s favorite place on Hodios had been her father’s lab.

  It was fitting that one of the last conversations Beryl remembered having with her father had been in the lab, as she had spent so much of her childhood in that little room in the center of Hodios with him. She studied there, she played there, she experimented there. It was as much her home as their own suite of rooms three floors up was her home.

  When she thought about that day, Beryl believed it must have been after his sentencing. With nowhere for him to go, there was no reason to shackle him or do anything to keep him from moving freely about the ship, and so they let him do what he wanted with his last few hours. Despite him being within hours of leaving them forever, he had wanted to finish up some work in the lab on Hodios, to leave it in place for his daughter to continue his work. Not right away, of course—she had been too young then, just a kid—but with the help of Iris, she could learn to analyze plants and animals and soil, to help humanity survive on whatever planets they found themselves in the future.

  Her father had been showing her some of the grasses from Libertas that night, comparing them to the plants of Earth in a book.

  “Look at this one,” he had said, placing a slender, green stalk in front of Beryl. There were hundreds of different grasses on Libertas and almost no other visible plant life on land. A few flying insects were the animal life above the waters. The waters were surprisingly devoid of life, as far as they had discovered. A few plankton- and shrimp-like creatures and some basic plants populated the planet’s abundant fresh water, but little else. Had they settled Libertas, they would have had to rely entirely on the plants and animals they had brought from Earth for sustenance. That had been the case on Lutheria, Polis, and Civitas as well, but not to the same extent as it would be on Libertas.

  “Do you see its seeds?” Beryl had dutifully pointed to the plant’s spikelets at the top of the stalk, inside of which sat the seeds. He nodded his approval.

  “These grasses naturally drop the spikelets and spread their seeds. When humans first started cultivating grasses on Earth, they chose the plants which didn’t drop those spikelets as easily as the others. This rare trait which would have hurt a plant in the wild was a positive trait to humans. It allowed us to domesticate the plant, even though it took hundreds and maybe even thousands of years to do so.”

  Beryl picked up the stalk of grass in her hand and ran the top through her other, feeling the spikelets on the stalk smoothly pass beneath her fingers.

  “Did you know that, back on Earth, over three-quarters of the food came from only 12 plants and five animals? And rice, corn, and wheat,” those were three of the few plants they grew on V and on the planets, “accounted for almost 60% of the calories and proteins humans got from plants on Earth. So we don’t need a lot of diversity to maintain a planet from the plants grown there. But think of what we could do with some diversity. We could make a vibrant, amazing world there.”

  “Some people look at Libertas and see it as barren, the sort of place it will take thousands of years to make a true home. Even with the addition of plants and animals from Earth, it will be a long time before it looks anything like Earth. And it will take even longer for natural plants and animals to evolve.”

  “Do you know what I see when I look at Libertas?” Beryl shook her head, still holding the stalk of grass in her hand.

  “What I don’t see is a barren, grassy planet,” he took the piece of grass out of Beryl’s hand and tossed it to the ground. “I see a planet of forests stretching from the ocean to the mountains. I see jungles. I see animals of sorts we’ve never seen before, running across the prairies. I see fields of vegetables which taste better than anything you’ve ever tasted. I see trees laden with the sweetest fruits. I see vast cities, richer than any ever imagined on Earth. I see small farms, where people live in harmony with the wild world around them.”

  “You see potential,” Beryl quietly suggested, using the large word in a way she hoped was appropriate.

  “Yes!” Her father had nodded vigorously. “Potential! I see what this planet could be. Not in 100 years or 1,000 years or 10,000 years, but in 10 years. We don’t need to wait to make this land the planet it should be.”

  “We can speed up evolution,” he had continued, as if he wasn’t talking to his daughter about the very thing that had doomed him hours earlier, the same thing that, one day in the future, would be something she had to keep herself from thinking about several times a day. “We don’t need to wait for these things to happen naturally. We have the tools to safely make this planet the perfect home for humans if only we were allowed to do so.”

  Chapter Ten

  The day Vlad de la Vega fell in love with Beryl Roberts was the worst day of Beryl’s life.

  He hadn’t known then that it was the worst day of her life; he had only surmised that later, after they became Vlad and Beryl, two people others almost always thought of as one. How could that day have been anything but the worst day of her life?

  He still didn’t know why his mother had let him go to the sentencing. Perhaps it was because there was so little crime on Hodios that she wanted him to see what happened when someone did commit a crime. Or maybe it was a cautionary tale, to keep Vlad in line with the few rules they did have on Hodios and later Columbina; he had always been a tough kid to control, running amok on Hodios with Heming in tow. Or perhaps it had been because his father had been one of the judges and she wanted Vlad to see his father doing what they all knew had to be done, no matter how difficult it was.

  And it was what had to be done, even though none of them wanted it to happen, and even though the man Vlad’s father was sentencing was his father’s own best friend.

  The sentencing took place in the auditorium of Hodios as it orbited Libertas. The room was sparse in the way a concert hall with great sound was sparse; whoever had designed it designed it the way they did to maximize the use of space without losing any sound, but in a way that was still beautiful, with rolling lines and rounded edges that made you want to touch and feel every surface.

  Not that you would have needed to be there in the auditorium to see the sentencing live; Vlad knew Iris would have shown it anywhere people wanted to see it. He suspected many had chosen to watch it at one of the bars on the ship, where they could have a beer and watch one of the most well-known residents of Hodios meet his fate.

  Plus, it would have been easier to wager on the outcome from somewhere other than the auditorium. Whether Whit would beg for mercy after admitting to his actions. Whether he would cry. Whether the two men and one woman who were to judge his fate would go through with the sentence they knew would doom him to death.

  There were many reasons people wouldn’t want to be there, but that didn’t mean the auditorium wasn’t packed. It was crowded enough that Vlad was lucky to have a seat anywhere and very lucky to have a seat near the front of the room, to the left of the stage.

  When the proceedings finally started, the three judges had filed in first, taking up seats behind a long table on the stage.

  And then Whit had come in, wearing the same brown pants and colored shirt he always wore, like this was something he did every day and not something which had never happened before.

  As Whit walked in, he looked to one of the private balcony areas which ringed the second level of the auditorium.

  Vlad had seen Rona first. Her hair was still red, though the gray was already starting to show, as were the lines in her forehead. As always, she had her hair pulled into a bun, like a school teacher of old. It was appropriate, as Rona had devoted her life to teaching, as most of her family before her had. Vlad was still afraid of her then, this authority figure sitting rigidly straight with her eyes focused on her husband.

  Then, he had seen Beryl, a small figure next to her mother. Her red hair fell in large curls around her face, spilling on to her shoulders and framing her pale freckled cheeks. Unlike her mother, Beryl looke
d like she could break into tears at any moment, as if she was mere moments from losing it completely. Beryl looked like you would have expected someone else in this situation—about to lose one of the people she loved forever and irretrievably—to look.

  Vlad knew Beryl well. Despite the encouragement of people to have as many children as possible, there were only a small number of people on the ship overall and thus only a few handfuls of children their age on Hodios. Even if their fathers had not been good friends, they would have known each other well because of that lack of children. As their fathers were friends, though, they spent more time together than many other of the kids around their age. During those many hours of time together, though, Vlad had looked at Beryl as nothing more than a friend. There was nothing like love there.

  And it wasn’t then, in that auditorium, when he saw her father look up to her, that Vlad fell in love with her. Then, she was just another person in a scene, Iris standing behind her and her mother, watching at a distance, letting the humans deal with the situation as they would.

  Vlad turned back to the stage, where Whit stood before the panel of three judges.

  Like his wife looking at the scene, Whit was unmoved by what was happening, awaiting what he had to have known was coming. All the decisions had already been made; this proceeding was a formality, a last chance for Whit to apologize, to do anything that would save him and keep the rest of them from doing something no one wanted to do.

  It may have been a formality, but it still needed to be done.

  On stage, the chief judge had started the proceedings. She had jumped right in, without introduction. None was necessary for this proceeding.

  “Whittaker Roberts,” she said, almost monotone as she read the words straight from a tablet in her hands, “you have been charged with violating the general prohibition against genetic enhancement without an exception or waiver as well as conspiracy to commingle biological and artificial intelligences. Specifically, you were accused of genetically manipulating numerous plant species found on Libertas as well as plant and animal specimens from Earth, Lutheria, Polis, and Civitas. Additionally, you were found to have begun the creation of an artificial intelligence to be implanted in a human being. From your own testimony, said human being was to be yourself. In response to these charges, you pleaded not guilty, alleging that the laws of Hodios were unconstitutional and your actions should therefore not be considered crimes at all. Do you wish you change your plea at this time?”

  “No.” Whit had hardly seemed to blink as he listened and responded to the charges.

  “May I remind you, Mr. Roberts, that if you were to change your plea to guilty, the potential punishment of exile would no longer be an option.”

  “You may remind me of that all you want, but it won’t change my mind, and it won’t make me guilty of anything beyond wanting to help humankind. And potentially to save us.”

  “Mr. Roberts, this court has been well apprised of your opinions on the subject of your beliefs as to the crimes with which you have been charged. I am asking you—pleading with you—to spare your family and friends the pain of never being able to see you again and their knowledge that your death in exile is certain. Remember, Whit?” To Vlad, the judge had seemed the same age as Whit. In that case, they would almost certainly have known each other and called themselves friends. At the very least, they would have grown up together. There would be no way she would have wanted him to accept the sentence of exile. “Mr. Roberts. You have a child who will grow up without a father if you are exiled.”

  Vlad had replayed the scene in the auditorium in his head countless times. Even so, every time he saw it, he held his breath, like maybe Whit’s reply to the chief judge would change. That maybe he would choose permanent incarceration over exile. Perhaps this time he would give Beryl the chance to know her father.

  “And if I plead guilty, my child will grow up knowing her father is someone who can be bullied into changing his beliefs. That he is the sort of person who would give up work with the potential to save humankind. I would rather my daughter grows up without me than for her to lose her life because others were short-sighted about the possibilities that should be open to us in improving life.”

  “Whit,” one of the other judges spoke up, the familiar voice of Vlad’s father echoing around the quiet auditorium. Over the years since, Vlad had heard more than once that his father was put on the panel specifically because of his friendship with Whit and the hope it would sway Whit away from what he was expected to do. “I am asking you, as someone who has known you your entire life. As a friend. Please change your plea.”

  “I’m unwilling to do that. You know that better than almost anyone on this ship, Cale.”

  It was then, even from a distance, that Vlad could tell his father was about to cry. Vlad had never seen his father cry before that day, nor had he seen him so close since then.

  Seeing that in person had made Vlad nearly cry himself.

  And then, Vlad looked up to Beryl, to see how the daughter of this man of his convictions reacted.

  She was absolutely stoic. Whatever tears may have been close before were now gone, like they had never existed.

  It was there, looking at this girl who had grown up right there, who had gone from a girl to a young woman in the course of a few words, that Vlad fell in love with her. The moment he saw her there, like nothing in the world could touch her heart, like you couldn’t hurt her, he fell in love.

  Even now, he was still in love with her, as he would be no matter what came between them and what had already come between them.

  As Vlad realized he was in love with Beryl, the chief judge’s voice cracked above the crowd’s murmur.

  “Mr. Roberts,” the chief judge said, “it is thus my unfortunate duty to proclaim your sentence as follows: you are hereby exiled to the planet Libertas, from the day we leave you unto eternity.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rona remembered the day he left.

  They had said their own goodbyes the night before. It had been the two of them then. They were two people who still sometimes saw themselves as the young couple who had played together on Hodios above a planet called Civitas, with few cares in the world, dreaming of a day on a planet together.

  They couldn’t have known then that the day they imagined would never come.

  It was the way it should have been. Others didn’t need to know the private things they wanted—needed—to say to each other before they were separated for the rest of their mortal lives.

  The Bird’s landing on the planet that day—the last day a Bird from Hodios would land on Libertas—had been smooth, as always. Still, strapped into the seat beside her husband, Rona couldn’t help but feel that it was rougher than a normal landing, as if it was special for some other reason than the fact it would return to Hodios with one less person than it had left with.

  At Whit’s feet sat his dog, Poydras; the other dog on the ship, Camp, sat at Beryl’s side, an indulgence for a puppy on a flight with few other people.

  If Rona had her choice, neither Beryl nor her puppy would have been on that flight, but in the end, she had given in to Whit’s desire to have her there. Ahead of Beryl sat Iris, while behind her two people onboard to ensure Whit remained on Libertas looked at information on their phones, conspicuously not looking at the family in the seats ahead of them. The family sitting together for the last time in their lives.

  Landed, the group all unbuckled their safety belts and stood as the Bird’s back door opened to reveal the grasses of Libertas blowing in the wind beneath a light blue sky. The two men who were there to make sure Whit stayed there began unpacking several boxes from the bird.

  Ostensibly, the supplies contained enough food and water to allow Whit to survive for six months, as if he could establish himself on the planet and live out his life as an exile in that time. In reality, it served to make those who exiled Whit feel better about sentencing someone to death on the planet, because all
of them knew that there wasn’t anything naturally occurring on the planet that could support a human on Libertas beyond those six months.

  The supplies also contained several methods someone as smart as Whit could use to kill himself, though no one spoke about that.

  As the two men unloaded the supplies, the family had stood there in the back of the Bird, belaboring what was already the most difficult moment of all their lives. None of them wanted to be the one to initiate their goodbyes. In the end, it had been Whit who had forced them to move on, as if he wanted to get started with the rest of what remained of his short life.

  Whit had said goodbye to Rona first. Their goodbye kiss was a peck on the cheek, a confirmation of everything they had said to each other the night before without belaboring it. The two of them would be strong for Beryl.

  “I love you, Rona.” The words came quick.

  “I love you back.” The tears had welled up in Rona’s eyes then. As strong as she wanted to be, the final realization that this was it, the last moments they would spend together in any capacity, was too much to chase the tears away. A whole life together, coming down to this one moment.

  Whit had gone to Beryl next. He had knelt on one knee in front of her, but even doing that he was still taller than their ten-year-old daughter, the one who would go without a father from that point forward. The growth spurt of puberty was still over three years in her future that day. There, in the back of the Bird, she was still very much a child, at least in size, though no longer, for the most part, in temperament.

  From his jacket’s pocket, Whit had pulled a gold chain. On it hung a green jewel. Rona had seen the family heirloom before and heard the pirate stories that went with it, a reminder that Whit’s family history went back for hundreds of years, telling tales of times which seemed to be so far in the past they could never have been real.