by J. J. Green
THE BOY’S ATTACHMENT to one of his parents—to the extent of refusing a stranger’s offer of help—struck Ethan forcefully. He couldn’t guess how that kind of attachment felt. It didn’t seem so long ago that he’d been the kid’s age, but he’d had no mother or father.
Ethan’s earliest memories were of playing with other kids at his nursery. The nursery workers had been kind. He even remembered a few of them hugging and kissing him, their eyes teary, when it was time for him to go to kindergarten. But he hadn’t developed the bonds with them that families were supposed to have. None of the care givers had been like a mother or father to him, as far as he’d understood the role. The only person he’d had that kind of relationship with had been Dr. Crowley.
He learned about families at school, and how the Manual instructed that, as Arrival drew nearer, Gens were to be encouraged to reproduce naturally and revert to the nuclear family patterns of human societies on Earth. The transition had to happen. The technology for artificial reproduction was wearing out, and it would be decades before they would be able to manufacture replacement parts.
Like the other Gen his age and all the babies decanted throughout the flight of the Nova Fortuna, Ethan’s conception had taken place in vitro. The DNA codes of Gen ova and sperm and stored, frozen donations from Earth were carefully selected and matched to ensure maximum diversity. With a Gen population of just two thousand, inbreeding had to be avoided as much as possible. Even more dangerous was uncontrolled reproduction during the Nova Fortuna’s voyage. The ship’s enclosed habitat could not sustain a population growth greater than ten percent, or roughly the number of preserved founders they were bringing with them.
The lost boy had to have been one of the first naturally conceived. The Manual stated that the move away from artificial reproduction and toward creating families should start seven years before Arrival. Gens of reproductive age had to begin to get used to the new way of living before encountering the other stresses of colonization. Dr. Crowley had told Ethan of another reason behind the Manual’s directive: the founders’ thinking had been that Gens’ new lives would be so much harder than living aboard the Nova Fortuna that they might need something to live for.
Ethan and Lauren had talked about conceiving a child, but she’d shuddered while lying in his arms and said the idea of something growing inside her was weird. Maybe she would feel different later, she’d said.
A SHAPE APPROACHED, long and low and moving fast. One of the creatures. Ethan swerved and ran away from it. For something as large as a man laid out and at least twice as wide, the thing moved quickly. He looked over his shoulder, but the life form was veering in another direction. It seemed to have given up pursuit, presumably in favor of slower prey. Ethan’s stomach dropped as he remembered the boy.
The thing had scooted along the ground, its method of locomotion obscured by its overhanging bulk. But Ethan had no time to puzzle out how the life form moved. He was at the fence. His gaze roved it. No switch was in sight. A scream from another captured victim spurred him not to catch his breath before setting off to find the switch. He went right as shouts of terror, panic and despair resounded through the night and people cried out the names of their loved ones.
Fence wire and posts sped past Ethan as he ran. The dark scuttling figure of a creature climbing the far side of the fence flashed into view. Its scaly belly outlined with hundreds of insectoid legs reflected the light from his lamp. Ethan stopped and pushed the lamp between the wires at the underside of the organism, but at the touch of the metal its legs wrapped around the fence wires and clung to them tightly. Ethan couldn’t move the creature, and he didn’t have time to try harder.
A thunk sounded somewhere behind him. Another one of the creatures had made it over the fence. Ethan took off.
A flicker of something yellow appeared on the edge of his vision. Ethan stuck his heels into the spongy ground and skidded to a halt. A plastic handle jutted out from a post beneath a yellow hazard sign. He’d found the switch, but something was moving on the wires above it. One of the organisms was crawling over the post. Ethan raised his lamp to shine on the scrabbling life form. He had only a second before it would fall. He darted in and grabbed the switch.
But before he pushed down, he hesitated. What if someone were touching the fence? Turning on the electricity could kill them. He looked up at the creature that was about to drop. He couldn’t help it. He had to take the chance. He pushed down the lever. As the electricity hit, the creature jolted, its legs jerking. It became rigid, and a terrible reek like burning rotten flesh assaulted Ethan’s senses.
He’d done it. The electrified fence would prevent any more creatures from coming into the camp. But why had it been turned off in the first place? He shook his head. It was odd, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to find Lauren.
Holding out his lamp in front of him, Ethan set off to search the compound. He hoped that Dr. Crowley was the only fatality, though going by some of the cries he heard echoing through the night, he doubted it.
It wasn’t long before he came across the creature he’d tried to push off the fence. It had made it over the top and was lying inside the camp, but its back end had been in contact with a wire when Ethan had turned the electricity on. The life form was stiff, its thick hide was dark and charred, and it gave off a stench that made Ethan’s stomach churn.
Liquid had spread out from the organism in its death throes. A puddle lay beneath it that had scorched the ground cover down to the soil. Pressing his elbow over his nose and mouth, he peered closer. The creature didn’t seem to have any eyes, mouth, or other sensory organs. He shivered and drew away. How had the probes missed these life forms?
From somewhere to his left came the sound of someone running. He lifted the lamp as the person came into view. It was the director, though Ethan barely recognized the man. His gray hair stuck out all over and his eyes were wild. He grabbed Ethan’s arm, making the lamp swing crazily.
“They’re dead,” he exclaimed. “So many people killed by those things. What can we do? Where can we hide? Do you know where to hide?” His fingers dug stiffly into Ethan’s forearm, and his gaze darted from side to side. Sweat beads clung to the man’s face despite the cool of the night.
“What the hell do you mean, where can we hide?” Ethan retorted. “We’ve got to find the creatures and kill them.”
“We can’t.” The director’s voice was wobbly and high, as if verging on hysteria. “Nothing kills them. Nothing. We’ve tried everything we can think of. And the comm module’s dead. We can’t contact the ship. They have no idea what’s happening down here. We haven’t any hope of rescue.”
His grip on Ethan’s arm was painful. Ethan peeled the man’s fingers from his muscle. “The comm module’s dead?”
“Broken.” The director’s eyes seemed about to leave their sockets. “Someone sabotaged it. We have no comm. We’re alone down here.”
The fence, and now the comm module? A scream, piercing and tortured, made them both jump.
“We have to help, not hide,” Ethan said between his teeth. He pushed the man out of the way and ran toward the scream.
How had their hopes of a new, wonderful life turned to darkness and slaughter?
ETHAN REMEMBERED THE director as everyone had watched the counting down of the final two hours remaining on The Clock. After a long, arduously fought election—to be the director who presided over Arrival and the first settlement—the man had stood straight-backed and proud on the podium in Main Park. His hair had been perfectly groomed, then.
The countdown had been breath-taking. Main Park held all the Gens and the Woken, and though there was no formal request for their presence, all but essential maintenance staff had gathered there. Some had even slept in the park overnight with the black, starry fake sky over their heads and the figures of The Clock glowing green in the dark.
The Clock spanned a wide section of the dome. As early as five or six years before Arriv
al, couples and groups had begun to stand beneath it and discuss their plans of what they were going to do when the Nova Fortuna reached its destination. Those who weren’t drawn to The Clock spent hours watching vids on the planet they were approaching. As the ship drew nearer, visuals showed continents and seas and water-vapor clouds that seemed to confirm that everything the scientists had said about the planet was true.
On the final day, the murmuring of the crowd in Main Park had grown louder as more and more Gens and Woken arrived and excited chatter about the impending long-anticipated event rose, drowning out the circulation fans that whirred at top speed to renew and cool the air.
Ethan could hardly believe it when the moment that he’d been taught to anticipate all his life arrived. The final hour of The Clock flicked to zero to match the year, month, and day. Only minutes and seconds remained. The noise of the crowd grew almost painful. Then, strangely enough, the volume subsided as The Clock marked the final minutes, and then the final seconds, until only the quietest of whispers sounded among the more than two thousand people gathered underneath it.
The last few moments of their long voyage disappeared. One hundred and eighty-four years of waiting was over. The work of tens of thousands of people, many of whom had never set foot on the Nova Fortuna, many of whom had lived and died aboard her, were finally paid off. An almost deathly hush fell over the park.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
The Clock was a row of zeros. The device that had faithfully kept time for nearly two centuries stopped, its work done. Not a person in the crowd stirred, as if no one could quite believe they had reached this point—that the Nova Fortuna was in geosynchronous orbit above the site that was soon to become their new home.
Brilliant lights exploded across the surface of the dome, accompanied by ear-splitting bangs and whistles. The Gens stared up in fear, but the Woken seemed to know what was going on. They shouted and cheered and clapped and stamped their feet. Whatever the cascading colors were, they seemed to be celebrating the safe arrival of the colonists, and soon the Gens joined the Woken in hollers and shouts and hugs and kisses.
Ethan had grabbed Lauren and lifted her up. He swirled her around as she laughed and screamed. They celebrated all night.
LAUREN. He had to find her.
They’d agreed to meet at the comm module. Using the distant lights that led to the latrine as his guide, Ethan raced towards the meeting point, ignoring the fading protests of the desperate director. As Ethan drew closer to the spot, dark, swarming figures of men and women took shape.
The crowd was surging in a blind panic. People were shouting and crying. No one seemed to know what to do or where to go. Ethan went from person to person, trying to find Lauren, but she didn’t seem to be among them. In the chaos, he despaired that he would ever find her. Someone had to organize these people.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Everyone, get tools from the stores,” he shouted. “We have to find and kill the creatures.”
“We’ve tried,” growled a man nearby, lifting a sledgehammer in one hand. “Nothing kills them. Nothing. They’re all over the place, and we can’t contact the ship. We’re dead. All of us. It’s only a matter of time.”
“No. We can’t give up,” said Ethan. There had to be a way. “Come with me back to the barn,” he said to the man. “Maybe the creature that was in there has gone. If it has, everyone can go inside. We can barricade the doors and wait until morning, when the supply shuttle from the ship is due.”
“No way,” the man replied. “I’m not going near any of those things. I’m staying right here.”
“But you’re no safer here,” said Ethan. “One of them could attack any minute.”
“I said, I’m not going anywhere.” The man lifted his hammer again threateningly, and his eyes glinted in the light from Ethan’s lamp. Like the director, the man seemed to be barely holding himself together.
Ethan clenched his jaw. It was no use. Their soft lives aboard the Nova Fortuna meant they were entirely unprepared to deal with the emergency. And why had no one thought to set a watch while the others slept? They’d behaved like fools.
“No,” a voice wailed on the far side of the comm module. “Help him. Please. Somebody help him.” The victim’s terrible shrieking began, and the man Ethan had been talking to threw down his sledgehammer and, gripping his ears, ran off.
Then, above the shouts, cries and moaning of the crowd came a sound that made Ethan’s heart leap. It was Lauren’s voice, and she was calling his name. He headed toward the sound, pushing others aside as he went.
She was calling his name over and over. She seemed close by, though it was hard to navigate in the darkness and the confusion of voices.
“Lauren,” he shouted. “Lauren!” There she was.
She’d found Belle, and the two were standing together with their arms entwined. As Lauren saw him, her face broke into a smile of relief and happiness. She started forward.
“No,” a man shouted behind her as he backed up fast. He moved so quickly, Lauren didn’t have time to get out of his way. He knocked her down, and Belle turned and screamed as Lauren’s arm was torn from hers. The man scrambled away as the scaly belly of one of the creatures reared up. Ethan leapt forward, but he was too late. The creature fell on top of Lauren, flattening her to the ground. Its wriggling legs disappeared as it hunkered down. Belle’s hands flew to her face and she stumbled backwards, screaming.
The creature covered Lauren almost entirely. Only one of her feet remained visible, kicking. The crowd fled from the scene, scattering like cockroaches exposed to light. Ethan grabbed the creature’s hide, desperately trying to lift it up. Agony shot through his hands as the caustic liquid it exuded burned his skin. Belle was frozen in horror.
“Move out of the way,” commanded a voice, but Ethan barely heard. He felt a kick, and as he turned, light seared his eyes. A woman was standing behind him holding something Ethan had only ever seen in vids. Through blurring tears he saw she held dead fronds of the vegetation that surrounded the camp in each hand, and the fronds were on fire. Blue and yellow crackling flames spitting sparks rose from them.
“Here.” The woman held out a burning frond. “You do that side.”
Ethan took the burning plant, though the pain from his hand as he held it made him gasp. The woman thrust her flaming brand into the creature’s back. Ethan ran to the far side and did the same, pushing the fire deep into the tough hide. A great convulsion shook the animal. Its domed form flexed upward and became concave, exposing jerking legs and a writhing underside. Strings of a white substance hung from it.
The fire from the brands set light to the creature’s back, and the flames burned golden as they grew higher. The animal squirmed and bucked as if trying to rid itself of the blaze. With a sound like peeling plastic, it pulled away from Lauren and dashed off, twitching and weaving as it went.
Lauren’s body was still. Ethan turned his head. The world was swimming around him as he fought to erase the image from his mind. Despite the light from the flames, darkness encroached the edges of his vision.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said.
Ethan had forgotten she was there. She was watching him, flamelight flickering over her dark skin and black eyes. The burning frond she’d given him lay on the ground where he’d unknowingly dropped it.
“Will you help me kill the rest?” she asked.
“I...I...” Ethan swallowed. He couldn’t speak.
“Please. I’m very sorry about what happened to your friend,” the woman said, “but you have to help me. We have to kill these creatures before they attack again.”
Ethan nodded numbly. She was right. If no one did anything, more people would die. Lauren wouldn’t want him to stand there and weep over her while others were in danger.
“Yes,” he muttered. “I can help.” Wincing, he pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his right hand before retrieving the burning brand. With his left
hand he picked up the lamp he’d also dropped and slid it over his forearm.
“Thank you,” said the woman. “Follow me. We’ll light some more torches and share them out. Do you know where the director is? Are you his assistant or something?”
“No, I’m just a farmer.”
“Really? I thought you must be someone in charge.”
“Why would you think that?” Ethan had never been in charge of anything in his life.
“You were the only one with a lamp.”
The woman led him to a pile of dead fronds that had fallen from vegetation overhanging the fence. Ethan’s brand had nearly burned down. They lit more and carried them around the compound. People were attracted by the flames and approached them, their ravaged faces lit with tentative hope.
They handed out the burning brands and went back to light more.
THE WOMAN WAS ONE OF the Woken. Even if Ethan hadn’t seen her before, he knew that.
Though they wore the same clothes as everyone else, it was easy to tell the Woken apart. Their height varied more than the Gens’, and their skin tone ranged from a deep, dark brown through tan and yellow tones to pale, pinkish white. Ethan guessed that the controlled breeding of Gens had resulted in an evening out of height and skin tone differences that were usual on Earth. Male Gens were taller than females, but they differed by only a few centimeters from each other, and all Gens’ skin was colored light to medium-dark olive.
Ethan might have seen the woman before among the other Woken as they went around in their exclusive groups aboard the ship. He wasn’t sure. But his clear memory of her was from when he’d boarded the shuttle that had brought him down to the planet surface.
The incident had stuck in his mind because it was one of the few times that he’d seen Dr. Crowley angry. She’d always been kind and patient with him when he’d asked her endless questions about Earth, and she’d never patronized him over his ignorance. Neither had she subtly punished his curiosity in the way his teachers had. It had been a joy to him to finally find someone who would answer him seriously and not refer him to a vid or the Manual, both of which only repeated the tedious teachings of his classes.