by Sam Coulson
“Well, Jag, to be fair, I’m still not convinced that you can read at all,” the second voice was another tech they called Boils. His arms, neck and face were scarred from a chemical leak that had occurred in his youth.
Several of the men chuckled as they lay back in their bunks listening.
“Well, not all of us can get by with our looks like you can!” Jager retorted with a friendly jibe. “It’s too bad MineWorks decided to put us out here, maybe if they would have landed us in some Domari commune you could have found a willing Olsterian female to take in that ugly mug of yours—”
The men laughed again.
I didn’t.
Nearly every night Jager, Boils, and a few others would talk into the late hours, exchanging insults and telling stories that most likely never happened. Though I tried, I couldn’t quite see what was funny in the back and forth. Although Boils didn’t seem offended when they made fun of his looks and laughed harder than anyone, I just couldn’t manage to feel a part of their conversations. Jager had mentioned the Domari though, that was a new one.
I pulled up my Slate and typed in “The Domari”.
Domari / The Domari Collective:
The Domari Collective is a society comprised of humanoids originating on four discrete worlds. The Collective was founded in the namesake Domari system, a solar system containing twin habitable worlds that traveled in similar orbits: Hoken and Laster. The Lasterian natives (similar to Earthborn humans, though with particular grooming styles and thick hair on their forehead that reaches down to the tip of their nose) first developed manned spaceflight in the Earth-year 1302, and set off to explore the nearby planet of Hoken. They were stunned to find that Hoken was already inhabited with an intelligent (though pre-industrial) race of humanoids. Genetic testing determined that the two peoples shared a common genome, though they had evolved separately for millions of years. This gave rise to the theory of Panspermia, the now pervasive school of thought that the human genetic seed had been scattered across the universe by an unknown force and left to evolve separately on different worlds (See Article on Origin Debates: Random Dispersion, or Sown Seeds?).
The Lasterian’s recognized the Hoken people as cousins. The two worlds began trading, intermarrying (interbreeding), and mingling their two societies over the last millennia to the point where the two races have become culturally indistinguishable. As time and science progressed over the next few centuries, the Domari Collective developed the first known gravitational flux drive, and began traveling between star systems by exploiting the randomly occurring static gravitational anomalies that connect neighboring star systems (see Flux Points). Over the following centuries, the Domari encountered and integrated two additional pre-space flight humanoid races into the Collective: the natives of the Noona and Olster systems.
Though physically similar to Earthborn humans, evolution (and 400+ years of interbreeding between the human subspecies within the Collective) has resulted in a number of physical differences between humanoid variants. For example, due to stronger-than-Earth-normal gravitational field on the planet Olster, many who carry Olsterian heritage are notably shorter, squatter, and physically stronger than Earthborn humans. Natives of Noona (See Noonan) evolved in subterranean complexes and have pale and sometimes nearly translucent skin and are extremely sensitive to bright light. Noonan often wear long cloaks to protect themselves from bright lights on space stations and other worlds.
Researcher’s note: Members within the Collective prefer to identify themselves by their home planet rather than specific humanoid subspecies. This emphasis on identity relative to community, rather than socioeconomic class or racial/species affiliation, is a stark difference to the Earthborn, who have a long and violent history of racial conflict.
First Contact between the Earthborn and Collective:
In 2167, the Earthborn developed their first gravitational flux drive. Over the next 85 years, the Earthborn charted 15 star systems, and expanded with permanent settlements (orbital and terrestrial) on six solar systems, including two successfully terraformed worlds. On 11.9.2252, an Earthborn prospector was scanning a mineral belt in Tau Ceti when a large, unidentified vessel approached, signaling the prospector in an unknown language.
The newcomer, a merchant cruiser from the Domari Collective, was nearly triple the size of the technologically inferior Earthborn mining vessel. Assuming that the miners were a competitor moving in on his established territory, the Domari nearly fired upon the Earthborn ship. Luckily, the Domari conducted a thorough scan before firing (to ensure that there were no valuable goods on board), and held their fire long enough for the Earthborn pilot to make first contact. In the weeks and months that followed, the people of Earth learned the truth: not only were we not alone in the universe, we were not the only humans.
I tried to wrap my head around it all. Flux points. Gravitational drives. Panspermia. The universe was so much larger than the muddy field and stale bunkhouse. There were ships slipping silently in the blackness from star to star on dozens if not hundreds of worlds. There were humans, people like me, living their lives scattered across the darkness. I once again recalled sitting with my teacher staring out at the faint twinkling stars in the night.
“Elicio?” The sound of Jager saying my name pulled me from my thoughts. “The weird kid from nowhere? Yeah, he’s over there in the corner, probably asleep by now, he never says much. What did he do, Marshal? Steal something?”
There was no answer.
I turned my head to see a shadow of a man walking between the bunks over to me. Even in the dimly lit room it was easy to tell who it was. His slender frame and the stiff cadence of his steps were unmistakable. Marin McCullough.
“Elicio,” he gave a slight nod as he saw me watching him approach. “Put on some clothes and meet me outside. We need to talk.”
I heard a few whispered comments throughout the barracks.
“Um, sure,” I stammered.
“I’ll be waiting,” he said as he turned back toward the door. “Be quick.”
Chapter 7.
“Our most ancient Charon tells a story about how, long ago, our people could move through the nothingness between the stars. The memories are our most ancient. We know that we were powerful. But there was tragedy, sadness, and death. We also know that, in the end, there was guilt. Guilt that was far greater than the good that could be achieved. So we retreated from the skies and made a quiet home here on this ground.”
“Do you have those Charons? The memories of when our people flew? Do you hold it in your mind?” I asked, anxious to know more.
“No, no,” my teacher responded. “Those memories are kept by other teachers, silent and safe, and not often visited. They say they are stories of stars, and suns, and worlds. Of fire and power and the endlessness of the void. We traveled a long way to find this world. It’s those memories that I am charged to keep. Memories of our first days on this new world.”
“But we came from some other world?”
“Yes, though somewhere distant. So far away that you cannot even see it’s a speck in the night sky. As each generation rises and falls, the Charons fade. Our oldest memories are held by a few teachers. It’s like an old song where the notes change with the voices of the singer. We do know that we gave up the old life to live here, quietly, and simply.”
Marin was outside standing by the door and looking out at the stars when I quietly shut the barracks door behind me. It was about ten at night and the sky was speckled with stars. The colony was setting in, quiet and still.
“Elicio. Elicio.” He said without turning. “Elicio what? Do you have a surname?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Hm, it’s not proper,” he made a note in his Slate. “We have two Elliots and an Egbert, but nobody else on this world answers to Elicio. So I suppose it will do for now. If you ever venture to make it off-planet, you will have to come up with something.” His tone was crisp and businesslike.
“Off-planet?” I asked dumbly. “Where would I go?”
“Yes, well, right now we are on the edge of civilized space, but space is always moving. The Earthborn Protectorate is spreading out and discovering new flux points every day, finding new connections between worlds. Back at the university I attended a lecture by Stratus-nominated astrophysicist who calculated each star system may have up to a dozen anomalies floating around waiting to be discovered. Everyday babies are being born, resources depleted. It is not a matter of us going back into the heart of the Protectorate. The light of civilization is always expanding. It is a matter of the Protectorate coming to us.”
There was a slight curl of a smile on the edge of his lips, and a sound of anticipation in his voice. It was the first time I had heard anyone speak of the expansion of the Protectorate without distrust or outright hatred.
“Soon,” he continued, “sooner than most think, the Protectorate will spread out into this region. And here we are. The first on a new planet. 7,934 people spread over four small, colony towns on a brand new world. We are here to carry the torch.”
“For Earth?”
“For Civilization,” he finally turned to look at me. He was tall like his father, with rough, angular features and friendly brown eyes. “The path to power in the Protectorate is paved by those who strive to bring order and peace to the wildness of the universe. That’s why I’m here. To do something meaningful. To matter.” Marin paused to scratch his cleanly shaven chin, before continuing with a slight trace of bitterness in his voice. “My father came to this rock to run away from the Protectorate, and dragged my poor sister with him. I came because I wanted to: I will build this world into what it could, and should be.”
“Th-that sounds noble,” I responded clumsily. This was the longest conversation I’d had in the last several weeks that wasn’t about turnips.
“You don’t say much,” it was a statement, not a question. Marin surveyed me, his dark brown eyes were calculating. “I suppose that is for the best when you are living with that lot. I’m already saying more than I should. Talk of the Protectorate makes these simple types nervous. They don’t yet understand how the Protectorate will improve their world and their lives. They will someday. For now, we need to move. My father sent for you.”
He abruptly turned and walked away.
As I hurried to catch up with him and matched his pace I could see why the colonists looked at Marin with distrust. Nearly every night in the barracks I listened to the men complaining about the Protectorate and the power of the central government, distrust for the corporations, and about how they would never allow their children to be educated at one of the Protectorate’s central institutions. The colonists felt that the Government had looked the other way as the air and water on Lagrange had been polluted and turned toxic by the “progress” of unchecked industry. Where Marin saw grandeur and progress, the colonists saw decadence and corruption.
Marin and I walked the streets of the Downs in silence. The town was laid out neatly in a grid, with the river along the north edge of town. Unsure of myself, I had not ventured further than the field, barracks, hospital and cafeteria. So I wasn’t sure where we were going until we made an abrupt left turn after a machining shop toward a freshly built log house that was nestled on the edge of the river.
Marin knocked loudly on the door.
“In!” Lee barked from the other side of the door. “Shut it behind you.”
I had expected the interior of the house to match the rustic exterior, but was surprised to see that the walls had been insulated with the same thin ceramic plating that served as the interior walls of the barracks and, I would later discover, the interior of most starships. The main room was large, well lit, and clean. There were windows on the wall looking out over the river. The furniture was simple and utilitarian, like we had everywhere else on the compound. In the corner was a small kitchen with a stove and cold-cabinet. There were three doors to other interior rooms, all of them were closed.
Lee and Ju-lin were sitting a table viewing a holographic relief of a map on the electronic tabletop. I’d seen similar technologies in the hospital, but was fascinated by its use as a map. I immediately recognized the nine peaks. I followed the thin blue trail of the river down the valley and into the delta. The Downs was marked on the map by a series of lines and roads, some of the roads I knew, there were others that were yet unbuilt. It was Lee’s plans for the city.
“Come, sit.” Lee said without looking up. “Both of you.”
I followed Marin and took the last available seat between Ju-lin and Marin, opposite Lee. Ju-lin glanced at me briefly. Her long hair and gold-flecked eyes had found their way into my dreams once or twice. I was glad to see her.
“Here,” Lee traced the edge of a mountain with his finger, leaving a bright blue trail on the holographic image. “If you cross the ridge it should be a straight and easy shot to the site without coming too close to New Haven.”
“That’s nice, though I still need to know what I’m doing.” It seemed Ju-lin’s irreverence was universal.
“Patience, Lin,” Lee answered. “Save the scan.”
She sighed as she pulled a small disc from her pocket and pressed it against the edge of the table. As she did so, the map dissipated, leaving a glossy black tabletop.
“Elicio,” Lee looked up at me. “You’ve recovered well, you look strong. Glad to see it.”
“Thank you sir,” I replied.
“No sir. Just Lee.”
I nodded, unsure what to say. After weeks listening to the colonists, I had begun to be comfortable with the cadence and tone of their speech, but the McCullough's accent and speech patterns were different. They elongated their vowels slightly, putting emphasis on the long ‘a’ sounds and spoke more quickly than the colonists. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were from another world than the colonists, or if it was just part of being a McCullough.
“Relax boy,” the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth turned into a bit of a smile. “You’re not in trouble.”
“Unless you’ve done something wrong?” Marin’s eyebrow was raised. I realized that Jager was right about Marin fancying himself as the marshal.
“Oh give it a rest Mar,” Ju-lin rolled her eyes. “You’d think that we were running a prison colony, or a Third Division interrogation camp. The kid’s already about to piss himself.”
“I can’t say I blame him,” Lee broke with a chuckle. “Half of these poor devils probably have nightmares about being dragged out of bed by ‘Marshal Marin’.”
Marin sneered and Ju-lin laughed at Lee’s use of the nickname.
“But then, we have an odd situation and I don’t want to spook the colonists,” Lee continued. ”So first and foremost, everything said stays in this room. Understood?”
All three of us nodded.
Though the room was cool, I found myself wiping a bead of nervous sweat from my brow.
“As you are aware, MineWorks deployed four colony sites on the surface. The closest is Ridgecrest, about forty kilometers to the northeast. We are working with them to build the dam. Progress is going well, and our relationship with Governor Bodford is good. We should be done on time. The other two are Riverfront, which is about 220 kilometers up the river, and then to the north-east further up in the mountains is place they are calling New Haven, about 640 klicks away as the ship flies.
“Each of the four colonies are strategically placed to maximize the local resources and help us develop a basic trading economy between us. We are the breadbasket. The reason we’ve been working so hard to plow and plant fields is to maximize our food production. As soon as we are done building up the town, our teams will get to work on constructing some seaworthy ships so that we can start fishing the bay when spring hits.
“Ridgecrest is in the foothills, good land for grazing and livestock. They also have access to several groves of hardwoods. Our little delta-forest will soon be gone, and we’ll begin trading with them,
food for lumber, so we can start building the fishing boats.
“Riverfront is near several large stone and mineral deposits, by next spring they will have a quarry and stone mill fully operable. Their Governor, a woman named Katia, is intent on first developing a high-end ceramics facility and then moving on to steel and more advanced alloys in the next few years. They are the industrial park to our garden.
“Lastly, there is New Haven,” he paused. “New Haven is led by one of MineWork’s own, a fellow named Hollace Growd.”
“Growd, I’ve seen that name somewhere,” I spoke without thinking.
“Yes you have,” Lee nodded. “His father is a man named Hoonan Growd, one of MineWork’s Senior Vice Presidents. He is the one who authorized the colony.”
“Interesting,” Ju-lin broke in. “It’s the first I’ve heard of that.”
“The colonial charter notes that this world is independent and not part of MineWork’s holdings,” Marin broke in. “Installing one of their middle managers as a Governor is in clear violation of the chart—”
“—Marin,” Lee interrupted. “We are a few systems beyond the Protectorate’s umbrella. The planetary charter may as well be written in the air. As far as I’m aware, nobody outside of this room knows that he has ties to MineWorks. The colonists believe that he’s a graduate in civil development from Centauri. Which is true enough.”
“How do you know about Growd?” I asked.
“I never make a move without knowing all the angles,” Lee smiled. “He’s a crafty one, and no doubt looking to follow in his father’s footsteps in the corporation. From what I understand it was his idea to name their site New Haven, after the city they lived in back on Lagrange, in a thin attempt to rally the colonists behind him.”