by Joe Vasicek
“Yeah,” said Jeremiah. He stared straight ahead at the dozen or so seats in front of them. Off to the left, a baby wailed inconsolably. Gradually, though, the roaring quieted, the flames died down, and the gee forces subsided.
“How long has it been since you’ve come planetside?” Amos asked.
“Not since I left Edenia,” Jeremiah said softly. Far too long.
“Eh? What was that?”
“I said, not for a while.”
Amos nodded. “Well, look outside!”
Jeremiah leaned over and peered out the tiny cabin window. The landscape was gray and rocky, pocked with hundreds of craters. Everywhere he looked, though, he saw little splotches of red, with muddy rivers winding out from the long mountain ridges and splashes of green at the bottom of the deepest basins.
“What’s all that red stuff?” he asked.
“Lichen and cyanobacteria,” said Amos. “There’s not a whole lot of water, but we’ve been using mass accelerators to send a handful of icy comets in from the outer system. The first one should arrive in about twelve years.”
“Where did you get the mass accelerators?”
“From the Gaians.”
“The Imperials?” Jeremiah asked, frowning. “They’ve come out this far?”
“Just their engineers. They’ve got almost a dozen terraforming projects of their own and wanted to learn from ours. Don’t worry, though—the Imperials don’t have their eyes on this system and probably won’t for a long while.”
As they came in closer, Jeremiah saw that the red spots were actually speckled with tufts of green. The vegetation was thickest at the base of the craters, where little wisps of clouds wove in and out of the peaks along the ridge. A couple of rivers fed into one of the larger ones, creating a circular lake at the bottom.
The shuttle began to descend for the landing. From the cabin window, Jeremiah couldn’t see any settlements, but he did notice hundreds of rover tracks all converging at a point somewhere ahead of them. They slowed down until they were almost at a hover, then descended to a flat landing pad rimmed with red and blue lights.
“Welcome to the new Eden,” said Amos as the shuttle touched down on the surface. The grin on his face couldn’t have been wider.
After about a ten-minute wait, the ‘fasten seat restraints’ sign went off and the other passengers began to make their way to the front. The airlock doors opened to a large inflatable tunnel, evidently put in place only just after they’d landed. There were no windows, but from the way the walls billowed, Jeremiah could tell that it was the only thing shielding them from the planet’s atmosphere.
“The outside climate hasn’t quite stabilized yet,” Amos explained. “But it will.”
“Is the air toxic?”
“No, but you won’t survive long without breathing assistance. Not enough oxygen, and still a lot of methane.”
They reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into the spaceport. The place was fairly simple, with three rows of collapsible metal chairs and a computer terminal next to a unisex public restroom. The ceilings were almost six meters high, and vaulted with a clear glass roof. Wispy clouds raced across the greenish-blue sky, but the walls were solid enough that the wind was only a whisper.
“The city itself is mostly underground,” said Amos. “There are only about five hundred people living permanently on the surface, so space isn’t too tight. When we need to expand, we can always build up.”
“I take it the domes are used for farming and cattle grazing, then?”
“That’s right.”
Amos closed his eyes and ran his fingers against the wall as the wind made the skylights creak.
“It’s kind of like Edenia, isn’t it? Not the sky, of course, but the sound of the wind.”
“Yeah.”
“It was the wind that I missed the most,” Amos continued, leading them down the main hallway. “I didn’t even know that until I came here, though. Funny, what we take for granted.”
“I guess.”
“But it wasn’t until I set foot under the domes that I knew that this would be my home. Here, let me show you.”
They turned the corner and stepped into a large glass atrium. Outside, a sea of golden-green grass stretched outward across the rocky land, with clumps of trees and herds of cattle in the distance. Jeremiah looked up, expecting to see the geodesic frame of the dome, but instead he saw a clear plastic sheet, ribbed for support.
“Why are you still using inflatable bubble domes?” he asked. “Aren’t those supposed to be temporary?”
Amos chuckled. “They are. Look higher.”
Jeremiah lifted his gaze and gasped. A magnificent superstructure towered almost half a kilometer overhead, bending only ten or twenty degrees for all its height. It looked like the frame of a dome that was still under construction, but it was at least two or three orders of magnitude larger than any he’d ever seen.
“What is that?” he asked. “Is it—”
“A planetary arcology,” said Amos, “just like the ones at Gaia Nova. It’ll probably be a decade or two before it’s finished, but when it is, it’ll be about sixty-five hundred meters high and spread out across more than five hundred square kilometers of land.”
“Wow,” said Jeremiah. “That’s—that’s a big dome.”
“It has to be, if we’re all going to live in it.”
He frowned. “But I thought this planet was almost terraformed. What’s the point of living in a dome if the whole surface is habitable?”
Amos looked at him as if he’d spoken blasphemy. “And pollute our new Eden, just like we polluted Earth? No—we need the dome, not to keep the world out, but to keep ourselves in.”
Of course, Jeremiah thought. It was us who defiled the Earth, after all. He chastised himself for forgetting one of the basic tenets of his mother’s faith. Perhaps he really was unworthy of this place after all.
He walked to the edge of the atrium, where the doors opened up to the grassy plain. About a dozen rovers and hovercraft were parked to his right, but there was no concrete, glass, or steel beyond those doors—just a long stretch of Earthlike nature. He stared out across the grass and felt a weird sense of reverse claustrophobia—the fear of being in a place that was too open. When had he ever seen such a wide open space? Even at Edenia, the gardens had sat at the base of a crater, where the ridge gave some sense of confinement. Certainly, no space station he’d seen had ever been so large.
But then, he thought of the mountain meadow in Noemi’s dream world. It wasn’t the same, of course, but the similarities were unmistakable. The grass was almost knee-high, and though the bubble dome was too small to facilitate any wind, it didn’t take much to imagine a pleasant breeze. There was even a cluster of boulders in the distance, just like the ones from the simulator. And beyond that—
Trees.
His eyes widened as he pressed his face against the glass. Real trees, not the carefully pruned saplings at some of the larger stations. These ones were oak, by the looks of it, and they were tall—almost twenty meters high, with gnarly moss-covered bark and thick, leafy foliage. They weren’t the redwoods of his birth world, but they were the first real trees he’d seen since leaving.
“The land out there has been cultivated for almost a hundred and fifty standard Earth years,” said Amos behind him. “The soil under the domes is rich, and those forests you see are over a hundred years old.”
“Almost as old as the gardens of Edenia,” Jeremiah mused.
“That’s right.”
“Will they still be here after the big dome is finished?”
Amos nodded. “If anything, they’ll only spread further.”
A world of plains and forests, with domes large enough to cover a small world, Jeremiah thought to himself. After wandering the stars for so long, the realization that he could settle down here almost frightened him. And yet, of all the places he’d seen, nowhere else felt so much like home.
“Is ther
e a clinic here that can take care of my wife?”
“Of course,” said Amos. “She won’t be the first one to give birth on this world—or the last.”
“The medical facilities are pretty good, then?”
“As good as any you’ll find in the Oriana Cluster. It’s a great place to settle down and raise a family.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yes. It’s perfect.”
* * * * *
After visiting the surface of B’tum, the Hope of Oriana felt hopelessly narrow and cramped. Jeremiah cringed as he stepped into the corridor that ran the length of the ship. How he ever thought he could spend four months in this place, crammed with almost two hundred people, he didn’t know.
I’ve got to find Noemi, he thought, walking quickly. I’ve got to find her and get her out of here as quietly as possible.
The control rooms were empty, but lunch was being served in the mess hall, and the place was completely full. Fortunately, Mariya and her family were on the alternate meal schedule—they wouldn’t eat for another half hour. Even so, he kept to the middle of the aisle and did his best not to make eye contact with anyone.
The corridor outside the bunkrooms wasn’t quite as empty as the front half of the ship. Seven or eight people milled about, chatting among themselves. Jeremiah risked a glance and saw, to his immense relief, that Mariya and Jakob weren’t among them. A few of them glanced his way as he walked by, but a smile and a nod was all it took to get by.
He stopped at the door to the dream center and paused to catch his breath. With luck, Noemi, Mariya, and Jakob would all be in there, plugged in and unconscious. He could wake up Noemi, get their belongings from the bunk room, and slip out before anyone noticed they were gone. Once they were on B’tum, he could contact Jakob over the planetnet without having to confront him or Mariya directly.
But when he stepped into the dream center, he found the place almost completely empty. Only three of the reclining chairs were occupied, two of them with people he didn’t recognize.
The third one, of course, was Noemi.
He took a moment to check the display above her. She’d been on for almost five hours, working on creative mode. When she came out, she was bound to be hungry—but that would make sense if she expected to go straight from the simulator to lunch. He cursed himself for forgetting to grab something for her to eat, but they didn’t have any time. She would have to wait until they were on the Ariadne.
He glanced nervously over his shoulder. Compared to the rest of the ship, the dream center felt eerily quiet. Only the humming of the computer cores and the ever-present whisper of the ventilation system filled the large, empty space. Down in the corridor, someone called out, making him jump. Was that Mariya?
He turned back to the display and keyed the emergency override. Noemi stirred and stretched her arms. He helped her remove the dream monitor from her head and rolled the chair forward to let her sit up. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, dazed from the sudden return to reality.
“Sorry to jack you out,” he told her, knowing even as the words left his mouth that most of them would probably go over her head. “I had to, because, uh—we need to go.”
“Go?” she said, rubbing her forehead.
“Yes, to the Ariadne. We go—chven m’divart.”
“M’divart chven?”
“Ki, ki.”
“Sa’ad?” Where?
He took a deep breath and extended his hand. “Our new home.”
“Home?” she said, frowning. “Where home?”
“Just—just trust me, Noemi. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She hesitated for a moment, but took his hand and rose to her feet. Her first steps were a little unsteady, so he put his arm around her waist and let her lean on him.
“Easy does it,” he said. “I know you’re still dazed, but we have to get out of here as soon as we—”
He looked up and froze. Mariya stood in the doorway, blocking their path.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”
“Uh, nowhere,” he lied. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Because I heard you went down to the surface,” she said, giving him a puzzled look. “Why?”
“Oh, that. Nothing, really. Just meeting up with an old friend.”
He tried to walk past, but Jakob stood in the corridor behind her. His heart leaped in his chest, and his stomach fell through the floor. In that moment, all his hopes of getting away without a confrontation were smashed.
“Jeremiah,” said Jakob, folding his arms. “What’s this I hear about you leaving the colony mission without us?”
Jeremiah’s jaw dropped. “Who—who told you—”
“Never mind that. I can guess what you’ve been up to, meeting with the captain and stealing away planetside. You haven’t given my daughter your answer yet, have you?”
“N-no, sir, I—”
“I expected more of you, Jeremiah, I really did. I never thought you would stoop to this—and right when your wife is expecting, too. Does she even know where you’re taking her?”
Jeremiah clenched his fists, even as his whole body began to shake.
“It’s okay, father,” said Mariya, putting a hand on his arm. “Jeremiah’s a New Earther, so it’s only natural that he’d want to settle down here. And if that’s what he wants, we can go with him—can’t we?”
She turned to him with an expectant look in her eyes. Noemi looked over at him in confusion, and Amos’s words suddenly came to mind. You’ve got to take a stand.
“I’m sorry, Mariya,” he said, his legs numb. “I—I can’t marry you.”
Her expression fell slowly, like a natural satellite spiraling into a gravity well. “What do you mean?” she asked, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’m sure we can—”
“What I mean is, I won’t marry you. I don’t want there to be any hard feelings, and I wish you the best of luck, but Noemi and I are staying at B’tum, and we don’t want you to come with us.”
A stunned silence fell over them all. The background hum of the computer cores seemed unbearably loud, like a buzzing in Jeremiah’s ear. He took a deep breath and looked from Jakob to Mariya and back to Jakob again.
“Well,” said Jakob, “I suppose this is where we say goodbye, then.”
“But—but—” Mariya stammered. She turned to Noemi and began talking rapidly in Deltan.
“That’s enough,” said Jeremiah, stepping between them. “Goodbye, Mar—”
“No want go,” said Noemi, looking at him in horror. “No want—we stay, we stay!”
He frowned. “What? Noemi—”
“Araginda!” she shouted, running past him to throw her arms around Mariya. “Araginda m’divart—no want go!”
“But—but why?”
“You didn’t even consult with her, did you?” said Jakob. “Just up and made the decision, without any thought to ask her?”
“No, I—” Jeremiah opened his mouth to speak, but the words stopped short in his throat. He looked at Noemi, holding tightly to Mariya, and realized with a terrible, gut-wrenching sensation that he’d made a mess of everything.
“No want, no want,” Noemi said over and over again. “We stay—we stay.”
Chapter 15
“All right,” said Jeremiah, collapsing on the chair in the cabin of the Ariadne. “Let’s talk.”
Mariya moved awkwardly aside to let Noemi unfold the second chair, but Noemi shook her head and motioned for her to take the chair instead. After going back and forth for a few moments, they decided instead to sit on the floor. Of course, this made things awkward for Jeremiah, so he stood up and folded his chair back in the wall, joining them at their level.
Just please get this over with, he thought, his breath coming short and fast. He felt as if the bulkheads of his own ship were collapsing in on him, the same as he’d felt on the Hope of Oriana.
“Right,” said Mariya. “So, Noemi doesn
’t want to leave.”
“Why?” Jeremiah asked—then, turning to Noemi directly, “ratom?”
She went off on a long explanation, of which he caught only a few words. From the look on her face, it seemed as if she were on the verge of a breakdown. I should have asked her first, he thought, mentally beating himself. We should have talked things over before—stars, I’m an idiot.
“She says she doesn’t want to disrespect your authority, but she absolutely does not want to leave the Hope of Oriana right now. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
Mariya hesitated. “Unless the rest of us can come with you too. It’s the pregnancy—she just wants to be with her own people.”
Of course, you fool. Why couldn’t you see that before?
Noemi put a hand on Mariya’s knee, and he realized he’d completely misread her reaction in the dream simulator. He vividly remembered the chill autumn wind scattering the dead brown leaves and tossing her tattered dress. When he looked into her eyes, he still saw the same melancholy reflected there—and yet, there was also a closeness that she and Mariya shared in spite of it.
“But why …”
“Why what?” Mariya asked softly.
Why does she still want to be with you, when you’re the one who’s hurting her? he wanted to say. But of course, he couldn’t say that aloud. Instead, he took a deep breath and glanced away.
“I just don’t understand,” he said.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
You can accept that I don’t want to marry you and stop trying to make me change my mind. Instead, he shook his head.
“Just tell her I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to make a decision without her. If she doesn’t want to leave, then that’s fine—we’ll stay on with you to Zarmina.”
Mariya nodded and translated for him. Noemi listened quietly and put a hand on his knee to reassure him. The feel of her touch made him tremble.
“Jerem-ahra no sad,” she said. “Is sorry, is good. Noemi no angry.”