by Mark Wandrey
Minu’s old, red aerocar landed smoothly outside on the smaller of the two landing pads. The second ceramic concrete pad, added years earlier, was nearly as big as the house. Occasionally, a shuttle would arrive from orbit carrying a special visitor who would only set foot on Bellatrix in Minu’s cabin.
She turned and glanced at the car, feeling a little pang of regret. She’d left it to Gregg when she went to rescue Pip. It was only fair after he’d used it as his own for years that he got to keep it. Still, the hot red machine was her first love, even when the dealer who sold it to her gave her a newer, hotter one upon her return.
The codex had saved the dealer’s twin daughters, who had been born with a rare genetic defect that would have claimed their lives. She’d tried to refuse the gift, only to find out that he would ‘set the damn thing on fire if she didn’t accept it!’
The car doors gull winged up as Gregg unfolded his long frame from one side, and his wife emerged from the other. Approaching thirty-five, he’d developed a small bald spot that he tried to cover up by letting the rest of his hair grow longer. That didn’t stop Aaron from harassing him every chance he got. Aaron was five subjective years younger, his hair thick and full. The codex proved useless on hair loss, a problem the ancient, simian, hominid species apparently didn’t suffer from.
The front door opened a moment later, and Gregg’s voice boomed out. “What’s for dinner?”
“Shit sandwiches,” Aaron replied.
Faye stepped in, her face scrunched up in disgust at her husband’s and Aaron’s usual ritual. She was just as tall as Gregg, with equally blond hair, cut short to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were a little more subdued than Gregg’s, but her choice of a pretty, red blouse/skirt ensemble set them off brilliantly. Gregg had somehow managed to marry a woman even prettier than he was. When Minu had first met Faye, last year when he’d announced their engagement, she had liked her instantly.
“I’ll make you a shit sandwich, if you don’t give it a rest,” Minu yelled and threw a napkin at Aaron. Then she went to greet their friends, hugging first one, then the other, and adding a little kiss for Faye. She put a hand on the tall blonde’s stomach and smiled at her. “And how is baby?”
“Just a little thing so far,” Faye told her. “Had a fetal imaging done day before yesterday.”
“And?”
“Boy, of course!” Gregg laughed. He struck a muscleman pose, and both girls laughed. Aaron grabbed his cane and quickly hobbled over to hug his longtime friend. It was only when they were right next to each other that Minu remembered the rescue mission had left Gregg behind. They were all within a year of each other age-wise, until she’d taken her future husband and a few friends and leapfrogged ahead in time.
“When are you guys going to have a baby?” Faye asked. Minu and Aaron looked at each other, then away, finishing their preparations for dinner without a word. “What...”
Gregg leaned over and used a peck on the cheek as an excuse to whisper a quick sentence in his wife’s ear. She looked hurt and confused but didn’t say another word. Minu knew Gregg couldn’t tell her the truth; it was classified, especially the part about the ship that orbited far up in space over their heads and its enigmatic pilot.
Eventually the mood lightened, and they all sat down to eat. The dinner had started as a tradition after Minu returned and quickly married Aaron. At first, it included all their friends, but slowly the numbers dwindled. Now, almost six years after their return, it was just the two couples.
“How’s Pip doing?” Minu asked Gregg. Unlike her and Aaron, he was still fully active in the Chosen. He’d cemented his command of the Rangers after years of successful operations for the Tog and paying jobs all over the Concordia.
Many expected a final decision on making the Rangers the sixth branch of the Chosen and taking away one of Gregg’s stars, soon. Minu hoped so; she was tired of being the only two-star in her group of friends. It might have given her a lot of prestige, but it also caused some contentious differences, as well.
Chewing on her meat, she thought about all of her friends on the council, wondering who would be First. According to the women of the Chosen, she already was. Of course, that was a farce; she was retired in all but name. Her only regular duty was travelling a few days a month to Herdhome as humanity’s liaison, a job she had been assigned by P’ing to keep her in power within the Chosen.
“He’s working with a number of the off-world projects that are integrating Concordian and human tech. That and spending a lot of time on Project Enigma.” She nodded at the mention of their code for Lilith and her Kaatan ship.
There was no longer any doubt the ship was hers. Minu’s steadfast refusal to provide any help in changing that was the reason she was ‘permanently detached to the University of Tranquility.’
“Cherise saw him a week ago when she was meeting with Var’at on Romulus.” Minu was constantly annoyed by the various lies and half-truths they had to tell people around them. She didn’t know how Gregg kept from telling his wife about things she wasn’t supposed to know, but her reactions were always a verification that he kept secrets well.
The Rasa were not public knowledge, yet a secret below that of Lilith and the Kaatan. Some knew the Rasa, their former enemies, were living on one of Bellatrix’s moons. Few knew of Minu’s secret daughter and her killer warship. It was all so confusing. “Last time I saw him he’d just visited his son,” he continued as Aaron and Minu nodded.
The subject of Pip’s brief marriage was touchy; no one wanted to linger too long in that awkward territory. “Christian was officially declared lost in action.”
Minu nodded again and shook her head. He’d followed her example five years earlier and went off the reservation on a mission out on the frontier. But unlike her father, there was never a message and no explanation; he’d just left his team while on a remote world and never returned.
“That’s too bad,” Minu said, and the Chosen at the table lowered their heads while Faye remained respectably silent. She felt little actual emotion; that ship had sailed many years ago. “The First waited quite a few years before making it official.”
After dinner Faye and Gregg cleaned up the dishes, something they considered necessary to reimburse their hosts for the meal.
When the table was clean, the mead and playing cards came out, and the bragging began. Minu and Faye chatted lightly as they watched the boys bluster and punch each other in the arm after a particularly good joke or remembered exploit. Gregg’s stories were always of interest to her since they usually involved the Rangers. Her only regret was not being their leader after she’d expended so much energy to bring them into existence.
As they poured the last of the mead, they partook of one more tradition. The three Chosen raised their glasses and saluted. “To those who didn’t make it,” they said and downed the golden brew. Faye looked down in respect.
“What’s it like being a female Chosen?” she’d asked Minu just after they’d first met.
“Painful,” Minu said simply, “but worth it.”
On the mantel above the cabin’s old, fieldstone fireplace floated several holographic images. Minu knew all their names; they were some of the men, women, and Rasa who’d died under her command. Floating above them was an image of her father, Chriso Alma.
Unlike the other images, this one was a brief loop of him standing behind a podium, his chiseled face displaying a rare smile as he waved to those in attendance. Her glass was empty, but she still lifted it to toast her father. The only real mystery she cared about, she’d never solved. She’d add an image of Christian tomorrow. He might not have died under her command, but she felt he deserved remembrance. Minu wondered if Aaron would say anything.
* * *
Later as they snuggled in bed, Aaron spoke quietly. Not because he was afraid of being too loud in the small space, but because the island was thick with howlers this time of year, and one mistake could be disastrous. “Don’t blame Faye for t
he baby thing, she doesn’t understand.”
“I don’t,” Minu assured her spouse, “I just wish we could introduce her to Lilith. Maybe as my cousin, or something.”
“She’s still too thin,” Aaron reminded her, “and besides, the girl couldn’t tell a lie to save her life. She’d spill the beans in a minute flat.”
“Probably sooner,” Minu agreed. She regretted they didn’t have another child, but she knew the regrets would be gone by morning; they always were. She rolled over and yawned, her subtle clue to Aaron that she wanted to go to sleep.
He rolled over slowly to minimize the sheet’s movement on his inflamed legs, his back just touching hers, the way she liked, and he was soon snoring lightly. Minu sighed and felt herself drifting into sleep. Life was pretty good. Somewhere from a little room in her mind came manic laughter and a voice saying it would never last. It never did.
* * *
The shuttle was Concordia-manufactured and reliable, if not as nice as the ones from the Kaatan. They were careful with any public appearances of those shuttles, since too many questions were asked every time they were spotted: “Where did those shuttles come from? How come we never get to see the inside of those shuttles? What are the Chosen hiding now?”
So, they’d purchased a pair of Concordia-made shuttles and used them prominently in support of the public space ventures under way. Three massive solar farms were under construction to beam power down to the planet and reduce their reliance on Concordian shipments of EPCs that continued to get more expensive every year.
The solar arrays were almost entirely of local construction. Vast amounts of raw materials for the collectors were available on dozens of junkpiles around the galaxy. Why no other species repurposed the junk was a mystery to Minu. Microwave energy was beamed down to vast antenna farms in Desert Tribe territory, where it was converted to electricity and distributed to a hungry, industrialized world.
As she, Ted, and Aaron climbed aboard the shuttle, she recognized the Chosen pilot and nodded to him. She wouldn’t have any difficulty getting him to divert for a quick hop behind Remus as it orbited by in a few hours.
The shuttle lifted off on chemical thrusters, then switched to gravitic impellers, quickly racing toward orbit. In the back, Aaron tried to enjoy the ride and not show his wife and friend just how much pain he was in, both physically and mentally. It was hardest to keep the tears of loss from coming to his eyes when he flew.
The shuttle was simple compared to the ones on the Kaatan, but it still delivered them to orbit in only a few minutes. The pilot’s voice came over the PA, “You guys want some zero G?”
“No thanks,” Ted said quickly. “My damn stomach never handles it well.”
Once they were in high orbit and beyond the prying eyes of ground cameras, the craft altered course, breaking orbit, and made for the tiny sphere of Romulus.
The first time anyone flew to the little moon they were often shocked by how quickly it grew to fill the entire view. At a touch over seven thousand kilometers around at the equator, it was only one fifth the size of the world it orbited and half the size of its sister, Remus. But a seven thousand kilometer-around rock was still a lot bigger than anything most people ever saw up close.
The pilot expertly put the shuttle into a deteriorating orbit. As they descended, the seas of algae began to resolve into individual tidal movements. The signature green and blue colors were huge floating rafts of green algae moved by the massive tidal forces caused by the proximity to Bellatrix. No one knew for sure what else lived in those deep blue waters. The Rasa and Chosen teams who’d set up the first floating settlements had been the first to set foot on the moonlet.
The shuttle swept into the atmosphere, exposing them to some light gravity as they decelerated, then flared out over the surging seas. Showoff, Minu thought as they skimmed the waters at less than a hundred meters, but Aaron nodded at the bravado. It was nothing he wouldn’t have done in the same situation.
A hundred clicks farther on, the pilot gained some altitude as they rocketed over the leading edge of an algae flow. Like massive glaciers, some were as much as a kilometer thick and a thousand kilometers long. Studies through telescopes by scientists on Bellatrix in centuries gone by showed that some rafts of algae lasted for decades.
The shuttle slowed and effected a wide, sweeping turn, giving them a bird’s eye view of the settlement, which reminded Minu, once again, of a deep-ocean oil platform from old Earth, only much bigger. Huge legs with floats dipping into the algae supported the platform, which was hundreds of meters on a side.
Complex, hydraulic cylinders moved the legs’ positions to keep the platform steady, as though it were walking on the surface as the sea undulated below. On top, dozens of buildings holding the Rasa settlers rested. And, on one side, a dock sat almost level with the algae. The passengers could see an armada of bots moving to and fro by the dock, busily harvesting the thick, protein-rich organisms.
Different levels of algae growth yielded different types of proteins. Only some had value, so the bots worked to quickly exploit veins of those kinds. The raft of algae would eventually break up, and the platform would migrate to a new one.
The shuttle came in on final approach, and a Rasa stood in the center of the landing pad, two glowing wands held in his claws, guiding them in with hand movements to a gentle landing. The Rasa waved, his face hidden by the bulky breathing mask he wore. Romulus might have been teaming with life, but the oxygen content was too low to support complex organisms like humans or Rasa. The atmosphere was predominantly carbon dioxide, just how the algae liked it.
With their masks in place, the three friends moved to the door as it slid into the hull. Aaron didn’t need his cane in the one-quarter gravity of Romulus, another reason he enjoyed the trip so much. As they descended the ramp, the leader of the Rasa came out of an adjacent building and bounded toward them with long hops.
Anyone who lived on Romulus long enough learned to deal with the reduced gravity and take advantage of it. The Rasa easily made five-meter jumps and skittered right up the side of hundred-meter tall gantries without a second thought. To Minu, it looked like they considered it the ultimate playground.
“Welcome!” Var’at hissed as he approached. “It has been too long!” They exchanged greetings as he guided them toward the nearest building. “We have a meal ready if you are hungry.”
“No squidge, right?” Aaron asked.
Var’at put a hand to his face, unable to cover his mouth because of the mask. “You don’t like squidge?”
They all gave him a dirty look, and his mouth fell open in the Rasa version of laughter.
“Of course not, we all know of your squeamishness. No, dinner is lamb and sea kelp! You will love it.”
It almost sounded like an order, but it was as good as advertised. They grew the sheep on their secret land on Bellatrix, and they cultivated the kelp on Romulus. Several of Var’at’s assistants attended the meal, along with his brothers, Kal’at, and Zar’at. Already, Ted and Kal’at were deep in discussions to solve the problems with the bots, while Zar’at was talking about their living conditions.
“The oxygen isn’t absent, only below the six percent our species requires for survival. What is fascinating is that the next generation being born here, from eggs fertilized on Romulus, seem to be adapting!”
“I thought that was impossible?” asked Minu.
“Impractical, really. The oxygen level is only two percent less than we are accustomed to. The hatchlings all have much larger lungs than we do. It is amazing to watch them adapt.”
As if on cue, one of the Rasa young appeared through an open door. The tiny version of the adults had a smaller head and preferred to move on all fours. Var’at was right, his chest was twice the expected size, but that didn’t slow the little guy down. He surveyed the room with his turreted, independent eyes, decided, and struck. With lightning fast speed, he leaped on the table, seized a large piece of uneaten lamb, and
retreated.
Var’at laughed and made a halfhearted swing at the infant, one claw nicking a leg as it retreated without slowing down. The first time Minu saw this sort of behavior toward the Rasa young, she was horrified. Then she discovered the little ones were not sentient until two years old, at which time they bonded with an adult and began to learn language. “That one is almost ready to bond. I think he will choose me.”
Not if you kill him first, Minu thought. “How many young are at this settlement?”
“With so few of us left,” Zar’at explained, “I am using fertility drugs to increase egg production in the females. There are between two and three thousand young here.”
“So many?” Aaron gasped.
“Not so many, friend,” Var’at told him. “Only one in ten will live to bond. They often prey on each other and are prone to...mistakes.”
Minu shuddered at the idea of young, sentient beings eating each other or succumbing to lethal accidents at a rate of ten to one.
Zar’at shrugged. “We considered keeping this hatching contained, but research on our home world indicated there would be deleterious side effects to such an experiment.”
“Such as?” Minu wondered.
“Much more violent tendencies during their middle years and a decreased lifespan.”
“I’d call that serious,” Aaron agreed.
Minu nodded, then heard a high-pitched buzzing in her ear.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said, getting up and walking a few meters away. Aaron watched her go, knowing she was getting a secure call.
Minu tapped the little blue gem behind her right ear. Medical Intelligence aboard the Kaatan had installed the implant years earlier to ensure she could talk to her daughter, any time, under any circumstances, no matter how far away she was. “Hi Lilith.”
“Hello, Mother.” The greeting hadn’t changed in six years and probably never would. The girl didn’t lend herself to familial greetings like Mom or Momma.
“We’ll be there in a few hours. What’s the urgency?”