Sand and Shadow

by Laurisa White Reyes

  Fess’s lips parted, and he blinked in confusion. “Gliese five-eighty—what?”

  “581g,” repeated Tink.

  “That’s an odd name for a planet,” said Lainie.

  “Actually,” continued Tink, “Gliese is the name of the star, or the sun. There are six planets orbiting this particular star, and this one happens to be 581g. It was discovered by Stephen S. Vogt of the Lick-Carnegie Exoplanet Survey in 2010 and is sometimes referred to as Zarmina.”

  “Okay,” said Dema, “so why are we here on Zarmina instead of Europa? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Boy, did we miss our target,” said Jonah with a sardonic laugh.

  Fess snapped his head up. “You don’t miss landing on a planet. NASA must have sent us here on purpose.”

  “But why?” asked Lainie.

  Adán didn’t have an answer, and by the silence in the room, he suspected none of them did. Jonah swallowed the last of his cocoa and set his cup noisily on the table.

  “I have an idea,” he said through a half grin, “but you won’t want to hear it.”

  Lainie began to collect the now empty food trays while Dema came farther into the room and sat down.

  “Just say it, Jonah,” said Dema. “I think we’re all open to suggestions at this point.”

  Jonah pointed to the holo. “Our supposed mission was to establish a colony on Europa so that larger populations could be transported there from Earth over time, but what if that was all a lie? What if there was never any intention of transporting anyone?”

  “That’s bull,” Fess scoffed, but Adán wanted to hear more.

  Jonah continued. “Think of the missing mix tanks, our space suits. What if they knew from the very start that we were going a lot farther than they let on?”

  “How far are we talking about exactly?” asked Dema.

  Tink tapped on the tablet and new figures appeared in the holo. “You’re not going to like this, but Gliese is just under twenty-one light years from Earth.”

  The room fell silent as everyone tried to process this new detail. Adán tried to calculate the distance in his head but couldn’t.

  “But the cryo was set for three years…” said Fess, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

  “Clearly, we’ve traveled longer than that,” answered Jonah. “What? Twenty? Thirty years?”

  “More, actually,” said Tink.

  Lainie dropped the empty trays into the recycle bin. “How much more?” she asked.

  “In 2024,” Tink answered, “NASA’s Clipper spacecraft began its mission to study Europa and arrived in just under six years. In 2026, Space X traveled 40,000 kilometers (25,000 miles) per hour to reach Mars. The Carpathia’s speed is comparable to Space X, which should have delivered us to Europa in three years’ time, or at least that’s what we were told.”

  Jonah huffed impatiently. “We all know our space flight history, Seoung. Get on with it.”

  Tink slid his finger across his tablet, and the holo of the planet disappeared, replaced by more equations. “At that speed, it would have taken us over 600,000 years to reach Gliese.”

  “What?” Fess shouted. “That’s impossible!”

  Tink held up a defensive hand. “Yes. Yes, it is impossible.”

  The crew let out collective sighs of relief. Adán felt a sheen of sweat forming above his brows. What was Tink doing, messing with them like that?

  Tink went on. “I’ve calculated the Carpathia’s fuel capacity and usage, the amount of power we’ve generated and consumed, and a bunch of other data from the shuttle’s internal flight reports. Taking acceleration into account, I estimate that we’ve been traveling at 30,000 kilometers—per second. That’s one tenth the speed of light, which makes us the fastest space vehicle in human history.”

  Adán tried to swallow, but his mouth had suddenly gone dry. NASA had hidden more from them than just their destination.

  “So, at that speed, realistically,” said Dema, but she didn’t finish her sentence.

  Tink nodded. “It took us two hundred and twenty years to get here.”

  The expressions on everyone’s faces matched the shock that Adán felt. Two hundred and twenty years? He thought of Saul, his father, the friends he left behind. No, he couldn’t grapple with the thought of what this meant. But if it was true, if Tink and Jonah were right, he had only one question: Why?

  “It could be a mistake,” suggested Dema. “A systems malfunction. Tink?”

  “Possible, I suppose,” Tink replied, “but highly improbable.”

  No one responded. It was clear by the fear and confusion on their faces that the crew felt overwhelmed by this development.

  Adán broke into the silence. “I know this information isn’t what we expected to hear, but until we search the archives and further study the mission data,” he said, “we can’t know anything for certain.”

  Jonah cut in. “What’s there to know? All the hype about relocating the human race on Europa was a cover up. Massive scale colonization was not only impractical, it was impossible.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Lainie. “NASA, the government, the world lied to everyone on Earth and sent a fleet of shuttles twenty light years away, for what reason?”

  Fess, in his growing agitation, shouted. “No reason! There’s no reason! This is all a bunch of bull shit! I say we get this shuttle back online and hightail it home.”

  The tension in the room was palpable. Adán didn’t know what else to say. He was just as confused, felt just as betrayed as everyone else. Fess had good reason to feel frustrated, to doubt the reality of their situation. And what if Dema was right? What if this was all some big mistake?

  “There’s no point in speculating,” Adán said, trying to quell the crew’s fears. “We’re just getting ourselves worked up for nothing. Better we focus on what we know, and get our jobs done as best we can.”

  He gave Fess a gentle pat on his shoulder, adding a smile for good measure.

  Fess nodded nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Get our jobs done.”

  Already Adán noticed the pressure in the room dissipating, and most of the others began talking about greenhouses and wells, but Jonah remained seated at the table, shoulders hunched over his hands clasped around his cross. As Adán’s eyes met his, he saw in them a sort of resignation, as if he had accepted a truth known only to him. They shared that look for a moment until Adán finally broke away, joining the others in their conversation. Yet the weight of Jonah’s eyes and the probability they carried stayed with him like a bad dream.

  NEW YORK TIMES

  NATIONS HIT BY RECORD HIGH HEAT WAVE

  By Darnell Archer

  Over the past several weeks, cities around the United States have been experiencing record high temperatures. Los Angeles, California, for example, hit 118 degrees in August, surpassing its previous record of 113 in September 2010, while New York reached 110, beating its previous high of 103, also in 2010.

  Until recently, experts have believed temperatures across the nation had reached their peak as numbers began to level off in recent years. Yet a sudden surge in solar radiation levels, as reported by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, is being blamed for the current rising heat.

  The U.S. is not the only nation facing oven-like temperatures. Governments across the African continent, Australia, Central America, and even Europe have expressed growing concern.

  “If this heat wave does not subside soon,” said Kwame Gbeho, Ghana’s Secretary of Agriculture, in a recent press conference, “we will face the worst drought in our nation’s history.”

  Efforts are underway in both the United States and India to adapt desalinization technology on a massive scale in preparation for such disasters around the world, but not everyone is confident such measures will make a big enough impact should temperatures continue to rise, as some are predicting.

  The rover bumped along the uneven Gliesen terrain. Though the surface was covered in several inch
es of dust, the ground beneath it was rocky and pocked with thousands of small craters. Adán held tight to the steering mechanism, but his gloves made it difficult to grip, and his hand slid off whenever they hit an especially deep hole. As a result, they traveled at a speed far less than the rover’s capacity, dragging out the trip longer than what might otherwise be necessary.

  Once Tink had verified which planet they were actually on, he and Adán decided it was time to scout out the area. Adán’s first attempt had been interrupted by the strange attack on the shelter, which had left them all shaken and scared, but when nothing of note occurred over the next twenty-four hours, Adán decided they had better get back outside and take a look around.

  They drove east for fifteen minutes, covering the three-mile distance from the shuttle’s scanners, and they were soon out of sight of the Carpathia. The dry, barren plain reminded Adán of a documentary he’d seen once on the Arctic tundra, only the land here was orange instead of white. There was no mistaking the Zarmina’s landscape for Earth.

  “So, what exactly are we looking for again?” asked Adán.

  Intent on the holo image in front of him, Tink didn’t respond.

  “Tink, there’s nothing out here, and yet you’re watching that thing like it’s the season finale of Games of Thrones.”

  Tink cracked a smile. “I’m looking for water, for one thing, heat signatures for another. Even the slightest variation in temperature could suggest the presence of life—and where there’s life, there’s water.”

  “I thought it was the other way around, ‘Where there’s water, there’s life.’ At least that’s what I remember being told.”

  “Microorganisms. You’re talking about microscopic forms of life. I’m not interested in those right now. I’m looking for something—bigger.”

  Adán’s hand slipped again. “We’re out here freezing our butts off looking for—for what, Tink? Something we can’t even see?”

  Tink grinned. “Exactly.”

  They continued driving for another half hour toward the mountains, which appeared as distant as ever. Except for a breeze disturbing the top layer of dust, all around them lay an unaltered barren desert. Adán took his foot off the accelerator, and the rover cruised to a gentle stop.

  “What do you think?” Tink asked, finally glancing up from the holo.

  “What do I think about what?” replied Adán. Despite the fact that they had a clear view in every direction for miles around, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut that something might pounce on them at any moment.

  “About everything,” said Tink. “Those mountains, the ice, all this freakin’ dust.”

  “Well, for the mountains to be so far and look so huge,” said Adán, “they’ve got to be a helluva lot bigger than we thought.”

  “Yeah. Like Olympus Mons on Mars. Did you know it’s the biggest mountain in the whole Solar System? Well, our Solar System anyway. Fourteen miles high. Mount Everest is just under three miles, just to give you an idea.”

  “So, I guess reaching those mountains by rover is out of the question.”

  “Maybe,” said Tink. “But it would take a long time. I’m guessing a few days at least.”

  They stared at the jagged range on the horizon. One crest stood out much higher than the others, a prominent peak with a cup-shaped summit.

  “Do you think anyone’s given that a name?” asked Tink.

  “Who would have? No one’s seen it but us.”

  “Then we should give it a name, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” said Adán. “Why not? Do you have something in mind?”

  “It reminds me of that Disney movie, you know, the old one with the music.”

  “Fantasia?”

  “Yeah, Fantasia.” Tink’s eyes lit up. “There’s this massive mountain and a village nestled at its base. The sun goes down, and all these spirits and demons come up out of the ground and start dancing around. And the mountain? It’s the devil, this massive black demon with wings. That mountain reminds me of that demon.”

  “Night on Bald Mountain.”

  “That’s right. I remember now. How did you know?”

  Adán shrugged. “My dad was a music professor. I must have watched Fantasia a hundred times as a kid. The demon from the film was based on Chernobog, a Slavic black god.”

  “Chernobog. I like it,” said Tink. “Let’s call it Chernobog Mons.”

  “Chernobog Mons it is.” Adán thought it sounded funny, but it didn’t seem right to laugh. By putting a name to it, the mountain seemed more alive somehow, and as the vast shadows that ringed it spread across the land, it was as if the mountain were acknowledging its title. Adán wondered if they had done something they would eventually regret.

  They continued forward, though Adán was beginning to wonder if they’d spot anything worth seeing. If there was any life on this planet, any flora or fauna like what they called it during training, it wasn’t anywhere near where they’d landed.

  He was just about to tell Tink to turn back when something caught his eye, a thick black line cutting across the entire horizon.

  “What is that?” he asked. He noticed, too, that the terrain had changed a little. Instead of just dust and craters, there were baseball-sized chunks of dirt scattered around. The closer they got to that line, the more chunks there were. Soon the rover was bouncing and bumping along even worse than on the craters, and the chunks had gotten bigger. They were now as big as basketballs. The line on the horizon grew bigger, too.

  Tink whistled. “It’s the canyon.”

  The rover came to a stop twenty yards from its edge, though Adán had never seen any canyon like this before. The stones were too large and too numerous now to maneuver the rover any closer. Adán and Tink got out and picked their way through the mine field of jagged boulders, some of which were as tall as their thighs, toward the edge of the canyon. When they got close, Adán dropped to his knees and crawled forward until his fingertips were level with the very edge, and he cautiously peered down into the depths of it. The walls were several shades darker than the planet surface, a warm cinnamon color, and dropped straight down for what seemed like miles. It reminded him of the Grand Canyon, only bigger. He’d gone there several times with his family when he was younger and had always been in awe of it. His mother had taken a panorama view from the North Rim which hung on his bedroom wall, a wide expanse of layered oranges, beiges, browns in curving, sloping canyon walls that seemed to carry your gaze either straight up to heaven, or straight down to the Colorado River below. He had never felt afraid when he was there, but here, kneeling at this vast snake-like pit that was so deep he could see no bottom to it, he felt something prick deep inside his gut. His heart rate sped up, and his breath came faster. His stomach clenched.

  “You ever see anything like this?” said Tink who stood just behind him. He whistled long and low to emphasize his amazement. “Any guess how wide it is?”

  Adán lifted his eyes to look at the opposite cliff far off in the distance. “I don’t know,” said Adán. “The Grand Canyon is ten miles across in some places.”

  “This is way wider than the Grand Canyon, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You been there?” asked Adán.

  “Yeah, once. About two years ago… I mean, before I was recruited.”

  Tink leaned over Adán a little to look down into the canyon. “I can’t see anything down there. Grand Canyon’s a mile deep, right?”

  “I think so.”

  Tink shook his head. “Geez. This is no Grand Canyon. This is like, I don’t know, like the whole planet just broke open or something. Should we give this a name, too?”

  Adán didn’t reply, and Tink didn’t offer any suggestions. They just stood there without saying anything more.

  They stared a while longer before Tink finally broke Adán’s trance. “We should get back,” he said. “We’ll have to explore in the opposite direction tomorrow. Maybe we’ll find something more hospitable
to human life that way.”

  Adán slowly crawled back away from the canyon’s edge until he felt the tightness in his gut relax. Only then did he get back on his feet. He climbed into the rover beside Tink, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had at the canyon.

  “You all right?” asked Tink.

  “Yeah,” said Adán. “Why?”

  “You look pale as a sheet, and you’re all sweaty.”

  Adán lifted his visor to wipe the perspiration off his lip and forehead. He did feel a little light-headed, and a finger of nausea crept up his esophagus. He leaned forward and put his face against his knees.

  “I actually don’t feel so good,” he said.

  Suddenly, it hit him. Adán swung his body out of the rover and barely got his helmet off before heaving onto the ground. His stomach convulsed violently, spewing out whatever remained of his meals that day. The sour smell of it made Adán feel even sicker, and he retched again. When he was done, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt weak, and his arms and legs trembled.

  “What brought that on?” asked Tink, half laughing, though there was a strong undercurrent of worry in his voice. “Do you need anything? What can I do?”

  Adán drew in a deep breath. He was grateful for the cold air that filled his lungs and soothed his stomach. He opened his eyes and took one last look at that black gash of the canyon. Then he closed them again and pulled on his helmet, dropping the visor down.

  “I think you’d better drive,” he said.

  By the time they got back to the Carpathia, Adán was feeling almost back to normal. The only sign that he had been sick at all was the lingering burning at the back of his throat. Though he had rinsed his mouth with water and even swallowed some, the taste of vomit persisted.

  “I’m going inside and get something to eat,” he told Tink, who slowed the rover so Adán could hop off.

  “You sure about that? My mom always said you should wait twenty-four hours after puking before eating or drinking anything.”

  “Yeah, my mom said that, too. But it’s not like I’ve got the flu or anything. I mean, the sanitation team back home made doubly sure there wasn’t a germ in sight when we went into cryo. And from the looks of this landscape, I doubt there’s anything here I could’ve picked up.”