“Your primary objective, above all others, is to restore the human race. Expect that this will take generations to achieve, centuries if not millennia. Whether the mission is ultimately successful rests solely on you. Our future is in your hands.
“Berkeley out.”
THE NEW YORK TIMES
THE WORLD MOURNS THE DEATHS OF BEACON’S CREW
Written by Yemeni Bastien
11:22am
All twenty-four members of the shuttle Beacon’s crew died this morning in what insiders are calling the worst disaster in NASA history. The crew had been placed in their cryo units to undergo psychological evaluations when a massive electrical surge pulsed through the monitors, which were connected to each member’s head and chest. The surge was the equivalent of more than 2000 volts, the same as the electric chair.
Investigators released a statement hours after the tragedy revealing that the American-based extremist group known as The Terrestrial Brotherhood has claimed responsibility for the deaths. Lucas Bigelow, the group’s leader, has threatened similar attacks on the colonization program. “We suspect,” said Nancy Foo, NASA’s spokesperson, “that one or more of the terrorists infiltrated the crew, possibly months ago. Whoever was responsible managed to program the surge into the shuttle’s system long before today,”
In a public response to Bigelow’s threats, President Barrios stated that “The United States government and every government in the United Nations is committed to our ideals. Terrorists and extremist groups beware. We will remain undaunted in our quest to seek out new worlds where the human race might thrive, no matter the danger, no matter the opposition we might face. All possible precautions are being taken to ensure that a tragedy like the one we all experienced today will not happen again. I invoke the protection and blessings of Almighty God, in whose name this great nation was founded.”
Commander Dryker drew a deep breath and let it out very slowly. “Specialist Fuentes,” he said with resignation, “wake the crew.”
Adán obediently went to the cockpit door, and as it slid open, the overhead lights in the common room flickered on again. He stepped over Fess, who was now groaning, and nudged Jonah with his toe.
“Jonah, get up,” he said. “I need both of you awake—now.”
Jonah snapped the blanket back from his face and squinted up at Adán. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve been hailed. I need you to go get the girls.”
Jonah was off his cot in a heartbeat. Tugging on his gear, he was out of the hatch in less than a minute and running for the shelter.
Fess sat up, rubbing his fists against his eyes. Scott came in with Tink behind. “Get up, Fess,” Scott barked. And to Tink he said, “Is the main viewer functional?”
Tink shrugged. “I guess we’ll know in a second.” He waved his hand over a panel in the wall and a three-foot square section slid back revealing a flat screen nestled in the common room wall. To Adán’s relief, the NASA logo immediately appeared. Whatever damage the electrical had acquired had not affected the viewer.
A few minutes later, Jonah returned with Lainie and Dema in tow. They stripped off their gear and settled onto the benches at the table.
“A few minutes ago,” Scott began, “we received a hail from the Ensign.”
This announcement elicited surprised gasps and questions from most of the crew.
“What? When?”
“What did they say?”
“Where are they?”
“What about the other shuttles?”
Scott held up his hands, and the crew went silent. They were all eager to hear what he had to say. “With the exception of the Ensign and ourselves, none of the other shuttles survived the landing.”
As Scott explained about the transmission from Ensign, the fleet’s sabotage and destruction, and the news about their mission, Adán considered what Parks had said about a mole. He studied the faces of his six fellow crewmates. Could one of them be responsible for the deaths of the others? No. It was impossible to imagine any one of them wanting to do to the Carpathia what had been done to the other shuttles.
He turned his attention back to Scott.
“The Ensign has established a colony about three hundred kilometers from here to the north. Commander Parks transmitted the coordinates. Seoung?”
Tink switched on his E-Tab, and a holo of Gliese appeared. The planet rotated until the mountain range came into view. Beyond that, a flat expanse. “The data indicates that this area is a freshwater sea, mostly frozen, but there is liquid water accessible via drilling. The Ensign’s colony, New Earth,” he said indicating a speck on the edge of the sea, “is situated here.”
“What? Wait a minute,” said Jonah, skeptically. “Do you mean they established a colony? In just a few days’ time?”
Adán spoke up. “Not days. Years. Fifteen years, to be exact.”
The crew went silent. The expressions on their faces took on a look of disbelief.
“I know that seems impossible,” Adán continued, “but think of the circumstances of our awakening. Our ship was damaged. Most of our crew was dead. We suspected early on that things hadn’t gone according to plan. Well, they hadn’t. We probably landed about the same time as the Ensign, but we remained in cryo while they established New Earth.”
“Weird,” said Fess.
“There’s a vid from NASA that you all need to see,” said Scott. “After that, we need to reevaluate our current situation and objectives.”
They viewed the vid, and everyone’s reactions were what Adán had expected: stunned silence. Fess rubbed a nervous hand across his face. Lainie shifted noticeably closer to Tink. Jonah clutched the gold cross hanging around his neck. Berkeley’s message was overwhelming, crushing, like an unexpected blow to the stomach. Their objective was not to prepare a place for future colonists to inhabit. There would be no other colonists but themselves—and the zygotes. Humans in embryonic form.
Finally, it was Jonah who spoke up. “Well, that was—interesting.”
His comment seemed to jolt everyone out of their stupors. Fess cracked a nervous smile. “I’ll say. Just when I thought things were going so well.”
Tink chuckled. “Did you hear that? A thousand microscopic babies on board. What do you know? I’m a father!”
Lainie’s face turned red, but she smiled too. Dema was unusually silent and sullen. The news seemed to have hit her the hardest.
Suddenly, Scott stood up. Though he held onto the back of a chair for support, he looked stronger than he had been before. His jaw was set, and he peered pointedly at each crew member before speaking. “This isn’t some joke,” he said. “Earth is gone, don’t you get it?”
“We get it,” said Jonah, reclining against the wall with an arm draped over one knee. “We are the proverbial Adams and Eves of the new world. Only I think we’ll have it a little easier than they did, what with three incubators on board and all.”
Scott pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. “We shouldn’t have come here. They should never have sent us, any of us. This is all wrong.”
He dragged hooked fingers through his hair. Adán could see the muscles clenching in Scott’s face and arms. Their commander had not been himself since he woke from the coma, not that he was ever a particularly likable fellow, but he seemed agitated, on edge. Adán reached out and touched Scott’s shoulder. Scott jerked back.
“Easy,” said Adán. “It’s okay. This is crazy, I know. The rest of us have had a couple more days than you to get used to the idea. I think we’re all in shock, but we have to stay focused and figure out what needs to be done next.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” snapped Scott. He straightened himself and took a deep breath, regaining some self-control. Adán thought he actually looked like a commander now.
“All right,” Scott said with an authoritative tone. “All right. So, we need to rendezvous with the Ensign. That’s our priority now. Fuentes, can the Ensign’s crew send someone to co
llect us?”
“Negative,” said Adán. “The Ensign is no longer flight worthy. She was damaged on landing and has since been salvaged for parts. They do have a rover, but it runs on battery, not solar like ours. It wouldn’t make it the whole way, and it certainly couldn’t carry all of us if it did.”
“So, we’ll have to get to them somehow,” said Scott. “We’ve got our two rovers. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we should be able to fit all seven of us.”
Fess huffed. “And do what? Drive a couple hundred miles clutching crates of frozen embryos on our laps? Who knows how long it would take to drive that far, or even if the rovers are capable of carrying that much weight that distance.”
“Fess is right,” said Jonah. “We’d have to take enough food and water for all of us. It’s just not feasible.”
“We’ll make two trips then,” said Scott. “Three if we have to.”
“No,” said Adán. He knew Scott didn’t like him interfering, but he had to speak up. “The rovers are no good. There’s a mountain range between us, and we have no idea if there’s a pass through them. We have incubators and thousands of embryos. We have to fly.”
Scott’s face went red. “Fly! You want us to fly—with a damaged shuttle!”
“We can repair the breach. We have the materials.”
“But not the crew! Or have you forgotten that the tech team is lying dead out there!”
“We’ve got Fess. He can do it.”
Suddenly, all eyes were on Fess. He laughed nervously. “Yeah, I installed the temporary patch, but you’re asking for a major repair job! Maybe I could’ve done it before, with help, but I can hardly walk right now let alone heft those parts. It’s a job meant for three sets of able-bodied hands.”
Adán understood Fess’s hesitation, but there was no other alternative. “Fess, you know how to read the specs and are far more experienced with the physical design of the ship than any of the rest of us. That’s why you were recruited, right? We’ll help you if you tell us what to do. We just need to know, can you repair the shuttle?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“But what?” asked Scott.
“If it’s not done right, not perfect, we could take off okay, but once we reach a certain altitude and speed—she could come apart. And then we’d all be dead.”
Adán glanced expectantly at Fess. Everyone did. They had planned to repair the shuttle eventually, but everything was put on hold when Fess was injured. Now there was no more time to lose.
“Shit,” said Fess, resignedly. “Yes, I can repair the shuttle. At least I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” said Scott. “We’ll proceed with those repairs first thing in the morning. Dema, as the remaining MED squad member, you’re in charge of the, uh, cargo. Take inventory to see if any were damaged and report back to me.”
For the first time since watching the vid, Dema raised her eyes from the floor.
“Scott, I can’t—”
“The cargo will be your primary responsibility from now on.”
“But you heard General Berkeley,” Dema protested. “The BIO squad had the proper training. Really, I could be more useful doing anything else. I could teach Lainie—”
Scott’s reply was sharp. “You’re the only one here with any medical training at all, Sarkissian. They’re yours, is that clear?”
Adán expected Dema to wilt under Scott’s glare, but she glared right back at him with equal intensity. “Yes, Commander,” she said through clenched teeth.
Adán couldn’t believe it. Maybe Dema was the only one even remotely qualified to manage the zygotes, but he didn’t like the way Scott talked to her. While he was comatose, the rest of them had worked as a team. Under the circumstances, none of them were treated better than any other. Scott had changed all that.
“Dryker,” said Adán, “if Dema doesn’t feel equipped to handle the zygotes, any one of us could do it. Me, Lainie—”
“You’ll refer to me as Commander,” Scott said, cutting him off. “Maybe the rest of you are NGIS recruits, but my authority comes straight from NASA.”
“You know, Commander, if you hadn’t noticed, most of your crew is dead. We’re on a remote planet in the middle of nowhere, and the very leaders that gave you your authority to begin with ceased to exist centuries ago. So, what makes you think you can bully Dema or any of us?”
Scott whipped around with his hands up, and for a second, Adán thought he might take a swing at him. “You’re out of line, Fuentes!” said Scott with restrained fury. “You got a little taste of power while I was out, and now you don’t want to give it up, is that it?”
“No, Sir. That’s not it at all.”
“Then back off, or there will be one less member on this crew.”
“Are you threatening me, Dryker?”
Dema quickly stepped in front of Scott, placing a hand against his chest. “No one’s trying to undermine your authority here, Scott. We’re all under a lot of stress. Like you said before, we need to stay focused, keep to protocol. Now that we know about the Ensign, the question is what do we do next?”
Scott squeezed his fists at his sides, but he backed off. There was a long, uneasy pause before he spoke again.
“Seoung, it’s your watch. Keep the lines of communication open with the Ensign.”
Tink nodded.
Scott continued. “Get as much intel from Parks as you can. I want to know what to expect when we arrive.”
“What about me?” asked Adán.
Scott gave him a cocky sneer. “You? I don’t know, Fuentes. Why don’t you grab a brush and scrub down the toilets? The rest of you, back to sleep. We all need our rest.”
Tink disappeared into the cockpit. The women headed back to the tent while Fess and Jonah settled into their cots. Scott, however, stomped off toward the Quarters. Before he reached the door, Dema took him by the arm. Though they were at the far end of the common room and their voices were low, Adán could just make out what was said between them.
“You shouldn’t treat Adán that way, Scott. He’s gone over and beyond for this crew.”
“Over and beyond?” hissed Scott. “He’s done exactly what any of us would be expected to do. Not more, not less. I’m Commander. He needs to remember that. And what is it with you two anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Scott’s voice changed. He spoke more gently now, although Adán sensed an underlying edge. “You used to look at me the way you’ve been looking at him.”
Scott stroked Dema’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Dema made no move to stop him, but her body visibly stiffened at his touch. Scott must have noticed, too, because he drew his hand back and smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he said, and then disappeared through the door to the Quarters.
Dema remained frozen in place. Adán wondered if she had forgotten he was there, but then she turned and looked at him. Their eyes locked for one brief moment before Dema broke their gaze and hurried out of the shuttle.
Once she had left, Adán stood numbly, staring at the closed hatch. Beside him, Jonah pulled his blanket to his chin. “Is it just me,” he said, “or is our commander cracked?”
It was a cold day in Boise when I rolled out of bed and slid my feet into my slippers, which lay parallel to each other on the floor. First day of college, and I was nervous as hell.
After showering and finishing off my customary breakfast smoothie (OJ with bananas and kale), I kissed my mom goodbye and hurried out the door. Class started in an hour, but it would take ten minutes to reach campus and another thirty to find a parking space, not to mention the trek from my car to the classroom. I wasn’t even sure yet which building it was in.
I had just reached Boulder Hall when my cell phone rang.
Dang. Nearly forgot to turn off the ringer. The professor would have loved that.
I slipped my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, glanced at the screen, and froze. The phone kept ringi
ng, but my hand would not respond.
Northrop.
The call went to voice mail.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take the call. It’s that I hadn’t expected to hear from them. Not really. I hadn’t even told my parents I’d applied. They probably would have tried to talk me out of it anyway. Who’d want their kid flying off into space for who knew how many years? So, I had filled out the online form and hit send, and then promptly forgot all about it.
Though not completely.
In the back of my mind, I had imagined what space travel would be like. I’d been to California and seen the shuttle Endeavor at the Space Museum in Los Angeles, and I’d been kind of a geek about the planets and astronauts as a kid. Secretly, I dreamed of going up there someday, but I doubted if I’d ever really get the chance. How many astronauts were there anyway? Most came out of the military or had years of education and experience in engineering and science. I was a botanist. Well, that would be my major, anyway. I was good with plants. Had a greenhouse in the backyard where I grew exotic fruit that normally wouldn’t thrive in Idaho’s climate. My eleventh-grade science project about growing drought-tolerant plants to help end the famine in Sudan and Somalia had won first place. I’d even earned a scholarship from Action Against Hunger, and the newspaper had run the story with my picture.
I had mentioned that in my essay to NASA and NGIS. I’d also talked about how I envisioned using a green house on Europa to regulate temperature and moisture, yet would focus on developing crops like lima beans, corn, quinoa, and okra that could be easily sustainable in a cold, dry climate.
I felt rather silly afterwards. Surely NASA had plenty of botanical engineers on their colonization staff, though the ad did specify applicants should be between eighteen and twenty-five, and I would be nineteen soon.
The truth was, I wanted to go. It wasn’t as much about space as it was about leaving. Leaving Boise, leaving school, leaving home. I’d felt stifled for years, trapped in my middle-class suburban life, trapped in a family who expected things of me I never expected of myself. Maybe that’s what had drawn me to Tom.
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