by C J Paget
Tosha walked to the door and breathed deep the cold air of relief. She had made it. The snow fell in sharp flurries over the garden. The fire from the incense bowls had been snuffed out, and the moon hid her face behind the rueful clouds. Tomorrow it would start. The tests. She didn’t know what it would bring. Tonight, she didn’t want to know. She had survived the harrowing, and that was enough. She needed rest.
It was cold. Colder than before. The wind blew insistently from the north, deepening the oncoming winter. The snow flurries muted everything. Her footfalls on the marble porch seemed far off, as if made by someone else walking a ways behind her in a forest.
She had only the pale, dim light of the pool to guide her.
She shivered as her feet touched the snow on the steps. She’d have to walk fast once she was on the grass. The steps were slick, and she leaned her weight on the rails to keep herself from sliding and cracking open her skull.
Three. Four. Five. Six steps. That was it. Her left toes found the snow-covered gravel, and she sprang off across the lawn like a fawn.
A shadow rose up in front of her, in the center of the lawn. It hadn’t been there before. She slowed down to avoid it, not wanting to go sprawling in the snow yet again.
It was small. Low to the ground, like someone sitting on a white picnic blanket in the gloom. How could the wizard—no, she corrected herself, her master—how could her master have brought another new statue in during the hour she’d spent in the library?
What could it be?
The snow bit her toes like cat claws. Sure’n it’ll be here in the morning.
She strode on past, and stopped. What’s the harm? I can take a few seconds.
Tosha backed up three steps, and crouched in front of the sculpture. It was stone. Like all the others, it was a figure, but its upraised face was covered with snow, and it crouched on the ground, as if cradling something.
Cradling something.
Suddenly, the night seemed colder. Tosha reached up, tentatively, and flicked some of the snow off the face. Then she looked down and saw the form of a rabbit in its lap. She pulled her hands back into the robe and brushed the snow firmly off the rock beneath.
Streaks of the rock, like half-dried concrete, brushed off onto her robe. She looked at the sleeves and felt the bile rising in her throat. She stood, looking down at the freshly uncovered face.
Audrey’s face. With gouges in it, track marks from the terry cloth, where the nearly-cured plaster had just barely damaged.
She looked back at her sleeves. Streaks of the statue’s flesh, faintly visible in the blue light, dirtied them like blood.
Tosha sat down in the snow, not bothering to fold the robe beneath herself. The sharp, serrated snow chewed at her flesh. She did not notice. She looked at Audrey, imprisoned in the rock, and she could not move.
The wind picked up, but she could not stand. She had no sense of balance. The sobs racked her like so many stab wounds. She closed her eyes and prayed frantically—to Mary, to Luna, to Jesus, and Bran. One of them would hear. Her tears flowed until they froze on her hands, until there was nothing left to keep her eyes warm but her eyelids.
And slowly, quietly, the calm returned. Her heartbeat slowed to a whisper, and her breath in the cold air no longer turned to mist. She felt a flush of warmth, like a ray of glory from heaven, washing through her limbs like a spring wine in answer to her prayers. It would be okay. Audrey would be okay. She was somewhere better now. Tosha could almost feel Audrey’s shade dancing in the grove, chasing the cats away, whispering to her to come and play.
Yes, Tosha thought, she will be happy here. Surrounded by green that never faded, even in the deadest part of winter. Surely she would.
Her panic flowed out of her, like a flame finally accepting that its fate lay on the wind rather than the wick. The cold now a distant tingle at the edge of her awareness, her remorse bleeding fully out from her heart through her eyes, Tosha breathed softly enough that not even a cricket would hear. She sank down until she lay on her side in the snow. Under the moon’s yellow trace behind the smoky sky, she closed her eyes and basked in the blessings of heaven.
And she slept.
THE BURNING LAND
by Jeff Brackett
Arik stood at the bow of The Serpent, staring across the daunting vastness of the orange sea. Taking a deep breath, he turned and faced his first mate. “Here be where we find if the men be wit’ me, or agin.”
Charl nodded his agreement, deferential and silent, as was proper before his superior.
But Arik saw something in Charl’s stance. He tsked. “Not you, ma friend? Don’ tell me ya doubt the vision too?”
Charl shrugged, an indication of acceptance and obedience, though not denial.
Arik’s mouth tightened in disappointment. It be Charl’s duty to bring me the feelings o’ the crew. I can fault him not for this.
“Very well. Gather the crew in half a fist. I go speak to the Seer.”
Charl’s brows raised in surprise, but he went to pass the word. Released to where he held prominence, ship’s law no longer required he remain silent. “Crew gather in a hal’fist. Main deck. Mark the time, ya bandies!”
Arik watched as the crew nodded silently and several looked up to mark the position of the sun in the green sky. They were a good crew, and he couldn’t blame them for their fear, for today they passed the halfway point of their journey into the unknown. Past this point, there would be insufficient supplies to return home. From here on, they were committed to the journey’s success, or forfeiture of their lives. It was not an easy thing to dwell upon.
Turning away from the deck’s activities, Arik approached the Seer’s quarters. He tapped lightly at the door, and waited until he heard the voice within.
* * * * *
A tapping on his hatch drew Rayland out of his funk. “Come.”
The lever clanked as the hatch opened to reveal the svelte form of his Executive Officer, Layla Farmer. “Permission to enter?”
He waved at his guest chair. “Please do. Anything to take my mind off these damned reports.”
He lifted a folder. “Engineering reports on the breach in reactor two’s containment field. It’s been leaking low level radiation into the air scrubbers for the last three months. They can slow it, but there’s damage to the machine shop that’s keeping them from making proper parts for repair.”
He lifted another folder. “Meanwhile, Medical reports another dozen cases of radiation exposure. Same as before, ‘cellular discrepancies with probable long term side effects’. But no conjecture on what those side effects may be, of course.”
He waved at the other folders. “Another pregnancy miscarried, three suicides… the list goes on.”
He ran his hands through thinning hair. “The Armstrong is nearly four hundred years old, and she’s beginning to show her age.”
“Captain?”
“Sorry Layla. What can I do for you?”
She handed him an envelope.
Rayland felt his heart skip a beat. A sealed envelope was never good news. “What’s this?”
“My letter of resignation, sir.” Her voice cracked as she said it.
“What? Layla, you can’t resign at a time like this!”
“I’m pregnant, sir.”
Rayland stopped in his tracks. “Pregnant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re pregnant?” He grinned.
“Yes, and I don’t think it’s going to look very proper for the ship’s XO to be waddling around carrying the Captain’s baby.”
He laughed and scrambled around the desk. Pulling her to him, he kissed her in a most un-Captainly manner.
She smiled back, obviously relieved. “You aren’t angry?”
“Angry? This is a colony ship. Having babies is what we do!”
“But not the Captain and the XO.”
“Layla, in four hundred years on this ship, you are the first female XO. It would have been a bit diffi
cult before this generation.”
She smiled. “I was worried about how you would take it.”
“How far along are you?”
“About two months.”
“Good, then your resignation is not accepted.”
“Ray, in another couple of months I’m going to start showing.”
He shuffled through the folders on his desk until he found what he was looking for. “First good report I’ve had in a year.” He held it up triumphantly. “In another month, we just might be planetside.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Rayland nodded. “Astrophysics found an orange dwarf about a month down the spiral arm. Spectral analysis indicates a planet within the habitable zone.”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Still a month out, but yes. Probes launched this morning, and we’ll receive reports back in a few weeks.”
Layla hugged him close, but one thing he’d said now haunted her. Another miscarriage. They had to get off this ship.
Soon.
* * * * *
Seer Uson Grogar heard the tapping at his door and nodded. “Come before me, Kapin Arik.”
Arik entered and waited silently for the Seer to speak again, as was proper.
“Come, come. I bade you come before me, not stand at the door like a common lap growl. Sit wit’ me.”
Arik did as the Seer commanded and knelt on the floor before the older man.
“Please Kapin, let us dispense wit’ propriety when it be just the two of us. I long for conversation, don’ ya?”
Tentatively, Arik looked up to find the Seer smiling at him amiably. “Aye, Seer. Indeed ah do.”
The old man’s smile grew. “Good! Then come, sit beside me. While it be just us, we shall treat each to the other as equal. Propriety be drowned!”
Arik grinned and sat beside the Seer. “My thanks, Seer.”
Uson looked into Arik’s eyes. “The men be restless, eh? They wan’ turn back.”
Arik dropped his eyes in the face of the Seer’s power. “You have Seen this?”
He chuckled. “Nay, young Kapin. ‘Tis but common sense. We reach the point o’ no return in our journey, an’ ‘tis only natural that men fear the ultimate gamble.”
“So what can I tell them? Be our path still true?”
Uson’s smile faded and he sighed. He closed his eyes and sought the place that was both within and without, wherein lay the memories of things that had not yet occurred. Searching the various pathways, Uson spoke again, “Three weeks on, an’ two days past the last o’ the food shall The Serpent sail. On the third day o’ famine shall the Kapin set foot to shore.”
“This be your Seeing?”
Uson shrugged. “‘Tis one of many paths that lay before us.”
Arik bowed deeply. “My thanks, Seer.”
Uson smiled. “Go see ta your crew. But come back to me when ya need not just a Seeing. What I said was truth, I crave conversation.”
Arik smiled tentatively. “I shall, Seer.” Then he turned and left.
Uson waited a few minutes, then turned to the ornately carved Tumtum chest on the table beside him. Pressing the hidden catches, the Seer opened the top and reached within. Reverently, he lifted the cloth from the chest.
Made of rare tulgey fiber, nearly indestructible, with text written in the indelible stains of Jubjub blood, it was one of one hundred copies of the original. Uson was one of one hundred Keepers of his Order; one of only one hundred who had been taught the ancient language of the Order.
Were he to fall, they would promote another to the station. Another copy of the sacred text would be meticulously created, and the Order would continue as it had for centuries.
But until that happened, Uson would continue to study the holy words.
* * * * *
The Armstrong’s council met to hear the reports from the probes. A holographic orange sphere hung before the bustling room. Rayland raised his hands to get their attention.
“Two weeks ago Astrophysics detected a Sol analog K-V system with a Goldilocks planet about as close to home as we could hope for.” He waved at the holo.
“I thought home was green,” someone muttered.
Rayland nodded. “Yes, records show that Earth was green. Sol was a yellow dwarf, and plant life there was chlorophyll based, which didn’t allow efficient absorption of green light. The end result was that plant life reflected green.”
He waved his hand at the display. “Here. The star is an orange dwarf approximately three fourths the size of Sol, and photosynthesis is beta-carotene based. So plants reflect red and yellow light.”
Rayland toggled a switch. There was a slight feeling of vertigo as the view zoomed in, making it appear that they were plunging toward the planetary surface. When the movement stopped, a scarlet jungle of alien plants appeared before them. Crimson foliage covered the top of a cliff, and at its base, orange waves pounded against black stone. The sky above was pale green. There were gasps of wonder as the council took it all in.
Rayland grinned. “The place is teeming with life. Probes have already sampled air and water borne particulates. Xeno-biology and Medical agree that there is nothing that our immune systems can’t handle. It’s compatible! What more could we hope for?”
“The water’s orange!”
“Green sky?”
Rayland laughed. “Yes! The oceans are rich with beta-carotene based algae. And orange sunlight filtering through an oxygen rich atmosphere gives us the greenish sky.”
There was excitement in the room now, as the rest of the crowd began to accept that their generations-long journey might soon be over.
“Temperature is a little warmer, and gravity is point eight seven Earth norm. A little light, but Medical assures me we can adapt to it without any long-term problems.”
There were more smiles around the table, and the chatter was becoming increasingly light-hearted.
“So what’s the catch?” someone called.
“Metal,” he admitted. “All indications are that the planet is almost seventy-five percent lower in metal content than Earth.”
“What?” Chief Engineer Andrews clenched his fists. “That’s unacceptable! We can’t survive without metals!”
Many of the others looked confused, but Rayland had expected this reaction from the Chief. He was a bit surprised that some of the others hadn’t joined in yet.
“We won’t be without. Metal will just be rarer than on Earth. And we can survive with less, though I admit our technology will suffer.”
“It’ll completely fail, you mean!”
Rayland smacked his palm on the table. “We’ll still have the Armstrong!”
Rayland turned to the rest of the council. “The Armstrong is designed to be broken down and used as the foundation for our colony. She’ll provide enough resources that we won’t have to worry about what the planet can provide for decades!”
He singled Andrews out. “Let me point out that we are currently trapped in a vessel with a faulty reactor leaking radiation into the air scrubbers. The Armstrong has been a good ship to us, and I don’t fault the work you and your department have done, but she’s been four hundred years in space and there’s a limit to what we can ask of her, and of you.”
He had everyone’s attention again and used their silence to drive his point home. “The Armstrong is dying, and if we don’t want to die with her, we have to take this chance.”
* * * * *
Their food was two days gone now. Two days of fasting and fear. He was proud of his crew. For Arik knew that no matter how devout one’s faith in times of feast, the gnawing of famine lent weight to the darker demons of the soul. His men had stood firm and the Seer said there was less than one more day before they reached landfall.
He gazed at the night sky above. “Help us stay strong, Mother.” His prayer was short but heart-felt. There was a slight noise behind him as Charl politely scuffed his boot on the deck to announce his presence
.
As Arik turned though, a drum beat from the mast station begged attention. Charl raised an eyebrow to his Kapin.
Arik nodded. “Take the report.”
The first mate stepped away from his superior and shouted up the main mast. “Report!”
“Land! Land off the port bow!”
Heads turned as the night crew heard the report. Low voices spoke to one another, and Arik smiled at the small impropriety. Let them celebrate. It was an historic occasion.
“How far?” Charl yelled.
“About forty furlongs, sir.”
Charl turned to Arik for orders.
“First Mother answers!” Arik smiled. “Drop sea anchor an’ maintain position ‘til dawn. Double tha watch and ‘ware for reefs. We make landfall on the morrow!”
* * * * *
It was an historic occasion. After four centuries in space, the Armstrong was going to land.
One landing, never again to rise, her bones to be the foundation for her children’s home. In theory, the colony would be able to survive for decades on those bones. Better yet, they had found a landing site that showed indications of having easily accessible iron nearby.
Rayland scanned his panels and nodded.
“Last orbit, folks. Reports?”
“Telemetry reports all systems green.”
“Engineering is green.”
One by one, the lights on his master console lit green until all departments had made their final reports. Rayland took a deep breath.
“All right people, let’s set her down.”
For nearly two minutes nothing happened. Then the Armstrong hummed as she kissed the atmosphere. A minute later the hum evolved into a distinct rattle.
Rayland arched an eyebrow at Chief Andrews. “Is this normal?”
“How the hell should I know? The closest we’ve ever been to landing is in the training sims.” The ship lurched and the rattling turned to a roar.
“Well, you’re the engineer. You studied the way this works, didn’t you?”