Exiled to the Stars

by Zellmann, William

  Vlad was looking grim. "Yes, you have to go," he growled. "Just be careful. I've heard those spacers are always on the prowl after good-looking women!"

  She was tearing up, but she smiled at Vlad through her tears. "Why, Vlad! Don't tell me you're jealous!"

  "Hmph!" he grunted. "I know how close a team can become in a lab. Just be sure you don’t forget about the ol' black magic down here!"

  She hurried off to call Raj, mixed tears of happiness and sadness staining her cheeks.

  Cesar had not lied; they really did have a waiting list of some fifty people wanting to swap into New Home Village, and he and Vlad had ensured that the list contained only the names of people with skills or education that could benefit the village.

  Cesar, Vlad and Ron pored over the list, trying to estimate the comparative value to the village of someone with construction experience versus someone with an education degree.

  Strangely, the person they selected to replace Susan as a teacher was someone who'd been there all along. Tom Abbott was one of the people Ron had brought down from Dorm 17.

  Tom was a machinist, which to Ron meant he was a combination computer tech and mechanic. But what Tom really was was a tinkerer. Ron was prepared to swear that Tom could build a spaceship from chewing gum and used food trays. He seemed able to repair anything, electronic or mechanical, and seemed to be able to grasp an item's operating principles just by examining it. His "all-around" handyman approach was going to be most effective once they grounded and "hands-on" training was available, but Ron and Cesar decided that the VR was sufficient to begin fostering his "explore and tinker" attitude. Soon, his were the most popular classes, and he was having remarkable success in convincing his students that there was nothing mystical about technology, and that it should be respected, but not worshipped. Within two weeks, most of his students had opened the cases of their tablets and were tracing the circuits.

  Anneka Schultz filled Susan's vacated bunk. Cesar, who felt that they needed someone with experience in running an educational establishment, selected her. Anneka ("Call me Anna") had been the director of a school system in Germany. The offense that got her fired and assigned to the colonization program was announcing plans to reorganize the system to group students by ability as well as age group. She and Cesar hit it off immediately, and he tasked her with developing a basic education curriculum for the village children. Since Cesar had arranged for dorm residents to adopt eight of the Dorm 25 children, the need was even more urgent.

  Cesar and Messer Sun, now the leader of dorms 11 and 12, had developed a strong friendship based on their mutual goals for their people. The people of Dorms 9 and 10, between them, swore the men were wearing grooves in the deck past their dorms. On the Council, the two and their deputies in the "second dorms" were forming an increasingly influential voting bloc. Slowly but inexorably, they were exerting pressure on the more conservative or disorganized dorms.

  In the dorms, life went on at its usual slow pace. But in the crew areas the pace was hectic. Every lab on the ship was staffed around the clock and struggling frantically to assemble data for reports to the Captain.

  It was true that the ship had no landing craft. But EarthGov had given them several dozen instrumented probes. So far, they had used over a dozen. Most landed in various locations on the planet to assess local conditions. But a few had deployed balloons, and were tracking air currents and storm activity, and a few others were tracking ocean conditions and currents.

  The planet featured two continental landmasses, and several large islands. The geologists called it a 'balanced' planet. The largest land mass stretched from the planet's arctic nearly to the equator and the smaller land mass and largest island occupied the southern half of the planet, almost halfway around it. The other islands seemed to be scattered somewhat haphazardly around the planet, from the arctic to the antarctic. One of the islands showed signs of recent volcanic activity.

  While both plant and animal life seemed abundant, there was no sign of intelligent life, at least on the landmasses. Research into the planet's oceans would have to wait until they grounded.

  Several of the probes had captured insect, or what appeared to be insect life. They were carbon-based, and the bio lab reported that they were sort of a cross between Earth insects and arthropods. In a great instance of good luck, one of the probes in the temperate region of the major continent had been lucky enough to catch a small animal. The catch created great excitement in the bio lab, and Susan excitedly reported that the similarity to Earth life was remarkable. The animal was warm blooded, and even appeared to be furred. But since she could only examine it by remote from the ship, she stopped short of saying it might be edible by Earth-based animals.

  The plant life varied from dense jungles at the equator to forests, plains, and even what appeared to be arctic tundra. Again, Susan reported that the planet life seemed very similar to Earth's, but she stopped short of calling it edible by Earth-based life.

  The crew came up with a list of over twenty possible landing sites, based on requirements from the Council, including access to a river or stream, relatively level, open land, abundant animal life, fairly convenient access to a protected harbor on an ocean or sea, and a moderate weather pattern.

  Maps of the planet had been given to each dorm and Council Representative, and spirited discussions were ongoing everywhere; some so spirited they resulted in black eyes and bruises.

  The Captain had granted the Council the right to request a probe be launched to sites that seemed particularly pleasing. Over twenty had been launched so far, and the results could be summed up in two words: very Earthlike.

  Finally, the Council passed a resolution agreeing that they would select one of the twenty sites selected by the crew. But that only limited the arguments slightly. Everyone insisted on climate similar to their homes on Earth; people from tropical regions wanted to land near the equator. Those from more temperate regions wanted weather more to their taste. Those from Maritime regions focused on the islands and coasts, and those from mountainous regions focused on the three mountain ranges on the major continent and the one on the minor continent.

  The mountain-dwellers, at least, were forced to admit that the ship could not land in mountainous country, and they were forced to agree to accept what they called "flatlands," although reluctantly.

  But the others seemed prepared to argue until the ship's supplies ran out in four years.

  Finally, Cesar and Vlad met with Messer Sun and his deputy. "We are getting nowhere," Cesar said. "It is time to do something to break this deadlock."

  Messer Sun shrugged, "How? Everyone wants the colony to be 'just like home', no matter how unpleasant home was!"

  Cesar frowned. "I know. It's time for someone to give in. And I'm going to start it. Even the dimmest person on the Council knows that the industrial revolution and technological civilization began in Europe." He held up a hand to forestall a heated interruption. "Yes, I know that China was civilized first. But they did not continue to develop, and certainly not at the rate of Europe. Besides, much of China's climate is similar to that of Europe.

  "As far as the tropics are concerned, I am prepared to admit that paradise is not a suitable location to begin to build a planet. At the next meeting, I am going to recommend a temperate climate in an area that will easily support agriculture, and on a coast, to perhaps permit fishing."

  "We don't even know if the fish are edible," Messer Sun's deputy objected. "We don't even know that there are fish!"

  Cesar shrugged. "I am willing to take that chance. Even if there are no fish, the sea will permit development of trade in future years.

  "At any rate," he continued, "I would like you to join me in this recommendation." He grinned. "After all, Korea is in a temperate climate, is it not?"

  Messer Sun smiled. "If 'temperate' means cold, yes.

  Vlad said, "Well, I can't argue with your logic. The Industrial Revolution certainly didn't begin in Africa
!" He sighed. "I hated 'Cago winters. But I guess I can stand it."

  Messer Sun nodded. "I agree. Very well, at the next meeting we will join one of the others. But which one?

  Cesar shrugged again. "There are two of them that want sites on the seacoast of the northern continent. The only thing they're really fighting over is that one of them wants a climate like SanFran, and the other wants the site north of there with the river."

  "I'd go with the river," Vlad added. "Rivers can be mighty handy."

  Messer Sun nodded. "That makes sense. All right. Next meeting, we support Dorm 14's idea."

  But they never got the chance. Cesar and Vlad were at dinner with Ron and Tara when there was a sudden, slight shudder.

  Only seconds later, a deafening alarm shrilled, followed by an obviously computerized voice.

  "EMERGENCY!" it screamed, "EMERGENCY! All crew to Emergency Stations. All colonists are to go to their bunks and strap themselves in until further notice. EMERGENCY!"

  The alarm kept repeating and panic reigned as the crowd jammed the hatch in a panicked effort to return to their bunks. The bunks were equipped with two belts each, attached to the bunk's frame. Usually, they were run under the mattress, and few people ever thought about them.

  Now there was panic as people tried to figure out how to use the emergency belts. They were designed to be simple to operate, though, and most people figured them out in less than a minute.

  Then came the agony of waiting to hear something. "Are we going to die?" ran through many minds.

  It was actually less than fifteen minutes before the Captain came onto the speaker system, but that didn't make his message any less terrifying.

  "This is the Captain speaking," he began. "We have been holed by a meteorite. We are losing fuel from the normal space drive tanks. I have ordered an emergency landing. In a moment, you will feel a bump as we detach from the Cobb drive. That drive will remain in orbit, and if we can make it down, it might function as a power satellite. There is no immediate danger, but I cannot be certain we will have sufficient fuel to make a soft landing. All crew are to secure at their emergency stations and all colonists are to remain in your bunks with your safety belts fastened." He paused. "And if you believe in a God, now would be an excellent time for fervent prayers." As he finished speaking, they felt the bump he had predicted, followed by the more-felt-than-heard sound of the landing engines.

  Ron cursed. His bunk was too far from Tara's. He wanted to be with her at this time. Needed to be with her! She must be terrified. He certainly was!

  He considered getting out of his bunk and going to her; they would be in a degrading orbit for more than a few minutes. But there were no empty bunks near Tara, and trying to cram the two of them into one of the narrow bunks would only increase the danger for both. He slammed a fist against the bunk frame. "Damn!"

  The next half-hour was simply terrifying, and Ron had to struggle to contain his panic. There were bumps, and vibrations, all punctuated by the screams and cries of the other dorm residents.

  Finally, the Captain's voice again. Dull, this time. Resigned. "We're not going to be able to make a soft landing. We will do what we can to minimize serious damage and casualties. Prepare for violent maneuvers and a hard impact, and may God have mercy on us!"

  A globular spacecraft has no real glide profile; in the absence of power, it simply drops. For a few moments, they were in free fall once again. Just before impact, the ship actually rotated until it was upside-down, the passengers hanging from their belts. The impact was vicious, slamming people against their bunks and belts, fracturing skulls and breaking ribs and arms. A prolonged roaring, grinding, and screech of tortured metal seemed to go on for minutes. The huge ship actually rolled. The colonists were thrown from side to side and end to end through more than a complete revolution. When the ship finally came to a stop, it was almost level again. Almost.

  Pain in his left forearm told Ron that it was probably broken, but then a flare of agony in his chest wrenched a scream from his throat. He had a momentary glimpse of an aluminum pipe protruding from his chest before the screams, including his own, faded and darkness descended.

  Chapter 7

  Firstmonth 1, Year 1 of the landing

  Cesar awoke to a throbbing pain in his chest, and a stabbing pain above his left eye. He struggled to raise his left arm to his forehead, and found it sticky. When he removed his hand, the fingers were stained with red. Alarmed, he returned the hand to his forehead, and gingerly explored it. No depressed area. The inch-long wound was probably superficial. The ache in his chest was probably broken ribs, but there was no bloody froth when he breathed. He sighed with relief. Probably no punctured lung, then. He felt around. No bone protruding, no seriously depressed area in his skinny chest. Chances were he would recover.

  Screams and cries reverberated through the dorm. His people! Oh, God! His family! How many of them were hurt? Or dead? They needed him!

  Ignoring the pain in his chest and head, he struggled to unfasten the safety belts. He almost screamed with the pain as he rolled clumsily from his bunk, but he struggled to his feet, elbows held tight to his sides.

  "Lolo!" Cesar turned slowly. His granddaughter Kia had forgotten her English under stress. He almost smiled. "Lolo!" she cried again. "Are you all right?" Nope, she hadn't forgotten. She just liked to call him 'Lolo', Tagalog for 'grandfather'. She scrambled from her bunk, favoring her right wrist.

  Cesar smiled. Though he tried to conceal it, Kia was his favorite granddaughter. "Don't worry, Kia," he replied. "The cut is not serious, and I think I have a broken rib, but I am in no danger." He spun slowly. Other family members were beginning to stir, and a cry of pain came from his daughter Ariane's bunk. He started to bend, and stifled a cry of his own. "Kia," he said, "Check on the others. It sounds as if your aunt Ariane is in pain."

  She shook her head. "In a moment, Lolo. First, I will clean that cut and wrap your chest. I don't want that rib puncturing a lung, and I know you won't stop to go to the med bay."

  Cesar suppressed a smile. Kia was normally a shy, quiet woman. But when it came to her nursing, she could be a tyrant. He barely caught himself before attempting a shrug. They were all going to be very busy. He had no time to pamper a broken rib. So he made no objection except a stifled gasp as she gently removed his shirt.

  A massive bruise was developing over his left chest. Cesar suspected his upper safety belt. Kia pulled the sheet from her bed and tore it into strips, which she bound tightly around his chest before allowing him to don his shirt again. Then she gathered the battered folding camp stool Cesar had managed to bring from the ghetto, and sat him on it while she treated the head wound.

  "Doesn't look serious," she said after a moment. "but I'll bet you've got a bad headache." She took one of the strips and folded it into a pad, and then secured it with another strip.

  She gave him a smile and a wink. "The bleeding had mostly stopped, and the wound isn't serious," she said cheerfully. "But I can't do stitches, and the bandage will keep a lot of people from arguing with you. Besides, it makes you look rakish."

  Cesar frowned until a twinge in his forehead reminded him. "Rakish? What is rakish? I do not know this word."

  She laughed aloud. "Ha! Finally! It means dashing, jaunty, adventurous. Add an eye patch and you could be a pirate!"

  He chuckled, but she had already turned away to check on the rest of the family. With a grimace, he rose from the camp stool. He turned, and gasped as his chest reminded him to move slowly.

  He started out into the dorm's central corridor. It was crowded with crying, weeping, talking, and shouting people, who began to crowd around him, demanding, asking, or begging for information he didn't have. The cacophony of voices made it impossible for him to answer any one of them. Cesar didn't mind, though. It was also important to reassure his people that he was all right. In fact, he was planning to visit dorm 8 when he could escape here.

  "Cesar! Thank God!" Cesar turned ca
refully, and a broad smile spread over his face as he saw Vlad hurrying toward him, limping slightly.

  "Vlad!" he cried happily. "Are you all right?"

  Vlad grinned and slapped his leg. "It's just a bruise," he said. "But what about you?" He eyed Cesar's head bandage worriedly.

  Cesar chuckled. "It's just a cut. The bandage is my granddaughter's idea. She says it makes me look 'rakish'.

  Vlad laughed aloud, a laugh tinged with relief. "Oh, yes," he said with broad sarcasm, "it's vital that young man of, what, seventy? look dashing and debonair. The ladies will be mobbing you."

  "I beg your pardon! Sixty-nine!" Suddenly Cesar had finally noticed the young man accompanying Vlad. "And you've brought Boyet! Excellent!" Boyet Mamerto was the 'sheriff' of dorm 8. Cesar was delighted to see him.

  "Boyet, do you know if Raymond is all right?" He asked.

  Boyet exchanged glances with Vlad before shaking his head. "He didn't make it, sir. Neither did Ron Creding."

  Cesar shook his head and swore; the first time Boyet had ever heard him do so.

  After a moment of intense thought, Cesar turned back to Boyet. "All right, Boyet. You're the ranking officer of the militia, and we need you very badly. I'd like you to get around and find as many of your militiamen as you can. We're going to need search parties, and your militia is the only organized group aboard to build them around.

  "We have no time, gentlemen. People are bleeding to death as we speak. Try to get each of your people to round up a couple of volunteers, and begin making the rounds of the dorms. In each dorm they should try to get volunteers to start gathering search parties of their own, if they're not already started."

  He paused as he realized the enormity of the catastrophe. "There will be thousands of injured and dead. We will need hundreds of searchers." Boyet started to turn away, and Cesar added, "You might check the med stations for first aid supplies, and maybe even surviving Med Techs."

  Boyet threw him a quick nod. "Yessir!" he snapped crisply, then turned and began pushing his way through the crowd.