Exiled to the Stars

by Zellmann, William

  The airship made short work of the 50 klicks between the colony and the 'village', and Ron ruefully thought of the two weeks their original expedition had taken. Ron waited while Denis and Vito spent over an hour making their way to places that gave them clear views of the 'village' and its inhabitants. Then he started warily down the riverbank. He was well aware that there were both land and water-based predators that would be interested in such easy-looking prey. That fact had not escaped the observers back at the colony, either. The bird-camera circled overhead, scanning for threats.

  In an effort to appear non-threatening, Ron was clad only in his shorts, weapons belt, minus bolo, and moccasins. He carried no pack, but carried a hand laser in his hand. During his final approach to the 'village', he would abandon the laser; he wanted to appear in the village unarmed except for his precious belt knife. Denis and Vito would be his protection.

  But the approach was uneventful. He also carried a small canister of spray, which he used liberally on the riverbank vegetation. It would join his laser in concealment. Finally, he reached the tramped-down clearing containing the village. As he hid the laser and canister, Ron commented to the observers that there had been no effort made to establish or maintain the clearing; it was simply the result of many feet trampling the grasses over time.

  Straightening, he took a deep breath and switched off the earbud connecting him to the colony. He could not afford to be distracted by kibitzers! "Denis, Vito, are you in position?"

  "In position," Vito replied crisply.

  "Say the word, and we'll clear the place out," was Denis's reply.

  "Let's not," Vito said. "It might make their relatives in the big city just over the horizon mad enough to come clear us out!" Vito was a 'believer', and was certain they would encounter an advanced culture on Crashlanding. Denis enjoyed tweaking him about it, as typified by his comment, ostensibly to Ron, but obviously meant to be overheard. Vito tolerated Denis' teasing with good humor.

  "Enough!" Ron subvocalized. His jaw transmitter let the others hear as though he were speaking normally. "We've got business. I think I've been seen."

  Ron had walked a meter or so into the cleared area and stopped. He merely stood, waiting for the creatures to notice him.

  One of the smaller ones suddenly stopped, scurried around to face him, and began a loud hooting. Instantly, all the others in the clearing froze for a moment, and then began scurrying madly about.

  The smaller creatures fled away from the intruder, but the larger ones formed a line, interposing themselves between the possible threat and the smaller ones. They began hooting loudly. Then they scurried forward about a meter and stopped, again hooting loudly.

  When Ron failed to react, they repeated their performance again and again in an obvious display of aggression. Finally, at about five meters distance, they stopped. Silence fell, and Ron squatted down, hoping to appear less threatening.

  One of the creatures, the largest, scurried forward about a meter, and then stopped. Ron reached into his bag and, not daring to take his eyes from the leader, removed a shiny silver object. A good choice, he decided when he raised it into his line of vision. It was part of a paving machine, but it was essentially a highly-polished fire lighter. Ron tossed it nearly to the approaching creature.

  There was much chittering among the creatures, but after a long moment, the creature extended a wicked-looking pincer and picked up the lighter. It brought the lighter close to its face, where it was examined by large, wide-set eyes. Then the creature brought the lighter to its mouth and tried to bite it. Unsuccessful, it merely tossed the lighter aside, and, hooting madly, charged.

  Even if Ron had his hand laser, he could not have been fast enough to stop the creature. But a sudden bar of bluish light stabbed it from across the inlet, and it crashed to the ground.

  There was a moment's hesitation, and then one of the other creatures approached the carcass. It nudged the corpse with a pincer, and when it got no response, it began madly ripping at the body of its former leader, tearing off bits of flesh and eating them.

  It was quickly joined by the others, and it seemed Ron was completely forgotten. He slowly retreated until he could retrieve his laser and spray, and then he hurried back down the cleared lane toward their rendezvous point. With a sigh of resignation, he switched on the earbud that connected him to the colony.

  A spirited discussion was underway in the background, but Ron ignored it. "Please get the airship back here as soon as possible," he said. "Once they finish their meal, they might decide to pursue. Denis, Vito, I assume you're on your way back?"

  "Coming," Vito replied, "On my way," was Denis' contribution, and a few moments later both emerged from the two-meter-tall grasses, just as the airship appeared. They scrambled aboard, and the airship lifted for home. There was no sign of pursuit.

  "I'm no biologist," Susan Renko commented to the Council, "But I would say that conclusively answers that."

  "Didn't several primitive tribes on Earth practice cannibalism?" asked James Peters. "I'm not sure that settles anything."

  Susan nodded. "Yes, cannibalism was not unknown on Earth among primitives," she replied. "But from what I've read, it was typically a form of ritual, an effort to gain the strength or courage of the deceased." She shuddered. "For these things, it was just an easy meal. I assume you noticed that they completely forgot about Ron when food became available."

  "And once the leader's body was consumed," she continued, "they simply returned to their normal activities. Apparently, they didn't even remember Ron's appearance. No, these things are definitely not sentient. I think we can move on without concern."

  "I agree," Ken put in. He had been expecting this result, and had been planning. "And we have a lot to move on to. As Susan said, she is a microbiologist, and not a biologist, or exobiologist, to be more precise. Well, it now appears we need an exobiologist. And that's not the only skill we need.

  "As you all know, I had to bully Dr. Bono into releasing Lars Norstrom to light duty, because he was the only colonist with any knowledge of handling radioactives. We now have a colony of over five thousand, and with every crop, less and less hand work is required to provide our food. I'm told that our farms could now operate with fewer than a thousand workers, if necessary. So, we find ourselves with a surplus of farm labor and maintenance workers, and a severe shortage of skilled scientists, technicians, and craftsmen."

  He shifted his glance to James Peters. "It can no longer be argued that the colony's survival depends solely upon our ability to produce food. I propose that we establish a committee to analyze our needs and create a list of desirable and understaffed specialties that will help us move from a survival mode to a living mode, and that we begin an aggressive recruiting campaign to fill those requirements."

  "So moved," Vlad shouted.

  "Second!" Helen Montero echoed within seconds.

  The conservative bloc, represented by Peters, proposed that if population surplus to present needs existed, it should be used to create a standing army, to defend them from whatever threats Crashlanding harbored.

  But it was a lost cause. The conservative faction had ruled the colony for almost a quarter century by keeping the colony operating in crisis or survival mode, and discarding any efforts to progress. But even the most insular personality must now notice that their world was expanding of necessity, and that people with skills and training were required if the colony was to continue to develop. Even two of Peters' conservatives voted for Vlad's motion.

  Vlad, Helen, Lee and even the ailing Sun convened in Ken's office after the meeting. Ken breathed a huge sigh of relief, and grinned triumphantly. "At last!" He crowed. "We can finally begin doing what we should have been doing since the ship landed."

  Vlad chuckled. "I'm not sure 'landed' is the word. We did have a few distractions along the way, you'll recall."

  Ken chuckled. "Well, okay, a few, I'll admit. But now, people are tired of this management by crisis, and w
e can begin building a future on Crashlanding.

  "Vlad, have you and Frank come up with a list of the mining investigation team?"

  Vlad shook his head. "Almost. We're having a problem, though. One of the most experienced Earthborn miners is Jorge Fuentes, and he won't sign on. Since we only have two other experienced Earthborns, and he was a shift supervisor in a lead mine, I think we could really use his knowledge, but he won't even discuss it."

  Ken frowned. "I'll talk to him. How are the other preparations coming?"

  "Pretty well," Vlad replied, "The Medium airship is just about loaded. With all that equipment and a dozen people, it's going to be pretty crowded.

  "By the way," he added, "The R65C has been installed on the big airship. Now, we're waiting for Lars and Jana to complete their certifications so they can fuel the thing. That is one heavy machine. There's not a whole lot of capacity left. Frank and Angel have been studying how to operate it."

  Ken nodded. "Good. I was afraid Frank would insist on operating it himself, and he's going to be busy." He paused. "I may have to sit on him. He's starting to want to be involved in every scientific project we mention."

  Vlad chuckled. "I know the type. Can't stand the idea that something's going on they don't know about." He shrugged. "At least he doesn't try to put his name on others' work. Susan has very strong feelings about that particular offense."

  "You would, too," Helen put in, "if that was why EarthGov shipped you out. I'll bet I've heard that story a dozen times."

  Vlad chuckled. "Only a dozen?"

  Ken waved a dismissal. "Lee, do you think we'll have much trouble getting Planetborn volunteers to train for science and technology jobs?"

  Lee frowned. "Maybe more than you think. There's a lot of suspicion and resentment out there for the administration and the Council. Just the fact that you proposed it and the Council agreed will make a lot of them back off. I'll do my best, of course."

  Sun spoke for the first time. He was dying, and he and everyone else knew it. The symbiont was keeping him alive, but Sun's body was simply worn out, and was slowly failing, despite the symbiont's efforts. At the moment, he was the only colonist requiring a power chair to move around. But his mind was still sharp, and he was still a respected voice on the Council.

  His expression was sober. "It appears we have not done well by our children," he said with a sad sigh. "I fear that we were distracted by the differences the symbiont imposed, and treated them more as stepchildren than as our own. It was perhaps our greatest failure, and is my greatest shame.

  "I wonder if it would help if I wrote a 'letter to the editor' of the newsie, expressing the regrets felt by even the most militant Earthborn."

  Lee shrugged. "Probably not much, sire," he replied. "The wounds run very deep. But your wisdom is respected even among the most extremist Planetborn." He bowed to the old man, a pure Earthborn gesture. "I can say that it would mean a lot to many of us."

  Sun nodded to the younger man with a sad smile.

  Lee turned back to Ken. "I suspect our best course is to use Kerry Alves' blog, if she'll agree. Every Planetborn reads it religiously. If you can get her on our side, it will help a lot." He shrugged. "I'll speak to her, if you'd like."

  Ken shook his head. "No, I'm the one who'll have to talk to her. I suspect she's going to howl a lot about 'politicians' trying to 'control the press'.

  They talked for another half hour, discussing the new committee and who to nominate as its members. Finally, though, the meeting broke up. All the attendees tried to make way for Sun's power chair, but he waved them out first.

  Finally, he was alone with Ken. "I have had an idea, Ken," he said. "I don't have a lot of time left, but now I know what I should do with it. I would like to devote it to reconciling the Earthborns and Planetborns. When you talk with Kerry Alves, would you ask her to come around and see me?" He indicated his chair. "Unfortunately, I am not very mobile these days."

  Ken nodded. "I'm sure she would be honored to call on you, sire. As would any of us."

  Sun laughed aloud. "Who would have believed that a Seoul shopkeeper would ever be considered an 'elder statesman' on an entire other world? Of course, it is easier to be considered a big fish in a small pond. Or, to put it another way, it's easier to fool 5000 people into thinking you're wise than to fool 500,000!" He wheeled his chair and swept out the door without waiting for a reply.

  Ken chuckled and shook his head. Sun had been a quiet, but effective, voice of moderation on the Council since before the crash, as well as a devoted member of Cesar's inner circle of friends. He deserved every ounce of the respect he was being given. Ken hoped he could be as effective in bringing the colonists together.

  After a moment, with a resigned sigh, he called Kerry Alves.

  "Should I start shouting 'Freedom of the Press' now," Kerry said as she breezed into his office, "or should I wait to hear what you have to say?"

  A smiling Ken waved her to a chair. "I'd say you've already made that point," he replied. "So why not hear what I have to say?"

  She smiled and nodded, but her eyes were narrowed. She shrugged. "Okay. Tell me how you plan to use me for your own nefarious purposes."

  He replied with a smile of his own, and shook his head. "Nothing nefarious, Kerry. In fact, nothing to do with the press. At least, not the newsie. I need to ask for help from your blog."

  Her eyebrows rose. "The blog? You mean that vicious, slanderous piece of lying trash Messer Peters keeps shouting about?"

  Ken's smile widened. "The very one." He went on to tell her about the meeting. Unsurprisingly, Kerry was already aware of Ken's victory at the Council meeting.

  "Kerry," he continued earnestly, "for two years you've been blogging about how the Planetborns are denied their 'rightful influence' in the colony. Well, we have broken the hold of the conservatives on the Council. We're finally able to begin to develop the colony the way it should have developed over twenty years ago.

  "But rightly or not, the Planetborns are suspicious of the administration and the Council. They no longer trust us to be looking out for their interests. And your blog has had a lot to do with creating that mistrust."

  Kerry opened her mouth to reply, but Ken waved her to silence. "Oh, that was not a complaint. Your blog is, and has been, an effective advocate. I suspect it had more than a little to do with changing the attitudes of the Council. But we've won a battle, not the war. Now it's time for the Planetborns to step up and show that they're ready to assume that 'rightful place' they're always shouting about.

  "I'd like you to help us recruit candidates for scientific and technical training. We've been depending on the comp. But we need to create our own scientists, and our own technicians. We can't survive unless we learn about Crashlanding, and that's something the comp can't do for us. We are going to need people who can do and make things. But that means we're going to need dozens of people, young people, willing to undergo the training that will require. For some technicians and craftsmen, that may be only a few months. For some scientists, perhaps years.

  "When they completed their 'basic', the required twelve years' education, all the Planetborns with the aptitudes and abilities were offered further training or an apprenticeship. Nearly all refused, mostly due to pressure from their parents and other Earthborns, who convinced them that they owed it to them and the colony to learn to farm or to repair farm machinery.

  "Well, now is the time to tell them that the pressure is off. They now have a second chance for the career they really wanted. And the best way to tell them is through your blog. You reach every Planetborn in the colony. It's put-up-or-shut-up time for the Planetborns. I want you to help me do what you've been demanding for the last two years; to assume your 'rightful place' helping the colony develop."

  "Wow," Kerry said wonderingly. "I got my own private speech from the Administrator!"

  Ken looked slightly embarrassed. "Yes, I guess you did. Sorry."

  Kerry shook her head. "Don't
be. You were right. We've got our chance, thanks to you, and now we've got to make the most of it. Sure, I'll help. How do you want to do it?"

  "Well," Ken replied, "I hadn't really thought about nuts and bolts, yet. But the comp has the aptitude test results of all the Planetborns. They can have the same choices they were offered when they finished school, I guess. We'll have a committee that will decide how many people we'll need in what specialties, and they will make offers to the volunteers based on their scores. If some of them feel their old scores are no longer adequate, we'll arrange for retesting."

  Kerry nodded and smiled. "That's good. That adds urgency to it; if they don't apply right away, they might have to settle for a second or third choice, or even miss out entirely. I like it. So, where do they sign up, and when do you want to start the stampede?"

  He shook his head. "No stampede. I'll give you a tablet address for the committee, and each person can just text that address, along with whether they want retesting. But, Kerry, we have to make it clear that there will be only a limited number of positions. A colony of 5000 doesn't need 2000 scientists."

  She frowned. "Any idea how many we're talking about?"

  He shook his head again. "Besides med techs, of course, I'd guess about fifty scientists of various types, and perhaps a hundred assorted techs and craftsmen, at most. We may need more later, but we'll have time for that to occur naturally."Those are just guesses, of course, and I'd appreciate it if you'd make that point. I don't want people complaining because those numbers don't agree with the committee's selections."