After a long battle, Ken convinced the Council to decree that while the colony's communal dining hall would continue to operate, it would begin selling its food. A graduated pay scale was established for each job in the colony, and people began earning wages. This led to a flurry of other regulations relating to such things as overtime and disability. The wage schedule, Ken explained, was intended to be a temporary thing; once the new currency became firmly established, he expected wages to find their own levels. But the fiat wage scale would, he said, establish a 'minimum wage', to make certain even the most unskilled worker would earn a 'living wage'.
It also led to a predictable amount of confusion and opposition. There were demonstrations, and hundreds of complaints, but eventually, most were settled more or less amicably. For those that could not be settled so easily, a Council court had been established.
The colony's Head Med Tech, Doctor Bono, was authorized to certify individual colonists as disabled, after which they would receive a basic allowance for living expenses. The same allowance was paid to those over 100 years old. On Earth, retirement age was 50; but this was Crashlanding, and Earth people had no symbiont extending their lives. Those not certified as disabled, and below 100 years of age would receive only wages they earned. If they were unwilling to work, Ken had wanted the colony to afford them the "freedom to starve", but he was forced to compromise and accept the existence of a "minimum subsistence allowance" payable even to those who refused to work.
With a stable, reliable currency had come the concept of 'private property'. The fact that the colony had kept careful comp records simplified the task of issuing land titles. Residents were issued titles to the domes and fields they occupied. Unoccupied domes, of course, remained colony property. Combined with the new currency, the titles were quickly recognized as having value, and soon a tentative trade in properties began and quickly developed into a brisk one.
The currency also led to a surge in entrepreneurship. Those with imagination and drive began finding and creating new products and services that would let them escape the standard wages imposed by the Council.
Kerry had started the trend, with her 'subscription' newsie. Lars and Jana were now 'consultants', and sold their services to the colony for negotiated fees, instead of a standard wage.
Roberto Gomez and his fishermen established what he called a 'co-op', wherein the fishermen combined their catches into a single fish market, at which both river and lake-caught fish were available. A similar 'co-op' was being established by a number of farmers dissatisfied with the 'official' Council price for their produce.
Vlad had pressed Ken until the colony established a 'patent office', at first just a file on the comp, that gave individuals the exclusive right to new and innovative products. The only requirement being that a product was actually new, and not something found on the comp. Susan immediately applied for over a dozen, and received them.
Yes, things were definitely changing, much to the dismay of the now-elderly Earthborns who had retarded progress for so long. They had forced an election to be conducted, confident that the colonists would reject Ken's 'imperial' proposals. The published ballots listed only the incumbents, though the colonists were free to vote for any adult colonist. Blogs, though, promoted and advocated the election of various other candidates for weeks ahead of the election.
The conservatives had been surprised and dismayed when the overwhelmingly Planetborn population affirmed Ken's program, and many of the loudest, most reactionary voices on the Council found themselves replaced by upstart Planetborns they hadn't even realized were running. Among other proposals on the ballot: That the Colony Administrator be elected by popular vote, instead of by Council election. Since he had been easily reelected to the Council, this would not yet affect Ken. His place on the ballot would come in four years, when the term approved by the election expired.
Ken was reviewing the latest reports of the Council court with Lee Jenson when he was surprised to see Susan Renko enter his office, accompanied by the ever-present Michiko Montoya. Ken welcomed them and ushered them to seats.
Susan took a deep breath and began, "Ken, I think I need to talk to you, in private." She glanced significantly at Lee.
Lee started to rise, only to be waved back to his seat by Ken. "It's all right, Susan. Please go on. What is it?"
Susan looked doubtful for a moment, and then shrugged. "I think we're facing the most serious threat since the plague. In fact, you could almost call it 'The Plague, Chapter Two'." Ken's eyebrows rose, and his surprise was complete when Susan continued, "Michiko, you tell him. You spotted it."
Since the mineral scouting expedition, Susan had taken Michiko as an apprentice, much to Frank Wong's dismay. Even in the short time since the expedition, it had become obvious that the two were kindred spirits, and by now they were practically inseparable. Vlad joked that Susan was the only colonist whose shadow had a name: Michiko. Ken enthusiastically approved of Susan's 'adoption' of Michiko, and hoped other Earthborns would take the hint and find Planetborn apprentices; the more the two groups mixed, the better it would be for the colony.
But since Michiko's arrival it was becoming more and more difficult to drag Susan away from her lab in the crèche. Vlad had taken to nagging her about becoming a 'lab hermit,' and Michiko was coming to represent Susan any time physical presence was required. Whatever it was they had to report, it must be important.
Michiko nodded. "Yes, Susan." But there was a flush of pride in her face as she continued, "Well, sire, I was checking traffic patterns at the med clinic when I noticed something. Over the last year, we've seen a marked upsurge in the number of Earthborns coming to the clinic for what turns out to be food poisoning.
"I've tracked it back almost a year, but the increase has been pretty gradual. It's only in the last few months that it has really become noticeable. Last month we had over twenty cases."
Ken was puzzled. "Food poisoning? How can that be? We grow and process our own food, and no colonist is crazy enough to try to eat the native stuff."
Susan nodded, and picked up the narrative. "We've spent the last two days comparing samples from our latest crops to my records from past years. Ken, the crop plants are mutating. They are changing to more and more resemble Crashlanding vegetation."
Ken was stunned. "But that means…"
Susan nodded. "It means that our crops are becoming poisonous to the Earthborns.
"And it's not just the plants," she continued. "The animals and even we humans are mutating too. Apparently it's an effect of the symbiont. It's changing us to live on Crashlanding."
"Are you sure?" Ken asked worriedly. "About the colonists, I mean?"
Susan nodded. "We compared tissue samples from every Planetborn, from the oldest to the newest infants. The changes are subtle, but when traced through the samples, they are detectable. In each generation, from Earthborn down, the mutation is stable. Once it is established, the process stops for that individual. But each new birth contributes to the ongoing changes.
"Plant generations, and even livestock generations, are much shorter than human ones, especially since the symbiont seems to be extending our life spans. So, the plants and animals are mutating much faster than we are. That means that unless we do something, the Earthborns will soon be unable to eat our crops or livestock.
Ken's frown was deep. "All right, Susan. You've had time to think about this. What can we do? Can we stop it?"
Susan shook her head. "No. I've studied that damned symbiont for 25 years now, and I still haven't found any way to control the thing. It's almost as if it were designed in a lab to be immutable."
There was sudden movement in the corner of Ken's eye as Michiko jerked upright with a surprised expression that turned suddenly thoughtful.
"All I've been able to come up with," Susan continued, not noticing Michiko's reaction, "is to go back to the original seed banks on the ship, and follow the same procedures we did twenty-five years ago. Expose
the seedlings to Crashlanding atmosphere and plant them in place of our current seeds. If we're lucky, it should be like setting back the clock."
Ken shook his head. "Assuming we have enough of the original seed left. Okay," he continued, "Let's make sure I understand this. Before long, the Earthborns won't be able to eat our crop plants, and eventually, not even our livestock. So we have a deadline for finding a solution. It appears, though, that the Planetborns are unaffected, and will be able to continue to consume our present food sources. Now, there are about a thousand of us Earthborns left, so, cold-blooded as it sounds, eventually it will be a self-solving problem. As one of the thousand, though, I find myself unable to be that detached."
Michiko shook her head. "Not really. Before long, I suspect us older Planetborn will begin having the same problem. We can get some of our nutrition from the sun, and we can eat some of the native stuff, though most of it tastes terrible, but it could take several generations for us to be able to eat everything. We need a long-term solution."
Susan frowned. "I'm not so sure. With every birth, the conversion is more and more complete. The youngest ones seem to be able to get nearly a fourth of their energy from the sun, and with the native stuff you can already eat, the problem will at least diminish."
Ken waved a hand in dismissal. "That's for the future to worry about. Right now, we have to save the Earthborns." He straightened. "Our first job is to find out how serious the problem is. I'll have Lee or Vlad check with the computer, and find out how much original seed we have left. For most of our time here, we've been using seed grown with our crops, because they've already been infected with the symbiont. So, if we're lucky, we may have enough to re-seed at least a portion of our fields."
Susan looked distressed. "I would be concerned about cross-contamination if we tried to grow both varieties at once. I think we're going to have to burn off and plow under all our crops and start over anew. We know the Planetborns can eat the Earth-descended varieties."
"At least for now," Michiko put in. Suddenly, she brightened. "Hey! What about hydroponics? Maybe we can reactivate the ship's hydroponic systems, and raise old-breed crops and seeds that way."
Ken nodded. "That might be a possibility. I want both of you to drop anything else you're doing and jump on this. On second thought, you two have enough to do. I'll ask Tara Creding to take charge. I'll also find out if there's anyone that knows anything about hydroponics, and have the computer run an inventory of the remaining stocks of ship's food. If we do have to destroy our own crops, we may be able to survive on those for a while, until we can get a new crop in."
"You know," Susan said in a thoughtful tone. "We may have to destroy all the livestock, too. It could be like stepping back almost 25 years in time."
Ken shook his head. "Don't get too pessimistic too soon. Let's take this one step at a time, and the first step is to verify your observations, and try to develop ideas for dealing with the problem." He straightened. "Oh, and of course, I'd rather not see this in the newsie, so please treat it as confidential, for the moment. When we brief the Council and the Colonists, I'd like to be able to outline a plan of action at the same time. Panic won't help anything."
Lee Jenson fidgeted uncomfortably. "Uh, sire, there are already rumors that there are problems with the food supply."
Ken's expression was grim. "Anything that's liable to cause us problems?"
Lee shook his head. "Not immediately, sire. Actually, I'd guess the rumors are being caused by the food poisoning cases."
Ken nodded. "Which gives us another deadline; and this one's pretty short. It won't take Kerry long to catch the scent of a story. If we're lucky, she'll come to you or me for verification, and we'll at least have some warning. And if we're very lucky, all the excitement of the 'revolution' will distract Kerry long enough for us to figure something out. Anyone have any other ideas?"
Lee smiled. "I'll do my best to keep Kerry distracted." The smile wavered as he continued, "but I haven't had a lot of luck doing that recently."
Michiko giggled. "It seems that men aren't as interesting as newsies," she said. "But don't quit trying, Lee. When she does raise her eyes from her vocoder, it's your face that makes her smile."
Lee's smile turned to a genuine grin. "Really?" He said, and then, glancing at Ken and Susan, "Are you trying to tell me I'm funny-looking?" he demanded with mock ferocity.
Ken waved dismissively. "All right, all right. I'm afraid I have other things to worry about than the course of true love among the Planetborns. Now, we've all got a lot to do, and I guess we'd better get to it."
He watched the two women leave and cursed. Things had just begun settling down after the 'revolution', and he'd been looking forward to a period of peaceful acclimation to the changes. He sighed.
"Susan was right," he said, shaking his head. "This could be the deadliest threat we've faced since the plague. It could set the colony back three generations."
Lee nodded soberly. "I know." He straightened. "Well, I guess I'd better check the comp inventory for ship-stock seeds." He reached for his tablet, the reports they'd been studying forgotten.
Ken nodded. "I'm going to call in the heavy artillery." He called Tara Creding's tablet code. "Tara," he asked when she answered, "Would you come see me as soon as possible? I have a very serious and urgent manner to discuss with you."
The smile with which Tara had answered the call faded as she took in Ken's serious manner. "Of course, Ken. Give me an hour to clear my desk of train wrecks."
Ken smiled Tara's image faded from his tablet. Tara had such a quiet, unassuming manner that it was easy to underestimate her. In fact Vlad had told him how for a long time after the crash, he hadn't understood why Cesar thought so highly of her. He'd shrugged and shook his head. "It just shows how smart ol' Cesar was – or how dumb I was!"
Privately, Ken thought it was mostly her sheer determination. If Tara decided something was worthwhile, she would spare no effort to pursue it. She'd grown up on a farm, hated it, and had run away as soon as she could. But when Cesar had appealed to her to take charge of teaching third-world peasant farmers modern farming techniques, she'd attacked it like a bulldog, reasoning, pleading and haranguing the farmers until they began to learn the new ways.
She'd found two others with western farm backgrounds, and bullied them into becoming agriculture teachers, as well. Then, in her spare time, she'd proceeded to complete nearly every agriculture and agronomy course the comp contained. Amazing that she'd once been a Nawlins…No. That was the one thing Cesar had insisted upon, and all her Earthborn acquaintances had agreed. One did not mention the reason for Tara's expulsion. Besides being mean-spirited, it would be cruel to her son.
Tara came in, wearing a yellow dress that accentuated her red hair. No jeans or shipsuits for her! She was a medium-tall woman who had to be in her late 40's, though the symbiont's intervention rendered that figure almost unbelievable. Most who knew her agreed that she and her son could pass for brother and sister. She was a striking woman, and Ken felt stirrings he hadn't felt in years.
The symbiont's greenish tinge was even more prominent against her normally pale complexion, and only emphasized her luxuriant red hair. White teeth flashed as she smiled. "Hello, Ken," she said. "I haven't seen you much the last few months. I guess revolutionaries get busy, huh?"
Ken grinned and shook his head, waving her to a chair. "Revolutionaries hide out a lot, to avoid those the revolution runs over."
"Well, hang in there; they're sure to run out of assassins one of these days," she replied. "So, what can I do for you? But before you ask, I can't get you tomatoes wholesale."
He shook his head. "No problem. I never eat plants that can't decide whether they're fruits or veggies."
She chuckled. "Well, the results are in. They're fruits. But that doesn't mean you should use them in fruit salads. Now, tell me why you need a worn-out old farmer's daughter."
He snorted in derision and then waved a dismissal.
"We have a real problem, Tara, and it falls right in your back yard."
Her eyes widened as he explained the developing emergency. When he finished, she gave a low whistle.
"Lee's looking into the comp's inventory of old-stock seeds," he concluded, "and we've also thought of hydroponics. We're hoping it might be possible to raise new pure-Earth seeds."
Tara nodded, frowning. "Susan's probably right about planting new ship's-stock seeds and 'resetting the clock'. That should give us another 25 years or so. We're bound to run out of seed, though." She paused. "Hydroponics might be the best long-term solution. We may be able to use it to grow pure Earth-stock plants and seeds. But I doubt you'll find anyone with experience at it. There was a guy in Dorm 4 that was growing veggies that way on the voyage, but I think he's dead, now.
"When I was studying growing options, I remember reading that the colony ships had big hydroponics installations; they provided fresh fruits and vegetables for food service, as well as recycling carbon dioxide into oxygen. I always intended to go check it out, but I was always too busy. Far as I know, nobody's been into the hydroponics installation aboard our ship since the crash." She paused, looked interested. "You've aroused my curiosity. I think I'm going to enjoy this!"
"In the meantime," she said, "harvest is only a little over a month away. We might want to wait until we can harvest the crop. There would be a lot less wailing and crying, then. Chances are you could burn off and plow the fields under without more than a few protests." She shrugged. "As Susan says, we already know how to get ship's-stock seed ready to plant." Her frown deepened. "Then there is the livestock problem…Hmm."
Ken shook his head. "I need you to head up our whole response to this crisis. After all, it's your field of expertise, not Susan's. She's a biologist; you're the agronomist. There is nothing on my desk, including the mines, that is more important than this situation. So, I'm going to give you my personal tablet code, and if you need anything, anything at all, call me. This thing now has the highest priority. I'll want frequent updates, and of course we need to keep it quiet. Once the news gets out, we have to have a solution in hand if we're to prevent a panic."
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