Blue Sunrise, page 10
“Fortunately, the catapult was not completed by nightfall, and the Koombar tired of watching their ammunition careen off the skin of the ship to land randomly on the plane.
“Darkness spread across the plane until only the light of torches could be seen without the enhancement of light amplification or Infra-Red. The Tree watched with interest from his ship as a group of twenty Koombar left the city from the far side and circled around, giving wide berth to the walls as they approached the ship. The Tree opened the hatch and the Koombar ran in to safety.”
Skrin raised his head. “The Disaffected,” he said.
“Yes,” said Tree, “The Disaffected, those without hope, those who feared their lives might end soon. These came to us in small groups under cover of night. It seemed the evacuation of Koombar would not be the timely and orderly process we had envisioned. We parked our ships at various points next to all gatherings of Koombar, but we took care to place them where routes to the ships would not be in full view of the general populace. Slowly, we began to move Koombar to Harmony. We tried to convince some of the Koombar to return to their planet and explain that we had truly come in peace and that Harmony was a wonderful planet with food and water for them all, but they refused.”
Skrin blinked slowly. “Wisely I would say. The Koombar do not look favorably upon loss of personnel during war.”
Tree stretched his arms in front of him. “This process took nearly three hundred years. At one point we dropped video machines into some of the cities with views of Koombar eating and playing on Harmony. Your people took the machines apart and used the screens as windows in the walls of their cities. It seemed to have no impact on the number of Koombar boarding our spacecraft.
“In the end, your planet died and thousands of Koombar with it. We left many ships standing on the surface in the hope that some would finally understand their only chance for life lay on Harmony. These ships are there still, although they must have run out of fuel by now. The rest of the ships were sent to our generator for use as scrap, and even that proved to be a mistake.
“On Harmony, things grew and evolved. The Koombar tended to keep to themselves, and with seemingly limitless space and resources, there were few real wars. Occasionally one group would find itself in disagreement with another, but it usually resulted in only a minor skirmish, and the weaker force would withdraw. We gave them energy in abundance, and this planet was chosen for its bounty of food and water. Life was good for the Koombar, and the Koombar changed—at least to some extent.
“With the abundance of food and energy, the need to reproduce was lessened, and the Koombar population stabilized, of its own, at near the current level. Where before issues had been settled always by force, negotiation began to play a role. The Trees actively promoted this change, and for some time it seemed that the dream of those long-dead Trees would be realized—the Trees and Koombar would learn from one another and live together in peace.
“Then came the birth of Cheswan Swi Geberak.”
Skrin interrupted, “I know of him.”
“As well you should,” said Tree. “Cheswan was born of the ruling class. His father was the Watcher for one of the largest groups on Harmony, but Cheswan was born with deformities. He was abnormally small, and his limbs were twisted. As is the custom with the Koombar, he was brought out into the wilderness to be killed, but for reasons we will never know, he was simply left to die. One of our children found him and brought him to an old Tree rooted nearby. The old Tree took pity on the small Koombar and fed him.”
“So it is true,” said Skrin, “that Cheswan Swi Geberak was raised by Trees.”
“It is true. The old Tree not only fed the babe but also began to teach him when he grew to an age of understanding. It became apparent that Cheswan was a brilliant student. Our own children are not terribly intelligent but have an excellent capacity to carry out the desires of the adults. Most adult Koombar have no desire to learn the technology of the Trees, and we have found almost no Koombar who were capable of understanding it. Cheswan was different. Not only did he hunger for the knowledge, but he easily grasped most of the ideas. He was particularly interested in the concept of our anti-matter generator, and although he never really understood the underlying principles, he came to know much of the practicalities involved.
“Eventually, Cheswan desired to be with his own kind. We cautioned him of the danger, but he was insistent, and we prepared a vehicle he could operate and sent him on his way.
“According to Koombar legend, Cheswan drove to his father’s city and demanded his place as heir to the Watcher. We presume this to be false, but it hardly matters. We had no reason to believe anything was amiss until several years later when one of our probes impacted our home planet. At first it was believed the probe had malfunctioned, although no one could see how this was possible. Then another probe impacted our planet, and then another. Altogether, eight probes smashed into our planet and ignited their anti-matter engines. The resulting radiation and increase in temperature destroyed almost all life and killed every Tree on the planet. Nearly one billion Trees, adult and young, died as a result of what Cheswan had learned.
“We discovered later that Cheswan had reprogrammed the computers on the anti-matter generator from one of our stations here on Harmony. A simple process really, and one that we would never have thought to guard against. It no longer mattered. The damage was done. Not just that our home planet had been destroyed, but the Koombar now knew that the Trees were vulnerable. A Watcher who claimed to be Cheswan’s father came to us demanding that we furnish him with weapons. We refused. This Watcher then burned the Tree that refused his request, and when we did not retaliate, he burned another, and another, and yet another.
“Thousands of Trees died in a massacre that went on for years until the Koombar understood we would never give them weapons. They finally grew bored with the whole thing. Occasionally, one of the Koombar Watchers will make the same request or other requests that the Trees cannot honor, and more Trees die. Such it has been since Cheswan Swi Geberak was raised and educated by Trees.”
“Why will you not give us weapons?” Skrin asked.
“Weapons would simply allow the Koombar to destroy each other in greater numbers. War would be the outcome. Eventually the Koombar would destroy the Trees, and this planet would become as your home planet.”
Skrin hesitated for a moment as if he were afraid to ask the next question. “Could you destroy the Koombar?”
The sun was beginning to set, and Tree watched the sky turning pink in the west. He was growing tired of this for some reason. “It is technically feasible,” he said, “but we are not capable of such an act.”
“I don’t understand,” Skrin said.
Tree wrinkled his nose in a grin at the little Koombar. “Sometimes I don’t understand it either,” he said, “but the day is at an end. Your guards grow restless. Let us take this up another day.”
Skrin looked about in surprise at the long shadows. “Yes,” he said, “I must be going, but I would understand why the Trees do not destroy my people. This is an important issue.”
Tree scratched at one of his six eyes with one of his six hands. “It is important to the Trees also, but it involves our view of the universe, and that view is a result of our evolution. To understand evolution we will need to speak a little of biology.”
“Biology.” Skrin stood and faced the Tree. “Yes, we will speak of biology next time.” He turned to go but stopped for a moment. “And this was history?”
“An example of it, yes,” replied the Tree.
“Hmmm,” said Skrin, “I still fail to see the use of it, but it was an oddly interesting story. I will return when my duties permit.”
Tree bowed as low to the ground as he could. “By your leave, sire.” But Skrin was down the hill and did not turn to acknowledge him.
Chapter Twelve
Surface of Mars
April 17, 2061
T
om Fielder woke up to the soft ringing of the morning bell and remembered, finally, not to sit up and bump his head on the curving wall. Each temporary building held four people. It gave them a little more elbowroom than the Mars I, but not by much. After two weeks, the place still smelled slightly of urethane sealant and glue, but under that was the aroma of human sweat. It reminded him that they needed to find water.
Not that there wasn’t a lot of water on Mars. Someone had calculated there should be enough water on Mars to cover the surface some 100 meters deep, but the Martian water wasn’t on the ground—it was in the ground. Several of the Mars probes found significant amounts of water mixed into the sand and rocks just below the surface, but recovering that water would be difficult and time consuming.
“Rise and shine,” he said, “Today we move into the mansion on the hill.”
Espanoza and Cochran made grumbling sounds. They were tired. He had pushed everybody pretty hard over the last few days, and Ki had spoken to him somewhat forcefully about pacing the crew. “We will be here for three years,” he reminded Tom. “We can’t get everything done in the first few weeks.” Tom grudgingly agreed to slack up a bit, and the conversation had been nothing like the chewing out he had received for embarrassing Cochran during the replay of the cave video, but he was already forgetting every bit of it as he eagerly looked forward to getting into their permanent home and exploring the cave. The lab was a few days from completion and still open to the Martian atmosphere, but the living quarters should be pressured up and warm by now. They had moved all of the furniture yesterday afternoon, sealed the lock, and turned on the air and heat.
Tom couldn’t help it. He felt like a kid on Christmas day. Not only would there be space to move around in, with a real dining area and kitchen, but he would, for the first time in months, have a room to himself. This was not a luxury shared by most of the crew. Only Commander Thon, Tom, and Dr. Pamela Krazinsky had their own rooms—Ki and Tom by virtue of their mission rank, Dr. Krazinsky by virtue of her position as Medical, and the fact that her room doubled as an examination room and sick bay. Evelyn Weiss would share a room with Kaitlin Geller, and Adrian Melancon would bunk with Carlos Espanoza. That left Mike Cochran alone in a room built for two, but nobody seemed to mind.
Tom rolled out of his bunk and stretched his hands up to touch the ceiling. “Let’s get some more of that delicious squeeze-tube oatmeal and check out our new digs.”
Ki stood up across the room. “Why don’t we go to the permanent quarters first,” he said, “I have something I want to show all of you.”
Espanoza and Cochran stopped and turned to look at Ki. “Uh, Commander,” Tom said, “I’m kind of hungry.”
“Nonetheless,” said Ki, “Let us suit up and visit our new home.”
Tom looked at him carefully. Ki had the enigmatic grin on his face that always meant he was up to something. Espanoza and Cochran remained frozen in position.
Tom turned and roared, “You heard the man. Let’s get dressed.”
There was a burst of activity as everyone began to slip on their suits.
Seals popped and lines began to hiss as they jostled around each other in the small space. Espanoza and Cochran tried desperately not to bump into Tom or Ki while they suited up. Within a few minutes they were checking each other’s fittings and connections.
Tom checked Ki’s suit thoroughly. “What are you up to?” he said in a near whisper.
“Why, Tom,” Ki said, “It just seems to me that we might enjoy eating breakfast in our new home.”
Tom knew that, that wasn’t it, but by now he could see little more than Ki’s eyes through the faceplate. And anyway, Ki could be a deadly poker player when he felt the need.
“Okay, whatever. Just leave me in the dark. I’m only the second in command here. There’s no need in my knowing everything.”
“Exactly, Mr. Fielder.”
Tom frowned but turned and allowed Ki to check his suit. Espanoza and Cochran were standing and ready to leave. “Alright,” he said, “hit the button, Cochran.”
A pump kicked on to depressure the small room, and a green light soon flashed above the door.
Cochran twisted the heavy handle that popped the hatch outward and then pushed it open. There was a slight whoosh of air as the door opened, and they stepped out onto the cold sand. Tom checked the bottom of the door-seal for sand before he closed it and looked up to see the rest of the crew waiting outside the other temporary building. The sun was barely over the horizon, and an unsubstantial frost covered everything in sight with a thin, white coat that glinted and sparkled from the oblique rays of the weak light. Rolling hills shaped the horizon just under the rising sun, and pockets of icy fog could be seen sliding along low places in the sand as the sun warmed the ground and stirred a breeze in the thin air. The nearby mountains sent jagged teeth into a sky painted with streaks of pink from the rising sun, and Tom stood for a moment simply looking. The black walls and clear, domed roof of the permanent housing just 100 feet in front of him were also covered with sparkling frost.
Tom realized that something was wrong. He looked around carefully and then hit a button on his left wrist to activate the private channel between him and Ki. “Commander, Melancon is not here.”
“That is correct. Shall we go?” was all Ki had to say about it.
“So you’re not going to tell me what is going on or why I’m missing a crewmember?”
“Patience, Tom. All will be revealed in time. You really should practice some of the meditations I have tried to teach you.”
“Yeah, right,” Tom said, and kicked at the sand with the toe of his heavy boot. “Live within the moment and all that Zen stuff.”
He thumbed the general com button on his suit radio. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s move it before we turn all white and sparkly.”
The crew bounced off to their new home with Tom and Ki bringing up the rear. Tom noticed that Ki was barely limping. “In the lock four by four,” Tom said. He and Ki stood outside as the crew cycled through the door.
Ki was perfectly still and staring into the sun. “Truly a splendid morning.”
“Yeah. Real nice,” Tom said, “and not a hint of rain.”
They took their turn through the lock and emerged into the communal room. This was the largest room in the building. The clear, slightly domed roof was nearly twelve feet high at its center and allowed the light of Mars to give an open, airy feeling. The internal wall between the kitchen and the communal room was actually an eight-foot partition, but the living quarters had a more standard ceiling and roof for greater privacy and noise control. The laboratory roof was of standard construction for containment purposes. The wall to his left was a huge computer screen that doubled for watching movies. It was blanked to a dull gray and would remain so until the computer system was connected. Directly across from Tom was the entrance to the kitchen. A table surrounded by eight chairs and offset slightly to the right of center, occupied most of the communal room. There were couches and other chairs to Tom’s right, and a door leading into the living quarters with its separate bathrooms for men and women. Access to the lab was through the kitchen and through an internal airlock that would be used when experiments required Martian atmospheric conditions.
“Home sweet home,” said Tom just as he realized that the rest of the crew had removed their helmets and was standing around with strange grins on their faces. There was some small talk going on, but Tom was having trouble hearing it through his helmet. He quickly popped the seals on his helmet, twisted it to the left and pulled it off.
He was instantly overpowered by the smells. There was the odor of fresh urethane and sealant just like in the temporary, but on top of that was something he had trouble identifying for a moment.
“I’ll be damned,” he said, “bacon.” He thought for a moment. “And coffee.”
Just then, Melancon leaned out of the doorway leading to the kitchen. There was a towel draped across his shoulder, and he held a spatula in one hand. “We got bacon, sausage, cheese omelets, biscuits, and hot coffee for anyone that wants it. No bread for toast yet, but I’ll have that taken care of by tonight. And I’m not real proud of the omelets, but you can only do so much with powdered eggs.”
A cheer erupted from the crew. They had been living on ship’s rations for nearly two months, and the idea of eating real food at a real table with real silverware was something they had tried not to think about. The smells were driving everyone crazy, and the crew surged toward the kitchen.
“Hold it,” Tom said.
The crew froze in place. “We ought to at least get out of our suits first, and I believe we have Commander Thon to thank for this surprise. It would be appropriate if he served himself first.” The crew began to peel out of their suits. There was a row of lockers next to the airlock, each one with a crewmembers’ name at the top. The room was filled with the sound of lines popping, and the tearing sound of Velcro fasteners as the crew removed their air tanks and stripped out of their suits. In record time, the suits had been put up and the crew stood around with an air of expectant urgency
Ki stood beaming with his hands behind his back. He was a small man of five feet six inches with thinning, straight black hair and oriental features. His round face was accentuated by his tendency to gain weight, and even though he had trimmed down for the mission, he easily carried more body fat than any of the other crewmembers. It was one of the things that had helped him survive his encounter with the fallen wing.
Tom turned and gave a bow to Ki. “Commander Thon, after you.”
Ki gave a short bow in return. “Thank you, Mr. Fielder. I believe I will.”
He began walking to the kitchen, and the crew parted in front of him.
“Alright,” Tom barked, “single file.”
