The Scythian Crisis, page 16
part #3 of Space Colony One Series
No one spoke. Ethan could almost touch the somber mood that emanated from the crowd. What he’d said was the truth and it had to be told. He hoped that now that it was stated out loud everyone would be able to move on.
“But now, everything’s changed, right? We discovered that our new home held predators who kill in horrible ways. Then the Natural Movement did their damnedest to destroy us. After that we had the alien attack, and the tsunami. And what happened each time we were faced with adversity? Every time, we survived. We lost people, yes. Everyone has lost someone. But we’re still here. Despite everything, we made it through.
“What’s more, things have changed. This new life, it isn’t what the project founders had in mind when they thought up the name, Nova Fortuna. All the careful plans they made are useless now. The Manual and the Mandate that caused so much conflict in the beginning, they’re long forgotten. This life we’re leading isn’t the new destiny the founders intended.”
Ethan paused. The crowd was still listening to him, which was a better result than he’d anticipated. It was important that he got the next and final part of his speech right.
Shelf clouds were building up on the horizon. It would rain again soon, and its reception by the crowd would be very different from what it had been at the Naming Ceremony.
Ethan continued, “But it is a new destiny. It’s a new life for all of us. Maybe it looks like we don’t have much choice about what happens in this new life, but that isn’t true. We have a choice about how we face it. We can own it, or we can lie down and give in to whatever is thrown at us.
“That’s what you have to ask yourselves. How are you going to face what comes? I can’t answer that for you. I can’t make you hope for a better future. I can’t give you the will to live. You are the person who decides. Each one of you. You create your own destiny. And that doesn’t mean that you won’t die. I can’t stop the aliens from returning. However much we might want it, we don’t get to choose to live a long and happy life. But what we do get to choose is whether we sit back and accept whatever happens to us or whether we fight. That is the destiny we can choose. So now I have another question for you: do we just sit back? Do we give in? Or do we fight?”
This second question was not so easily answered. A pause stretched out as the crowd digested Ethan’s words. He realized he was holding his breath. He deliberately exhaled. Cherry’s head was down and she was kicking another hole in the soil. The thud-thud-thud of her boot was all that Ethan could hear. Would he also hear the answer that was needed? He didn’t know what else he could say to spark the required change in attitude. Perhaps he was not quite the Leader others had supposed.
Then the answer came.
“We fight,” shouted the boy who had answered Ethan’s previous question.
“We fight,” more voices echoed.
Ethan closed his eyes in relief. But many had not yet answered. He cupped both palms around his ears and yelled, “What do we do?”
The crowd roared back: “We fight.”
Ethan raised a hand. “Thank you. Go and fight. Fight for your future and for the lives of the people you love.”
He stepped down from the box.
“I knew you could do it,” said Cherry, her eyes bright.
“I just told them the truth,” Ethan replied, “in a way they needed to hear it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cariad had gone to speak to the Guardians who were constructing the pulse emitter on the upper surface of the Nova Fortuna. It had been quite a trek to reach them. She’d been forced to climb the networks of lines and ladders that Giesen and Florian had fixed throughout the ship in order to move from one side to the other.
She wasn’t particularly fit, and the feat was testing her strength, but she was lonely and wanted someone to speak to face to face, even if that someone was an android. Kes was spending every waking moment he had speaking with the fila. He seemed obsessed with finding out all he could about them, and they seemed equally curious about humans. It was to be expected, of course, and Cariad would be the last person to blame a scientist for being passionate about one of the most important discoveries in the history of humankind, but that didn’t mitigate the effect Kes’ effective absence was having on her.
The problem was, monitoring the babies took up very little of her time and she didn’t have anything else to do aboard the ship. Unlike Florian, she had no one at the settlement who she could comm for hours on end. There was little point in working on more genetic cross matching until the babies were decanted. She wasn’t confident about using the ancient equipment again anyway.
Her excessive amount of free time was mostly spent worrying. It was with horror that she’d learned of the plan to build a weapon that would harness the Nova Fortuna’s two remaining engines. The colony needed protection, of course, but the Guardians’ solution would make the ship the obvious target for attack.
As well as caring about the babies themselves, Cariad worried about losing them because they were important to the colony’s long-term survival. If the fetuses were killed, it wasn’t a certainty that another batch could be created and gestated up until decanting, which meant that though the colony might survive the aliens’ attack it would eventually die out. So did it make sense to site a massive weapon on the ship? Cariad wasn’t convinced.
Hot and sweaty, and her muscles, palms, and knees sore from climbing, Cariad finally reached the corridor at the top of the ship that led to the kindergarten section. The incline evened out enough for her to walk rather than crawl. Distant sounds of drilling and banging floated toward her.
Now that she’d nearly arrived at her destination, Cariad was having second thoughts. Did she really want to speak to androids? It wasn’t so long ago that they’d creeped her out. She realized she had to be really lonely to have forgotten how she felt about the Guardians. Perhaps she should have asked Kes to take some time off from his work and keep her company. Or waited for Florian to return for a visit as he’d said he would.
But then she’d come so far and with such effort. Cariad decided she would be stupid to go all the way back to the reproduction section without at least trying to talk to the androids.
She found them working in a kindergarten classroom. Plaspaper pictures still adorned the walls, though they were now covered in dust. Tiny chairs were piled up randomly on one side. Little tables, broken in the descent from space or at impact, lay upended, their remaining legs poking upward. Child-sized interfaces were strewn about, their screens cracked or warped.
Cariad paused a moment as she surveyed the scene. The symbolism wasn’t lost on her. What had happened to the kindy classroom was what had happened to the colonists: their hopes and dreams had been childlike and naive; the forces of reality had shattered and smashed them to pieces.
And in amongst the remains of childish things, the Guardians were building a weapon.
The base was smaller than Cariad thought it would be. It was the smallest of the stacked metallic cylinders that increased in size from the floor to the ceiling, like a macabre upside-down wedding cake. In the gap between the uppermost tier of the cylinders and the ceiling, Cariad could see Guardians passing to and fro. They were working on the top of the weapon where it protruded from the ship. She guessed that below the floor the base was linked to the two surviving engines in the spindle, or that it would be eventually.
All she could hear now was soft clinks and clacks as the androids worked. No voices. Cariad gave a slight shudder.
“Hello,” she called upward.
The Guardians’ movements stopped and one of the females squatted down to peer at Cariad through the gap. Cariad had learned that this one was called Brent and that she’d been one of the androids who had helped to break through the hull.
“Cariad?” Brent asked.
“Yes. I thought I’d come and see how you’re getting along.”
“With the pulse emitter?”
“Yes.”
“Work is progressing satisfactorily. We’re a little ahead of schedule, actually.”
“That’s good to hear,” Cariad said. Then she realized that wasn’t what she wanted to say. “As soon as we fire it, the Nova Fortuna will become a target though, won’t it?”
“Without any doubt,” Brent replied.
“And we have one hundred and twenty-three babies aboard,” said Cariad.
Brent considered Cariad’s statement for a moment, presumably analyzing it for the unstated meaning. “I understand that you are concerned for the safety of the fetuses during the alien attack. But I believe you haven’t included an important element of the situation in your reasoning. The Nova Fortuna presents a clear and evident threat to our enemy, even in its disabled state. They should know that this ship is a source of shelter and valuable materials. It’s possible that installing a powerful weapon aboard it will attract our attackers’ attention sooner than otherwise, but I’m afraid it’s inevitable that the ship will be attacked.”
Cariad looked up into the Guardian’s impassive face. “You mean the babies don’t stand a chance, no matter what we do?”
“It’s impossible to be certain, but their chances of survival are low. Hasn’t Strongquist explained the situation to you? I thought he had.”
Brent was correct. Strongquist had told Cariad that the best they could hope for was to be sufficiently hard to kill that the aliens would give up their attack, for the time being. Yet somehow Cariad hadn’t translated that fact to the wider implication that all the infants she and her techs had carefully nurtured were probably going to die before they even left their artificial wombs.
After her elation at discovering they’d survived the crash it was a truth too hard for her to contemplate.
Her vision of the female android was turning blurry. Cariad blinked and rubbed tears from her eyes.
“I’m sorry that this is painful to you,” said Brent.
“I—”
Cariad’s comm chirped. It was Kes. She answered.
“Where are you?” he asked. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you left the ship?”
“No,” Cariad replied. “I climbed to the top to see what was happening with the pulse emitter.”
“Oh, really?” said Kes, sounding disappointed.
“Why? What’s happening? I take it you’re out of the water for a while?”
“Yes. I thought I would take a few hours off. I have to write a report to send to Vasquez, and I wondered if you wanted to have dinner together.”
“I’d love to have dinner,” Cariad replied. “You’ve spent so much time with the fila I was beginning to feel lonely. It’ll take me a while to get back, though. Can you wait for me?”
“Sure. I’ll pop to the refectory and pick up some food, then I’ll begin writing my report while I wait.” He closed the comm.
Cariad wasn’t looking forward to completing the return journey without much of a rest, but it would be worth it to spend some time with Kes.
“I have to go,” she told Brent.
The android nodded and began to move away.
“How long until you’re finished?” Cariad asked.
“We estimate twenty-seven days,” Brent replied. “We haven’t constructed a weapon before, however. We may hit upon problems we haven’t anticipated.”
“But it’ll be ready before the aliens return?”
“The current probability is high.”
***
Kes had set up a dinner for them in the reproduction room. The plates looked like they were about to slide off the bench, but he had placed rubber mats beneath them to give them some traction on the smooth surface. All he’d had to work with were dishes and cutlery from the refectory and food from storage, but he’d managed to create an attractive spread. As Cariad surveyed the scene, she thought all that it was missing was candles and flowers.
“You made it,” Kes said as he looked up from his interface. Then his expression turned solicitous. “Are you okay?”
Cariad realized she was definitely not okay. All through her journey down from the upper levels of the ship she’d been thinking over Brent’s words. Somehow they sounded more real and credible than when Strongquist had told her the same thing weeks previously. She was not okay at all. She was an emotional wreck, and somehow the sight of Kes’ efforts tipped her over the edge.
To her shame, she burst into tears.
“Hey,” Kes exclaimed. He ran across the room and wrapped his arms around her.
Cariad wept. She sobbed for all the little lives that would be lost. She cried for everyone else who was going to die. She lamented the death of her burgeoning relationship with Ethan that had somehow gone inexplicably wrong.
Minutes passed and she continued to weep until she’d run out of tears and soaked Kes’ shirt. She pulled away, wiping her face on her sleeve. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“That’s okay,” Kes said. “The stress is getting to everyone. I told you once I’ll always be here for you, didn’t I? Come and eat.” He gave her a strange look, however, as he took her arm and guided her to the table.
“At least nothing’s gotten cold,” he joked as they sat down.
They hadn’t bothered trying to fix the ovens and hobs in the refectory. It was easier to eat something from the stores that didn’t require heating. Kes had selected dried seaweed wafers, bean cakes, dried tomatoes in oil, and corn chips.
After her outburst of emotion, Cariad found her appetite was almost gone. She chewed on a wafer while watching Kes eat. His prolonged time spent in the cool water with the fila had resulted in him upping his calorie intake considerably.
After a while he paused and said, “We better do something about the grasshoppers and all the other insects in the animal protein store. No one’s fed them in I don’t know how long.”
Cariad sucked in a breath. “I’d forgotten all about them. We have to kill them. We can’t risk them escaping. They’d unbalance Concordia’s ecosystem. We could have a plague on our hands.”
“Yeah,” Kes said. “I was thinking that too. We can do it later. But we can’t leave it too long. Better do it tonight.”
The prospect of euthanizing the insects upset Cariad more than she expected. She felt her chin trembling and hot tears flooded into her eyes.
“Cariad?” Kes reached over the table to take her hand. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she replied.
“You’re worrying me,” said Kes. “This isn’t like you. You’re usually so together.”
She rubbed her eyes, wiping away the moisture. “It isn’t like me, is it? I don’t know what’s come over me. Why don’t you tell me what’s been happening with the fila? Maybe that’ll take my mind off things.”
Kes had already told her bits and pieces in the few moments she’d seen him between his visits to the creatures but he’d never taken the time to give her an overview.
He pushed away his plate, laced his fingers together, and put his hands behind his head. “Boy do I have some things to tell you. One of the reasons I decided to take a break and write all this stuff up was something they told me today. Cariad, I was right. The fila aren’t native to Concordia. They’re colonists like us.”
“The fila don’t come from here?” Cariad exclaimed. “And they waited until now to tell us this?”
“It does seem strange, and it’s very hard to guess at their thought processes, but I think they thought we already knew. They haven’t been here that long. From what I can understand they arrived twenty-eight Concordian years ago.”
“Wow, so recently.”
“Bear in mind that it’s still early days in terms of how well we’re communicating, but another thing I think they were saying is that their main power source is geothermal energy. They call it “ground power,” so I guess they might mean earthquakes or tectonic plate movement, but geothermal seems more likely.”
“Hold on,” said Cariad. “Are you sure you haven’t misunderstood about them colonizing Concordia? If the fila aren’t native to the planet, how did they get here? Where’s their ship? It can’t be on the other side of the planet because even if we didn’t notice it before Arrival the satellites would have picked it up.”
“I asked them about that,” Kes said. “They said their ship left fifteen years ago. It’s gone to find new planets to colonize. They talked about their colony ship like it was a breeding facility. After they find a planet that has large bodies of water, they deposit colonists, wait a while until the colony is established, and then the ship leaves to find a new planet.”
“Does it ever come back?” Cariad asked. If the fila’s space vessel returned at the same time as the hostile aliens, that would be interesting timing.
“I don’t know,” Kes replied. “I didn’t ask them. Another thing they explained about was the sluglimpets. They apologized about them.”
“Huh? What do they have to be sorry about?”
“It took forever for me to understand,” Kes said. “But I finally got what they meant, I think. The area where we set up the settlement is near a habitation of their own, right? In the lake. Well, apparently there’s a Concordian creature that the sluglimpets eat—don’t ask me to describe it, I couldn’t understand that part at all—but it breeds in water. They drove the sluglimpets’ prey animal out of the area because there were so many of them their breeding activities were turning the lake water acidic, which is painful to the fila’s skin.”
“So the sluglimpets have nothing to feed on,” Cariad said.
“Not until we arrived, they didn’t,” said Kes.
“Urgh,” Cariad said. “And did the fila have a solution for our problem?”
“Sorry, we didn’t get that far. They started talking about the time the aliens attacked.”
“They know about it?”
“They know all about it,” said Kes. “Cariad, the Nova Fortuna crashed on one of their cities.”
