Atop the tall building, fluttering in the light breeze of the early evening was the crimson banner of their people. Galen could see it clearly: the central golden bird, its head cocked to the side and up, as if looking toward a distant horizon—itself sitting in a sea of crimson, the color of their forefathers and of their empire. At the upper and lower edges, the crimson was framed by bars of shimmering silver, representative of the lands they had harvested, and of the ones yet to come. Following his gaze, the rest of the harvesters looked to the symbol of their people, waving in the breeze, just as similar ones had waved for the hundreds of years they had been there.
“It is good to be home,” Arsino said from his commander’s side.
Galen nodded, looking at the flag a moment longer before setting his sights on the ore processing station just ahead of them. “It is that, my friend.”
“Do you think they will call on you?”
Galen pondered the question for a moment. The harvesters had arrived back at Artemis in time for the final round of debates between the contending politicians. With the elections for the council now in full swing, the loyalty of the harvester commander could easily sway one runner into a much-coveted position. Galen, however, detested politics. It was not what he was born for, and the lot he had been handed in life suited him just fine. Let them squabble amongst themselves for the meager scraps in our stockpiles. I mean to take care of my people in my own way. He found himself smirking, wondering what General Vod would say about his star pupil disregarding an invitation from the council chambers. “I’m sure they will try,” he finally said.
“Ah, yes,” Arsino said grandly, but not so loud as to elicit the attention of the general a few meters distant. He grasped his childhood friend’s shoulder tightly and shook the biosuit’s pauldron. “They will woo you with promises of riches and a position of power. ‘You will be the greatest of all harvesters,’ they will say, ‘just so long as your vote is cast in my direction.’ They will be at your mercy, as I, your loyal second in command, will wait quietly in the wings for my turn at command. Then I will be the wooed.”
Galen chuckled. “With promises of positions of power, no doubt,” he said, putting emphasis on each of the Ps in an attempt to sound as grandiose.
Arsino shook the shoulder armor once more. “And women. Do not forget those!”
“Oh, no. How could I forget that?”
His friend pushed him away gently. “I will give you clemency this once, but only because I know that your wife will have my head if I utter anything about the raucousness of unmarried men in your presence.”
“I seem to recall some moments of unruliness in my youth, and shared with yourself, no less.”
Arsino regarded the statement for a moment before dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “It was so long ago I don’t think I remember. Besides, you were just a pup when you got married. Many things have changed with respect to the courting of women.”
The imposingly large door of the processing station opened to admit the incoming harvesters. From inside, Councilman Speros and a small cadre of his closest allies emerged and moved toward the team. Outstretching his arms, the councilman embraced General Vod, the two exchanging the time-honored traditions associated with bringing in the much-needed materials. The shaking of hands, the cordial bows, the superficial smiles . . . all the while, Galen and his men waiting patiently to deliver the cargo hovering in a small cart just behind them. “Nothing has changed in Artemis in a long, long time.”
Chapter 3
Riath Galen had had barely an hour to spend with his wife and son before he’d been summoned to the council chambers by General Vod. Exhausted, and wanting little more than to sleep for the next two cycles, Galen had been sitting in the assembly hall for over an hour as the politicians argued amongst themselves about the future of Artemis—just as they always did. The council elections would take place following this meeting, and Galen still had no idea where he would cast his vote. The constant procession of political bickering wasn’t helping to decide his choice.
“The rationing must be increased,” barked Councilman Speros to his main political opponent on the other side of the circular chamber.
“That is simply unacceptable,” Councilman Thym retorted in frustration. “The agricultural center is already seeing a drastic reduction in output over last season. If we cut back any further on water injections, I fear we shall see a drastic crop failure before the winter.”
Speros was well prepared for the argument. He shook his head in disappointment. “Our best analysts show that water output is already well above what is required for our current crops, Councilman. The level of tetralyte used to power the water reclaimers must be curtailed in favor of more needed systems.”
“What is more needed than food, Councilman?”
“Power for the medical facilities, for one.”
Galen narrowed his eyes. There hadn’t been a serious infection or illness in the citadel for nearly a decade. Not since the Blue Pox epidemic had there been a need for the large hospital to remain at full staff. Although Galen had watched as his own son had become infected with the life-threatening disease, there hadn’t been a single thing the doctors could do to help. Hundreds had died, and just when Galen finally admitted to himself that his son would be counted among them, the plague had suddenly abated.
“There hasn’t been a case of Blue Pox in almost a decade, Speros. Those doctors, of which we already have far too many, are sitting idly by and consuming tetralyte at an alarming rate. If anything, that is where the rationing must be increased. Or is it because you have the backing of the hospital administration that you fear your supporters there will leave you?”
“Outrageous!” Speros recoiled, and the statement was followed by a mix of both cheers and groans from the assembly of politicians and citizens.
The bickering between the two—and the audience—ensued for several minutes before a voice called out from the crowd. “General Vod, what say you?”
Seated several rows down from Galen, General Vod—in full military regalia—stood slowly to address the assembly. “It is my opinion, council members, that we should do as I have suggested for years: we should disassemble and recycle the Survivor. The tetralyte used to maintain the ship in operational status is nothing more than a complete waste of materials and manpower. Those resources can then be funneled into hydroponics, or any other area we require to stay alive.” There was a round of cheers, and far less grumbling than before. Vod rotated to look at the assembly as they spoke to one another in hushed whispers, finally stopping and locking eyes with Galen, whom he knew to be drastically opposed to that idea.
“As before,” Councilman Speros continued loudly, “I am in full support of General Vod’s assessment. We are not leaving this world, and I believe I speak for everyone when I say that. To do so goes against everything our banner and our existing orders stand for. This is where we are supposed to be, and this is where we shall remain until our leaders return for us.”
“Even if that means dying here as a city, Councilman?” Thym responded dryly. At that, the entire assembly became still.
“Yes, Councilman. Even that.”
Councilman Thym, both older and wiser than Speros, had long since earned Galen’s respect. Although he was still a politician, Thym was generally more concerned with the welfare of the people than Speros was, who lately seemed to be more interested in the power he wielded.
Thym took in a deep breath, then sighed slowly. “I am curious to know the opinion of Colonel Galen on this matter.”
Galen had hoped this moment wouldn’t come. He was now being placed in a position that could easily betray his diametrically opposed opinion to General Vod. Galen knew, as he was sure many others did, that leaving this world was the only sure way to ensure the longevity of their people. The Survivor, while incapable of taking the entire population, was the only way to do it. But Galen had a final card to play before the inevitable confrontation with Vod
that he was sure was going to split the entire citadel in half.
Rising to his feet, Galen first looked to Vod, who gave silent approval for the colonel to address the council. “Council members . . . citizens of Artemis. You all know of the tetralyte that the harvesters located and brought back with us. It was a long, dangerous outing, and it cost the life of one of our own . . . just as the last three expeditions have. And what do we have to show for it? Barely enough materials to keep our facilities running for a further month. I find myself agreeing with both Councilman Thym and Councilman Speros. We are dangerously low on tetralyte, and further rationing is a wise precaution. But before we make a decision on the fate of the Survivor, I believe we have one additional option available to us.”
All eyes were on Galen, all voices silent as they waited for the colonel to continue.
“I believe . . . that we are looking in the wrong place for tetralyte.”
The crowd once again began to mumble among themselves. This was an old argument, brought forth by Vod’s predecessor some years before. The only thing that had stopped the council from approving a new dig site was the fact that the former leader of the harvesters—Colonel Lindes—had gone missing the last time a search of the north had been attempted. Only a younger Speros, at that time a harvester himself, had returned.
It was Speros who now reminded Galen of that, as well as the fact that General Vod had assured the council several weeks before that a new, much more lucrative deposit of tetralyte would soon be discovered at their existing mine. Galen listened patiently before speaking.
“Sir, I speak from experience as a harvester . . . as one who goes out and brings back that which we need to survive. I believe the deposits the general seeks are not to the south, but to the north. Indeed, the farther south we have traveled in the past six months, the less materials we have discovered. To the north we must go.”
There was another round of grumbles from the audience before Speros silenced them with a raised hand. “The north is the land of the beasts; it is a wasteland of death. It is even speculated that the Blue Pox may still be prevalent there. There is nothing there for our people save for death, Colonel.”
But Galen would not back down. Not this time when he knew in his heart he was right. “The only assured death for our people, Councilman, is if we continue along our current path. All I ask is for myself and two harvesters to make an exploratory journey north. We will take the bore scanner with us, and we will find what we seek to survive.”
Speros was on his feet. “The scanner is for emergency purposes only, Colonel! You know that! It is the last device of its kind capable of penetrating deep into the planet to find and harvest tetralyte. If it should become damaged or disabled on this expedition, the cost to our people would be incalculable.”
“We have been picking at the tetralyte scraps of this world for far too long, sir,” Galen countered. “The bore scanner is the only way to get at the minerals I know to be in the north. If I’m correct, we’ll find more than enough minerals to keep Artemis functioning for a thousand years.”
“And if you’re not?” Speros replied coldly. “What then, Colonel?”
“Then I believe we will continue to slowly die, Councilman. Since I am incapable of making this decision, I would ask the citizens of Artemis which they would rather have. A chance at life . . . or certain death.”
Chapter 4
After two hours of deliberations, it was decided that Galen would be allowed to lead his expedition to the north, under the condition that if he was unable to find tetralyte in sufficient quantities, the deconstruction of the Survivor would immediately commence.
Of the two men who would accompany him, Arsino was Galen’s first choice. The other would be Arac, one of Galen’s most experienced harvesters and nephew of Councilman Speros. They were given use of the bore scanner, which was readied for departure by the next day.
Under much fanfare, the three men climbed aboard the hovering mining barge and got underway immediately. Also in their possession was a medical kit and several vials of stimulant, as well as weapons, should they run into any trouble. They had enough tetralyte to power the craft for four days. Galen was unsure if he could find the requisite material by then, but knew in his heart no more minerals could be spared other than what they’d been granted.
Twelve hours into their journey, the trio had already seen a fair share of new sights. Not in the last decade had anyone traveled this way from Artemis, and Arsino had been tasked with taking sensor and holographic readings of the area every few hours. Although the landscape had been especially flat since their departure, Galen guided the barge toward the distant mountains he hoped would hold the materials they sought. Stopping only long enough for a cursory scan of the subsurface material and finding nothing, the three men continued on to the mountains. Reaching the base at night, they set up camp and slept.
The next morning, Galen awoke with a start to see Arac leaning over him. “Yes?” he asked groggily.
“Something there, Colonel,” Arac said as he turned and pointed to a nearby hill. “There . . . near the summit.”
Galen could see nothing. “A creature?”
“No, sir. Some kind of opening. I saw it while making a patrol of the area.”
After waking Arsino, the three men loaded their weapons and ascended the small hill on foot. Before reaching the pinnacle, Galen noticed the opening Arac had mentioned earlier. It was not artificial. The hole was neatly cut, though somewhat covered from disuse. Clearing the debris away, none of the men could see to the bottom.
“Arac, there is a rope in the scanner. Get it, and you and I will go down to investigate. Arsino, you will remain above ground. Arac and I will each take a tetralyte scanner. Perhaps we’ll find something here.”
Ten minutes later, with one end of the rope tied to the bore scanner, Galen and Arac were descending into the darkness with shoulder lights on to full illumination. Beyond the opening, the cavity opened up so far that the lights could not reach the walls.
“Looks like the entire hill has been carved out,” Galen said, an observation which received no response from Arac.
Down and down they went. It was nearly ten minutes until their lights reflected off metallic objects on the cave floor. “Something there! In the distance!”
“What?” Arac asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
When their boots settled into the soft sand, Galen cautiously approached the object his light had glinted off minutes before. It took only a second to recognize the thing. He ran a hand over the hard surface, taking off a thick layer of dust in the process. “A bore scanner!”
“I don’t understand,” Arac said in confusion.
“It’s been down here for some time. It must be from before the cataclysm plunged this world into desert.”
“Do you think it’s still functional?”
But Galen knew the answer before the question had been asked. “No. Look here.” He shone a light toward the rear of the vehicle. The entire rear section was smashed by a heavy boulder that’d fallen from the ceiling. “And whatever tetralyte was in this is now smashed under several tons of rock.” He moved his light, catching glimpses of timber, ore, and more discarded and non-functioning technology. “Let’s see what other secrets this place holds before we go back up.”
An hour into their search, Galen and Arac had found numerous other examples of ancient technology. Some were familiar, while others seemed totally foreign. Several large openings in both the walls and floor had led to other chambers, but Galen had advised against searching any of them. Minutes before, the team had found a small compartment carved into the side of a wall. The door opened, and Galen could see that it was likely used as a dining space. Dishes and tables were everywhere, most overturned and strewn across the floor.
“Must have left this place in a hurry,” Arac had said with dread as the two looked around.
“Perhaps,” Galen had replied, and the two h
ad continued on in their search.
Now, at the end of the tunnel and leaning over to inspect what appeared to be an old laser drill, Galen received a static-lined transmission from Arsino.
“Yes, old friend? I can hardly hear you.”
“Sandstorm approaching from the north, Colonel,” the distorted response replied. “Looks like a big one. Category 3, I would wager.”
Galen turned to Arac, who nodded in understanding. “We’re on our way back now.”
“Find anything useful?”
“Not useful, but interesting.”
“The storm will be upon us in less than an hour.”
“We’ll quicken our pace.”
Halfway back to the mine opening and Arsino, Galen’s small tetralyte detector picked up a reading, one he’d apparently missed before. “Arac, I have something.” Following it back for several meters, he found the signal was at its strongest near the opening of a wide expanse in the cave floor. Leaning down, Galen shone his light into it. When it glinted off something far in the distance, he inched closer to discern what he was looking at.
Without warning, the ground beneath his hands gave way and he plunged headlong into the abyss.
Chapter 5
Through the closed visor of his helmet, Galen could see thousands of pinpricks of light slowly dancing before him. Some moved together like clouds across the sky. Others chose their own paths, racing this way and that. As his faculties slowly came back to him, Riath realized that he was lying supine in the sand, and it was the kicked-up dust of centuries past that was giving him a personal performance.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, he looked up several dozen meters to the opening he’d fallen through. Cursing himself for his clumsiness, he called to Arac through the communicator.
There was no response. Looking down at the gauntlet, he could see that nearly two hours had passed since his previous communication with Arsino.
Beta Sector- Anthology Page 13
