The Circadia Chronicles: Omnibus: The Complete Colonization Sci-Fi Series
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The Circadia Chronicles
OMNIBUS
The Complete Trilogy Books 1-3
Including:
Grow, Govern and Gun
Heather Heckadon
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
THE CIRCADIA CHRONICLES: GROW, GOVERN, GUN
First edition. April 24, 2018 through November 13th, 2020
Copyright © 2018 Heather Heckadon.
Written by Heather Heckadon.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Circadia Chronicles: Omnibus
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
GUN | CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GROW
Chapter One
TRUDGING THROUGH THE night, my group came upon a pod. It was even larger than the second group’s. We were prepared with ladders as we had expected such. This time we waited much longer for the door handle to turn and the hatch to open, accompanied by the screeching sound of metal-on-metal. When it finally lifted and fell onto its hinges, we watched as the moon lit the pair of hands grasping for the way out.
The first woman that appeared looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Her face was plump and her hair was well-groomed. Her eyes were wide and scared. Garrett hollered up to her, “Hey, welcome to Circadia! We have a ladder to help you get down over on the left of the pod.”
She looked around quietly and began to climb down. At least twenty people, maybe more, climbed out of the pod after her, and then I saw him. Leslie Marshal. That son-of-a bitch! My blood boiled as I watched him emerge from the craft and make his way down the ladder. No one else around me said anything, so I wasn’t sure if they had noticed or recognized him, but I had. I walked around the pod with purpose.
As soon as I watched both his feet fall from the ladder, I caught him by the shoulders and slammed him up against the pod with one arm while my other fist slammed into his fat face. “You asshole! You knew, didn’t you? You fucking knew!” I screamed through tears. I kept going. My knuckles felt warm with blood. It wasn’t his, it was mine—my fragile skin burst upon impact and got worse with every hit.
My tears obscured my vision, but through the blurriness I could see his eyes grow wide when my fist withdrew and went in for yet another shot. My knuckles burned and ached, but I didn’t care. I kept going. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done! You mother—” My hand was caught.
I turned to see who’d stopped me. It was Smith. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. “Aella. Enough.”
I WASN’T ALWAYS A VIOLENT person. I never knew such a rage could work its way down into my soul and make itself at home, but it did. Of course, it didn’t happen all at once.
THE YEAR CIRCADIA ENTERED our solar system, things were kind of crazy. A new planet, one Earth had never seen before, entered into our range of sight. Said to have drifted from another galaxy, it was flying straight towards us. Some scientists insisted it would narrowly miss us and just keep floating by until it exited our solar system and moved on to the next. Some argued it would hit head-on and kill us all.
It took about three months after the planet was spotted for it to get anywhere close to us. During that time, preppers and doomsdayers went crazy, churches assembled every day for months, and many people quit their jobs. A sense of doom hung in the air, and everyone prepared to die once Circadia’s approach trajectory was calculated to be directly at Earth.
“From now on, all we can do is wait,” a newscaster announced in grave tones facing the camera. The same message was echoed across nations as hundreds of news stations replayed the scene. It was the finality in their voices that sent people over the edge.
People reacted terribly. Footage of hope and togetherness was replaced by scenes of violence and looting. Men and women alike ran back and forth, hurriedly scrambling to grasp onto anything that was left in the hopes of survival in the face of imminent doom. Laws no longer applied to man, and the masses did as they pleased.
Walking down the steps of my apartment, I encountered a man who instantly cleared the heavy thoughts from my mind.
“Do you live here?” he asked.
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Can I stay here?” he pleaded. “I have nowhere else to go.” The man’s hands trembled and his eyes darted back and forth. His disheveled clothes told a story, but not one I wanted to hear. The street I lived on was filled with screaming people in a similar state running this way and that. Car alarms sounded everywhere. It was chaos.
I stood there in shock. I didn’t know what to say. He began crying, and it was too much for me. “I can’t. I can’t, I’m so sorry,” I said as I pulled away from the grasp of his hands. Dashing back into my apartment, I locked the door behind me as he pounded his fists on the other side, begging. I wept, then started boarding up the windows. Each board I put up was a barrier between me and the world, which wasn’t so different from the way I had lived before. Why was I always so distant from people? I estimated for the time being, that trait would work in my favor.
A day before the projected arrival, everyone held their breath, waiting. Then something strange happened. Circadia stopped. I remembered watching the news and hearing the announcement that the planet had halted. Earth’s doom was no longer probable. Awash with joy and relief, I ripped the boards from my door and stumbled outside to breathe the fresh air I might not have lived to enjoy the next day. I fell to my knees and cried. The grass under me had never felt so inviting. It’s not like I had a whole lot to lose, but I had a strong will to survive.
Dark hair swirled around me. My ripped jeans slowly soaked through from the dew on the grass. Looking up into the sky at high noon, Circadia could be seen hovering just outside of our atmosphere. Appearing much like Earth, the bright green and blue hues mixed with hints of a mysterious purple, and stood out against our bright blue sky beautifully. The magnetic fields of the planets repelled each other just enough to protect us from a terrible death. It was gorgeous.
The world took a collective sigh of relief, and regret.
Soon after the tragedy was averted, the media went wild. Now that we had a new neighbor, everyone wanted to know everything about it. Was it inhabited? Was it livable
? What was life like on Circadia? It was the forefront of everyone’s attention, and never left anyone’s thoughts. Always visible from above, and always trending on social media or the news, there was never a moment without Circadia. You couldn’t go to the grocery store without seeing the enormous planet looming in the sky. At any given time, it took up half the view of the stars as if to say, you will not forget about me.
Due to the recent failure of most of Earth’s economies after the false alarm, there wasn’t a lot of funding available to go discover a new planet. Any money not necessary for the basic functions of the nations was put toward judicial fees to prosecute the guilty people who had thought our world was coming to an end, and acted as though there would never be any consequences for their actions. Judgments were harsh, which brought a lot of resentment toward the governments.
Everyone assumed once the crisis was averted, they would be able to seek refuge in assistance programs, but were turned away instead. All of the money was gone, even for civilian resource programs. Riots were frequent, and tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Some people were doing just fine despite the recent depression, though. The world hadn’t really ended, and nothing really changed except for the split-second decisions people had made under false pretenses. The difference between those who were doing well and those who weren’t brought about more anger and hostility, but a common thread united them.
People demanded—out of both fear and curiosity—that the new world be explored, but NASA had shut down. All funding for any kind of conservation or sciences was cut. The world had planned for an end to its existence, so further exploration wasn’t needed ...until it was. Of course, nothing trumps government like the internet. Crowd funding began for a new reality TV show, Grow.
The premise of the show was to send a hundred people up to this planet using private space programs and equipment, and follow a select group of them to be filmed. It was designed as a survival drama showing the stress of building a new civilization on an alien planet. The entire world jumped at the opportunity to experience the new world and emptied their pockets into Circadia’s reality TV show.
The world had just experienced the ultimate depression and they were ready for hope. People needed the excitement, even if it wasn’t their own. They needed something to look forward to each week that could join everyone together in one quest, and Grow would do that. I hated people, or any kind of social movements, but I had to admit, I got wrapped up in it too.
Funding for the program was available six months after the incident. Entertain Now’s producers began to acquire some experts in various fields who were willing to be on reality TV while exploring and essentially colonizing the new planet. Many of the world’s leading experts refused to join the journey due to it being completely voluntary and the lack of organization. I watched on the news as they interviewed the experts that had turned them down.
“It’s not so much the money that’s the problem, it’s the lack of caring,” one expert said during an interview. “They do not care if you are stranded up there without the supplies you need, because it makes for good television. I wish whatever poor souls they con into doing this mission luck and grit.” I couldn’t help but think of the endless adventure awaiting those ‘poor souls’ or how colonizing a planet would be something to reflect back on and be proud, despite the warning.
After the big-name experts started refusing them relentlessly, the show’s producers began looking at the smaller fish in the pond. That’s when I got the call.
“HELLO?” I ANSWERED the call from the unfamiliar number.
“Hello, yes, is this Aella Toms?” the stranger asked. “Did I say that right?” The woman then proceeded to enunciate, “Ay-ell-uh?”
“Yes...”
“Great! So glad I got ahold of you! My name is Patricia and I am a talent scout for Entertain Now Productions. May I have a moment of your time?” The lady at the other end of the line sounded bubbly and excited.
“Oh, I think you have the wrong number. I’m not an actor, sorry.”
“No, wait! We’re not looking for actors or actresses. You’re an agricultural specialist, correct?”
Silence hung on the line for a bit. What could they possibly want with me?
Finally, I answered. “Yes, well, I’m an agronomist.”
“Wonderful, then, just the lady I was looking for! So, I’m sure you have heard some buzz about the new television series Grow? Well, we would love for you to join us on the show and provide expert insight into your field, as well as a step forward for mankind!” She spoke in full-on presidential campaign style.
The inner child in me took over as my conscience did cartwheels and high-fived. This couldn’t possibly be happening to me. Then I caught myself. “Whoa, wait. Why me? I’m sure there are a million other people on this planet that would kill to go. Why me?”
“We have scoured the planet looking for experts in their fields with the drive and personality we are looking for in a candidate, and you fit the description perfectly! We heard about your work in Russia with the land reclamation. We would love to take that ingenuity and expertise up to Circadia with us when we go. A resource like you would be invaluable.”
I hesitated for a second. Or two. It was dangerous, scary, and disorganized. The lady didn’t even know the difference between an agronomist and an agricultural specialist, for crying out loud.
“Okay. That sounds great. When can we meet to discuss details?” The words fell out of my mouth. Curiosity was eating me alive. How cool would it be to tell future generations that I was one of the first colonists on Circadia? The grandeur of the proposal caught me, and I jumped. The moment I agreed, there was instant regret and anxiety, but it was too late.
Chapter Two
Patricia had said we could meet the next day at their studio in California. I lived in Chicago, so they bought my plane ticket and flew me out. The meeting was rushed and the people running it were ill-informed. After trying to ask a million questions, and only receiving vague answers to a few of them, the meeting was over. The network told me there would be two formal meetings before launch, and that the first meeting was in two days. They got me a decent hotel room and told me to stick around for a while.
For the two days I had to wait, I just sat in my hotel room and paced a lot. All I could think about was what it would be like up there. I was obsessed, and frequently looked out my hotel window towards the sky to catch a glimpse of the odd-colored globe.
WHEN THE DAY FINALLY came for the first formal meeting, I was a little let down when I arrived. I had expected a grand ball, lavish with the latest technology and experts that rivaled the world. Instead, I was shown paper plates on plastic table covers and an unorganized event. The interviewed experts from before had been right; the whole thing was a shit show, but I took my seat anyway.
I was anxious with all the people in the room. I was a socially awkward mess, as usual. In my regular life, I stayed alone in my apartment for the most part, careful to avoid any social interactions except for the occasional grocery store or gas station necessities. At work, I put on a professional facade to cover my insecurities. I did the same thing at the meeting so I could function.
Observing the people around me, I noticed there was quite a wide variety. Assuming it was in the interest of providing a diversity of skills and different walks of life on Circadia, I felt a little more at ease. It would take a lot of brilliant minds to make this work.
“Hey, what are you?” the man seated behind me asked.
“Don’t you mean: what’s your name?” I laughed.
“No. I don’t. I mean, why are you here?” he asked, his face serious.
“Oh, I’m an agronomist,” I answered lightheartedly.
“...And that is?”
“An agronomist focuses on the science of producing and using plants, or crops, in this case. We also specialize in soil, plant physiology, and genetics. You don’t hear about us a lot on the news. It’s not a
very recognized profession, but it’s necessary.”
“Wow, how cool.” He rolled his eyes.
“What do you do?”
At first, he gave me a bored stare. I didn’t think he would answer. I kept waiting for a reply, until he finally seemed to give up under my scrutiny. “I’m a lunar astronomer. I specialize in predicting how the moons interact with different planets, like Saturn’s moons. All moons play a different role for each planet. They’re hoping I can shed some light on Circadia.” He held his chin high, arrogance dripping from every word.
“That’s so neat! That subject has always fascinated me! My name is Aella, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand to shake his, but was met with dead space.
“Yeah... I’ll let you do your little farming gig over there, and I’ll do the important stuff over here, okay?” He flicked his hand in a dismissive way and turned in his seat to face away from me.
I sat stunned, staring blankly at the back of his head. What a prick! With only a hundred people on the journey, we were almost sure to run into each other again. I was not looking forward to it in the slightest. Turning back toward my table, I caught the eye of a small, young woman sitting across from me.
“Hi,” she said shyly.
Her blonde ponytail bobbed and weaved as she shifted in her seat to face me. She wore a tight pink shirt and freshly touched-up makeup. She waved, showing freshly manicured and painted nails.
“Hey, I’m Aella. What’s your name?”
“My name’s Jane.”
How perfect.
“What specialty are you in?”
“I’m an explosives engineer!” she piped with excitement.
The shock on my face must have been obvious. Her shoulders fell. She frowned and squinted at me through her beautiful lashes. “What? Didn’t expect that from me, huh? Well, I get that a lot. I get it, okay? I’m not exactly what you would picture an explosives engineer to look like... Thought maybe I played with Barbies instead? I earned my right to be on this trip, just like everyone else.”