by L. V. Lane
I knew Lai wanted reassurance. I had none. In a standard colonization operation, we would have boots on the ground by now, structures setting up, and the scientists would be collecting samples and collating data while the planners adapted to the changing needs. None of this was happening. We were sitting in orbit, watching a planet much divorced from our expectations. A planet that was occupied; albeit not by people—we hoped.
No one knew what to do. Everyone was uncertain, and the only fact I could predict with any clarity was that we would remain this way for the foreseeable future.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Landon
AFTER SPENDING THE last few hours preparing a communication, followed by a briefing with key scientists to discuss the ever-increasing body of data gathered about the planet we orbited, I entered the operations room to find Eric staring at the wall viewer with a brooding expression. “How did the launch go?” I asked.
“Fine. The ten search probes left an hour ago. No issues.” Eric swiveled his chair to bring me into his line of sight. “Serenity it is, then?”
I joined Eric. “Yes, Serenity it is. I’ll announce it later… Any new insights from Riley?”
“Not today—”
The pause at the end snagged my attention.
“About Riley.”
I frowned. “What about Riley?”
“You’re watching her, right?”
“I am.”
“You are?”
Why the fuck did Eric sound surprised after asking? Eric’s relationship with Riley was a complex one. I still had no idea how he’d ever thought she was a he. I had a strange suspicion Eric was attracted to the tiny Technologist, and this despite his relationship with the female Marine, Reeve. “Yes, I’m watching her, but she’s not stupid, and she will know I’m watching her. She will always be a cause for concern, but more so given what we’ve found here on arriving.”
“She’s a Technologist. What’s to say she doesn’t know how to get around that?”
His voice was steady, but his face said he didn’t enjoy asking the question.
“They did psych-testing on her,” I said. “Comprehensive and invasive psych-testing. The Federation had a questionable caste system. Riley was at the bottom of the pile. So yes, I’m watching her, and will be for the rest of her life. Before we left, I had orders to kill her if I doubted her loyalty more than I valued her usefulness. Our sponsors were ultra-clear about that.”
“Eva trusts her—or appears to,” Eric said.
“Yes, Eva trusts her, and that woman can spot a future mass-murderer in a three-year-old child. If Riley had a hint of duality, Eva would know.”
Eric rubbed absently at his forehead. “Well, she could be a sleeper. She might be unaware.”
“She has nothing fitted, not even a basic medical analysis implant, and she never will. There is not a micro-scrap of technology in or on her person. It was a condition of her acceptance. That and we fitted her with a genetic level inhibitor.”
Eric snorted. “Her personal off-switch? Cold, but I can see it is necessary.”
“If I die, so does she—another condition of her acceptance.”
“Wow. That’s pretty fucked up.”
“Yes, a brutal precaution.” My smile was wry. “She didn’t have much in the way of options. She’s not the only defector our sponsors acquired, although she’s the only one arriving at Coulter-416. They’ve taken similar precautions with all of them, as far as I’m aware. It’s their money and it’s their rules. I’m just glad Victor won’t be turning up until much later. The last thing I need is them interfering while I’m trying to establish us here… Why are you asking about Riley? Has something happened?”
“Cathy,” Eric said by way of explanation. “But I doubt her attitude is unique. Everyone on this ship, on every ship, will have scars. Many will see a Technologist—even a former grunt class—as a source of suspicion.”
He gestured at the viewer. “And this is going to have everyone spooked. There’s a city for fuck’s sake. It should be a chunk of rock and water. I’m spooked, too.”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, and it’s too early to know what this means,” I said. I’d always been alert to such prejudices. It was better that I was aware they were flaring already. Our current situation, the presence of so much unknown technology, and ten thousand individuals whose lives had once more been thrown into turmoil, would be sure to drag those prejudices and suspicions to the surface.
“It means we’re screwed,” Eric said bluntly.
I sighed. “Possibly.” We’d been screwed before and got through it.
“You don’t seem very concerned,” Eric said, giving me a side eye.
“They picked me to command this for a reason,” I replied.
“Yes, and that’s what’s scaring the shit out of me.”
“You’re worried about me?” I asked, incredulous.
“Eva’s here.”
“And she will help us to take the best course of action.” I gave Eric a flat look. “The colony’s survival is going to need you to toe the line. You can’t act differently because your sister is here.”
“This isn’t predictable. This—” Eric gestured at the viewer once again. “Has no precedents.”
“This whole trip has no precedents,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, well, we could be part of an experiment the sponsors cooked up for all we know. Did you consider that?”
“No, I never considered that.” I smiled. “I have little love for our sponsors, nor for Victor, but I don’t believe we’re here as part of an elaborate experiment. They just wanted an opportunity to escape the war, as we all did. We were losing, in case you forgot. Much as they may be hypocritical to fund a humanitarian expedition on wealth they derived through war, I’m not principled enough to care. We’re here and we need to make the best of the situation. I’ll make the announcement tomorrow. The last of the stasis are awake and the people need to know. After that, I want the first unmanned drone down there. It’s time we found out what we have.”
“We thought we were leaving the shit-storm behind.”
“I’m still inclined to think we have,” I said. “Much of the Federation’s work was experimental, but we were also guilty of that. Technology was their forte, just as genetics was ours. We’ve no way of knowing how many of their brightest prodigies might have fled. If they did flee, then I very much doubt they are seeking another war, either.”
“Your innate sense of calm always did piss me off,” Eric said.
“And your cheery-ass pissed me off just as much. Although, it seems to have abandoned you today.”
“Yeah, I’m not feeling so cheery right now.”
“And that,” I replied in all seriousness, “can only be a good thing.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Definition: Prediction, Of the future—Possibility.
Definition: Predictive insight, Of the past—fact.
Eva
SINCE LEAVING LAI to work at the research station, I’d been kept busy. But I had managed a very brief social chat with Rachel who was considered non-essential and so one of the last to be roused from stasis. The geneticist had a naturally calming presence, and I needed some of that today.
Although subject to bouts of tiredness, I’d gained sufficient information—both the direct data kind, and the indirect, people opinion kind—for conclusions to be made.
I’d been sitting on those conclusions for an hour, hoping they might be a mistake or that some new piece of information might change them in some way.
Never had I sat on a prediction before. So it came as a relief when Landon messaged to say he wished to discuss a matter with me in private. I didn’t believe in fate, and yet his request, nevertheless, felt fateful, as if the universe was taking my desire to hide the prediction out of my hands.
I didn’t believe in divine intervention either, although I was beginning to wish I could. I believed in predictions; I believed in myself and
the truth of my own revelations. It was narcissistic, I admitted as much freely.
Predictives did not come along very often—less than one in a million, billion. There were subtle differences in our manifestation depending upon early childhood exposure. Mine happened to be people. It was one of the more useful ones, or so I had been told. Having never met another predictive, I had no point of reference.
Today, and not for the first time, I wished I could turn the ability off.
Such a burden did have its benefits, and I was sitting within one of those benefits now. No one expected me to get my hands dirty preparing a habitable base. Not that this planet required breathable accommodation or even the most basic terraforming for crops and drinking water preparation. It had already been terraformed and boasted air quality not witnessed in many a millennium.
Still, all was not well in paradise, or at least it wouldn’t be for much longer.
I was confident I’d received all information pertinent to understanding. Together with Riley’s insights, those of the other technical experts, and interviews with a sample of the colonists that included all the major skill sets, I had reached several disturbing conclusions. Only some of which related to the unexpected activities on Coulter-416.
My door communicator bleeped signaling Landon’s arrival, and he entered at my behest.
I enjoyed looking at Landon. He was an attractive man in a refined sort of way, and he wasn’t bulky as so many military types, including my brother, were. I often wondered how Eric didn’t break things while going about everyday life.
The tattoo, the symbiotic organism Landon had picked up from the red dust on Ila had finally stopped expanding. The branching violet pattern that covered half his face and a good portion of his body was both beautiful and vivid in the artificial lighting of my room.
I found myself studying the tattoo with more interest than I should have. Landon had refused further study of it prior to the launch, stating that he was too busy. I’d read the paper written by the doctor who had briefly studied it on Ila before everything fell apart.
Variant. It was there in bold in the analysis paper. The organism that manifested the tattoo had formed this relationship with Landon because of his Variant biology. Victor, one of our key sponsors, had sent me a copy of said paper before having it liberated. No one else would get to read it. As far as I knew, even Landon had not read it.
The doctor in question had been granted a place on one of the later ships, despite her being ancient, because she was one of the few with knowledge in the field.
I understood that Victor was a collector of both people and things. Landon and I represented human variation Victor wanted very much to perpetuate in his colony.
“You’re staring at my tattoo,” Landon said, meeting my steady gaze. He had yet to take a seat.
“Do you know it picked you because you’re a Variant?”
He grimaced. “No, I didn’t. Is that a prediction?”
He didn’t dispute his Variant status. Then again, he hadn’t denied it back on Ila when I had first made the determination.
My lips tugged up. “No, the doctor who first examined you wrote a paper on it, which Victor subsequently had removed from general circulation. He promised the doctor an opportunity to study you if she kept quiet about it. She is on one of the later ships.”
“Well, that’s something for me to look forward to,” he said dryly, sinking into the plush seating opposite. “I wanted to talk to you about the next steps in private.”
I let the change in subject slide. There would be time to explore my curiosity about him later. He was inspecting my room with a slight frown. His own suite wasn’t quite as grand, I determined.
I kept my amusement to myself. “You’re going to send a drone to the planet.”
“Someone told you?”
“No. It is obvious.”
His face scrunched up as though pained. “Sometimes, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I don’t believe I was being predictive,” I said defensively.
His brows lifted in question. “You’re incapable of being anything else.”
Am I? “You want to know if I have any concerns about the drone.”
“Yes, I do… You’re being particularly open today. Should I be worried?”
“I can tell you nothing about the drone. The planet and its creators, and therefore their predictable response, is unknown to me… You will send the drone anyway.”
He grunted something under his breath.
“I know nothing about the drone,” I repeated. “But I know a lot about you and the way you work. We have closer concerns to attend to, though. I have finished the interviews and harbor a strong predictive notion that we will experience grave troubles ahead.”
He shifted in his seat. “It’s always what I least expect with you. Tell me about the grave troubles.”
“Riley is at risk.”
His brows drew together. “At risk? How?”
“You already know.” I felt strangely disappointed that he was using Riley.
The furrows at his brow deepened.
Oh, he was definitely hiding something. “You’re not being truthful.”
“I’m the Commander of this expedition, so you need to allow me some private matters. But no, I never suspected other colonists would wish her physical harm, if that’s what you’re implying.” His soft tone carried an undertone.
“You are deflecting.”
He laughed then, a rich sound that took me by surprise. “Of course I’m fucking deflecting.”
“I can’t predict if I don’t know everything.” My head tilted slightly, and I settled my attention on his hands.
Trigger.
Predictive insight: They had taken steps to mitigate Riley as a risk. “A genetic level inhibitor. She knows about it.”
He raised a brow. “She told you?”
“No, I just realized.”
“You’re doing that all-over-the-place thing you sometimes do,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Can we get back to the grave troubles?”
I huffed out a breath. “You don’t need the inhibitor. Riley isn’t a threat.”
“We Aterrans are a prejudiced society. Generations of war saw to that. She is still viewed as the enemy by many. One of our technical experts expressed her ‘lack of trust’ in Riley to Eric. I can’t do much about opinions, but I can manage how they manifest into action to some extent. I still don’t see how Riley becomes the grave troubles you spoke of.”
“She’s not, but she’s an easy target, especially since the findings on Coulter-416.”
“Serenity,” he corrected with a brief smile.
“When did you name it?” My query caught me by surprise. But I was accustomed to my own questions surprising me, and no longer tried to fathom out how I knew to ask them.
“Aren’t we getting off topic, again?” His grin made no sense and further irked me. Doubtless the answer would pop out later.
“Nothing that interests me is off topic,” I countered
His lazy smirk was disquieting. It reminded me that once again, the prediction I made about us had gotten bent out of whack. “I’m sure I’ll be suffering later when you figure it out,” he said. “Or perhaps you won’t. Some curiosities must defeat you.” His smile faded. “And we do have grave troubles ahead.”
I turned away. “I should have vetted the colonists. I don’t know why I wasn’t asked to. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask. My skill is predicting. Why didn’t I predict the dissension within the colony population?”
His sharp intake of breath drew my focus and our eyes locked.
“Is that what you think is happening?”
“I don’t think. I know.”
He shook his head slowly. “How bad?”
“My sample is small, but there are indicators of corruption, of people buying passage, and of faking tests. Not everyone on this voyage is who they seem to be. Those who are genuine are cognizant of the
underlying malaise. Some are frightened. Some resigned. And some see an opportunity. Riley is not a threat, but I believe she will be used to aid these opportunities.”
“How confident are you about this?” he asked.
He was thinking about Edson-46, of how I was too late, and that I was fallible. “Sometimes I fail to predict, but that’s not the same as a wrong prediction.” It was hard to keep the censor out of my voice. I had thought to leave that terrible past behind me, but my failures would follow me it seemed. “Nothing can change a prediction once formed. They don’t work that way. Occasionally the timeline is off, or the degree of the prediction might intensify or lesson in consequence. In rare cases, unknown events or new information can derail them. None of this will change the underlying truth. The exact manifestation of the dissension is unclear to me. It often is. But I do know with absolute certainty that your position here, and the colony itself, will soon be under threat.”
He nodded, seeming to accept this. “About Riley,” he said, and something in his tone set my heart thudding. “Did you predict she’s not a threat? Or did you not predict she’s a threat? There’s a very subtle but important difference.”
The words seemed to dance out of reach, and it took me several seconds to ascertain their subtle difference.
I shook my head.
“Think very carefully how you answer,” he warned.
He was right. I had never predicted that Riley was not a threat. There was simply an absence of negative predictions confirming her as a threat. Like Edson, was that dread prediction lying in wait? Would it reveal itself imminently?
I cared for Riley, a deep affection and sense of connection I felt to a woman who had suffered so gravely in her former life under Federation rule. “I cannot confirm she’s not a threat.” Those words ripped a piece of my heart out.
“Yeah,” he said sadly. “That’s what I thought.”
CHAPTER NINE
Landon
