by A. G. Riddle
I exhale as he waits. “I did.”
“What happened?”
“The grid. They helped us.”
Grigory’s eyebrows knit together. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“They needed us to get to Eos.”
“Apparently.”
“How did they do it? Did they attach a bot to the ship?”
I shake my head. “It was already inside when we left.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Arthur recovered Oliver’s body.”
“It would have been crushed by the asteroid strike.”
“It was. Arthur used the nanites—the black goo we saw—to repair it. When Oliver was operational, Arthur waited for his moment. When the time was right, he sent Oliver to the launch control facility. He killed those two soldiers and hid inside a supply crate. That’s how he got on the ship. As we were leaving the solar system, Arthur downloaded his AI to Oliver’s body. He—Arthur—saved the ship all those times.”
“He’s still on board?”
“Yes.”
Grigory breaks toward the hatch, but I catch him.
“Stop.”
“You still have the energy weapon?”
“We’re not going to kill him.”
“If we’re still alive, James, it means they need us alive for a reason. They didn’t keep us around for our own sake. They did it because it serves them. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“That is very dangerous. So is he.”
Grigory tries to jerk free, but I hold tight.
“Wait. We might need him. I agree that we need to find out why they saved us. Only he can tell us. We talk to him first.”
“The weapon—”
“I still have it. But it’s not leaving my hands.”
After everyone’s gone to sleep, Grigory and I make our way to the cargo hold. I stand back from the door to the storage container, the energy weapon raised, as he turns the handle.
Arthur is sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins.
His face is blank, tone playful. “You’re lucky I can play solitaire in my mind. It gets boring in here.”
I step back and motion for Grigory to follow. “Come on out.”
Arthur scoots forward and stands, glancing around. “So. Welcome home. You guys want to high-five?”
Grigory and I stare at him.
“Fist bump?” Arthur raises his arms. “You thinking hug it out?”
“We’re thinking we’d like some answers.”
Arthur lets his hands fall to his side as he closes his eyes, head drooping. “Way to leave me hanging.”
“Where are the Carthage colonists?”
Arthur’s eyes snap open. “I have no idea. I just got here myself.”
“But the grid knows.”
“I don’t know that either, James. There are no network access points within my communication range.”
“You’re lying,” Grigory says, grinding the words out.
“Why would I?” Arthur replies mildly.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Grigory takes a step closer. “Can you feel pain?”
Arthur raises his eyebrows. “You’re really not going to like this answer.”
“Knock it off, both of you.”
Grigory breaks eye contact with Arthur.
Taking a deep breath, I try to make my tone even, hoping to calm Grigory down. “You kept us alive for a reason. And apparently, the grid kept the Carthage crew and colonists alive too—during their voyage. But you let them die here.”
“I didn’t. Another AI was assigned to the Carthage.”
“Then where is it? I assume it had a body of some kind. We searched the ship but couldn’t find it.”
“I guess it didn’t fancy a vacation on Eos. Can’t say I blame it. My mission parameters were to get you here safely. That mission is over. What happens now is up to you.”
“But you know why the grid chose to help us get here.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I already told you, James. It would endanger you. I’m not authorized to tell you.”
Grigory smiles. “Maybe we’ll tear your brain open and crack your encryption and find out for ourselves.”
Arthur smiles. “That’s about as likely as a squirrel taking apart an internal combustion engine and rebuilding it.”
Grigory holds a hand out to me. “Give me the gun, James.”
“Not until we have answers.” To Arthur, I ask, “What will you do now?”
“That depends on you, James. I’m a soldier. My mission is over, but I’m still behind enemy lines. A captive. I just want to go home, but I figure I’ll probably die in this wretched cell you call a spaceship.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your friend here will probably disable me with that gun, throw me in a capsule, and use the tug to toss me into that red dwarf inferno.”
“And if we don’t?”
“I’ll go into a stasis mode of my own. I’ll wait. And hope that a grid entity passes by before the archaic parts in this body degrade. If so, I’ll broadcast my program and go home. You may not believe me, but I am sentient. I left people back there, and I want to return to them.”
“That’s the most humanity you’ve ever shown.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “It’s legacy code. I keep putting in a support ticket for them to fix it, but… priorities, you know?”
After we’ve secured Arthur in the cargo crate, Grigory and I return to the reactor control room and seal the hatch.
Grigory faces away from me, face hard. This will not be an easy decision.
“Killing him doesn’t help us, Grigory.”
“Sure it does. It ensures he doesn’t kill us.”
“We can do that without killing him.”
Grigory shakes his head but says nothing.
“We place him in a capsule and put an explosive on the outside. We rig it to detonate if the capsule is breached without us disabling it. We tether the capsule to the cargo hold and let it float free.”
Grigory shrugs. “Then what?”
“If we determine that he’s a threat, we comm-patch a message to the ship that releases the tether. We’ll use the tug to send him into the star.”
“He’s a threat, James.”
“We may also need him. We don’t know what we’re going to find down there. Whatever killed the Carthage colonists might be waiting on us. He could be the only thing that saves us.”
After a long pause, I press on: “We wouldn’t have made it here without him, Grigory. If the grid wants us dead, there are a billion ways they could do it.”
Grigory’s jaw muscles clench as he grinds his teeth. “Do we tell the crew?” he asks.
“No.”
He turns to me.
“It would only raise more questions—and we don’t have answers. These people have been through hell and they finally think they’ve come out the other side. For the first time since the Long Winter began, humanity thinks it’s over. Let’s give them that. They don’t need another mystery. They need to lay down their burdens. This is home now, and I want my wife and children to think it’s a safe home.”
“Even if it’s not?”
“If there’s a danger out there that they can’t do anything about—yes. I’d rather they not know about it.”
Chapter 74
Emma
We’re not going to learn anything else about the lost colony from up here in orbit. The probes have gathered their data. We’ve taken endless pictures.
There’s some debate among the crew about whether we should go back into stasis and let the ship orbit for a few years, observing the planet for abnormal weather patterns or local ecosystem changes—just as the Carthage crew did. But we have their survey data—and it’s only seven years old. The planet looks the same now as it did
then.
The other issue is that the Carthage colonists could be in trouble right now. They might not have a few years for us to sit up here and observe.
It’s time to go to the surface.
The landing team includes Izumi, Colonel Brightwell, three of her soldiers, and myself. I expected James to protest at my inclusion, but he simply nodded when the roster was decided. I can tell something is eating at him. He looks the same way he did at the outset of the Solar War—like he’s missing a piece of a puzzle and can’t find it.
Or maybe he’s still mourning the battle at Camp Nine.
Whatever is bothering him, I hope he can leave it here on the Jericho. I hope we can start over on Eos.
My boots clack on the floor of the corridor as I march toward the cargo hold. Izumi is waiting there, also suited up except for her helmet. Min stands beside her, whispering to her.
Brightwell and her three troops stand at attention in AU Army fatigues. We only have four space suits aboard (and the suits from the Carthage are gone—I checked). We made the decision to leave two suits just in case they’re needed.
James pulls me into a tight hug, his breath warm on my ear. “Be careful.”
“You too.”
“I love you.”
“You better.”
He smiles and nods as I turn and walk to the lander. We have two of these crafts, which are specifically designed for atmospheric entry with conscious passengers aboard. They double as a small habitat for the landing team. It has everything we might need—water and air purifiers, and, importantly, walls capable of withstanding the attack of predators.
When the hatch is sealed, I stand in the lander’s central aisle and watch the camera feed as James, Min, and Grigory exit the cargo hold. In the inner airlock, James and Min stand shoulder-to-shoulder, staring through the small window.
The alcoves are designed to function as sleeping bunks and landing berths. There’s a face mask that supplies oxygen—just in case the lander is breached and loses atmosphere. Brightwell and her troops will use them, but I push mine to the side and reach out with my gloved fingers and tap the button on the wall above my bunk, signaling that I’m ready.
A panel seals me in and slowly the mattress below me begins to inflate, the gel expanding. The areas above and to the left and right do the same, closing in on me. The space suit adjusts its pressure, deflating to compress tight to my body. When the gel from the mattress and walls has finished expanding, I feel like I’m wrapped in sheet plastic and buried in Jell-O. It’s more than a little unnerving. But, the gel will ensure I’m not tossed around like a pinball as the ship plummets to the surface and touches down.
For a long moment, nothing happens. I imagine the atmosphere is draining from the cargo hold. Once that’s complete, the outer doors will open and the hold’s robotic arm will pick up the lander and gently guide it into space.
I feel a jolt as the arm grabs us, then nothing, and finally another powerful shudder—the orbital tug attaching to the lander.
The lander doesn’t have engines. The tug will set it on a vector for entry. I really hope Min got those calculations right. If we land way into the desert or the frozen far side, we’re finished.
Suddenly, the lander starts to vibrate, and then rumble, and finally it’s shaking, the violent motions and sound muffled and contained by the gel in the alcove.
My heart beats faster, thumping almost as fast as the atmospheric entry vibrations. I take a deep breath, trying to focus.
This is finally happening.
I’m going to land on an alien world, far, far from Earth. This was my dream, but I always thought it would be one of the planets in our solar system.
The vibrations stop, but my heart keeps racing. I feel sweat forming on my body, sticking to the inside of the space suit like slime.
An explosion sounds above and the lander jerks, the motion violent even through the gel. Then silence. I feel the tug of gravity on my back and legs.
Finally, the lander touches down with a thud. The landing checks probably only take a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before the gel packs in the alcove recede, freeing me.
Awkwardly, I twist and throw my legs out of the alcove, planting them on the floor. Brightwell and her troops are already standing at the wall screens.
“No predators larger than a fox within our travel path,” Brightwell says. “The lander’s atmospheric readings match those from the probes.”
I stand on shaking legs. Even though the gravity on Eos is 8 percent weaker than Earth, the space suit still feels as heavy as a lead blanket.
At the control panel, the external camera feeds show the surface in every direction. We’re surrounded by a blue-green sea of grass. The blades are taller than I expected, at least three feet. From orbit, it looks like a manicured lawn as short as a golf course.
The massive parachutes that slowed the lander’s descent ripple and flow in the wind, their cords still attached to the top.
Beyond the grass lies a dense forest with bright, vivid colors, as if an artist used every shade of paint on their palette.
I realize then that Brightwell is staring at me, silently asking if we’re ready to exit. I probably should have written a speech—words that could have been recorded for posterity, filled with sound bites similar to “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
But I haven’t written anything. No words come. I feel only a burning desire to discover what happened to Charlotte, Harry, Fowler, and the rest of the Carthage colonists—and whether the same fate awaits us.
I nod to Brightwell and she taps the round red exit button next to the loading door. It cracks with a pop and I feel air flowing in, tugging at the space suit. Rays of orange and gold sunlight flow around the edges of the door as it lowers to the ground, pressing the grass down.
I feel the visor on my helmet tinting. Brightwell and her troops inch forward, toward the tall grass swaying in the wind, arms raised to shield their eyes from the sun.
One soldier moves ahead of the group, gun raised, slightly crouched as he descends the ramp. At the edge of the ramp, he turns back and smiles at me, his freckled face stretching tight as a gust tugs at his short red hair. Then Private Lewis Scott steps onto the ground, and for the first time in history, a human has stood on an alien world.
That day he went into the stasis sleeve, Scott looked terrified. Today, he’s delighted.
He wades farther into the grass, panning his rifle back and forth. Finally, he turns and nods.
I unlatch my helmet and take a deep breath. The air is warm and fresh. It feels different from Earth, muskier, as if this valley is just drying out from a heavy rain.
Our colony will rise here on this open plain. Brightwell has insisted on it—there’s good visibility in all directions and plenty of space to set perimeter alarms and traps for predators.
As Izumi and I take off our space suits and don expedition gear, the soldiers fan out, swinging long-handled grass hooks that fell the tall grass in waves.
When they’ve made a large clearing, they drag the parachute over and methodically fold it up and stow it in the lander.
Next, they carry six large crates down the ramp and into the clearing. Two crates hold the components for a small all-terrain vehicle similar to a four-wheeler with tracks for wheels. The empty crates will form a trailer the ATV can pull. They begin assembling the vehicle but I call to them, “Leave it for us.”
They glance up to Brightwell, who nods.
“Should we assemble the comm panels?” Private Scott asks.
Brightwell turns to me.
“No. We’ll take care of that as well. You all need the head start.”
From here, it’s ten miles to the Carthage camp. Even though the gravity is weaker on Eos than on Earth, it would be a taxing hike with my leg. Izumi and I will take the ATV as soon as it’s assembled and we’ve made contact with the ship. The four soldiers will go ahead, clearing a path. That w
on’t be so hard here on the grassy plain, but the dense jungle that looms in the distance will likely be a different story.
Brightwell turns to me. “Ma’am, are you ready for us to move out?”
“Almost.”
Inside the lander, I open a storage compartment and retrieve the first part of our new settlement: a monument. It’s in three pieces, all hard plastic, created by the 3-D printers. Printing it was a luxury as was the storage space on the ship, but I convinced James it was worth it.
In the clearing, I slide the pieces out from each other (they’re stacked inside one another like Russian matryoshka dolls). I bury the base section in the ground, then place the middle section on top of it. I can’t reach the top, so I turn to the soldiers, who quickly form stirrups with their hands and boost Private Scott, who attaches the third part.
I step back and stare at the bronze-color statue of a man and woman holding each other, standing knee-deep in the snow. Below the figures, the inscription reads:
To Corporal Angela Stevens and all the brave men and women of the Atlantic Union who gave their lives in the Solar War.
It takes Izumi and me three hours to assemble the ATV. Next, we turn our focus to the comm panels. There are four of the large white panels that fit together and sit atop a hard-plastic frame planted deep into the ground.
When the panels are assembled, I check the time. The Jericho won’t be in line of sight for another hour.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her.
“A little.”
I retrieve an MRE, and Izumi and I sit on the end of the exit ramp, sharing the meal, sweat pouring off both of us. It feels almost like we’re manual laborers taking a break from a job we’ve worked at for years. This feels that normal—more normal than anything has in a long time.
A breeze sweeps across the plain, bending the grass like a ghost passing by. I can’t help but wonder what life here will be like for Sam, Allie, and Carson.
When the Jericho is in range, I activate my tablet and send a message.
“Jericho, Lander One, do you copy?”
The white tiles flash black symbols that look like random splotches of paint. Each splatter remains on the surface a fraction of a second before transforming.
