Biome

by Ryan Galloway

  Since we’ve already been on the planet for a year or so, settlers for that ship are probably being chosen right now.

  A ripple of nerves runs through me. Relations of the cadets get top priority. But will my parents be accepted?

  Will they even audition?

  “This is my corner.”

  Near the dome wall, a privacy fence of foldable plastic panels has been erected around one of the desks. The desktop is strewn with wires, microchips, and various other strange items—mostly half-built inventions.

  I cautiously lift my gaze to take it in.

  “There are no cameras back here,” Romie assures me, “so you can look around all you like.” He pushes aside a stack of aluminum casings and hoists himself onto the desk. “Well, what do you think?” he asks a little shyly.

  “I think NASA overplanned,” I say.

  He laughs.

  “Maybe. Not all of this stuff is from the crates. Some of it came from probes and landers we sent before Mars Colony One. Just scrap, you know. Outdated at this point. Sarlow brings it in to be recycled, if we can use it.”

  “I had no idea we sent so many.” I pick up a robotic arm. “Was this part of a Mech?”

  He nods.

  “Just one of the little ones. The larger versions have been retired since the biomes were completed. Too much energy usage.” He hops back down with a squeak of his shoes. “Come over here. I want to show you something.”

  At the very back of the area, beside the dome wall, a plastic sheet has been pulled over a lumpy heap. Romie gently tugs it back, revealing a flat disc with a series of knobs and buttons.

  “What on earth is that?”

  “Not on Earth, on Rusty!” he replies with a grin. When I don’t react, he quickly adds, “That’s what Noah and I nicknamed Mars, because the planet’s red color comes from all the rusted iron dust. Do you get it? Rusty?”

  I reward him with a patient smile.

  “I get it. You were showing me—?”

  “Oh, right. Allow me to present my latest creation: an EMP device.”

  “As in, electromagnetic pulse?” I say skeptically. I may not be as gifted as Romie, but I know what an EMP is. When detonated, it’ll shut down any nearby electronics. “Won’t that turn off all the machines that are, you know, keeping us alive?”

  “See, that’s the thing,” he says, hefting the disc. I step back warily. “You don’t need to worry, Elizabeth. I easily control the blast radius with this dial here. And as you can see, it is currently set to zero. Perfectly safe.”

  I carefully lean in for a closer look. It’s as big as a waffle iron, welded together from various alloys like pieces of a metallic quilt. Or maybe some kind of robotic Frankenstein.

  “Seems like you have a lot of dangerous ideas, Romie,” I tell him. “First a stun gun, now this? You might want to talk to your therapist.”

  He laughs again, high and bubbly.

  “That’s funny. I suppose Dosset has seen all of my ideas.” Romie’s eyes glaze slightly. “Do you think he’d actually use any of them? I had an idea yesterday for speeding up bacteria growth outside the airlock. The concept is to use microwaves, which would be difficult on Rusty. Back on Earth, the atmosphere created a greenhouse effect. Here, I’d have to figure out—”

  “Romie.”

  “Hm?”

  I point at the EMP. “Focus.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Well, I was thinking this morning, and here’s my idea. If the water reclamation system breaks, who repairs it?”

  “We do,” I say.

  “No,” he corrects me. “I do. And as a result, I know how to break it in ways that are not so easy to repair.” He waits for me to respond. “Do you understand?”

  “Uh… no, sorry,” I say. “Why do we want the water broken?”

  “Well, we don’t. Not necessarily. But we control their attention for as long as it is broken. Do you see now?”

  I shake my head. Either he’s being cryptic on purpose or he still doesn’t realize how confusing his explanations can be. He certainly fits the “best and brightest” criteria for a Martian cadet. In fact, he sort of makes the rest of us look like toddlers, the way he grasps complicated technologies just by glancing at them.

  Whatever the case, he has a knack for making me feel stupid.

  “Okay, okay. So let’s say I walk around with this EMP and turn up the blast radius just a little bit.” He demonstrates. “When I activate it near certain pieces of electronic equipment, what happens? As you said, I shut them down. Think of it like sabotage. The doctors will see that their system is malfunctioning and have us repair it for them. And if we’re unable to repair it for some reason, then they’ll—”

  “—just have to leave it broken,” I cut in. “Or fix it themselves.”

  “Right. Either way, it’s a distraction. And if the equipment that keeps breaking is, say, their security cameras…”

  Now I really do laugh. Suddenly the EMP seems a lot less frightening.

  “Romie, that’s brilliant. When did you start working on this?”

  “Monday,” he replies, blushing slightly. “I had intended for it to do the reverse, actually. Wirelessly charge electronic devices from a distance. It kind of took a different turn, though.”

  “Well, it’s perfect for us. You’ll have the whole surveillance system down in a few hours.”

  “Not exactly,” he says, scratching his head. “For one thing, the Helix, the cryobeds, the domes, they’re all built to deflect radiation—which is what an EMP is. So we can only shut down a single dome at a time. The other thing is, it doesn’t work yet. I mean, it works. But so far ‘working’ just means it shuts itself down.”

  “Oh.”

  “It will work the way I want it to,” he assures me quickly, “in time. I’m still working out the kinks, that’s all.”

  We spend the next few hours discussing all the ideas that Romie forgot, weighing their usefulness. Most of them can’t really be applied as weapons, but a few are promising. Like a sonic cannon that knocks someone off their feet, or reprogrammed LED lights to make them sick. Romie even messes around with the blueprints for a kind of hyper-realistic holographic imager, in the hopes of projecting a decoy.

  In the end, we decide that the EMP will be our best bet for a rescue attempt, partly because it’s nearest to completion.

  Other Clover cadets interrupt throughout the afternoon, seeking Romie’s help with one problem or another.

  Each time it happens, panic surges through me and I swiftly turn away. But the cadets are apparently too engrossed in their work to really notice. Lost in their own worlds.

  And I find I envy them for that… that escape. Because I’ve experienced it so many times in my own way, running on the holotrek for an hour at a time. And though it’s only been two days since my last run, I already feel hungry for it. To feel that the world is empty, the trail is mine, and no one can take it from me.

  Truly, deeply, I miss running.

  While Romie goes to dinner I wait in his pod alone, stomach growling insistently. Back on Earth, there were times I’d miss dinner when we drove straight to my dad’s house. Or when Mother had eaten at the office and forgot to bring anything home.

  Still, it was nothing like this. I haven’t had a proper meal since Sunday night.

  At this point, the lack of food is beginning to show. In my reflection in the chrome bed frame, Noah’s jumpsuit hangs even looser than before. My eyes have taken on a sunken quality as well, ringed with dark half-moons. It makes me look older. But then again, if we’ve been here for over a year, I guess I am older.

  The time crawls, and I begin daydreaming about flatbread, cheeseburgers, and French fries—not the Martian version, but the deep-fried Earth kind. I distract myself by taking inventory of Romie’s pod.

  Like his lab space, the room has been heavily customized. Gadgets clutter the shelves and floor. He’s also managed to fashion a kind of hammock out of two clothes hooks and extra ne
tting from the Bolo Biome.

  I wonder if he’ll be allowed to keep any of it now that Atkinson is gone. It doesn’t seem like the doctors are in favor of cadets having personal items. Likely because they bring on too many memories. I bet they’ll empty the whole pod after the next Revision.

  No. There won’t be a next Revision. If there is, that means we failed—and we’ll lose a lot more than just Romie’s toys.

  At last, I hear the tack, tack, tack of the keypad. The door opens and Romie enters.

  “Food?” I ask blankly, staring at his empty hands. But then Chloe steps in behind him.

  The first thing I register is that her cheeks look red, which briefly puzzles me. They didn’t allow makeup to be brought to the colony, mostly because there wasn’t any weight to spare on the ship from Earth. But I know a few of the girls borrow a compound from the Laboratory that works as well as any blush.

  So is that what I’m seeing? Or is she simply out of breath from carrying the lump I’ve just noticed in her jumpsuit?

  “Is that—?”

  “Veggie hash,” she says, producing the bundle. “I thought you might be hungry after a long day in hiding. How was the Workshop?”

  “Fine,” I say, snatching it from her hands. “Chloe, you’re a goddess.”

  Truly I’ve underestimated Chloe’s career as a food smuggler. While I wolf down a bowl of polenta, peppers, and caramelized onions with a sweet, spicy drizzle that tastes of habanero, Noah shows up with a hunk of bread to add to the meal.

  I’m so transported by my feast, I hardly even notice when Terra shows up.

  “Okay,” says Romie once the door is shut. He perches on the hammock, gently swinging his legs. Chloe and I take the bed, while Terra claims the chair. Noah leans against the wall on the far side of the pod. “Now that we’ve had a day to think it over, I suggest we all present our plans for rescuing Atkinson. Any idea is a good idea. No judgment. Let’s just open the floor and see where we arrive.”

  And so the talks begin.

  We can all agree that a prisoner would be held in the Helix. It’s the only place cadets aren’t allowed to go. Also, cryonics is there. Without any sort of jail on Mars, I feel almost certain they’d use cryosleep to keep him quiet. But I don’t dwell on that. Even though we used the cryobeds to get here, the idea of being locked in one of those capsules against my will is horrifying. Like being buried alive.

  But even knowing where he is, the problem is getting inside the Helix. Without a doctor’s thumbprint, we won’t be able to get through the door. That’s not counting the abundant security cameras, or the doctors coming and going all the time. We’ll need to fool the reader and create some kind of a distraction if we hope to slip in unnoticed.

  The first option comes from Noah. He suggests we tell the other cadets the truth and stir up some kind of rebellion.

  Though it’s not a bad idea, a rebellion relies heavily on others. Sure, they might believe us. But they might not. Even if I were able to relay memories from everyone’s past in one sitting, they could just decide I’m crazy. It’s not as if we can tie them to a chair and make them trust us.

  Plus, I wouldn’t exactly call any of us the “rebel leader” type. Except maybe Terra. And I’m definitely not about to put her in charge of an angry mob.

  Chloe briefly proposes that we appeal to a doctor like Bauer, trying to bring them over to our side. This gets almost no consideration.

  First, it again hinges on other people. Second, it would mean trusting someone who’s been lying to us for months. I feel bad, but I have to agree with the others. Getting help from a doctor just isn’t an option—at least not until we’ve ruled out every other possibility.

  Since the EMP still isn’t ready, Romie presents a different approach: stealing a Stitch and kidnapping a doctor. We could use the device to scan their memories and find out where they’re holding Atkinson, without their cooperation. The problem is, we’d need to understand how to use a Stitch. And though I’ve grown increasingly confident in Romie’s genius, taking hostages seems like an awfully big risk. Even he can admit that.

  Only a half hour before free time ends, we still don’t have a plan.

  “The problem is, we don’t even know what’s inside the Helix,” says Chloe uncertainly. “If Atkinson is in cryosleep, he’s going to be groggy when he wakes up. That means he’ll probably be unable to walk. We should scout the place out before we attempt a rescue, so we know the shortest way in and out. Right?”

  It gets quiet. I look at Terra. Since arriving, she’s hardly said a word.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “I think you’re all making it too complicated,” she says, examining her nails. “Rebellions, kidnappings, scouting? It’s way too much. I assume you’ve all heard of Occam’s Razor?”

  Noah frowns. “No. What is that?”

  “It’s a theoretical principle,” puts in Romie. “It states that the most plausible theory is also the most probable. Essentially, it argues against overcomplication.”

  “Exactly,” says Terra sweetly. “Thank you, Romesh.”

  “Okay, so make it easy for us,” I say. “What’s the most plausible answer?”

  “Just use the front door.”

  “But there are dozens of security cameras surrounding the Helix.” Chloe reminds her. “How will we get inside without being seen?”

  “Again, simplify. We won’t all be going,” says Terra, looking at me. “Just one of us.”

  Her meaning is obvious. And I guess it makes sense to just send one of us rather than the whole group. I’m faster than the others. Probably the fastest on the planet. Also, I know the colony better than anyone else, with my memory roadmap. If I get into trouble, I’m sure I could get away again. Assuming they don’t jab me with an inoculator.

  “Okay,” I allow. “So how does one of us get past the cameras? Walking up and knocking doesn’t exactly scream ‘surprise.’”

  “That’s why you won’t be walking up,” says Terra coolly. “I’ll be wheeling a transport cart up to the door, and you’ll be inside it.”

  “And how will you persuade them to take the cart?” Romie asks.

  “Like Lizzy said. By knocking on the front door.”

  Everyone exchanges a look.

  “You’re not making any sense,” I say impatiently.

  “I’ve delivered dozens of transports to the Helix,” Terra replies, flashing me one of her infuriating smiles. “Didn’t you know? I’m a floater. I fill in where I’m needed. And when I’m not stuck helping the Scrubs, sometimes that means restocking supplies.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” says Noah in disbelief.

  She shrugs.

  “No one asked.”

  “Why don’t I already know all this?” I ask warily. “I don’t have memories of delivering transports to the Helix.”

  “Probably because they didn’t erase them from my mind,” she replies. “Isn’t that how it works? You only got the memories they removed?”

  But something isn’t adding up. I narrow my eyes.

  “What’s inside the carts you deliver?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t check?” I ask.

  “Of course not. They’re locked,” she retorts.

  “And they just trust you to deliver them, no questions asked?”

  “For someone who talks so much about trust, you don’t seem to have very much,” she snaps, suddenly fierce. “What exactly are you hiding, Elizabeth? Why don’t we get to peer into your deepest secrets?”

  My face gets hot as they all consider this.

  “I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to trust you on that,” she says sarcastically. Then, glaring at the others, “Whether you like it or not, my plan is the best you’ve got. And I think you all know it. Don’t you?”

  Again my instinct is to fire back something harsh, something cutting, like she would. But I restrain myself
. I still need her as an ally—especially if she can get me into the Helix. And though I hate to admit it, she’s right. Her plan is the best we’ve got.

  But she’s right about something else too. I don’t trust her. Not even for a second.

  “Okay, so you can get me in,” I say, fighting to remain civil. “How do I get back out?”

  “Find the room where they watch the cameras and pull the plug. Or use that stun gun of yours to knock out the doctor on duty, tie him to a chair, and then blackmail him into doing what you want. Seems like you’re pretty good at that.”

  I’m about to lose it when, to my surprise, Noah speaks.

  “That doesn’t help.”

  Awkward silence expands, filling the room. His face reddens as he hesitantly continues.

  “You’re right to be mad. It was wrong for Lizzy to put you in that position. Just like it was wrong for Atkinson to put Lizzy in this one, and for Dosset to start the whole thing. But we’re all just doing our best. Taking it out on others won’t make it easier. It just continues the cycle.”

  The effect these words have on Terra is profound. She glares at him, then shrugs and looks away as if she, too, is embarrassed.

  Maybe they’re right about Noah. Maybe his silence does hide some kind of maturity.

  “Well, it’s time for Briefing,” Chloe says at length, glancing between Terra and me. “We’d better be going. I’ll come along tomorrow to help with the cart. Okay?”

  “Great,” I say.

  “Fine,” says Terra. Then she slips out the door without another word.

  Chloe gives me a hug and then leaves as well. When Noah opens the door I move to follow, to head back to his pod for the night. He hesitates.

  “Aren’t you staying here?” he asks.

  “Huh?”

  His question blindsides me. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Of course I’d stay. The less I’m out wandering the halls, the better my odds of staying hidden.

  Yet for some reason, I waver.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay here, Elizabeth,” Romie volunteers. “You can sleep in my bed while I take the hammock, if you like.”