Cobalt Slave

by Walker, Jon

  The thing Andrew is most grateful for, though, is all the bugs. Andrew had seen numerous New Eden insects before, but here in this tunnel are rows and rows of terrestrial bugs. In five rooms containers of them are stacked from floor to ceiling. Before his life was destroyed he dreamt of being a biologist, but even if everything worked out as planned he never thought he would ever get a chance to work with insects from Earth. Among the insects are mealworms, the common housefly, several types of beetles, crickets, two different species of ants, four different types of moths and three kinds of butterflies -- all of them fellow refugees from the solar system that can't survive on this planet without being given cobalt.

  To Andrew they have become his children, his friends, his entertainment, his food, his dependents and his salvation. Every day he watches them for hours as they live their lives inside their small boxes. After all this time the dedicated wings of the moths and butterflies still seem unbelievable. They have no parallel in New Eden biology. They look like paper toys that should be ripped apart by the slightest breeze or rainfall, but somehow on Earth they could fly for hundreds of kilometers. The tiny crickets managed to make impressively loud and oddly soothing noises despite their small dimensions. While not as flashy or dramatic, it is the ants that provide him the greatest show due to their complexity. What first seems like chaos is actually hundreds of individual ants working together to create greatness. Without directions or plans they manage to spontaneously build impressive nests filled with tunnels and chambers. There is no one overseeing their work, no architect behind the process yet magically they manage to make it all fit together into something great. The totality is so much more than the sum of the parts. It is with them that he feels the greatest kinship because they are able to make so much despite their confines.

  Most importantly, Andrew’s new family of six legged creatures slowly helped him forgive his old family. For a long time Andrew felt a deep resentment towards his friends and family for turning their backs on him after he was marked. Yet every time Andrew saw an ant carry away a sick member to leave them to die alone in the colony’s trash pile, it was a lesson about how ruthless life is. Each small act taught him everything is trumped by the need for the colony to survive. Thanks to these small black ants, Andrew came to realize every being is forced to play their role within the confines of their world. Once Andrew was finally able to accept that he would have done the exact same thing to his parents if their roles were reversed, he knew he couldn’t judge them, he couldn’t blame them, and he couldn’t be angry with them. Ever since Andrew was able to truly forgive his parents, he has done his best not to think about them or anyone else from the world above them. For all practical purposes, they are as dead to him as he is to them. Two of Andrew’s companions spend too much time reminiscing about their old lives, and he has seen how it slowly tears away at their minds and their souls. He knows it is best to avoid that path -- to focus on the here and now. To focus on his bugs.

  To Andrew’s great disappointment, what made it down in these tunnels represents only a small segment of the diversity of invertebrates put on the great slowship by the original mission planners. From the solar system even the most powerful telescopes gave only the vaguest sense of what would be found on New Eden. All the planners really could tell was that there was a planet roughly the size of Earth that had at least some type of life on it and oxygen in the atmosphere to breathe. That alone was enough for them to give the planet such a grandiose name and build a massive ship to claim it. Despite its optimistic name there was a legitimate fear that once the slowship completed its decades long journey, all the colonists would find would be a planet covered in algae, completely incompatible with terrestrial life, or a world where everything was toxic to humans. So the ancestors of these bugs and many other species were carefully brought across the incredible void of space. Each species was chosen to play many roles -- to serve as a source of emergency protein, to function as a natural waste treatment, and even if necessary to form the foundation for a whole new ecosystem.

  Once the colonists found this world was rich with life that was mostly compatible with humans, these Earth insects that couldn’t even survive on Prime on their own were mostly forgotten. Only thanks to the foresight of a few smart individuals were these few insect lines hidden after Anthony Parker's coup. Since then the sanitation bureau has kept them in secret, using them help to extract as much useable B-12 from the sewage as possible.

  Over time Andrew's fascination with the terrestrial insects turned his care for them into a zen-like meditation. His other companions find them interesting to varying degrees, but Andrews feels the deep connection of their mutual dependence. He keeps them alive by caring for them, yet they in turn are the only reason he is alive. They are both part of his sustenance and why he was saved from death. The cycle of need gives him a sense of purpose and peace.

  While the others are in the kitchen area preparing some mealworms and rice, Andrew is sitting quietly in another room watching as a new butterfly is about to emerge from its chrysalis. His obsession is respected or at least humored by the four others. He remains transfixed on the case in front of him. As far as he is concerned it is the most beautiful, magical, and interesting thing that ever happens in the tunnels. Yet right before the critical moment something even more amazing steals his attention away. It is the distinct click of the first of the double doors opening unscheduled.

  All of them drop everything to hurry to the door to learn the reason for this development. Andrew’s stomach tightens with a sense of excitement and concern as the second door opens. Through the door walks in their patron John Snider, dressed as always in the brown uniform of his bureau. Andrew’s heart races even faster in anticipation at this sight. Mr. Snider almost never comes in here unless it is very important or very bad. Behind him stands another man in the standard brown uniform, pushing a heavy cart loaded down with something.

  Seeing all their concerned faces already gathered, John gives a big reassuring smile while throwing his arms wide in a triumphant gesture. He greets the pale, anxiously awaiting audience, “I have some potentially very good news for you all and an important new task.”

  CHAPTER 10

  For the next three days Mark, restless and weary, hears nothing from his parents about their strange visitor. His parents so effortlessly go about their normal business that Mark begins to suspect that he might have dreamt the whole conversation. He starts wondering if he should confront them instead of waiting for them to talk, but when he goes down for breakfast on Saturday morning it's clear something big is about to happen.

  As Mark enters the kitchen his mom hands him a large plate of food while greeting him with a serious look on her face, “Good morning, make sure to eat up. You and your father have a big day ahead of you.” She kisses him on the cheek before getting back to cooking.

  Mark takes the plate skeptically and takes a seat at the table across from his father who is already half way through his own large plate of pancakes, dernbeast sausage, and fruit. His father stops eating to stare directly at him, “Be ready, Mark. In an hour you and me are going out for the day.”

  Feeling a growing sense of unease Mark answers, “Where are we going?”

  His father, now looking down at his plate, answers in his classically terse and stoic manner, “For a very long ride.”

  “Yeah, but a long ride to where?” Mark replies, clearly slightly annoyed.

  His father looks up and squints his eyes at Mark. “A place that is a several hours' ride from here.” His father’s look and tone say that any further attempts to extract more information would be pointless.

  They both finish the rest of their meals in silence, listening to the noise of the young children playing in the other room. David finishes his food first. As he gets up to wash his plate in the sink he says again to Mark, “Do your chores and be ready in a hour.” Mark just nods yes as his dad walks away, leaving him sitting there overwhelmed with curiosity, excite
ment, and concern.

  ------

  “Mark, come on, it is time to go!” Stephanie bellows from beside the workshop. As Mark makes his way across the yard he sees his two parents holding up the family’s two sturdy bicycles. His father is dressed in long pants, a thin jacket and a pale large-brimmed hat to protect him from the sun. Tied to the front of both bikes are well-stuffed backpacks full of food and water for the day.

  His mother waves at him with a tan hat in her right hand. As Mark gets close he can see her eyes are ever so slightly misty. “I want you to make sure you wear your hat to protect yourself from the sun," she says, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

  “Of course I will," Mark answers.

  His mother places the hat firmly on his head before grabbing him in a tight hug. Still holding him, she says, “I packed you both a large lunch and several snacks. I want you to be careful and to know I love you.”

  Mark hugs her back answering, “Thanks, I love you too, mom.”

  After a moment David speaks, “We have a long day ahead of us, it's time to go.”

  Stephanie lets go of her confused son and discreetly wipes away one small tear. “Go on. Try not to be too late.”

  Mark looks at his father, the two bikes, and their packs before asking, “Should we bring the hunting rifle?” Among the general public, only farmers or ranchers living on the frontier are granted the privilege of owning one simple hunting rifle per household, each equipped with a tracking device. This special allowance from the directorate was born out of necessity since New Eden has evolved some very large and powerful animals. While most of those dangerous creatures have been effectively eliminated on the island of Prime, there is the slim chance an old hungry predator might out of desperation come down from the hills and try to get a person. The frontier farmers have also come to count on hunting as an extra source of meat or income.

  David answers simply as he mounts his bike, “No, we won’t be doing any hunting today. Ready to go?”

  “Yeah,” Mark answers as he gets on the other bike and begins following his father down the road. The old bikes kick up a small cloud of dust as they move along the dry dirt road. The pace his father sets is slow, steady and meticulous throughout almost the entire journey.

  At the end of the path leading to their farmstead they turn south on the main road heading towards the river. They easily glide down the slight decline until they reach the banks of the Gihon. The first thing they notice is not the river itself but the tall trees growing on either side thanks to the extra moisture. Most of the trees are native plants that bear very dark green, small wispy leaves that look like hair from a distance. Among the native flora it is easy to spot a few trees that came from Earth. The large, flat, lighter green leaves of the Earth trees make them seem out of place. When they reach the wider road that runs parallel to the river, they turn east down river. Through the trees and shrubs that make up the narrow forest, Mark can see the deep water of the Gihon slowly flowing in the same direction. The quick sporadic movements of the small blacktail hoppers occasionally grab his attention before they disappear again into the underbrush. Overhead two brown collingliders fly along the river looking for a moment to strike. They are patiently riding the air current in the valley until they spot a vermin that mistakenly ventures too far out into the open. Their long needle noses and wide, curved, naked wings give them a distinct silhouette against the clouds.

  Mark’s father leads them along the river until they reach the nearby town of Lincoln’s Crossing. He doesn’t stop for anything, instead picking up the pace to quickly move through small town to reach the bridge. Lincoln’s Bridge is simple, functional, and beautiful. A critical piece of infrastructure, it was built by the original colonists almost immediately after the first Landing Day. This structure was built to last. Even though the bridge is over a hundred years old, this sleek piece of engineering still looks like it was put up only a few months ago thanks to the advanced materials used for its construction. It should easily stand for another few centuries without needing any real repairs.

  Once across the river they stay on the main paved road for only two kilometers before turning off onto a small path going west. From here on out David Corvus sticks only to the side streets and backways despite the prolonged length of the journey.

  Mark makes a few attempts to probe his father for answers, but he is even more reserved than usual. During their first brief stop for food, his tense responses are short and unenlightening. Mark knows his father always likes to teach by example, so he gives up on what he realizes is a fruitless effort. Whatever he is being taken to, he will only find out when he gets there, so instead of talking he focuses on the scenery.

  As they make their way in the general southwest direction, the land steadily changes around them. At first they are passing farms and ranches but with every kilometer the signs of humanity grow less frequent. Even the makeup of the plant life changes, with fewer Earth trees and weeds the farther they go. With each new turn the road gets worse and the land more wild.

  The ride becomes more difficult as they start heading up the rolling hills due to both the incline and the state of the paths they are travelling. Mark can now see what is generously called the Southern Mountains. The smooth, modest mounds are nothing like some of the dramatically tall jagged peaks on Earth that Mark has seen in the old movies, but New Eden is a much older world with a core that is significantly cooler. As a result, plate tectonics and volcanic activity has almost stopped. Without anything pushing the land up, erosion is slowly winning the battle unopposed. It is also part of the reason why the surface of the planet is so poor in metals.

  After over four hours of riding, David stops in the middle of the narrow path and gets off his bike. At first Mark thinks it is only another water break, but as his father removes the pack from the front of his bike he says, “This is the place. We walk from here.”

  Mark removes his own pack as he looks around confused, at first seeing only hairy trees, shrubs and tall grasses. There is nothing interesting or remarkable about this place to justify the ordeal, but finally he notices it. A few strides from where his father stopped there is something off about the vegetation. There are two parallel lines of shorter and sparser grass that lead over the hill -- an old path now mostly overgrown.

  His father starts pushing through the grass along this trail and says without looking back, “This way. It is not much farther.”

  After only about fifteen minutes of trudging through the grass, Mark reaches the top of the small rise and sees it. What it is, Mark can’t really understand at first. At first it only looks like several tall, flat white stones sticking up in the middle of a sparse forest.

  It is a sight so foreign and unexpected, that it doesn’t register at first. On a planet where the population doubles almost every 30 years and the oldest buildings are prized for being built much better, the concept of ruins doesn’t really exist. As Mark follows his father closer he finally realizes that these are the long abandoned shells of houses.

  His father stops twenty meters from the first shell and speaks, “I know you have been taught about the Jasontown Rebellion. This is Jasontown.”

  Mark walks over to touch the structural skeleton of the infamous town that thought it could defy Director Parker and responds in awe, “This is Jasontown?” Everything of any value or possible use was stripped away decades ago, but the nearly unbreakable white walls remain. The first generation's buildings were built with exquisite materials and designed to withstand anything. Back then the colonists weren’t sure what freak natural disasters they would face, so they made their homes unbelievably sturdy.

  His voice solemn and firm, David speaks to his son, “I brought you all the way out here for a reason, Mark. I don’t just want you to hear what I have to say, I want you to have a chance to touch and feel it. To understand it in your soul.”

  Mark turns to look at his father and nods for him to continue.

  “There was n
o rebellion here. There was no fighting. There was only a peaceful protest that turned into a genocide.” As David talks, he slowly moves among the abandoned structures. “After Anthony Parker used the failed arrival of the second slowship as an excuse to seize power, the brave people here tried to use nonviolence to change his mind. They wanted to shame him and all his cohorts into remembering what the mission was supposed to be. This planet was meant to be a fresh start for humanity. A place to build something new and glorious, free of the mistakes, baggage, and the endless ancient conflicts that held us back on Earth. Unfortunately, they failed to understand just what kind of a person Parker really was. There are some people who can justify committing any evil to fulfill their plan, so long as they believe their vision is truly righteous. There are those who will do anything for power.”

  David turns slightly and points south before continuing, “Among those who ended up giving their lives to make this world better was one of your great great uncles. He was apparently buried in a shallow ditch with the rest of his family somewhere over there. His was body simply tossed into a hole like a piece of trash. His grave is unmarked since everyone was afraid that putting up even a small memorial would be labeled an act of defiance by the director.”

  After a long pause for a silent prayer, Mark's father continues. “Their sacrifice sadly proved there was nothing to be done at the time. The directorate had all the cobalt, without cobalt there is no vitamin B-12, and without B-12 there is no human life. As long as that is true, they have all the power, but there are those who are committed to always remembering and waiting.”