by J. J. Green
The Guardian woman stood. Her dark gray, short hair matched her uniform, and when she spoke, her voice was crisp and loud. “Gens, Woken, thank you for this opportunity. I acknowledge that the time for answers is long overdue, and I apologize for that. We felt that you were all psychologically vulnerable after the First Night Attack.”
Cariad and Ethan shared a puzzled look. Whatever the Guardian was about to say, it didn’t sound like anything good was coming up.
“I will first answer the question that’s on many lips,” Faina said. “I’m sorry, but there is no going back. It’s true that our ship travels faster than light. It’s also true that we could take some of you back to Earth tomorrow, but it is an Earth that none of you would want to live on. Earth is full and its resources depleted. Mars is full. Ganymede and Ceres are full. There is nowhere for you to go.
“Gens and Woken, your new home is a difficult place to live. There’s no denying it. But it’s your home. It must be, so you must make the best of it. The Guardians wholeheartedly endorse Anahi’s proposal that the next Leader should be a Woken. We are prepared to enforce this. This colony must succeed, and the Woken have the expertise to ensure it. We are lending them our support to safeguard everyone’s survival.”
Faina sat down and no one rose to take her place. The announcement was over. The armed Guardians moved away from the stands, walking backward toward the center of the field. It was the signal that the audience was free to leave, or perhaps that they had to leave.
The Gens filed silently out of their seats.
“I can’t believe it,” Cariad said quietly to Ethan as they stood to take their place going down the stairs.
“Me neither,” he replied. “There’s going to be trouble. The Gens already held a grudge against the Woken before this.”
“And Anahi doesn’t respect the Gens,” said Cariad. They reached the bottom of the stairs. “I want to talk to her. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. Take care.”
Cariad sped around the edge of the field until she spied the person she wanted and walked quickly over. She caught up to Anahi as she was about to enter an exit tunnel. Strongquist, Faina, and Garwin were ahead of her.
The Woken stopped and turned when Cariad touched her arm. She pulled the older woman to the side of the tunnel, out of the way of the crowd.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cariad whispered fiercely. “Do you have any idea what you’ve started? They already dislike us.”
“So what? All children hate their parents. And that’s what they’re like. Children. They need our guidance and now they’re going to get it, whether they like it or not.”
“You’re an idiot,” Cariad hissed. “You’ve handed over military control to the Guardians. This isn’t supposed to be a military state. What’s wrong with you? We’re supposed to be building a new kind of society here. A better society. Not another Earth, with people murdering each other.”
“Ha,” Anahi exclaimed. “Weren’t you one of the ones who insisted on bringing weapons along? Look, the situation’s only temporary, okay? Until we get things back on track. I’m not prepared to sit around while some stupid Gens cock everything up. When the colony is working, and when the Gens gain some more experience of living in the real world, then we’ll hand back control. But not until then.”
Maybe Anahi believed her own words. Cariad wasn’t sure. Maybe she really was that deluded. Whatever she thought, if history was anything to go by, the Woken had just started the events that were going to repeat it. A battle for independence and control was coming.
“I thought you were going to propose that we revive more Woken,” Cariad said. “Like you said at the final decanting.”
“Oh no,” Anahi replied. “Why would I propose that to the Gens? We don’t need their permission to restart the revival process. At least, now we don’t.”
Chapter Eight
Ethan stood at Dr. Crowley’s grave, hardly able to believe that it had only been just over a month since they had buried her. The remains of the other victims of the First Night Attack were also buried in the small graveyard, along with those who had died in the stadium bombing. The soil on the bombing victims’ graves was still fresh, while on Dr. Crowley’s, the moss-like, native ground cover had already overgrown it and was creeping up the gravestone.
Ethan cleared the tendrils away, detaching them with some difficulty as their roots gripped tightly to the artificial stone. When he had cleaned off the surface, he sat on the ground and stared at the inscription:
Meredith Crowley
Star voyager, your journey is over
May you rest in peace
Far beyond the graveyard, a roadmaker trundled along, its square, bulky form inching across the horizon, dark against the lighter sky. Even with the intervening distance, its deep bass hum penetrated as it turned the native soil and rocks to firm, cambered dirt roads.
Some days, Ethan almost forgot that Dr. Crowley had died. Then the memory of that awful sight of her trapped beneath the alien predator would resurface like a wound torn open, and his grief would rise up fresher than ever.
He wished that she were still alive. Everything seemed to be going wrong and he didn’t know what to do about it.
He wondered what Dr. Crowley would have said about what happened at the stadium meeting. He suspected she wouldn’t have approved of the Woken’s proposal to take over the leadership of the colony. She would have definitely protested the Guardians’ use of guns to control the Gens. He was certain of that because she and Cariad had argued about having weapons aboard Nova Fortuna. Dr. Crowley had been against the idea. She’d believed the colony should be founded upon non-violent principles.
He recalled one of their talks they’d had not long after they’d become friends. They’d met in Nova Fortuna’s Main Park as they usually did, beneath the Clock. Ethan had spent the morning studying the fertilizer requirements of root crops, and he was numb with boredom. He perked up when he saw the older woman waiting for him, reading an interface she held in one hand.
“Doctor,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” Dr. Crowley looked up at The Clock. “Only a few minutes.” She closed her interface and slipped it into a pocket. “Where would you like to go today?”
The time they spent together usually followed the same pattern: Ethan would suggest a section or facility aboard Nova Fortuna for them to visit. Dr. Crowley would explain the history behind the place as far as she knew it—the space colonization project had involved tens of thousands of people and she wasn’t familiar with all its aspects.
Ethan found it fascinating to hear about the building of Nova Fortuna from the perspective of someone who had actually been there when it all took place. Dr. Crowley would name long-dead space architects and engineers who she had known personally, but to him they were historical figures.
That day, however, Ethan hadn’t been in the mood for a trip into the past. “How about we go to the Observatory?”
“You want to go there again? I think I’ve told you all I can remember about it.”
“Yeah,” Ethan replied. “That’s why I want to go. I’m kinda tired and I don’t think I’ll take much in today. It would be good to relax for a while.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
The Observatory was quiet as usual. They sat down and reclined the seats until they were nearly lying flat.
“Is something bothering you, Ethan?” Dr. Crowley asked after some moments of silence.
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re quiet. You usually have lots of questions for me. It isn’t just that you’re tired, is it?”
“I’m okay. I’m just bored of my course.”
“Agriculture? I remember you telling me once that you would rather be an explorer than a farmer. I think if that’s what you want to do, you should do it.”
“It isn’t as easy as that. Exploring was removed as an option when they r
evised the Manual.”
Dr. Crowley’s pfft of disgust came through the darkness. “You know what I think of the New Manual. I’m sorry, Ethan, but no one gave Gens the mandate to rewrite the Manual. Scientists and engineers with decades of experience in the outer planets put those guidelines together. I appreciate that it’s Gens who will be impacted by the rules, but that doesn’t give them the right to change them. No explorers? Nonsense. And forcing people into occupations they have no interest in or aptitude for is even more unwise. I have to tell you, I have grave reservations about the success of the colony if we follow the revisions that were made to the Manual. Grave.”
Subdued somewhat by the older woman’s ire, Ethan didn’t respond.
After a short while, she continued, “I would hate to see our new home go the way of Earth. I don’t know what you understand from the vids and learning resources, but politicking is one of the greatest flaws in human nature. The lust for power and desire to control others is a highly addictive, corrupting drug. I’ve read the revised Manual, and that motivation to change things for the sake of leaving a mark, to know that the new guidelines would affect others for generations, is written clearly between the lines. It worried me to see it. Perhaps I’m only a foolish old woman, but I had hoped we would leave such evils behind. I’d hoped that such things were taught, not instinctive, and that if we could shape the Gens’ education to promote egalitarianism and empathy, you wouldn’t develop such traits. It seems, alas, that I was wrong.
“Ethan, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for some time, and I suppose this is as good a time as any: you have some wonderful qualities, and I believe you should put them to better use. I hope you don’t mind my frankness when I say that you seem to think less of yourself because you weren’t top of the class at school. But after getting to know you, I have to conclude that the education system we devised did you a disservice. Either that or the guidelines in the Manual for teaching were also revised. You strike me as a very intelligent, capable young man. What’s more, you’re very personable. You would be very popular if you put yourself out there more.”
Dr. Crowley’s words made Ethan uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how he’d given the doctor such a positive impression. Was she trying to make him feel better about not wanting to be a farmer?
“What I’m trying to say is,” Dr. Crowley continued, “it wouldn’t hurt you to have a little more faith in yourself. You have a lot to offer. Don’t be afraid to speak out if you think something isn’t right. Believe me, it seems there will be plenty of people vying for power in the not-too-distant future, and they won’t be the ones who should be leading the colony. It’s people like you—people who don’t want to lead—they’re the Gens who will serve the colony best.”
Watching the stars move slowly past, Ethan weighed his friend’s words. “That’s good of you to say that, Dr. Crowley, but I don’t think I’ll be leading anyone anywhere. I just can’t see myself doing that.”
“Can you see yourself being a farmer?”
“Nope.”
“We have a long way to go yet. Think about what I said. The colony will need a very special Leader after Arrival.”
A stiff breeze had started to blow through the graveyard, and the chill brought Ethan out of his reverie. While he’d been musing over the past, shelf clouds had risen, towering tsunami-like overhead. The roadmaker had edged farther along the horizon.
For the first time since he’d had that conversation with Dr. Crowley in the Observatory, Ethan began to wonder if there was some truth to what she’d said. After the First Night Attack, as the Guardians prepared to execute the Natural Movement saboteur, Strongquist had called him a hero. It was true that he’d been one of the few to keep his head during the attack. Maybe Dr. Crowley had been right when she’d said he had more to offer the colony than he’d thought. Maybe he could do something to stop what was happening with the Woken and the Guardians.
“Hi, Ethan,” came a voice from behind him.
He started and turned. It was Cherry. “Hi.”
“Sorry I made you jump.”
“It’s okay, but you do seem to have a habit of appearing from nowhere.”
“But it’s always good to see me, right?” She smiled impishly, and Ethan was forced to smile in return.
“I guess so.”
“So much enthusiasm,” Cherry exclaimed sardonically. “That’s what I like.”
“Well—”
“I’m just messing with you. I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you to come along to a meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“A meeting about what happened at the stadium.”
“Right. Who’s going?”
“Some Gens. You’ll see when we get there. They wanted me to invite you.”
“No Woken?”
“No. Definitely no Woken.”
Ethan thought about it. “Okay. I’ll come.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d agree. And, Ethan, I’m sorry for saying that you were taking the Woken’s side that day out of the lake. I thought about it, and I don’t think you’re like that.”
“No problem,” Ethan said, thinking her reversal a little odd.
“Shall we go?”
Ethan stood, stretching his stiff muscles, and walked with Cherry back to the settlement.
She led him to a newly built shop. In time, it would sell groceries. Cash vouchers were to be introduced to start a fledgling economy until a commercial network and credit system was set up. For the moment, the place functioned as a storehouse for supplies. The colonists collected them according to their allowance every day. By the time Ethan and Cherry arrived, that day’s rations had been given out and the building was quiet.
Cherry took Ethan around the back and they went through a door that led to the stockroom. Food supplies in sacks and large tubs filled it to the ceiling, and the musty odor of dried grains and beans tinged the air.
They walked inside and Cherry opened the door to another back room. This was packed with chairs and people. Only one corner was empty of chairs and a man stood there, obviously addressing the meeting. The man was the last person Ethan had expected to see. It was Garwin.
“Ethan,” he said. “Good of you to join us. Come in, come in.”
The attendees shuffled chairs aside so that Ethan and Cherry could move from the door to spare seats.
“I had just begun explaining the situation to the newcomers,” Garwin said. “I know it must be confusing, hearing me say one thing in the stadium and another thing here. The fact of the matter is, I and a few others have seen the way things were going for a while now. Since before Arrival Day, even. We didn’t think the Woken would continue to leave control of the colony to us Gens for much longer. We knew what would happen, and we knew we would need someone on the inside when it did. So I’ve been friendly with the Woken and gone along with what they’ve said. I’ve made them believe there are Gens who are sympathetic to their position and support them. Believe it or not, they really think there are some of us who like to be treated like we’re inferior.”
This elicited both chuckles and grumbles among the listeners.
“The Woken trust me,” Garwin went on, “idiots that they are. I believe they’ll tell me what they have planned, and we can use that information and turn it against them. We can take back control. We have the numbers and pretty soon we’ll have the weapons too.”
It was a resistance meeting that Cherry had invited Ethan to. Suddenly her professed change of opinion about him made sense. They were hoping to bring him over to their side, and after the events at the stadium, he wouldn’t take much persuasion. He didn’t think any Gen would.
“Yes. Weapons,” Garwin continued. “That’s one reason you see a lot of farmers here. We’ve singled you out because after the creature in the lake attacked Cherry you’ve been allocated guns for protection while you’re out in your fields. We’re lucky the decision was made before the stadium announcement. I beli
eve they’re regretting their decision already. It’s my prediction that the Wokens’ next move is going to be to tell the Guardians to relieve you of your weapons at the earliest opportunity. So what I’m saying is, if you already have a gun, don’t give it up. Make an excuse. Tell the Guardians you’ll bring it in, then don’t. Tell them you were never given one, or you lost it. They think we’re stupid, so it’s more than likely they’ll believe you. Hell, just refuse if you want to, but don’t give up your guns. We’ll store them, ready for the day we fight back. Right?”
Ethan found himself nodding along with the rest. He’d received a weapon three days previously.
“Ethan,” Garwin said. He held up an arm outstretched. “Come up here.”
With the gaze of everyone in the room upon him, Ethan felt he had no choice but to comply. However, going up in front of the other Gens didn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. Things had gone too far. They were being wronged. They couldn’t trust the Woken or the Guardians anymore, and he agreed with Garwin that they had to do something about it. He would do something about it.
As he stepped through the chairs, someone began to clap. Garwin motioned downward with his hands to quieten the clapper.
“We mustn’t make too much noise,” he said. “We don’t know who might hear.”
He put an arm over Ethan’s shoulder and spoke to the audience. “Here he is: the man who saved hundreds of lives in the First Night Attack. He’s quick-thinking, brave, and he doesn’t give up. With Ethan on our side, we can’t go wrong.”
“That’s right,” called a voice.
To his surprise, Ethan found himself speaking. “I’m just another Gen like all of you. What’s happening to us isn’t right, and I’ll do my best to fight alongside you to change it. But I want to say one thing: don’t think all Woken are the same. They don’t all agree with what’s going on. We have friends among them who’ll help us.”
From some expressions, he could tell that not all of them believed him, but they were keeping their opinions to themselves for the time being.
