by J. J. Green
Ethan nodded slowly. The expanse surrounding them had robbed him of words. He drove the flitter higher, well out of the reach of ocean thread monsters, and brought it around to see the place where they’d exited the hills. The gap they’d come through was clear. Judging from the worn boulders that lay on the beach below the gap, their death-defying plunge had been along the route of what had once been a waterfall leading to the ocean.
The dried-up waterfall wasn’t the only geographical feature to capture Ethan’s attention. All along the cliffs on either side of it were dark holes. Caves.
Chapter Fifteen
For a place where Cariad had spent one hundred and eighty-four years of her life, the cryo chamber didn’t look much like home. In fact, it reminded her of a morgue, and she was glad that she hadn’t asked to see it before she’d been frozen in suspension all that time ago on Earth. The coffin-sized receptacles that held the bodies were slotted into the wall behind steel doors, and their -101 Celsius temperature chilled the room, frosting Cariad’s exhalations.
Beside each door was a panel that displayed the temperature, the occupant’s name and number, and his or her physical condition—sensors constantly scanned for evidence of decay. In the event that the temperature rose or the sensors detected a deterioration in the subject’s condition, the individual was supposed to be revived immediately. The cryo units had functioned perfectly up until then, though that hadn’t prevented problems from occurring during the revival process.
Anahi had come along to the cryo chamber, as well as Dr. Montfort, the Woken physician who had treated Cariad after the stadium bombing, and Alasdair, the medic who had also attended her. Montfort was a cryonic revival specialist who had joined the Nova Fortuna Project just before departure. None of the physicians who had put the subjects in suspension had applied to be one of those preserved, which had only served to highlight the riskiness of the procedure. Dr. Montfort had been one of the first to be revived by the Gens and the only person in that initial batch to survive the process unscathed.
Alasdair was preparing the equipment on the cart that would transport the next person they would attempt to slowly return to life, Aubriot, to a revival room. As Cariad watched the medic, she wondered which of the open doors and empty holes of vacated cryo units had been hers. It would have been easy to read the panels and find out, but she didn’t want to know from which of those hollow graves she had arisen.
“Everything seems perfect,” Montfort said, straightening up from his squatting position next to Aubriot’s chamber. He turned to Alasdair. “The cart’s ready?”
“Yes. I’ve double checked all the equipment. It’s at the correct temperature.”
“Then let’s begin.” Montfort’s tone had the air of someone enjoying a long-anticipated treat. He seemed about to rub his hands together in glee. The doctor squatted down again and inserted a card into a slot before swiping the display screen. He pressed the keys that appeared. There was a click. The seal was broken. The door slowly, smoothly swung open.
Montfort keyed in another instruction, and the cryo unit slid out to its fullest extent.
It was a transparent box, its sides and base threaded with fine wires. Inside the box was a semi-transparent white gel, and suspended within the gel lay a human body. Aubriot. He was pale, entirely hairless, corpse-like. Cariad’s stomach twisted. She had passed many decades in the same state, a hair’s breadth from death.
“Excuse me,” Alasdair said as he wheeled the cart over to the opened unit. Cariad stepped out of his way, and he positioned the cart parallel to the box. Two slim metal arms lowered and slid under it. The arms lifted and retracted, so that the box moved over and into the cart. The cart’s monitoring equipment sprang to life, drawing data from the contacts on the base of the box.
“Looking good,” said Montfort as he checked the readings. “Let’s go.”
Alasdair activated the cart’s electric motor and guided it toward the chamber exit.
Cariad followed in its wake with the others. Feeling like she was in a funeral procession, she grasped for a distraction. She asked Montfort, “How have you altered the revival process to reduce the rate of complications?”
“I thought you might ask me that. I haven’t done anything very sophisticated. I’ve slowed the process down and increased the monitoring. I analyzed all the data we had on the revivals we completed. I think we were too ambitious in our estimation of how long it would take organs and nerves to resume normal functioning. The problem was, the information on successful revivals that took place prior to the Nova Fortuna project was sparse.”
“Yes,” Cariad said. “Not enough data to base our predictions on.”
Montfort continued, “I’ve set the revival equipment to automatically halt the moment the monitors pick up an abnormal reading. We’ll wait a while before resuming the process. If the readings continue to register as abnormal, I may make the decision to lower the patient’s temperature and resume suspension before any further damage is done.”
“That sounds sensible,” Cariad said.
Montfort asked, “Did you do something similar with the few you oversaw?”
Before Cariad could answer, Anahi interrupted. “So if something goes wrong, you’re saying we won’t revive Aubriot?”
“That’s correct,” Montfort replied. “Better to remain in suspension with the chance of revival later than risk permanent impairment or death, don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Anahi said. “I’ve adjusted to my sightlessness, and we have the materials and skills to fashion other disability aids. I’d rather be here and blind than still in suspension. However, I’ll bow to your superior judgment. For now.”
Anahi was clearly determined to have Aubriot up and around, at almost any cost. It wasn’t hard for Cariad to guess why. Anahi wasn’t a natural leader, but Aubriot was. She was clearly hoping to align him to her cause and profit from the man’s dictatorial skills.
The procession proceeded to the revival room. The equipment it contained was highly specialized. From the warming unit that would gradually increase the temperature of the cryonic suspension gel by points of a degree at a time to the cell nutrient supply system, all the devices were geared to the sole purpose of returning a long-frozen human body to normal health.
Entering the room brought back strong memories of Cariad’s moment of her own awakening, which she’d relived after the bombing. The place was decorated in pastel shades intended to be easy on eyes that hadn’t worked for nearly two centuries. She recalled the pale yellows and blues as the first thing she’d registered as she’d slowly come to, when her new life had begun.
Alasdair and Montfort placed Aubriot’s cryo unit inside a white plastisteel container for the first stage of the process.
“Attach him,” Montfort said to Alasdair. “I’ll be back in a moment.” As he passed Cariad and Anahi, who were watching from the door, he said, “There’s no need to hang around. You know that nothing interesting is going to happen for a few days.” He added, to Anahi, “I’ll keep you informed of progress, Leader.”
He walked away down the corridor, and without a word to Cariad, Anahi also left.
Alasdair was busily connecting wires and flipping switches.
Cariad asked, “How many revivals have you assisted with, Alasdair?”
“I was involved with most of them.” He glanced at her with a smile. “In case you’re wondering, yes, I helped with yours. Don’t you remember?” He inserted a final jack and stood back before taking a slow walk around the revival container and double-checking the readout screen.
Cariad moved into the room, recalling her glimpse of Aubriot’s prone figure in frozen slush. He’d been lying on his side in the recovery position.
“What’s it like for you, watching us return to life?” she asked.
“Weird at first,” Alasdair replied. “But you get used to it.” He folded his arms and frowned for a moment before saying, “Your revival was straig
htforward. Textbook, in fact. But you were young compared to the rest. Others weren’t so lucky, of course. We did what we could, but sometimes their hearts just refused to start, or just when we thought they were fine, their hearts would stop and nothing we did would get them going. Or everything would seem normal but their reflexes were dead. Then, when they regained consciousness they couldn’t move their arms and legs. Or everything worked physically, but their brains were mush—sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so callous.”
“I know, and it’s okay,” Cariad said. “We all knew the risks. Thanks for bringing me back to life.”
“No problem.”
“So, what does Dr. Montfort’s new process entail exactly?”
“Nothing much for seventy-two hours. We’ll begin internal warming afterward, through the circulatory system, bladder, stomach, intestines, and lungs—”
“Lungs?”
“Sure. It’s another of the doctor’s innovations. We spend the first nine months of life with our lungs filled with amniotic fluid, and the patients don’t begin breathing until right at the end of the process.”
“Of course. How long will it be before you know the revival is successful?”
“Montfort said ten days before we replace the suspension fluid with blood. I think it’s at least another five days after that before we attempt to start the heart. I’d say three weeks minimum, but you’re better off talking to the doctor about that.”
Three weeks. A lot could happen in three weeks.
Cariad turned to leave.
“Did you know this man, Aubriot, back on Earth?” Alasdair asked.
She’d almost forgotten he was a Gen. So very few of them remained aboard Nova Fortuna, she’d grown used to thinking of everyone she encountered as Woken.
“Yeah, I knew him. I’m surprised you don’t too. Didn’t you cover the founding of the Nova Fortuna project in history at school?”
“I did. I wasn’t that interested, though. It’s hard to care about a place so far away and events that took place so long ago. So Aubriot was a founder?”
“He was the primary financier.” When Alasdair’s expression still failed to register understanding, she added, “The owner of Mercantor Enterprises?”
“Ohhhh.” Recognition dawned on Alasdair’s face. He looked down at the frozen figure and took a step back as if he was frightened of disturbing him. “I had no idea he came along.”
“Really? It was his primary condition before contributing to the funding. He liquidated all his assets and sunk every last cred into the project. Even so, he barely scraped the fifty-one percent holding required to have the final say in board decisions. Aubriot was first on the list for cryonic suspension. It looks like he was forgotten in the race to revive the key scientists.”
“You mean he gave up everything? The ability to have whatever he wanted, and taking a chance of never waking up, just to be a part of the colonization?”
“That’s the short version,” said Cariad. “The long story is that he took his majority holding and used it to ensure he did everything in his power to make sure he survived and the colony was a success. I know Aubriot personally because the minute the preparations began, he insisted on knowing about everything that was happening, in detail. He questioned everything too, even stuff he had absolutely no understanding of. Made all the scientists and engineers dumb it all down until he thought he knew what it all meant. Then he would challenge our decisions and suggest different ways of doing things, insisting we try them out, claiming to know better. Made all our lives hell, basically, with constant interference, as if preparing for humanity’s first deep space colonization project wasn’t hard enough.”
Cariad drew breath. The sight of Aubriot was causing long-forgotten memories to resurface—his constant, obsessive observation and criticism had driven her crazy. More than once, she had been tempted to slap his smug face when he doubted her assertions, which were based on ground-breaking world-renowned research she had personally conducted.
Alasdair said, smiling, “I’m guessing you wanted to know when he wakes up so you can be as far away as possible?”
“Hmph, something like that,” Cariad replied. “No, not really, Alasdair. You know the problems we’ve been having? I think Anahi plans on gaining Aubriot’s support to tighten her grip on the colony. Reviving Aubriot is like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.”
Alasdair frowned.
Realizing he probably didn’t know what gas was, Cariad said, “A very bad idea.”
“Gotcha.”
“So I’m going to do the opposite of what I want to do. I’m going to stick to Aubriot like glue, hoping for some damage control.”
“Okay,” Alasdair said. “I get it. So do you want me to tell you as soon as he’s awake?”
“Can you do that? You aren’t worried about getting into trouble with Anahi?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But we could pretend you happened along at the right time. Anyway, I don’t care if she guesses what I did. I hate that crazy bitch.”
“I really appreciate it,” Cariad said. “I want to warn you, though: the second he’s awake, stay the hell out of his way. Aubriot is going to be so pissed he wasn’t the first to be revived.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan could hardly believe his luck in finding what seemed the perfect place for a new, Gen-controlled settlement on his very first scouting trip. He’d considered exploring farther before telling Garwin of his and Cherry’s find, but Cherry had been as excited as him and had wanted to show Garwin the place right away.
As they sped along on the flitter, returning to the site, Garwin was with Ethan at the front of the vehicle. Cherry was watching for dangerous life forms from the back, her weapon at the ready. Shelf clouds were building darkly and threatening rain, but Ethan estimated they had two or three dry hours ahead of them.
“I have to say,” Garwin remarked, “it feels good to get away for a while. I don’t seem to step far from the workshop or home these days.”
“How is work going?” Ethan asked. “Are there many more machines to assemble?”
“Hundreds. And I also have to deliver and sometimes install them, and instruct on their operation. Then people are always forgetting how something works, or breaking it. I’m always busy. I don’t see my work letting up for years to come. I’ll have to start training some youngsters soon, too. Otherwise no one will know how to fix anything when us older mechanics retire.”
“Will Twyla get suspicious while you’re out here now?” Ethan asked, remembering that Garwin’s wife wasn’t yet aware of the subversive movement he headed. They would have to tell all the Gens what they were doing soon, but after the fight at the farmers’ equipment shed, Ethan didn’t think they would face many objections to their plan to create a new settlement free from Woken or Guardian interference.
“No, it’s fine,” Garwin replied. “She’s used to me disappearing for hours.”
“Those are the hills I was telling you about,” Ethan said as they appeared on the horizon.
After passing a few more kilometers in silence, Garwin said, “I’m going to reserve final judgment until I’ve seen these caves. But I want to say, I’m not entirely convinced by the idea of building the settlement there. I agree that caves would be terrific hiding places. I don’t think the satellites or the Mistral’s scanners will pick us up once we’re inside. But what seems a sanctuary could easily turn into a trap. We might be able to prevent an attacking force from getting in, but they could also prevent us from getting out. All they have to do is lay siege to the place, and eventually they’ll starve us into submission.”
“I thought of that,” Ethan said. “But these caves are full of passages. We can probably find plenty of exit routes to escape from if we’re under attack. We don’t have to be trapped.”
Garwin nodded. “Okay. Let’s see.”
“Fasten your safety belts,” Ethan said. “We’re nearly at the old waterfall.”
Ethan ha
d disengaged the default setting on the flitter. This time when they zoomed out over the ocean, the vehicle didn’t drop precipitously down the cliff.
Glancing at Garwin’s profile, Ethan saw a grin growing wider over the older man’s face as he surveyed the ocean spreading wide in front of them. The rising clouds had only marginally dimmed its deep blue.
“Whatever we find at these caves, Ethan,” Garwin said, “I’m glad you brought me here today.”
Spitting rain began to hit them. They would have to get under cover soon to avoid the approaching downpour. Ethan’s gaze roved the cliff face for a few moments before locating an opening large enough for the flitter. He flew the vehicle over and settled it down on the floor, which was thick with soft dust.
Ethan stepped out. His boot sank a couple of centimeters into the dry material. Reaching into the flitter, he picked up his weapon. After his encounters during the First Night Attack and Cherry’s experience by the lake, he wasn’t taking any chances. The cave went back ten meters or so before the interior was lost in darkness.
“Not bad,” Garwin said, looking around. “Not bad at all. And I could make out plenty more entrances in the cliff. If the place is safe, and if it has other exits, maybe this would make the ideal setting for our new settlement.” He took a bag out of the flitter. Inside it were helmets with lights. “After you told me what you’d found, I made these. If we decide to move here, we can fix up a permanent lighting system, but for now, these will come in handy.”
He turned on the lights before handing a helmet each to Ethan and Cherry. Ethan put on his and went deeper into the cave, his boots sinking in and leaving deeply ridged footprints at every step. The first human footprints ever in that place. The light beaming from his helmet bobbed in time with his steps, illuminating more of the back of the cave. The walls were smooth, as if water had once flowed through it. The other caves he and Cherry had examined had looked the same. He imagined the cliff face filled with pouring spouts of water.
