Genesis (The Exodus Trilogy)

by Andreas Christensen

  “And we can’t keep them prisoners forever, either. We don’t have the resources, and besides, it wouldn’t be right,” she said firmly.

  “They have probably suffered enough,” Isabella said, nodding at her daughter. “Let’s give them a chance.”

  “It just doesn’t seem fair…” Colonel Quellar muttered. Tina shot her a hard look.

  “Fair? Do you think your sitting here is fair?” she said, startling the colonel. “Let’s not forget that there are others who have been given a second chance, as well.” Tina had a hard look on her face, and Thomas recognized her anger, long suppressed, from having seen good people die.

  “I don’t trust the Chinzhoi, either,” she continued, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here listening to you talk about fair. I think it’s time we all had a hard look at ourselves. No one is innocent, and nobody deserves a second chance more than anyone else.” She stopped, and averted her eyes from the colonel. Thomas saw she regretted her harsh words. Tina and Quellar had been able to cooperate, but it seemed there was still a tension there that wouldn’t let go easily. Kenneth coughed hard, and Thomas saw he was struggling to speak. Tina, sitting next to him, patted him on the back, while everyone else remained quiet.

  “Remember…” he began. “Remember, we must dare to be different from our enemy.” He swallowed hard. “We must not become that which we fight.”

  Thomas thought of a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche that Kenneth had often cited. “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” It was amazing how these words summarized Nietzsche’s—and Kenneth’s—deep insight into the human psyche and his awareness of the fragility of even good people’s morals. This was the moment they would choose whether to follow the wisdom inherent in those words, or to let the seed of fear take root. That seed, which, given time, had the potential and capability to fester and spread throughout their entire lives, their entire world. No, we will be different, he thought, as Kenneth regained his composure, reaffirming his strength as the president he had become, firm and deeply rooted in strong values.

  “I think we have proven that former enemies can work together, even when there is bad blood between us. In time, that will fade, and in a generation, we will all be part of the same community. I, for one, look forward to that. And I look forward to welcoming those Chinzhoi who chose to come to us instead of evacuating with the others. I look forward to seeing them become Aurorans, just like we have.”

  Maria Solis

  Maria was standing in a clearing, an hour’s walk from the Stronghold, by a grave marked with a wooden cross. Here was her father’s final resting place, beside a small creek running through the great valley that they had made their home. This was where they had found him, when winter was just about to turn into spring. It was so much more beautiful now that everything had turned lush and green, with small red and yellow flowers covering the clearing, shrouded in morning mist. Maria was glad they had decided to let him rest here, away from the wars and the suffering they had been through. Ramon Solis had seen enough of that when he was alive.

  She stroked her belly absent-mindedly, something she’d started doing even though there was nothing visible yet.

  “I wish you could have seen him,” she whispered. Only the breeze rustling the trees answered.

  “Doc Bowers did a scan yesterday, and I could see him. He was sucking his thumb, just like I did when I was little. A healthy little boy, Doc said.” Maria looked up at the blue sky and sighed heavily.

  “I miss you so much, Daddy, but I already know a little of you will be in him. And I’ve decided to name him after you. Little Ramon. Sounds strange for me now, but I know I’ll get used to it. And I think Thomas will appreciate it, too, once I tell him. He always liked you, even though you were on opposite sides.” She held back a tear, thinking how unfair it was, that her father was considered a murderer, a war criminal, even after everything he’d done to stop the war. Even though he wasn’t the one to order the massacre on the Trickler.

  “You’d have liked being a grandpa, I’m sure. Mom is so excited about this, she can’t wait. Nine months is an eternity, she says. I don’t know, I think those nine months will pass so quickly, it’s already been almost two.” She smiled, thinking of her mother and how she doted on her whenever she was around. Isabella might not be the grandmotherly type, but she was already easing into it, and Maria could see her mother spoiling her grandchildren whenever she thought Maria didn’t notice. She wanted to address something else though, and her smile faded.

  “Dad, I know Uncle George did some horrible things, and clearly did wrong by you—willingly sacrificing you to achieve his goal, but I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him.” She thought for a moment. “I’m sure you know that he sacrificed himself for all of us. It was an extreme choice, but I know he thought it was the only way to save us. I guess he still saw himself as the leader of our growing community. I think he felt, I don’t know, responsible for whatever happened to all of us, and that he had to do what he did.”

  Thinking of the journey ahead of her, she took a deep breath. “It won’t be easy, but I think I’ll be able to set things straight with the Akhab. They were horrified by what he did, and I have to do my best to help them understand. But how do you explain the use of nuclear weapons to attain peace? It did end the war, though. Finally, Aurora can be the home we dreamed of.” She suddenly felt an impulse to laugh.

  “Maybe this is all nonsense on my part. Perhaps the two of you are sitting together as we speak, talking, dreaming up how this world will look in a hundred years. You were both dreamers, Dad. And your dreams took us so far. That is something no one can take away, no matter how things turned out once we got here.” She looked down at the belly that would soon begin to grow, thinking of her son, and the world he would inherit.

  “Kenneth is doing such a great job, even though he is obviously ill. His vision and leadership helped reunite us, creating a community out of what was broken just a short while ago. And Tina is already planning to explore the other continents.” She smiled. “She was always a step ahead of the rest of us, and while we explore and build Verdi, she will be out there, once again prospecting new lands.” Sharing all of this with her father made her realize how much had actually transpired in this very short period of time.

  “The kids, those who got the parasite, seem okay. Doc Bowers is treating them, and it seems he’s onto a vaccine, as well, so that little Ramon might be able to breathe freely one day, without worrying about losing himself to some… bug.”

  “Well, I guess I have to go back now, Dad. I’m going north to see the Akhab. Besides, I promised I’d cook breakfast before I go. Thomas said he can’t wait to taste my newfound specialty, powdered scrambled eggs and smoked dragon fish. You know how bad a cook I am, so I guess you can tell he loves me.” She chuckled. Then she blew a kiss toward the grave and turned around, ready to head back to the Stronghold.

  That’s when she saw the woman.

  She was tall, slim, with fine features and long black, flowing hair, and moved toward her with graceful steps. She carried a small pack on her back. The woman wore a tight-fitting suit, and Maria thought she shimmered, small specks of light emanating from little dots on her clothing. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, changing colors with every step, from dark purple to shiny black to deep burgundy. And she wasn’t wearing a facemask.

  The woman approached quickly, with sure steps. As she got closer, Maria realized she had never seen her before. Although she didn’t know everyone personally, she knew in her gut she would have remembered this woman.

  Slowly, it dawned on her; this woman was not one of the colonists from the Exodus.

  Maria felt the hairs on her neck rise. There was something calming about the woman, though, and Maria instinctively knew she wasn’t here to hurt her. And yet, the fact that she had neve
r seen her before made her stand completely still, not knowing what to expect. She seemed friendly, from the look on her face, but infinitely foreign.

  “Who are you?” Maria whispered, already knowing the answer would change everything she’d ever taken for granted, everything she’d ever been taught.

  The woman halted in front of her and held up something in front of her mouth as she started speaking. A greeting of sorts; words jumbled at first, before they started making sense. A translation device, Maria thought, learning at lightning speed. The words that came out of her mouth were strange, foreign. The device though, quickly formed them into near perfect English.

  “My name is Shefania Merani, First Analyst of the Seedseeker. I come from a place far far away, and I am delighted to meet you Maariaa Soliis. Long have my people searched for the lost arks carrying Lifebringer’s children, and finally our search is over.” She paused, and Maria tried to make sense of what Shefania’s words meant. Shefania smiled and raised her hand, touching her shoulder.

  “I am here to tell you of your people’s history.”

  Epilogue

  100,000 years BC

  Jurghaan

  Jurghaan was standing with his back to the wrecked lander, staring out at the landscape stretching out in front of him. Grasslands as far as he could see, scattered trees here and there, the sound of a river’s rapid current rushing nearby. The star, Sol they had decided to name it, warmed even now as it kissed the western horizon. A flying creature covered in feathers soared slowly above the plains. Jurghaan knew he was lucky to be alive. Many hadn’t survived, and would never get to see this magnificent view. For that, he was sad, but the sadness couldn’t diminish the euphoria from finally having arrived on the new world.

  He turned and walked back to the landing site. The casualties were being cared for. The dead were buried, and those still alive would be patched up by the medbots, which could even perform more advanced surgery than any human was able to. In the future, things wouldn’t be so easy. Both the AI and the techlab were destroyed in the crash, and with neither facilities nor knowledge of how to repair the drones and bots, a large part of their technology would eventually wear down. And all materials, from electronics to mechanical parts, and even the clothes they were wearing, were designed to dissolve no more than ten years after they were used; that was how they had managed to solve the waste problem back on their home world, when waste and pollution had threatened their environment. In the future, they would just have to do without many of the technologies they were used to— things they had taken for granted. Jurghaan knew life would get rough, especially for the generations to come, but he had a different way of seeing things. Although they would eventually lose the medbots, and much of their advanced technology, he could easily foresee a future where they created their own technology. He even envisioned a future where their descendants returned to the stars, to find the rest of Lifebringer’s children, scattered throughout the universe.

  For now though, they needed to build a settlement and get situated. Although they had at least five years worth of pre-packed food, they still needed to develop some sort of food supply. Then they needed to survey the local resources, establish an energy source, and learn how to survive on this new world. From what he could tell, there should be edible plants and meat abundant nearby, so what they needed to do was learn how to harvest them properly, and hopefully produce some of it themselves.

  He’d known in his heart that this place would feel like home, and he smiled as he walked toward his sister, standing with a group of officers and specialists. They had landed in the eastern part of this continent, where lush planes stretched out in all directions. To the west, he knew there would be a great lake, and he hoped they would be able to go there as soon as they finished building their initial settlement. Who knew what hid beneath all that water. And the oceans! One day, he would sail those seas, stretching for impossible distances, unlike anything he’d ever seen or even imagined back on Lifebringer.

  Oahna and many of the others were concerned about not being able to terraform this planet at all without the weather module. Jurghaan didn’t worry too much about that. The conditions were fine, well within the survivable temperature range. A bit hotter than they were used to, which meant parts of this world would be less than hospitable, but again, nothing they wouldn’t be able to adapt to. The atmosphere was mostly safe, so they would soon be able to breathe freely. The microorganisms in the air were something they would have to get used to gradually. Most would probably become sick from time to time, but by being infected and then healed by the medbots, they would eventually develop a pretty good resistance to the local germs long before the medbots ceased to function.

  “There you are,” his sister said, brow furrowed the way it did when she worried. His little sister was the responsible one; he’d always been more of an adventurer. He smiled at her.

  “Just enjoying the view from the hill. Have you seen it?” he said. She shook her head.

  “No time for that yet, I’m afraid.” She sighed and looked over at the wreckage.

  “We lost so much. Almost a hundred dead, and so much of what we need, gone forever. We have no way to rebuild those things. Not even the library survived the crash landing, the servers burned up before we managed to extinguish the flames.”

  “We don’t even have weapons to protect ourselves. The armory contained everything, and now it’s just a charred wreck,” the leader, Hirwhan, said. He looked worried, as well, Jurghaan thought. He smiled again.

  “But there’s nothing to fear here,” he said. “We are the only intelligent species for light-years.”

  “Let me show you something. One of the drones captured this,” Oahna said, producing her projector and flicking it on. A hologram appeared above it, and Jurghaan saw a beast like nothing he’d ever seen before. It had four feet and a long wagging tail. A deep yellow fur covered its entire body. Around its head, it had a thick brown mane, and once it opened its mouth, he saw a fearsome set of fangs. Then the beast roared, a deep voice, like it was daring the survey drone to step back. The camera zoomed out, and he saw the other beast, the one lying beneath the first, bitten to death, blood soaking the ground. Even the tall, seemingly sharp things sticking out from its head hadn’t saved it.

  “My God, what is that?” he asked. Hirwhan motioned for Oahna to shut it off, as more people had seen, and came over to watch.

  “You’re scaring them,” he said quietly. Then, to Jurghaan, the older man said, “This beast and others are what we face on this seemingly perfect destination. It frightens me, but there has to be some way we can protect ourselves, even without our weapons. We just need to find out how.”

  “Where did this happen?” Jurghaan asked, shocked at the brutality.

  “This?” his sister asked. “Just half a day’s walk north of here. About an hour ago.” His jaw dropped.

  “You mean, this… killer…” she nodded.

  “Yes, this, and others like it.” No one spoke for a moment, and Oahna produced a new image.

  “No use in hiding the truth. If people get scared, so be it. Here’s another local beast. Quite a monster, I’d say.” The image showed a huge creature, with deep gray, almost blue, leathery skin. Jurghaan felt awed by its size, but somehow this creature didn’t scare him like the other one. It looked beautiful, in an odd way. Its head was one of the most curious things he’d ever seen; a small head, relative to the rest of its body, with two large flapping ears, and instead of a nose or snout, it had a long trunk. Beside the trunk, there were two long tusks, probably good for defense against beasts such as the first one.

  “We don’t know any more about this one, so we cannot say whether it is aggressive or not, but if it is, this is one beast I would prefer not to get too close to,” Hirwhan said. Jurghaan nodded. They needed to know more.

  “Let’s make sure we stick together. At least we have the protection of numbers,” he said. The star was setting, and soon the site wou
ld be covered in darkness. They should get some fires going, Jurghaan thought. As they all went on to other tasks, Jurghaan looked up at the darkening sky and saw the moon. This world only had one, and from the surveys they had conducted before landing, they knew it was a dead, dusty place, which didn’t support life. It didn’t even have an atmosphere. But as it became more and more visible, it looked beautiful. It even reflected enough light for them to gain some measure of visibility. As he went on about his tasks, he thought of his mother, Ghaaratha, and the last time they had been together. His and Oahna’s father had been a councilor back home, and hadn’t even been able to come home to say goodbye. He’d been working on the evacuation, which had been the single biggest achievement of their civilization. And the last. In a way, they had beaten nature. Lifebringer would be a dead world by now, if it hadn’t been completely destroyed; the cataclysm of the twin stars converging must have killed everything. Building a thousand arks, which could travel up to near light speed to every corner of the universe was the result of millennia of technological innovation, but also that of a singular purpose through three centuries, and countless personal sacrifices. So even though father had been absent, Jurghaan knew it was an act of love. Here they were, brother, sister, so many of them, still alive, centuries after the death of their home planet, ready to make a new start, to seed this world with humanity.

  Lifebringer was now just a memory, nothing but a dead rock hundreds of light-years away. And though the memory of Lifebringer might fade, all of their stories forgotten in the sea of time, the true legacy of Lifebringer was the fact that they were here. The fact that all over the universe, the seeds of humanity had been sown. Some of these seeds would die, from hostile environments, natural disasters, or evolution taking a wrong turn. But many would thrive and grow, and lay the foundations for new civilizations. And some of those civilizations might, given time, aspire to go beyond their new home worlds.