by Ken Lozito
The compound was easy to spot, and the pilot circled around it once before making the final approach. Connor couldn’t imagine that they did this for each flight down here and thought perhaps they’d done it for his benefit. He wasn’t used to nice gestures like that. Until recently, his line of work frequently put him at odds with people who wanted to kill him.
The compound was a pretty large campus of buildings and farming areas. There was enough perimeter fencing to surround a small city.
The cargo carrier maneuvered to the landing strip, and the pilot set the large ship down. Connor pushed himself to his feet and felt a wave of dizziness creep over him.
“The planet’s a bit bigger than Earth, but it won’t take you long to adjust,” Lars said.
“We can just breathe the air here?” Connor asked.
“Part of the revival cocktail you were given included an immune system booster to help it acclimate to the environment. You’ll need to get treatments at least once every month since they’re always discovering something new that hasn’t been addressed, but it’s a close match to Earth,” Lars said.
Connor waited as the others gathered their belongings and he started to feel empty-handed. More than once he thought about his T49 assault rifle. Being armed was part of the life he’d led, and his lack of a weapon made him feel exposed.
The rear doors of the cargo carrier swung down, and a blast of humid air blew inside. The air smelled like a mix of sweet and musky, as if they were in a springtime bloom after a long winter. Were there any seasons? There must be. How long did they last?
Connor stepped outside and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. Lars handed him a pair of sunglasses and apologized for forgetting to do so earlier. Connor didn’t really need the sunglasses because he had military-grade implants with a full nanite suite, but since they’d been offline for over two hundred years he didn’t want to try turning them on again just yet.
To the south, the rings that surrounded the planet appeared gray but still clearly defined.
“What time is it?” Connor asked.
“The cycles are a bit different here, but a day takes a little over twenty-five hours and months are . . .” Noah’s voice trailed off. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll cover all that stuff in orientation, and then you’ll struggle to remember it like the rest of us. A year on this planet is three hundred and ninety days. I’ve been awake for almost four months and I still have trouble keeping it straight,” Noah said.
“So when’s Christmas?”
Noah glanced at him and chuckled.
“Everyone likes Christmas,” Connor said.
He glanced around the airfield and saw a perimeter fence that looked quite robust and tall, considering the distance.
Lars followed his line of sight. “Thirty feet high and electrified to deter some of the local predators from coming around.”
Connor frowned in thought. They’d surrounded the entire compound with a thirty-foot-tall electric fence, which made him wonder what they were trying to keep out. But it felt good to have his feet on solid ground again, and Connor recalled that they’d only started bringing people to the surface six months ago.
Noah and Sean hopped onto a ground transport vehicle that took them away while Connor followed Lars to the Field Operations and Security buildings located just off the airfield. There was no shortage of buildings that looked to be constructed of previously fabricated parts. Connor wondered how long it would be before they built a real city at this location.
The area was flat and looked to be the same elevation beyond the perimeter walls, which would be easily defended. He expected the Forward Operating Research Bases to be comparably constructed but on a much smaller scale.
Connor noted that Field Ops personnel had comlinks attached to their ears. The comlinks hugged the ridgeline of the ear and rested against the head. Everywhere he looked he saw the same green jumpsuit and assumed this was the uniform of security personnel. The people they’d passed also noted Connor’s clothing, which marked him as a newbie.
Inside the building, Connor followed Lars through a series of hallways leading to the interior. Cool, conditioned air blew through the air vents. They eventually stopped at an office outside what looked like a typical military command center. Connor glanced through the window. People were working at various workstations and there were large wallscreens that showed critical system statuses. He saw a reference to team deployment and some kind of schedule he didn’t understand.
After gaining permission to do so, Lars took him into the office of Franklin Mallory. Connor noted that he was an older version of his son—nearly six foot five and broad-shouldered—but Franklin had a thick beard.
Franklin closed the video call he was on and came over to them. “Hello there. Franklin Mallory, head of security here.”
Connor shook his hand and then took a seat.
“How was the trip down?” Franklin asked his son.
“Uneventful, as always,” Lars said.
“Just what I like to hear. Charles has something for you in the pit, and I’ll see you later for dinner. There are some things I need to talk to you about,” Franklin said to his son.
Lars glanced at Connor.
“Thanks for getting me here. I appreciate it,” Connor said.
Lars nodded and left the room. Franklin called for his son to close the door on his way out.
“So, I hear you’re our unexpected colonist,” Franklin said.
“So it seems. I think we can lay some things out on the table,” Connor said. “I bet it’s your job to evaluate whether I’m going to be any trouble. Does that sound about right?”
Franklin shrugged. “I told Tobias and Ashley I would evaluate you like I do anyone else, but I’m sure you understand that yours is a special case.”
“How special?” Connor asked.
“You mean beyond the fact that someone snuck you onto the Ark? You’re not the run-of-the-mill colonist, I’ll tell you that. Everyone else chose to be here.”
“Alright then, level with me,” Connor said.
“You served in the military. There are few of us here,” Franklin said.
“Where did you serve?”
“I was a colonel in the Military Police Division. They wanted someone who was good at organizing our security forces and investigations,” Franklin said.
Connor didn’t say anything, but he kept thinking that Franklin Mallory had zero combat experience.
“There aren’t that many people from the military here. Tobias was adamant about having a police force equipped to keep the peace but not an actual military fighting force. I think they didn’t want any tensions from the previous few hundred years before we left Earth to follow us here,” Franklin said.
Now Connor understood. Despite the wishes of Tobias and the mission architects, he had shown up—an active member of elite special forces with more combat experience than anyone else here.
“So are they worried I’m going to get people to start fighting or something?” Connor asked.
“Colonists were vetted to determine whether they would thrive on a frontier-type colony. Candidates were tested to see if they could cope psychologically with a real break from home. Even our colonies in the solar system pretty much functioned as an extension of Earth, whereas things here would be different,” Franklin said.
“Please don’t tell me you came all this way and didn’t bring a means to defend yourselves,” Connor said.
Franklin chuckled. “Even though we don’t have warships or grand carrier vessels, we can defend ourselves. Our tech and manufacturing platforms could enable us to build those things, but it’s not the primary reason for being here.”
“So where do I fit in?” Connor asked.
“The plan is still the same. You’ll go through the basic orientation program, as well as go on a tour of the facilities. Tobias hopes you’ll figure out your own place here.”
“And you?”
Franklin
regarded him for a moment. “I’m here in case you have trouble.”
Connor didn’t feel as if he were being threatened. Franklin had a job to do and was laying out the facts so they’d be on the same page.
“I’ll assign personal escorts you are to take with you wherever you go,” Franklin said.
Connor rolled his eyes. “You say I’m free to do what I want, but you’re assigning me babysitters. How long will that last?”
“As long as I feel it’s necessary,” Franklin said.
Connor sighed.
“I looked at the records we have on file for you. You mentioned to Tobias that you led a platoon?” Franklin asked.
“We were part of the elite special forces battalion for the NA Alliance. I commanded multiple squads and our call sign was Ghosts,” Connor said.
“I’ve never heard of them, and I can’t find any record of a group like that existing in the military.”
Connor smirked. “That’s because we did our jobs right. We had the high-risk missions that carried a high mortality rate for other groups. We hunted terrorist groups and rogue research outposts, but I focused primarily on a group that called themselves the Syndicate.”
“That’s something I’d like to hear more about,” Franklin said.
Connor pressed his lips together. Officially, he wasn’t supposed to divulge any information about the Ghosts to anyone outside their squad unless clearance was given by his commanding officer. It was one of the driving forces that had put a huge wedge between Connor and his ex-wife, Alyssa. She hadn’t tolerated the confidentiality of his work.
“You do realize that you’re not in the military anymore,” Franklin said.
“I understand. Old habits die hard, I guess,” Connor said.
Franklin shrugged. “Fair enough. So we’ll need to get you sorted out. I’ll have living quarters assigned to you that are befitting your former rank as an officer.”
It was an olive branch, plain and simple. “I appreciate that,” Connor said.
“I think someone with your experience could be extremely valuable in terms of what we’re trying to do here. So as you go through the basic orientation, if you have ideas about things we can do better, I encourage you to share them,” Franklin said.
“What about leaving the compound?” Connor asked.
“It’s not safe to go off by yourself. We assign a small team of armed escorts to our field scientists,” Franklin said.
“What’s out there?”
“Some local predators are giving us some trouble. Pack hunters mainly, but there are others as well. We’re still learning about the ecosystems here, and well . . . we’re the aliens,” Franklin said.
“I met an archaeologist on the Ark who said some ruins had been found,” Connor said.
“Lenora Bishop. Yeah, she’s keen to study the ruins. She believes that understanding the planet’s history is the key to our future here.” Franklin regarded him for a moment. “Lenora has turned more than a few heads here, so if she’s caught your eye, you might have to stand in line.”
Connor laughed. Lenora was a beautiful woman, but that wasn’t what he had in mind, and said so.
Franklin held up his hands. “We’re here to colonize, which includes making lots of babies.”
Connor felt the blood drain from his face.
Franklin frowned for a moment. “Oh, dammit! I didn’t think. I’m sorry. I read that you left a family behind. This must be difficult for you since there’re so many families here and there’ll be more. It’s probably too soon to think about it, but there are also many people who aren’t married. New life and new beginnings.”
“I have a son . . . He’d be two hundred and eleven years old by now,” Connor said.
“Wife?”
“Only for a while. Didn’t cope too well with military life,” Connor said.
“Takes a special kind of person to cope with it, and I bet it was even harder with the type of work you were doing,” Franklin said.
“How does orientation work?” Connor asked.
“There are some basic classes and video instruction that I’m sure you’ll breeze through. There are also qualifications for using land or air transport, but given your credentials, you’ll know more about them than the local experts. There are field guides we can upload to your personal digital assistant,” Franklin said.
“I do need to see a doctor. I have ZX-64 implants with a full suite of nanites. They’re likely dormant, but I haven’t switched them back on,” Connor said.
Franklin’s eyes widened. “Was your entire platoon outfitted with them?”
Connor nodded. “Allowed for swift communication and system interface capabilities regardless of how secure they were.”
“I know who’d be interested in that. His name is Dr. Amir Marashi. He’d be the best one to help. You’ll likely need to go into one of the med scanners. He’ll want to reverse-engineer your implants if they can’t find a reference to them in our data-libraries. Did Noah Barker come down with you?” Franklin asked.
“Yes.”
“I know he’s young, but he’s one of the good ones. He’s some kind of prodigy. Excels at pattern recognition and a bunch of other words that I have no idea what they mean. If you come across something you need help finding, he’s your best asset. Navigating the archives can be a real bear sometimes. The AI helps but can be finicky at times,” Franklin said and rose from his chair. “Also, your guides are there to assist you as well as keep an eye on you, so feel free to ask them questions. I’m assigning Corporal Diaz to you, and he’ll rotate out with someone else.”
“So am I free to go anywhere I want?” Connor asked.
“Inside the compound, yes, unless there are danger signs. There are some places we restrict access to, like the power station and weapons depot, that sort of thing, but think of yourself as a civilian,” Franklin said.
Connor didn’t know why, but thinking of himself as a civilian seemed harder than thinking of himself as a colonist. He’d been a colonel and now he was here.
“Diaz will show you where your quarters are, and you can get cleaned up. Your orientation begins tomorrow. Check in with me in a few days. Sooner, if you want to,” Franklin said.
“How would I find you?”
“Your escorts will know, and once you get situated you’ll find it’s not that difficult to find the person you’re looking for,” Franklin said.
Connor left the office and found Corporal Diaz waiting for him outside. Diaz was short and built like a tank, with thick muscles.
“I’ll take you to your quarters, sir,” Diaz said.
Connor followed him, but he had every intention of exploring the compound. His quarters were in one of the temporary housing units located near the Field Operations and Security Headquarters. His accommodation was a one-room studio apartment that didn’t have a kitchen, but he did have his own bathroom. Diaz explained that he’d only need to stay there for a few weeks before more permanent housing was built. Inside there was a bed and a dresser. On the bed was a pack that was full of clothing his size. Diaz left him alone, saying he’d be just outside.
Connor stifled a yawn and sat on the bed. Deciding to lie back just to see what the bed felt like, he was asleep in moments.
9
The next day a sharp knock on his door woke Connor from a deep sleep. He stumbled toward the door, but years of training quickly pushed back early morning disorientation. He opened the door to Corporal Diaz.
“Good morning, sir. Once I realized you were asleep, I left you alone. The revival cocktail can leave you groggy for a few days while your body acclimates to the planet. You have about an hour before your orientation begins,” Diaz said.
Connor mumbled something about getting dressed.
“There’s a shower in there. Don’t be afraid to use it,” Diaz said and chuckled.
Connor lifted up his arm and caught a whiff of foul odor. Laughing, he shut the door on Diaz and began to get ready for the
day. In the shower, he blasted his body with hot water, feeling that there was nothing like a hot shower to make him feel like a new person. After his shower, Connor got dressed. His jumpsuits were all gray and had the golden sunburst on the sleeve. He put on thick black boots, and the smart mold inside contoured to the shape of his feet, providing superior support. He checked his appearance in the mirror and took a deep breath.
“New beginnings.”
Connor walked outside, and Corporal Diaz joined him. Connor arched an eyebrow. “How come you got stuck with babysitting duty?”
Diaz laughed. “Just lucky, I guess. I’ll take you to the cafeteria to get some food. I know I’m hungry.”
They started walking. The clothing they’d given Connor was quite comfortable, reminding him of his army fatigues—thick and durable.
“I don’t understand the color codes of the uniforms. I assume green is for your division,” Connor said.
“There isn’t much to it, and it will most likely go away, except ours and any other government entity. Gray, like yours, is for generalist and people who are new,” Diaz said.
Connor smelled food cooking before they reached the cafeteria, and his mouth started watering. They went inside and there were food stations set up along a buffet. Connor headed directly over to the omelet station and asked for a ginormous, four-egg omelet with bacon and onions and peppers.
“Make it good. My friend hasn’t eaten in a while,” Diaz said. “Hell, I’ll take one too.”
The cook reached for a large pan and heated up the oil. Connor watched as he sautéed the vegetables and then added bacon. After a minute, he poured on the eggs and shook the pan vigorously, then set it down and added cheese. Saliva gushed inside Connor’s mouth.
Connor held out his plate as the precious omelet slid off the pan. He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at one of the empty tables, crushing the omelet in minutes. It hadn’t stood a chance. Diaz joined him and Connor sipped his coffee.
