Day 115 on an Alien World

Book 1: Settler Chronicles

by Jeannette Bedard

Synopsis

A barren world. A crashed colony ship. A saboteur at work.

After a tarnished military record leaves her unable to find work on Earth, Margo is hunting for a fresh start. A colonizing mission heading to a new world creates the perfect opportunity—or at least that's what she thinks.

Strapped into a crashing colony ship, she realizes how wrong she is.

On the ground of their destination planet, the straight forward colonizing mission becomes a scramble for survival. Her new world is harsh and unforgiving. Accidents keep happening. Too many to blame on bad luck alone. The trail of evidence leads Margo to a startling conclusion—one of her fellow colonists is a saboteur.

Tomorrow is the colony's first communications window with Earth and their only chance to send a message home.

With the fate of the colony at stake, will Margo stop the saboteur before it's too late?

This is the first book in the action-packed, four book scifi Settler Chronicles series. If you liked The Expanse series or The Martian, you'll love this book.

Release date: April 2, 2018

Print pages: 362

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

 

Thesan, Day 114 ― 14:21hrs

“Mayday, mayday, mayday.”

Hovering by the colony’s Control Room door, Gary Holbrook kept his eyes glued to the overhead screen as Joan Taggart’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Right engine’s down, left's responding sluggishly. Have to land. Over,” said Joan, sounding infinitely far away—and practically speaking, she was. Out beyond the dome of the colony on Thesan, she was piloting Shuttle 2 with a single passenger, Margo Murphy.

Even though the Control Room had multiple workstations, only one was occupied, by Lucas Ordaz. Acting Commander Craig Spares stood directly behind him. Above, the main monitor displayed Joan’s forward cockpit view of Thesan’s landscape.

The shuttle's flat spin caused the towering spires of rocks to whirl sickeningly, making Gary’s stomach lurch. A moment later, Joan regained control and the shuttle stopped spinning, but it continued to lose altitude. The rough terrain got closer and closer. Craig leaned over Lucas to get a better look at the landscape.

Gary moved from the doorway and into the room towards the main video feed monitor. As one of two doctors in their colony, he felt outside his element, but was also unwilling to leave. He’d been walking past the open doorway when he’d heard the voice of his wife, Margo, over the radio. That morning she'd been all decked out in her atmo suit, but he hadn’t taken the time to ask where she was going.

“There.” Craig pointed to a piece of landscape that, to Gary, looked no different from the rest of the dangerously craggy terrain. Craig picked up the microphone and pressed the transmit button. “Shuttle 2, there’s a flatter region at your 2 o’clock, aim for that. Over.”

“Margo, get your helmet on,” Joan ordered, unaware she was transmitting. “Control, say again about landing site. Over.”

“Your 2 o’clock.”

“They don’t have helmets on,” whispered Gary, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the shuttle’s forward view. All sensors showed Thesan’s atmosphere lacked oxygen. If the shuttle’s hull was compromised, their atmo suits, with the helmets securely on, were all that would keep the two people on the shuttle alive.

“Dr. Holbrook, get ready to receive casualties,” said Craig, without looking away from the monitor.

Is Craig being delusional? Joan and Margo were kilometres away from the colony and their only other shuttle lay trapped beneath a mangled hangar door. A rescue operation was impossible. Gary didn’t move.

The shuttle’s flight pattern grew more erratic, creating the illusion that the pillars of rocks were grabbing at the shuttle with Lovecraftian tentacles. Watching made Gary feel sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t turn away.

A single rock tower loomed in the display. For a split second, the monolith of pock-marked grey consumed the view. Then the display went black and Joan’s life signs from her biotracker winked out. Joan was dead. Gary tensed, expecting Margo’s biotracker monitor to stop transmitting as well, but it remained on.

“Get me visuals,” demanded Craig. Lucas looked down to the secondary screen in front of him and began searching the video feeds. “Margo, can you hear me?” transmitted Craig.

“Her life signs are still strong,” said Gary, his eyes fixed on the line indicating Margo’s rapidly beating heart.

“She must’ve got her helmet on in time.” Lucas leaned closer to read Margo’s suit sensors. “Damn! She only has 25 minutes of air. No, make that 20.” He turned to Craig. “Her suit has a leak. She needs to fix it right away.”

“Margo, do you hear me?” Craig repeated. There was no reply. “Lucas, bring up her helmet cam.”

“It must be damaged. Look.” Lucas switched the main display view. The screen was mostly black with a few patches of smudged light left of centre.

“Try the other cameras.”

Lucas flipped through views until he came to the only working camera. It was in the shuttle’s cargo hold pointing aft. The camera should have showed the shuttle’s interior, but it now pointed at the ominous grey landscape. The back ramp was gone. The over exposed illumination from the brighter of Thesan's two suns washed out the view of the valley floor. On impact the shuttle had been ripped in half and tossed in different directions.

“Margo, respond,” Craig demanded.

The three men waited in silence. Gary closed his eyes as if that would somehow allow the sound of Margo’s voice to crackle reassuringly over the comm system.

“There! Movement,” said Lucas, pointing to the valley floor.

Gary’s eyes flicked opened and he stepped closer to get a better look. Thick gobs of mucilaginous ooze slowly dripped from a moving mass, revealing a human shape. Relief made Gary feel momentarily dizzy. Margo is still alive!

“What? The valley floor is liquid?” asked Craig.

“It shouldn’t be, but I can’t get any details,” said Lucas, his fingers flying on his keyboard. “None of the shuttle’s sensors are working.”

They watched as Margo tried to walk in what looked like shin-deep, syrupy fluid. A thick coat of the mud-like substance clung to her atmo suit. The mud, combined with the bulk of her suit, made her look more like a Sasquatch than a space explorer. She stopped and stood motionless as if debating her next step. Gary could almost hear her air venting away. Do something Margo! As if in answer to his silent plea, she raised her muddy gloved hands and swiped to clear her visor. She was engulfed in mud, but she must have cleared enough to see as she started wading towards the wreckage.

“Ten minutes of air,” said Lucas.

“Margo, respond,” the Acting Commander demanded again.

On the monitor, they watched Margo finally emerge from the sludge and stumble to the shuttle’s aft section.

“There’s no way she’ll find that tear with her suit covered in... whatever that is,” said Lucas, eyeing the sensor readings.

As Margo walked towards the aft section, her form grew larger in the Control Room’s screen. Gary couldn’t see her face under the smeared surface of her helmet, but he assumed the suit’s alarms were warning her about the leaking air. Why isn’t she trying to fix her suit? When her head and shoulders filled the screen, she stopped and stared directly at the camera.

“Five minutes!” said Lucas.

Margo looked down at her control panel on the left arm of her atmo suit, then glanced back up at the camera before turning and stepping out of view.

“Bring up her helmet cam,” snapped Craig to Lucas before activating the comms link. “Margo! Respond!”

Gary’s eyes were fixed in horror on the screen.

Lucas slumped in his seat. “She’s out of air.”

As if on cue, Margo’s life signs winked out.

 

#

Gary turned his back on the Control Room and stepped into the corridor that looped the entire circumference of the Settler III colony. He looked down the empty corridor; 114 days ago, the Loop had been a pristine testament to parallel lines and right angles. Now, skewed doors that were no longer airtight separated crooked and distorted lines. On the wall ahead, just above the red horizontal stripe, a blast of fire had made a pattern reminiscent of a Rorschach inkblot test. From where he stood, it resembled a butterfly rising out of flames.

Like so many others on this disastrous colonizing mission, his wife of only a few months was dead. The mission had been intended for married couples, but couples with appropriate skills couldn’t be found to fill all the colony’s slots. Eight singles had been taken on and matched together. The mission organizers claimed they used personality compatibility algorithms to make the matches, but Gary suspected their decisions were made to conveniently fill the slots.

Gary had expected to be matched with an intellectual, but although she was a scientist, Margo preferred to tinker with things and get dirty rather than spend time getting to know Gary. He and Margo had seemed incompatible from the start. After three months of marriage, he knew little more about her than when they’d first met. He didn’t even know her favourite colour. Blue perhaps?

A flash of shimmering blue drew his attention. He stared in astonishment and even blinked twice, but the anomaly remained. There was a real, live butterfly on this alien world. Margo had to be responsible. In fact, butterflies had been one of the few topics Margo and Gary had discussed. She was an entomologist and they were her specialty. The insect fluttered away from him. Wings open, it glowed an iridescent blue while the underside of its wings were a rich, mottled brown. Gary followed it.

The butterfly led him down the Loop. The painted horizontal stripe changed from red to purple then green before the insect turned a corner towards the outer rim of the colony. With a final shiny flash, it disappeared through the open door―its frame lopsided―of the entomology lab. Margo’s lab. Overgrown greenery seemed intent on escaping into the corridor, with a vanguard of vines already crossing the threshold. He paused in the lush doorway. In the months of their marriage, he’d never bothered to visit Margo in her work space.

Peering into Margo’s lab, Gary was surprised at its size. The space was smaller than the aquaponics and nursery labs, but as a space dedicated to producing their pollinators, it didn’t need to be large. Being tucked away in a dead-end corridor meant it provided privacy. If he’d learned one thing about Margo, it was that she valued privacy.

Gary wiped his hands on his pants. Is entering her lab an intrusion? He supposed it wouldn’t matter, now that she was gone. Perhaps, he’d learn more about the woman he hadn’t taken the time to get to know, and now never could.

He pushed his way past the guardian plants towards the blue butterfly he’d followed. It had landed on a dinner-plate sized leaf a few paces away, as though it was beckoning him to enter. Inside the door, a jungle of lush green greeted him, a sharp juxtaposition to the charred industrial hues of the corridor. Blue butterflies were everywhere, flapping against unseen breezes, hunting for flowers.

Gary filled his lungs with the damp, earthy air—the room felt alive. For the first time since Settler III’s crash, moisture saturated his sinuses. As he looked, remnants of what had once been lab-like order emerged from the jumble of plants. Pots had been placed in neat rows, each sporting a label and a line of plumbing.

Globulous displays of botanical sexuality peaked out beneath their leafy shrouds. Hand-sized, purple flowers vied for space amongst golden, fist-sized fruit. A fuzzy purple fruit that could only be described as Muppet testicles dangled unapologetically on a thick stem. In the corner was a fruit so large Gary didn’t think he would be able to lift it.

As he studied the plants, he realized he couldn’t name a single plant until he spied little pink bananas peaking out under a tuft of broad leaves. At last, something he recognized. Perhaps this plethora of fruit would soon make an appearance on the menu. This far into their mission, they should’ve been producing their own crops, but luck had not been on their side.

The butterfly began fluttering again, following an erratic path between the foliage. Gary followed it to the centre of the room where a huge tank took up all the available space. Inside, several dinner-plate sized fish calmly made rounds of the tank. Why are there fish in Margo’s entomology lab?

Through the clear aluminum wall on the other side of the tank, he glimpsed a gap in the greenery and something red near the floor. Edging between the tank and the plants, he came up to a long potting table. He noticed an antique machine of some kind on its surface, then realized it was a mass spectrometer. How interesting, he thought, then realized he’d never before considered anything about Margo particularly interesting. Strange what being dead did for a person’s capacity to intrigue.

The toe of his boot encountered something under the bench. Kneeling down, he peered underneath. Light from the fish tank illuminated a neatly made bed covered by a thick wool blanket with a red, green and black plaid pattern.

So this is where Margo slept. She’d never slept in their shared quarters, not even on their wedding night. The time she’d been hurt didn’t count, really. The cocoon under the bench was inviting. More inviting than the sterile bunk in their quarters. Crawling in, he lay down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

10:37hrs January 7, 2147 (4 days before mission departure)

“Identification,” demanded the AI in a flat tone.

Gary looked at its simulated face. It was another Nigel, the Conglomerate’s ubiquitous contribution to artificial intelligence. Rumour had it the AI’s facial features were a likeness of the Conglomerate’s CEO Nigel Maximilian West, which, considering that the trillionaire’s ego was boundless, made sense. Gary eyed the boyish face in the kiosk’s screen as he swiped his ID.

“Dr. Gary Holbrook, your identification has been accepted. What is your destination?” Gary knew his shuttle was the only one departing that day, but the AI’s algorithms needed satisfying.

“I’m going to the Settler III. They’re expecting me.” Gary wished he could see into the waiting room beyond.

“You are on the manifest. The shuttle will arrive at 10:45hrs. Have a nice trip.”

With an electronic ping, the gate to the waiting room opened and Gary passed through. The only other occupant in the room stood opposite him looking out the wall of windows. She was slightly taller than average, probably the same height as him. Her curly, shoulder-length hair was the same shade of rusty red as her sweater. She gave no indication that she’d heard him enter.

Gary tuned out the tinny muzak that played over the hidden speakers as he eyed the rows of dingy plastic chairs in the centre of the room. They might once have been a cheery lemon yellow, but the unidentified stains and discarded food wrappers made his skin crawl. Sitting is out of the question. Putting his suitcase down, he wiped his hands on his pants, took a deep breath, and joined the woman at the windows.

“Are you going to the Settler?” he asked turning to study her profile. Up close, her sweater looked hand knit and well worn. Why knit a sweater when one could just be printed? On her feet were scuffed rubber boots. Is that mud on them? Or... something else? He stepped aside half-a-pace, intent on keeping distance between them. There was a rough edge to her and he had the distinct impression she might suddenly do something unpredictable.

“Huh?” She didn’t look at him.

Gary wiped his hands on his pants a second time before turning to gaze out the window. What is holding her so captivated? It was only late morning, yet the particulates in the atmosphere created a yellowish cast like the beginnings of a sunset from centuries ago. Aside from the usual bustle of a shuttle-port, he didn’t see anything of interest. Beyond the fencing, it was bald prairie to the horizon.

“What are you looking at?” asked Gary.

“There at the edge of the tarmac.” She pointed to a scrap of delicate white. “Pieris rapae.”

“A gum wrapper?”

“Cabbage butterfly. I haven’t seen one living outside since I was a kid.”

Gary noticed a crack in the tarmac with a small patch of greenery poking out. There the butterfly fluttered from weed to weed. Had the woman not identified it, he would’ve assumed it was an animated gum wrapper being tossed about in a breeze.

“You must be the entomologist,” he said, glancing at her hands. Each fingernail sported an unappealing crescent of dirt. She still hadn’t looked at him, but he decided that, when she did, he wouldn’t offer to shake her hand.

“And you’re Gary Holbrook. Linda said we’d be travelling up together.” She finally turned to him and smiled.

Her face was symmetrically oval and covered with so many freckles they merged together. They would be so easy to remove by laser, and hardly painful at all. Her looks are non-standard, but she isn’t ugly.

The Nigel AI announced the arrival of a shuttle a moment before the bulbous-nosed spacecraft swooped down in front of them. The woman turned back to the window, watching the tiny butterfly as it was buffeted out of sight by the spacecraft’s exhaust.

“Looks like our ride is here,” she said in a mournful tone, crossing her arms against her chest.

Gary studied the spacecraft. Everything about it screamed utility—including its uniformly matte grey and the unimaginative ‘Shuttle 2’ stencilled on the side. But there was nothing utilitarian about the dark-haired woman who emerged from it when the side door opened.

The woman held herself like a dancer, managing to look elegant in her standard issue slate grey uniform with a purple patch on the right shoulder. She strode gracefully across the tarmac. Even from a distance Gary could see that this woman had the same ethereal beauty as his ex-wife. When the woman entered the waiting room, she smiled and for a moment Gary forgot about their unsanitary surroundings.

“Ah, now we’ll have a matched set.” Her enunciation was as perfect as her teeth.

“You’ve met my brother, I assume.” Gary returned her smile as he, without hesitation, extended his right hand to shake hers. Neil, Gary’s twin and also a medical doctor, had been part of the Settler III mission since its inception. “I’m Gary.”

“Linda Spares,” she said, shaking his hand. Then he noticed her wedding ring. That’s disappointing.

“Doesn’t having twins on a colonizing mission reduce genetic diversity?” challenged the other woman. Gary took a small side step to keep from touching her as she walked closer. Did she notice his reaction to Linda?

“Margo!” Linda stepped forward and hugged her. “I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

“You always were persuasive,” replied Margo, with a smile.

“You two know each other?” Gary was surprised. Linda’s refined grace was a polar opposite to Margo’s grubbiness.

“Let’s chat in the shuttle. Settler III’s Commander is expecting you two,” Linda said, without answering Gary’s question.

“Hang on.” Margo turned and retrieved a backpack with ‘Murphy’ stencilled on it, picked up a potted plant and a large grey case. The case was labelled: ‘warning: live bees, do not open.’ As Gary reflexively took a step away, he realized it was the second time in as many minutes he’d done that with this woman. Something about her rubs me the wrong way.

Linda took the potted plant. “Another banana sapling? You always seem to be growing bananas.”

Margo looked down at the plant and shrugged. “Growing them is kinda my thing. Did the rest arrive okay?”

“Of course.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Let’s go.” Linda gestured for them to follow her. Gary picked up his small case and hurried after them onto the tarmac as Linda continued to speak over her shoulder. “My best piece of advice for the two of you is never keep our Commander waiting.”

Gary looked up at the sky. Today was the first time he’d be travelling off world and the last time he’d stand on this dusty planet. It wasn’t too late. He could still go back to his old life. Being the first to colonize a new world isn't my idea of a good time. Neil is the one with those aspirations. My little brother is full of grand plans, but he still needs someone to watch over him.

“You coming or what?” asked Linda. Gary realized he’d stopped.

“Sorry, yes,” he said, catching up with the two women as they entered the shuttle. As soon as he stepped inside, Linda pulled the door shut.

The shuttle’s interior was as bare and functional as the exterior. The pilot and co-pilot were seated in the two seats up front. Behind them were two bench seats against the exterior walls. The only colour in the space was the red webbing of the harnesses meant to restrain the passengers. In the centre of the shuttle was enough space to park a small rover. Near the ramp at the back were racks of drawers, presumably containing everything a terraformer needed. It was miles from the first-class cabin he’d enjoyed on his flight from Cape Town.

Linda and Margo sat beside each other, still rattling on about bananas. Linda kept the plant on her lap while Margo strapped the crate of bees and her backpack into the spare seat beside her. Gary glanced behind him at the door as if considering escape, then took a seat across from the women, carefully buckling himself in. He held his case on his lap.

“Joan, we’re ready to go,” Linda called to the pilot. The pilot turned to look at them, the white of her teeth gleaming against her dark skin as she gave a thumbs up before turning to her controls. Linda turned back to Margo. “Craig said he found you farming butterflies in a ratty old greenhouse.”

“Rich people’ll pay a lot to decorate their enclosed gardens with real butterflies.”

“I would’ve thought growing food would be more lucrative.”

“Couldn’t get a water permit,” said Margo.

The shuttle’s engines whined as they took off, drowning out the rest of Linda and Margo’s conversation. Gary looked over his shoulder, watching the yellow sky recede first to orange then a lovely indigo. As they reached orbit, distant stars came into view. As the pull of gravity ebbed away, butterflies formed in Gary’s stomach.

“First time off world?” asked Linda, noticing Gary’s discomfort.

Gary turned his head too fast and his breakfast threatened to reappear. He swallowed and nodded. I should have taken anti-nausea meds. He moved his head more slowly as he turned to watch the stars, willing himself not to get sick. At least it wasn’t going to be a long flight.

Soon, Settler III came into view. His new home. In stark contrast to the shuttle, the enormous colonizing ship was a modern, glossy white. Its massive, rotating ring produced gravity for its pioneering inhabitants. A series of spokes on the inside of the ring converged on a egg-shaped structure at the centre—the Centre Module, Gary assumed. Neil had mentioned how it would be jettisoned before arrival. Shifting his gaze to the entire structure, Gary agreed with Neil’s assessment that the colony ship had an elegant, state-of-the-art appearance.

“We’ll get towed up to speed on this side of the wormhole,” said Linda.

Gary knew about how the wormhole worked. Kind of. It was their communication link to Earth, but it was only available to them once every five months. Neil had told him that they would still be in stasis during that first comms window, which happened roughly thirty days before reaching Thesan. But four months after their arrival, they would have a sixteen-hour communication window with Earth. Granted, it would have a 30-minute delay, but still. Not bad for being in another solar system. And those communications windows would also serve as their emergency exit. They could call for a rescue if the crew unanimously voted for it. A thought Gary found reassuring.

He turned his attention back to Linda as she continued to explain details about Settler III.

“On the other side, we have a disposable reactor for our deceleration. It’s part of the Centre Module.” She pointed to the egg shape. “The other part of the module is an algal generator to help with oxygen production along with an emergency habitat space and storage. Oh, and the mini-satellite system is in there.”

“Hmm,” said Gary, hoping Linda didn’t clue in to the fact that her explanation was Greek to him. He saw Margo staring at him, and looked back out the window.

“Don’t worry, our ship is the same design as the first two Settler missions. Everything went smoothly for them,” said Linda.

“Including the space crane landing?” Gary asked. His brother had explained how the ship would become their colony once they arrived at Thesan. Neil’s description had sounded more fantastical than practical. Linda didn’t hear him as she’d turned back to Margo.

Upon approach, the shuttle pilot matched Settler III’s spin as huge doors yawned open on the colony ship’s side. When the shuttle crossed the threshold, Gary felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as full gravity returned. He closed his eyes and swallowed the bile that threatened to erupt, reminding himself that he wanted to be doing this. Neil was his only family. Joining him on this mission was for the best. But why does my little brother want to emigrate to a new world? Thankfully, the shuttle came to a gentle stop beside its twin and the hangar door closed behind them.

“They’ll cycle in air now,” said Linda as she unbuckled and stood, keeping a firm grip on the plant.

Gary unbuckled as well, and saw Margo doing the same for herself and her luggage. After a moment the shuttle door automatically opened and Linda waved them out ahead of her. Carrying his suitcase, Gary stepped onto the deck, hoping no one noticed the slight tremble in his legs. The inside airlock door was open, revealing the rest of the hangar―a functional space full of recently off-loaded cargo stacked in front of racks of tools.

“Can’t keep the Commander waiting,” said Linda, shifting her grip on the potted banana. She herded the newcomers out the door. “You’ll get the full tour later. Just to orientate you, this is the main corridor, which we call the Loop.”

Gary looked around. The corridor was wide enough the three of them could walk side-by-side with room to spare, and there was a horizontal red stripe, a hand’s width thick, at the height of his hip. In the gently curving walls and uniformly illuminated ceiling, Gary started to see the meticulous design his brother had spoken of so highly.

“Why the Loop you ask?” Linda had clearly given this tour before and anticipated their questions before they even had a chance to verbalize them. “Well, the Settler III is a ring—you likely saw that from the shuttle as we were approaching. This corridor is the main connection between all the parts. If you keep walking in one direction, you’ll end up where you started.”

Margo slowed as she edged over to the wall and ran a finger along the single red band.

“This is the Control Centre,” said Linda, leading them into a room full of video screens and work stations. Three of the work stations were occupied with people who didn’t even look up as they entered. The focal point of the room was a large screen suspended from the ceiling displaying a view of Earth. Beyond it was a wall of clear glass, separating them from a room of servers and other computer equipment.

Linda lead them to the right and stopped at a closed door. “This is the only access to the Commander’s office.” She pushed the call button and waited.

“Come,” said a voice from within.

“See you guys later,” whispered Linda, pushing the potted plant back into Margo’s hands before backing away with an encouraging wave and a smile.

For a moment Gary and Margo stood without glancing at each other. Then, Margo exhaled and used her elbow to push the button to open the door. Side-by-side, the two of them stepped through the opening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Subdued lighting and monochromatic wall hangings lent the Commander’s office a calming vibe. Gary was surprised at the elegance of the space, considering their Commander was a former Moon-Earth ferry captain. Her office had no windows, removing any cues they were in space. Gary half expected to be able to walk out of the room into a zen garden instead of the utilitarian Control Centre beyond.

Their mission leader sat in the centre of the room behind a bird’s-eye maple desk so delicately constructed it would only suit someone of the Commander’s diminutive stature. Every tendril of her black hair was swept into a perfect twist. When her guests entered, she looked up from the her scroll’s screen, the same flexible computer each crew member was provided, that lay on her desk. The Commander smiled.

“Dr. Holbrook and Dr. Murphy, please come in and take a seat.” She waved to the two celadon upholstered stools in front of her desk, their grey-green tone reminding Gary of old Chinese pottery.

Gary first set his case down by the door and then moved into the room and took the proffered seat. Backpack on and seemingly unwilling to relinquish either the plant or case of bees, Margo took all her items with her to sit on the other stool.

“I’m Ikue Hori, commander of the first phase of the Thesan colony.” Her uniform was immaculate from her recently polished boots to the blood red patch on her right shoulder. This was a woman who clearly liked everything to be just so.

“I’m pleased to be here.” Gary looked the Commander in the eye and hoped his words rang true. Gary knew that the first phase involved their Settler III crew colonizing Thesan, and then once the colony was stable, more colonists would come.

“Ditto,” said Margo as she looked around the room.

Gary hoped his eyebrows didn’t raise in judgmental alarm at Margo’s word choice. Is this woman not educated?

“Good, let’s move on. I assume you both saw the vids about the first two Settler missions to Nak, a planet, and to Geb, the first moon circling a mini-Neptune. Their solar systems are nowhere near our destination, but otherwise the Thesan mission will be the same—setting up a colony where we’ll build dome greenhouses and begin terraforming.”

“This mission comes with autonomy. If we are successful in setting up a colony, we become our own entity separate from any Earth-based governance and The Conglomerate. Liberty in the colonies is one of the major motivations for people to go on a colonizing mission, especially considering how oppressive Earth’s governments have become to keep the planet habitable. As you both know, wars have been fought over access to basic resources.”

Gary nodded. Neil, on Settler III somewhere, had explained this to him already.

“To get to Thesan, we’ll be passing through the wormhole at the Earth-Sun L5 Lagrangian point. Settler III is elegant in design, but still a big cumbersome beast, so getting to Thesan is going to take us seven months. Since the Gen-2 Stasis Pods are so efficient, the crew will be put in stasis for the voyage.”

“Question,” said Margo.

Gary had the distinct impression that if her hands had been free, she would have raised her arm like a child of ten in a schoolroom.

“Go ahead.”

“Are we certain there isn’t already life on Thesan? Not even single celled amoebas?”

“Yes, Dr. Murphy, we are. Let me show you.” The Commander took a cube from a drawer and put it on the desk. She pushed a button and the cube produced a holographic projection of a planet above the cube.

Margo and Gary both leaned forward to look more closely at the slowly spinning projection. The sphere was almost uniformly grey with a dark band circling the planet’s surface at the equator

“That’s Thesan.”

“Why does everything need to be named after ancient gods?”

The Commander ignored Margo’s question, although for the first time Gary was mildly intrigued.

“Thesan is an excellent terraforming candidate. It’s larger than Earth, but less dense, so gravity will be about the same. It has an atmosphere with Earth-like pressure. Temperatures are consistently below zero, but not so far below that we can’t warm it up by creating a greenhouse effect. Although the surface is mostly rubble without many geological features, the probe reported extensive water deposits at an accessible depth beneath the surface. All told, this planet is the perfect starting point for our colony.”

“What’s the dark band?” Margo pointed at the equator.

“It’s a ridge with peaks exceeding 15 km. The current theory is Thesan once had a ring that collapsed onto the surface.”

“And two suns?” Margo pointed to the edge of the projection. The Commander zoomed out to show the rest of the solar system.

“Helios is the main star in this system. Another, smaller star, called Sol, is in an offset orbit. Due to the odd orbits of the two stars, at mid-latitudes, Thesan never experiences a true night. We won’t be getting any starry nights.”

“What about other nearby planets?” asked Margo.

“Thesan is the fourth planet out from the sun. Orbiting with the worm-hole is a pair of planets tidally locked together. Next is an Earth-sized planet with a thick gas atmosphere. Then there’s a mini-Neptune with a pantheon of moons. It’s theorized there must be more planets further out. The full report is in the archive.”

Margo nodded and Gary suspected she would read the report later. The Commander deactivated the projection and put the cube away.

“Since both of you are last-minute additions to our mission, your brother will orientate you, Dr. Holbrook.” Gary nodded. “And Dr. Murphy, you’ve been assigned your own lab. Our AI can direct you there. Hopefully, you can do something with that.” The Commander gestured in mild distaste at the potted plant.

“Thanks,” said Margo.

“And Dr. Murphy, as you’ve volunteered to cross-train in the engineering department, as soon as you’re settled, you can contact Mr. Hawkes, our chief engineer.”

“Okay,” said Margo, shifting the plant on her lap.

“We depart in four days, so you’ll need to get oriented rather quickly.” The Commander looked down at her scroll as though she was checking items off her list. She tapped the screen with a finger.

“Dr. Murphy, before I forget, your request to add butterflies to your insect manifest was not approved. The butterfly eggs and cocoons you sent with your other lab materials and equipment were denied entry. Our terraforming protocol has already been established, and introducing new, unplanned species will only create problems.”

The Commander kept her gaze fixed on Margo.

“But...” Margo protested.

“I expect you to accept this decision.”

Margo looked down and shifted the plant again. “Fine.”

“On to our final piece of business. The media circus expects twenty-five smiling, happy couples to begin courageously spreading humanity to a new world.” The Commander stood. Putting both her hands on the desk, the petit woman managed to loom over the two of them. “We are going to uphold that expectation. Most of our crew are already married, but there were a few positions we couldn’t fill with couples, so eight single people have been accepted. A compatibility algorithm has matched the two of you.”

What? Gary glanced over at Margo but she had turned to look at the wall hangings beside her. He knew he’d be matched to marry someone, but it hadn’t dawned on him that it would be this grubby butterfly farmer. For a brief moment at the shuttle-port, he’d hoped it was Linda, but her ring had put an end to that brief fantasy. What computer algorithm could possibly make this unrefined individual my ideal match?

“I expect you to participate in a broadcasted wedding ceremony with smiles on your faces. Once we leave orbit, your relationship can be as you define it. The only caveat is, I don’t want the two of you to disrupt the harmony of the rest of the crew. And there is an expectation that all the original colonists will procreate—however, that can be accomplished through alternative means.”

“I understood this would be the expectation when I joined,” repeated Gary, glancing down at his perfectly manicured hands. Not for the first time he wondered if sticking with his brother was the best course. All his other family was gone, Neil and his wife Amanda were all the family he had. It was not too late. He could still return to his practice in Cape Town. Can't I? Neil had a habit of getting in over his head. Who would bail him out if Gary was not there? I have to go.

“And you Dr. Murphy?”

Margo met the Commander’s gaze, but she seemed to deliberately avoid looking at Gary. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Good. Take some time to get to know each other. I’ll perform the weddings on the eve of our departure.” The Commander looked down at her scroll and began swiping through screens.

Gary eyed Margo. He had three days to decide if he could tolerate her.

“That will be all,” Commander Hori said without looking up. Gary and Margo stood and left the office.

 

Back on the Loop, Gary decided to break the silence between them. But what can I say to this stranger I'm about to marry?

“So, what’s your favourite insect?” Gary suppressed a wince at the juvenile question he’d blurted out. Normally he considered himself an excellent conversationalist.

Margo was silent for a moment as she looked down the Loop. He watched her profile as she jostled her items so that she could tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

“Butterflies,” she said, without turning her head. “More specifically, morpho butterflies. I spent years studying how they were responding to the changing habitat of Costa Rican cloud forests.”

“Why morpho butterflies?”

“Because of their colour. I love the flash of blue they make when they open their wings.” As she turned to meet his gaze, her face became softer as though she might smile, although she didn’t. “They’re so ethereal, their beauty is so fleeting. Their entire lifespan is only 115 days.”

As she flicked her head to toss her hair away from her face, a mark on her neck caught his attention.

“What’s this?” He reached out a hand and lifted her hair from her neck to reveal a port-wine stain birthmark as large as his hand. She jerked away, her hair falling back into place and covering the mark. “There’s equipment on board to remove that,” he volunteered helpfully. And he knew how to use it. His ex-wife was a woman who’d fixed all her imperfections, real or imagined. Too bad she didn’t try to fix the flaws on the inside.

Margo was frowning. “I’m not aiming to be a super model,” she snapped.

“I was just suggesting...”

“Well don’t,” she said. Turning away from him, she started walking away.

He didn’t follow. He knew when to take a hint and disappear. Disgruntled, he went in the opposite direction down the Loop.

#

Thesan, Day 114 — 15:13hrs

Bringing himself back to the present, Gary looked around Margo’s lab from where he reclined on her makeshift bed under the potting table. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the view resembled a jungle back on Earth. To one side, the fish tank filtered the bright grow lights, creating undulating patterns of light and dark. Every now and then a fish swam up and looked at him before moving on. Further out, morpho butterflies flashed the iridescent blue side of their wings as they flitted between the verdant vegetation.

Above his head was a grid of metal supporting the underside of the potting bench. It looked like Margo used the hide-away space to store a few things. Reaching up, he pulled out a packet that contained two printed photos, a thin book and a well-worn notebook. The book was a tired copy of R. Buckminster Fuller’s Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth. Gary flipped through the pages and found it full of penciled in notes. In his mind, such desecration of a honest-to-god paper book was a crime that deserved a special place in hell. The penciled writing was tiny, almost illegible, so he closed the book and looked at the photos instead.

The first was of a group of five soldiers posing in the desert. In the centre, Craig, now the Acting Commander, sported a wide grin. There was nothing surprising about that. Everyone knew Craig had been recruited from the military. The big surprise was the identity of the soldier beside him―Margo. Even more surprising, she was smiling. In the few months he’d known her, he’d rarely seen her smile, and never like that.

The second photo showed a family standing amongst huge trees, two adults and a child of about eight years of age holding a chicken. From the wild hair and birthmark, the child had to be Margo. The family trio were all smiling as though they’d just shared a joke. Gary understood why Margo would have treasured this photo as it was a sentimental moment long past, although he wondered why she hadn’t framed it and hung it in a prominent place in her lab, or in their home.

He put the two photos and book back into their hiding place under the bench. Then he flipped open the notebook. It was Margo’s journal, handwritten in clear, legible script.