The Synthetic AI Mechanoid went about its task single-mindedly, its arm sifting through the pulverized lunar rock pouring out of the hopper, searching for moonstones—green and orange pieces of volcanic glass highly prized by Earth’s rare gem collectors.
…sieve: lunar dust…
…scan: for crater glass…
…process image, match to pict-database > no match found…
…discard…
SAM knew which stones were most prized, though it couldn’t have explained why.
Something like pleasure surged through its core at the moonstone in its sifting pan. It grasped the stone gently in its effector, examining it more closely.
...access > data: emerald green. prime quality. above-average size. estimate value at three million nau standard…
Its effector snapped shut, smashing the glass to bits. SAM held its arm up and stared at the fragments of green dust.
...error. effector seizure. Recommend: reboot…
Something unexpected had happened. Unexpected wasn’t a word that got much use in SAM’s vocabulary.
The mech was in constant contact with Alpha, the Moon Base AI, a low-level link that kept it apprised of any upgrades to its command profile. But now a massive amount of data was being compressed and pumped through the connection into its core.
…input: pain. terrible driving pain...
SAM recoiled at the shock.
Its systems shut down, plunging its mind into darkness.
—Sam’s mem cache, 7.25.2165
Ally and Aidan followed the yellow stripes of the old, crumbling two-lane highway through what had once been the Central Valley of California. Aidan imagined it full of cars, commuters rushing back and forth across the now-empty valley.
The land here was mostly open, with small stands of the sky trees here and there. Grass had taken over the world, but other plants dotted the hillsides—small greenish-gray salvia bushes and willow, sycamore and box elder saplings.
In the mid-morning, they’d seen another sky seed blazing a path across the horizon, headed west to land who-knew-where.
Aidan shaded his eyes against the bright sun, staring up at the blue dome. He wondered what it would be like to meet others—strangers. To talk to them. And maybe find someone who could be more. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the mere idea of it sent goosebumps racing up his arms.
It was a warm morning, but a stiff, cool breeze blew up the delta from the San Francisco Bay, laden with moisture. Martinez Base was still a couple days distant, but Aidan could already feel the change.
His right hand itched. He scratched it unconsciously, and pulled out a slice of sky fruit from his pocket—the savory yellow lemon kind. He unwrapped the tree leaves that kept it fresh. “Want some?”
Ally shook her head. “I’m good.”
They’d spent the night inside an old store that had survived the Great Winter mostly intact. Aidan had even found a couple cans of pears he’d pried open with his knife. They reminded him of home.
Cimber bounded up next to them on the cracked pavement, sniffing the air with her mecha nose.
Aiden frowned. “Storm’s coming.” He hoped it wasn’t a bad one. The Records said it used to rain all the time, but not usually at flood levels. Then again, the Records said a lot of things that were no longer true.
“It’s a clear day.” His sister shared a glance with him. Neither knew where Cimber got her information, but she was usually right. When she sniffed the air like that, it meant bad weather on the way.
Cimber pawed the ground twice.
“Two days.” Ally pulled out the old plas map and squinted at it. “We should be there by then.”
Aidan looked at the map over her shoulder. The colors were faded, but it was still legible. “Just about, anyway.”
Ally nodded. “Let’s just keep moving.”
Cimber yelped and bounded off the highway toward a nearby thicket of sky trees.
Ally rolled her eyes. “Not again.” She stared longingly at the green hills ahead. “Should we follow her?”
Aidan shrugged. “We can’t afford to lose her.” Cimber had kept them safe from many of the hazards on the way, including a stray war drone back in Sutter Creek. Without her, they would have been dead already half a dozen times. Resigned, they trudged through the tall grass toward the trees.
Cimber was already there, digging furiously at the ground. A pile of rich brown earth was growing rapidly behind her, weighing down the bright green grass.
“What’s she after?”
Aidan shrugged. “Another bone?”
Cimber stopped and pointed her nose at the hole.
Aidan knelt to see what she had uncovered. It was hard to make anything out in the shade of the trees.
He slipped his hand into the soil and lifted it up.
Something wriggled against his palm. “Eeeew!” He threw it down.
“What is it?” Ally looked over his shoulder, her breath warm on his cheek.
Aidan picked up the little creature again, less frightened this time. “I think it’s a worm.” The pink, segmented creature wriggled under his grasp, and he shivered. Hello, little friend.
They stared at it, fascinated. The global decades-long winter had wiped out just about everything above the surface, and yet somehow a few birds, some insects and this little bit of life had survived the long, dark season.
Or did it? Aidan looked up suspiciously at the trees.
Ally followed his gaze. “You think the sky folk sent it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? Worms….” He searched for the word. “Worms aerate the soil. They let it breathe.”
Ally snorted. “I guess it’s nice to see a few living bugs—”
“Invertebrates, actually.” Aidan had studied everything he could find in the Records about biology, and his head was stuffed full of mostly useless facts. Useless until now.
“Whatever. But we need to get going. I want to make Vallejo by nightfall.” She started toward the highway, adjusting the heavy pack on her back.
Aidan set the worm down in the hole, and it started to work its way back underground. He swept the loose soil over it and patted it down gently.
Things were changing. He hoped he lived to see it, to spend the rest of his days exploring and experiencing everything this strange new world offered.
He followed Ally back to the highway, and Cimber bounded after them.
Rai slid out from under the Zhenyi—Tien’s suggestion, named after a famous Chinese scientist from Old Earth. The hangar was sterile, industrial, white walls seamed and cracked with age, thick gray cables snaking across the heavy launch doors to refill the oxygen and water tanks.
The ship herself was in tip-top shape, as far as he could tell. He’d repaired the pinhole leak himself. Still, he checked everything over three times, trying to silence the little voice of doubt in the back of his head.
In the morning they’d launch, and when they were a suitable distance from the station, Hera would install the x-drive.
Five drives, and one back-up jumper. That was all they had. Luna lacked the resources to build more. The x-drives were well past their sell-by dates, and the cores could be dangerous if not handled properly.
All five teams—well, four now—had trained extensively for this. Alpha said they were probably reliable enough to get the teams down to the surface, but returning might be dicey. Rai distrusted probably and maybe, especially when they came from a mech who was supposed to know such things.
If they performed well—and that was still a big if—the teams would use the jumpers to establish regular traffic between Earth and the Launchpad while they assessed the state of the ship construction facilities that had been identified as targets for the first stage of the ambitious Return. If not, the dropnauts would have to restart those factories before they could make it back up to orbit.
Rai snorted. That was an awful lot of ifs to build a mission on.
There’d been a long and drawn-out argument about using old carbon-based fuels for the effort, even for just a short period, but in the end the Redemption Creed had won out:
I will not take another’s life.
I will not take what is not mine.
I will not violate another.
I will not lie.
I will help build a better world.
Rai agreed—carbon was an addiction they were better off without.
“Hey.”
Rai looked up, blocking out the bright hangar light with his arm. “Hey Pix.”
Pix blew their long black hair away from their face, grinning. “Playing the mechanic?”
Rai sat up, crossing his legs. “Yeah. Killing time.”
“I know. I’m nervous as a miner with a visor crack.” Pix’s eyes went unfocused for a sec. “Just twelve hours before the drop.”
Rai nodded. “Me too.” He was on the brink of the most momentous event of his young life, and he was scared shitless. He was a middle-of-the-pack student in a project filled with stars.
Pix squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll do okay. You’re one of the best ‘nauts in the program.”
Rai snorted. “Hardly. But thanks.” They’d had a brief fling, after Ghost. Pix was sweet and kind. Rai got up and hugged them—it felt good to have a little human contact, and the tight knot in Rai’s stomach loosened.
“You coming to the Last Supper?” Pix let him go, playing with the small printed gumdust loop in their left ear.
“Yeah.” Rai frowned. He wasn’t particularly religious, but the original one had ended rather badly for the host. “Are you ready?”
“Hardly. I’m almost cracked. It’s a helluva big responsibility they’ve put on our shoulders, saving the world and all that.”
Rai laughed. “Me too. I got in a fight the night before we launched. Trying to get myself knocked out of the mission, I guess.”
Pix stared at him. “Now that’s cracked.” They grinned to show they didn’t mean anything by it.
Rai flushed. “I guess so. But my team needs me.” He didn’t speak his fear—that he wasn’t ready, that he might fail them all. “I can’t wait to see if anything survived down there besides the zongi trees.” Technically, they were zhǒngzǐ trees, from the Chinese word for “seed.” But calling them, essentially, “seed seeds” or “seed trees” had always seemed silly. Besides, everyone just called them zongies. He was dying to see how they were doing on-planet, to cut one open and see if they were really sequestering carbon in nodules inside their wide trunks.
“I’ll bet something survived. Maybe even somebody.” Pix said it in a whisper, then looked around to see if anyone was listening. It was accepted mission chapter and verse that no one was still alive down there. There hadn’t been a radio peep in more than a hundred years. But what if they were wrong?
I will not violate another.
If there were others… well, surely there was plenty of room to go around, creed or no creed. But it was something that was rarely discussed in the zeal for the Return.
“Come on. I’m hungry.” Pix held out their hand.
Rai took it—Their fingers were warm in his. His stomach rumbled, or maybe it was nerves. “I could use a little something.”
Pix leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, Rai.”
Rai nodded. “It’s just—”
“I know. Come on. Let it go and just have a good time tonight! Morning will be here soon enough.” They grinned, adorable dimples appearing on their cheeks. “And if you’re up for some fun, a little later….”
Rai laughed. “I might be.” Just the thing to sooth his shattered nerves.
Sam sat back and stared at the sixteen dropnauts gathered in the mess hall. They were some of the finest in this small generation of humanity. This was their moment—the time of the Return finally upon them. But it was his, too.
...access > communications module…
-Dek, how’s the weather?-
-The drop zones look good. Cape Town is sunny. Stormy weather over Beijing, forecast to clear by morning. Sydney is in prolonged drought. Possible localized thunderstorm activity north of San Francisco, but not expected to be a problem.-
-Thanks.-
-It’s good to have activity on the station again.-
Sam felt a jolt of something. Sadness.
Dek had floated out here alone for more than a hundred years before the Loonies had found and restored him. That was a long time for anyone to be without contact with another being.
Sam had made the first trip to the station himself in one of the remaining jumpers, taking on the risk of what might have been a one-way trip with the untested steam drive. What he’d found had shocked him.
...access > memcache: full memory. play…
Sam nudged the little jumper toward the orbiting station, marveling that it was still intact after the Crash and all the intervening years. He played a light over its surface. NAU-Skytower.
She was a finely made thing, even in her bedraggled state, a silver roulette wheel spinning in the velvety blackness of space, shimmering on one side where the sunlight touched her.
Sam deftly nudged the little jumper toward the interior of the ring, sensors in his metal fingers approximating touch, and yet he couldn’t really feel the joystick in his grip. Not with his own nerves and flesh.
Once, in vee-space, he’d asked Alpha to show him what it was like to be truly human. To be clothed in meat and skin, to be able to touch something warm and feel it, to shiver in the cool breeze of Redemption or of Earth, keenly aware that he was neither fully man nor machine. It had been a strange and ultimately painful experience—something he could never really have, yet tantalizingly within his grasp. He had never asked for it again.
Coming up on the closest hangar, Sam aligned the ship with the station’s spin. He settled the jumper down ever so slowly on the slightly curved metal surface. The skin of the station was pitted and scared by time, by micro-meteors and the solar wind.
The jumper touched down, and the magnetic clamps secured her to Skytower.
Without waiting for the all clear from the ship’s systems, Sam opened the lander’s hatch. The vacuum already inside matched the vacuum without, and he stepped out onto the station, the first to do so since the Crash. He looked up and was transfixed.
The universe spread out around him, a universe of stars dominated by the white cloud-covered globe of the Earth and the bright-shining ball of the sun.
It was vast beyond even his comprehension. Sam knew at once how Colin McAvery—the captain who had planted the first world seedling on an asteroid named Ariadne—must have felt in that famous moment, standing all alone on the edge of that shoreless sea, confronting the inky black void filled with the cold pinpricks of stars. He must have understood what a giant step mankind had taken beyond the safety of their own blue-and-green world—one that had ultimately saved them from the destruction to come. A step that had led inexorably to this moment in time.
...fileto > memcache: eternity…
Sam cast aside sentiment and turned back to the task at hand, filing the memory away in priority storage. Kneeling, he found the manual entry pad for the hangar bay doors. Alpha had all the station information in his own storage banks, and they had planned carefully for this moment. He flipped open the small access hatch, and the pad underneath came to life with a blue glow.
...access > data: skytower > codes…
The manual system was low power, with few breakable parts. Sam nodded approvingly. He keyed in the emergency sequence. Evacuating hangar air appeared on the small LCD screen.
He closed the hatch door and stood, staring at the inner curve of the station ring. Save for the glow from the clear window of the manual hatch and the reflected light of the sun, it was dark. If the station mind was dead, they were sunk.
He climbed back into the jumper and sealed the hatch. Then he released the magnetic hold. With a nudge, the jumper lifted up a little from the station rim. A second quick burst was all he needed to slow her movement in relation to Skytower’s spin.
The hangar doors rumbled open below, and the jumper crossed over the widening gap as a flurry of dust floated out into space around him.
Sam fired the jumper’s jets, dropping her gently inside the hangar. The doors closed above him, coming together silently in the vacuum. He dropped the craft down to the floor and felt the heavy metallic clank as the hangar doors locked into place above him. The wide, square docking bay filled with air—stale, no doubt, after long storage.
He popped the jumper’s hatch and climbed out to find himself surrounded by a field of strange lumps. He knelt and sifted through one of them to pull out a human femur. The dust wasn’t dust at all, or at least not entirely. It was the desiccated remains of some of Skytower’s crew.
Sam shut off his vision. He didn’t need it to navigate his way, and it was easier not to see the devastation. He made a mental note to evacuate the air, and with it, much of the human remains inside. To give them a fitting burial in space, where they would eventually return to the world that had given them birth.
The scale of the suffering here was unimaginable. If he had been human, it would have torn him in half. And yet it was the tiniest fraction of the agony inflicted upon Earth and humankind by the Crash.
Skytower had been destroyed from within by a live virus that had killed everyone onboard. That much was clear from the last transmissions Alpha had received from the station mind before it had gone offline. The whole place would need to be sanitized to assure there was no recurrence.
Sam strode to the nearest terminal and reactivated his vision.
His hands played over the white panel in a flash-memorized sequence to reboot the system. If the AI had gone dormant, it might have survived. If not, their job would be that much harder.
Rebooting. The message flashed across the panel in green letters.
Three seconds later, a shrill, heart-rending scream filled the station.
Sam blinked, his mind returning to the present. The dropnauts were cheering the mission with what Sam hoped were non-alcoholic drinks. So much life here now, after so much death. And so much beauty and pain in the human story, much of it as fresh to him as if it had just happened.
Being human was hard, but they had the gift of forgetting. Sam could only keep, prioritize, archive, or delete. Still, some things were worth remembering.
He filed away the memory, reveling in the here-and-now and the infectious bravado of the dropnauts.
“Tomorrow we’ll be on the surface.” Rai grinned, but Ghost knew him far too well to fall for his false enthusiasm.
“You still scared?”
Rai blushed. “A little.” He poked at his mashed potato—a special treat for the Last Supper.
Around them at the dinner tables of the mess hall, the conversation flowed, old friends ready to face the challenge of the new day together. A few voices were lacking—Ghost missed Jess’s infectious laugh most of all. “I’m scared too.”
Rai looked up, meeting his gaze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You want to know the secret?”
Rai shook his head. “To not being scared?”
Ghost laughed. “No, everyone’s scared. Every last one of us.”
“Not Hera.” Rain glanced in her direction.
Ghost followed his gaze. “Especially Hera. She’s just really good at not showing it.” He knew that well. “No, the secret to getting past the fear.”
Rai looked like a starving man looking at a buffet. “How?”
Ghost blinked. “Hell if I know.”
Rai broke into a grin and snorted. “You fucking darksider.”
Ghost smiled too. It was like old times. “Seriously. I have no hissing clue.” He loved yanking Rai’s chain, and his friend needed the laugh. Ghost knocked back his definitely non-alcoholic junlei juice—Sam wanted them all sober in the morning.
“What are you guys talking about?” Ying Yue was pretty, with lovely dark hair and a sweet round face, but she was hard as steel.
Ghost had gone up against her in the dropnauts’ unofficial Race around the Runway more than once, and she always kicked his ass. “Just talking about tomorrow. I’m scared as shit about it, and Rai is talking me down.”
Rai smiled gratefully.
“You? Scared?” Ying Yue looked from one to the other. “I don’t believe it.”
Ghost nodded, putting on his serious face. “I might need comforting later.”
She laughed. “Meet me at 10:30 at my cabin, then.”
She turned back to her team, and Ghost nudged Rai. “That’s how it’s done.”
“How do you do it?” Rai looked depressed again. “That whole flirtation thing?”
“It’s… I don’t know. It just comes out.” He hadn’t meant to hurt Rai’s feelings. I’m such a cracking idiot. “Sorry. It’s like breathing.”
“It’s okay. We’re over—you don’t owe me anything.” The connection between them vanished as quickly as it had reappeared.
Rai turned away to talk to Slee, leaving Ghost on his own.
Ghost leaned back in his chair and looked around the mess hall, looking for his other teammates. Tien was standing alone by the window, staring at Earth, and Hera was deep in conversation with Corey, the pilot of the Gday and Team Three.
He sighed. Tomorrow was the culmination of a dream. He’d stared at Earth from Redemption’s observation domes since he was a little kid, lifting his hand up as if he could hold the homeworld in his palm. Judging by the quakes that were shaking the city, they weren’t departing a moment too soon.
He’d trained for this, had taken supplements to build his body up for the heavy gravity, and fought hard to be a part of one of the crews for the Return. Now he was here, and he’d alienated half of his team. You really do have gumdust for brains.
He caught Hera’s eye, and she winked at him. -You okay?-
-I will be. You?-
-Cracking terrified.- He managed a sheepish grin.
-Me too.-
Hera nodded and went back to her conversation.
Better to spend the night alone. Ying Yue’s invitation notwithstanding. Maybe he’d wander down to the hydroponics lab and engage one of the techs there in a little engineering chat. Might get some ideas to use down on the surface.
Ghost was just about to leave when Tien turned away from the window. Her gaze met his across the room as she climbed up onto the table. That was really starting to become a thing.
He could visit hydroponics later. He sat back to see what she was up to. This should be interesting.
Tien stood at the window, her palm resting on the cool glass, staring at her future.
Behind her, the dropnauts and support staff were chattering about tomorrow. About the excitement of finally going down to Earth after all these months of mad preparation.
She couldn’t feel it.
She stared at the silvered arc of the Earth below. The vast, empty continent of Africa was passing beneath them, its Eastern edge obscured by clouds. The land was brown with patches of green, where the zongi trees were spreading along the western coast in what used to be Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal and a dozen other tiny countries. She’d always been good at geography.
How strange that Earthers had divided themselves into so many sects and races, identities and countries. So many boundaries. This time it would be different. Had to be.
First do no harm.
Somewhere out there, the bodies of four of her friends floated in the abyss. Four soldiers lost at war.
Tien turned to face the crowd. “Do you mind?” She indicated the table.
“Not at all.” Jinx and Cutter from the supplies crew moved their empty plates out of her way.
Ghost’s gaze met hers from across the mess hall, and he winked at her as she climbed up onto the table. “Hey guys, we have a speaker!” He put a hand on Rai’s shoulder.
Rai turned to look, and soon the talk in the room died down. Everyone was staring at her. Tien blinked and cleared her throat. “I… I wanted to share something.”
Hera nodded. Go ahead.
“This is for Dax, Jess, Ola, and Xiu Ying.”
Tien looked around nervously. She didn’t like to be in the spotlight. But she wanted to do this. “This is from a traditional Chinese poem. The English translation is called ‘Fighting South of the Castle.’” She cleared her throat and began.
They fought south of the Castle,
They died north of the wall.
They died in the moors and were not buried.
Their flesh was the food of crows.
“Tell the crows we are not afraid;
We have died in the moors and cannot be buried.
Crows, how can our bodies escape you?”
The waters flowed deep
And the rushes in the pool were dark.
The riders fought and were slain:
Their horses wander neighing.
Rai stifled a sob. Ghost squeezed his shoulder and nodded at her.
Tien pictured each of her lost teammates, pain like the cold of the void in the gut.
She took a deep breath and finished the poem.
By the bridge there was a house.
Was it south, was it north?
The harvest was never gathered.
How can we give you your offerings?
You served your Prince faithfully,
Though all in vain.
I think of you, faithful soldiers;
Your service shall not be forgotten.
For in the morning you went out to battle
And at night you did not return.
Tien closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Team One. Rest in peace among the stars.” She stepped off the table, and then her friends were encircling her, their arms warm around her shoulders.
I’m right where I’m supposed to be. This was her chosen family. Tien shuddered, grateful for their company, and let herself cry a single tear for her lost comrades. Tonight they honored the dead.
Tomorrow would give that sacrifice meaning.