It’s strange being out in the open like this. The world is so big. And so empty.
Even after almost a month, I miss my bed back home, my mother and brothers, and the solid, comforting security of plascrete walls under the Mountain.
Still, there’s an amazing sense of freedom. Ally and I make our own rules—eat when we want, sleep when we want, and walk as much as we can each day.
This world’s a hard reset to the Garden of Eden. There are animals, though they’re few and far between, and trees with forbidden fruit.
All that’s missing is the serpent….
—Aidan’s Journal, 6.17.2282
“Are we almost there?” Aidan was a few steps behind his sister as they climbed the hill, staring at the broken pavement shattered into spiderweb patterns beneath their feet.
Ally unfolded the plas map she carried. “I think so. That old fabrication plant back there looks like it was the last thing before we’re supposed to reach the—” she looked up and stopped dead, staring. A vast sea spread out before her, lapping at the edges of the hills. It was stunning to see so much water in one place. “—bay.”
Aidan ran into her, almost knocking her off her feet.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry.” He looked up in surprise. “Why did you stop?”
“Look.” She pointed out at the wide blue vista before them.
Aidan slipped around her and took in the view. “Wow. That’s a lot of water.”
She laughed. Aidan had a gift for stating the obvious.
It was late afternoon, the sun slipping down toward the horizon. They’d made good progress, their bodies finally used to the regular exercise. She hadn’t had leg cramps in a week.
The bay was far wider than the map showed, lapping at the edge of the old highway they were following. They should have come at it from the south to avoid the crossing, but that would have added days to their journey. She hoped one of the bridges was still intact.
The sky above was darkening, storm clouds piling in from the ocean a few dozen miles to the west, blocking the sun.
Cimber trotted on ahead of them, scouting out the way.
Ally set down her pack on the side of the highway and traced the line of the highway on the old map they’d been using. To their right, a little way up the incline, the hyperloop tube wound its way along the base of the hills, its shiny white finish dulled and cracked, faded to gray.
Martinez Base had been close to the shoreline. God, let it be above water. According to the map, there were a couple old bridges ahead that crossed the bay.
“Do you think we’ll find the meds mamma needs?” Aidan scratched the stubble on his chin—he’d grown lazy about shaving. Not that she blamed him.
Ally nodded. “I hope so. Otherwise this long walk was for nothing.” She’d found a rusted road sign earlier in the morning that had said, “Welcome to Cordelia, Population 300,245.” Thirty-story apartment buildings still stood in the city center, their windows mostly broken out, though one of them had collapsed against its neighbor in a drunken fall. She knew what she would find inside those buildings. So many dead. Grim reminders of her own eventual fate, alone and unloved.
At least here there was only the broken pavement and the tube and railway. The cars scattered along the highway were mostly rusted out, and if you didn’t look too close… Ally shuddered. “Come on. If one of the bridges is passable, we might make it by nightfall.”
Aidan was staring at the clouds piling up on the horizon. “There’s a storm coming.”
Mr. obvious. She nodded. “Better if we’re across the water before it hits.” Storms these days were notoriously unpredictable—it might delay them for days as it dumped water across the foothills. Or it might be done and gone in an hour.
They were almost there. Soon they’d find the medicine they needed if the water wasn’t too high. If Martinez Base still existed. And if they could figure out where it had been kept. Too many ifs.
Ahead, the old highway swung down to run along the new shoreline of the bay. They hadn’t seen a drone in days, let alone any other signs of life besides the grass and the ubiquitous sky trees. Here they towered over the shore in small groves, and some of them extended out into the water a few hundred feet.
Ally took a deep breath of fresh air. She’d learned one thing on this journey. She preferred the great outdoors to the musty, claustrophobic halls under the Mountain. She would never limit herself to its dusty confines again. Once this was over, she’d set out to explore the big, empty world.
“Ally, look!” Aidan ran down the grassy slope at the edge of the highway toward the water.
She pulled her pack back on. Cursing her brother’s boundless energy under her breath, she followed him down the hill. “What am I looking at?”
He stopped twenty yards from the water. “I swear I saw it.” He pointed, and she followed his gaze. “Look, over there!”
Something silver leapt out of the water, flashing in the late morning sunlight before falling back to the bay with a splash.
Aidan looked at her, blinking like a four-year-old. “Was that a—”
“Fish? I think so.” She laughed at his childlike pleasure. Fish were one of those book things. Something you read about but never expected to see in real life. Of course, living off of canned goods and a replicator that made food out of cave mold, there were many things she’d never expected to see. Including the surface of the Earth. She put her arm around Aidan’s shoulders and squeezed him tight. “It’s beautiful.”
With or without them, the Earth would go on. She was slowly recovering. If Ally’s science lessons were any guide, it would be millions of years before the planet was as diverse as she had been before humankind had almost destroyed her. But they would not be going along for the ride. Ally and Aidan were part of the last generation—a bittersweet honor.
The wind was picking up, a sure sign that a storm was coming in. “Come on. Let’s get going.”
They climbed back up to the broken highway together and set out again on toward the base. As they walked, Ally let herself just be, letting go of all the what ifs and taking in the sounds of wind and water, the smells of grass and salt in the air. It was a beautiful day, not nearly as hot as it had been a week before.
Aidan looked up at the sky. “You think there’s someone up there?”
It was an old conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Not that they’d been listening under the Mountain. The first generation had put Boundary Peak on lockdown, and the rest had kept up that tradition out of a fear for their own safety.
“I hope there are. It’s kinda lonely here, with just the family.” Aidan glanced over at her, blushing. “No offense, sis.”
Ally snorted. “Yeah, some days I’m not so fond of you either.” She looked up at the sky. “If they are up there, whoever they are, they’d be smart to stay away—” She stopped, staring.
“They’ll come down someday. I bet they’re as curious about us as we are about them….” Aidan turned to see her stopped five steps behind him. “What?”
Ally just pointed.
Something was coming down from the heavens, much faster than the sky seeds, which usually floated on the vagrant winds. Maybe it was just a piece of space junk—the war had left plenty of that up there. But it seemed a little too controlled. If it followed its current trajectory, it would land on the far side of the bay, not far from their destination.
Were there others still alive up there? Had Aidan been right? Maybe there’s hope for us after all.
Of course, the others might end up being aliens—Aidan was always going on about that too.
The wind was picking up, gusts slipping cool fingers through her long red hair. A dark smear of rain hid the horizon beneath the towering clouds.
“Come on!” Ally grabbed her pack straps and broke into a run. “You may have just gotten your wish!”
Hera strapped herself into the Zhenyi’s pilot’s seat. This is it. She sent one final ping to Tovey for the next delivery dump. Drop’s about to start. Love you. Then she ran through the pre-launch checklist.
Her crew settled in behind her, taking their seats.
She glanced back at them. They were all wearing their planet-side uniforms, made of sturdy white fabric that would resist tearing, water, and dirt. The bright leaf-and-orb Redemption logo almost sparkled on each of their chests. “Y’all ready for a wild ride?”
Ghost laughed. “Wild is right, with you at the helm.”
She glared at him and went back to her launch prep. The water tanks were full, the hatch closed. Everyone was settled, and everything read green above her deck.
Hera cast a nervous glance up at the repaired pinhole in the ceiling. Space travel was always a dicey proposition—the Bristol was a harsh reminder of that.
She had to trust Rai. He’d been over the Zhenyi with a fine-toothed comb, and he really was good at this whole jumper thing. Better than she was, in fact. She just wanted to fly them. “Everyone belted in?”
“Yup, captain.”
Rai grunted. “Uh-huh.”
Tien was more polite. “Ready.”
“Parachutes ready?” She hoped they wouldn’t need them, but she’d be damned happy to have them if they did. The countdown timer showed two minutes.
“Evacuating the hangar.”
Sam’s voice came back, calm and steady. “Affirmative.”
Outside the Zhenyi, powerful fans sucked the air out of the hangar, reducing it to vacuum. Inside, the patch held. Hera breathed a sigh of relief.
Ghost pushed forward as far as his belt would let him. “Hey Sam, you’re supposed to say ‘roger.’ They always say ‘roger” in the tridees.”
There was a pause from the speaker.
“You don’t wanna give us bad luck.” Ghost grinned and winked at Hera.
She covered her mouth to keep from laughing
Sam sounded flummoxed. “The approved mission response is affirmative—”
Rai jumped in. “Come on, Sam, just say roger.”
Hera laughed. “You know he’s not going to let this go until you say it, Sam.” You must think we’re crazy.
There was a long silence. Then, finally, “Roger.” It came out grudgingly.
Ghost snickered. “Roger dodger!”
Hera grinned. “Okay, Ghost, you’ve had your fun.” She pushed him back into his seat. “No matter what happens next, I’m proud to be part of this team. It’s a small first step—”
“And one giant drop for humankind?” Rai seemed pleased with himself.
She pinched his leg, eliciting a startled yelp. “Yeah, that too.” She settled back in her seat as the clock counted down to zero. “Hold on—here we go!”
Hera fired the jets, filling the space with super-heated steam which immediately turned to snow. The little craft lifted up off the hangar doors, which began to rumble open as she spun the jumper around deftly inside the dock. “Easing out of the hangar, Sam.”
“Roger dodger.” Their mech leader never ceased to surprise her. Or Ghost, judging by his delighted laugh.
Hera grinned. She fired the jets again, and they slipped out into the void, rising up from the station’s ring.
Below, the gleaming blue-green sphere of Earth spun by, covered in a lacework of white clouds. The silver crescent moon hung in the distance against a backdrop of pinprick stars, and the bright amber lights of the Launchpad station blinked in the foreground.
Hera wondered what they’d find down there. She loved sifting through Alpha’s archives in her free time, seeing Earth in her prime. Soaring over the Great Pyramids. Taking a swim in the drowned streets of old New York, staring up at the towers of the once-grand city. Walking through the heart of Rome, where the Colosseum stood and Caesar had commanded his bustling empire.
She righted the ship, spinning it around with the Earth below them, and their drift put more distance between themselves and the Launchpad. When Hera was satisfied with the safety margin, she slowed the jumper to a virtual halt. “Time to insert the x-drive.”
“Roger that.” Did Sam sound a little nervous?
They’d practiced this with a dummy drive until Hera was sure she could do it in her sleep. The drive negated gravity around it—and the more powerful it was, the bigger the resulting sphere of n-space. It was whiz-bang tech, but older x-drives were temperamental and could explode if mishandled. And this one was old.
The Return Mission team had decided to activate their drives far away from the station, just in case.
Alpha thought it was safe enough—they had to trust his word.
Hera released the catch on the ship’s drive compartment, flipping it open.
Rai knelt next to her and opened the cabinet where the drive was stored. He pulled out its protective packaging, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Hera nodded, and Rai opened it, showing her the spherical drive. It was silver, its surface shimmering like a pool of mercury, unlike the dull gray dummies they’d used for practice.
She pulled on her protective gumdust gloves, and Rai gently tilted it into her hands, out of the webbing that protected it inside its box. Her hands got a weird pins-and-needles sensation. “Oooh.”
“Ready?” Rai was sweating.
They locked gazes. “I think so.”
Rai nodded. “Now or never.”
Hera held it up and spun the two hemispheres in opposing directions. The silver sphere’s color shifted to a golden shimmer. She eased the drive carefully into its compartment, while Rai’s hand hovered over the button to activate the magnetic field. If she as much as grazed the edge of the enclosure…. Sweat beaded her forehead. “Now.”
She let go and Rai hit the button in the same instant.
The drive settled in its containment field and hummed happily, spinning like a miniature planet and emitting its bright golden glow. Hera closed the lid, and the radiance dimmed.
She let out her breath in a whoosh. “We did it!”
“Congratulations, Zhenyi. Have a safe drop!” Sam sounded proud.
“Roger that.” She cut the connection. Time to focus on piloting them down to Martinez Base. The last thing she needed was a distraction. “Hang on, everyone. We’re going home.”
Rai eased back into his seat, buckling the belt and staring out of his porthole. The Earth spun serenely below them. Above, the station was moving into the distance.
We did it. He’d been scared out of his mind that he’d bungle the x-drive installation, but here they were, ready for the moment they had spent years preparing for. He emmed Hera. -Totally not exploded.-
She laughed. -Totally. Now leave me alone to fly this hunk of scrap metal.-
Rai smiled.
Sam and Alpha had mapped out the landing points in each of five major metro areas, places where they hoped a well-trained team of humans could restart critical fabrication facilities—the first step in building a new home back on Earth.
Shortly, the Gday would depart for Sydney, then the Zulu for Cape Town, and finally the Liánhuā for Beijing.
London would have to wait. Rai felt a twinge of pain for their lost teammates.
-Good job, ace.-
Rai turned to look at Ghost. -Thanks. I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.-
Ghost squeezed his shoulder.
Rai put his head back and closed his eyes, practicing his deep breathing again. In a few minutes, they would sink into the Earth’s atmosphere, though technically they were already in it, as wisps of the planet’s air extended out as far as Luna. Four hundred-odd kilometers straight down.
Rai grimaced, his stomach twisting. He wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. I should have stayed on Luna. Too late for that now.
He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at Tien. She looked totally at peace, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and deep. Maybe she was as nervous inside as he was.
Somehow, that made him feel better.
Sam had trained them to avoid disabling fear. You can’t panic and breathe deeply at the same time. It’s not possible.
Rai tried it. Breathe in through your nose. Hold. Breathe out through your mouth.
Sam was wrong—he still felt panicked, his stomach twisting in his gut.
He looked back at his friend and ex. Ghost caught his eye and grinned. No fear there.
Rai turned away and sank back in his seat again as the Zhenyi hit the first bit of tangible atmosphere. She shook a little, then settled down. His stomach didn’t.
He pulled out his emesis bag, holding it in front of his face, waiting to see if he would lose his breakfast. He closed his eyes and tried the breathing thing again, willing his stomach to calm down. After a few moments it settled, and he opened his eyes. He felt better. A little better.
He put away the bag and looked out at the world they were dropping into.
Blue skies extended as far as he could see, painted with white clouds. So much open atmosphere was dizzying, overwhelming.
Wind whistled past the Zhenyi, and Rai pictured its eager tendrils trying to pry the small craft apart. Then again, if the wind didn’t get them, the x-drive might. He chuckled softly. I really am my own worst enemy.
They’d chosen reverent silence for this moment, one of the most momentous in their individual lives, and for the rest of humanity. For all he knew, they and their kin at Redemption were the only ones left.
“Engaging the x-drive.” Hera’s voice was calm, sure. It helped shore up his own fragile spirit. The front of the cabin filled with a golden glow, and their descent slowed. The wind outside dropped to a whisper.
It’s working! Rai opened his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
Hera turned to grin at him. “That was the hard part. Now we just glide down.”
Rai peeked out of the hatch, looking down at the surface below. It took him a minute to get oriented.
He was looking at the California coast, but it was upside down. The famous bay was wider than in the old maps, and cloud cover obscured half of it. He’d known that things would look different, but he’d spent so much time staring at old maps that the changed coastline and bay still seemed strange.
The ground below was mostly brown, but there were wide bands of green along the coasts and in patches inland. Zongies.
The zongi trees were based on geneticist Anastasia Anatov’s work. They’d taken hold across the planet, scraping carbon out of the atmosphere and providing edible fruit that would help sustain the first colonies.
Rai couldn’t wait to check them out up close. As the crew botanist, he was eager to see what else had survived the Crash too, and the seventy-year winter that had followed. Space surveys had turned up grasses, small bushes, and even a few native trees, which thrilled the hell out of him.
A huge storm was blowing in, but Sam had assured them they would make planetfall before it hit. It was beautiful, a wide, thick band of purplish-white clouds in the distance, just off the coast. So much to see.
“It’s beautiful.” Tien’s voice was reverent, and Rai had to agree.
The Zhenyi dropped into a cloud bank, and the porthole went blank and white.
“Landing in three minutes… mark.” Hera turned to smile at him. “So far it’s textbook—”
A loud alarm shook the cabin.
“What the hissing hell?” Rai leaned forward as Hera scrambled to find out what was wrong. His heartbeat raced, his stomach churning. He closed his eyes. Poppies, Chinese Houses, Fiddlenecks… He took a deep breath, and his heart slowed. A little.
Sam’s voice came through the ship’s speakers. “Everything okay down there? We just got an—” His voice cut out.
Tien’s voice cut through the din. “Turn the alarm off.”
Hera turned to stare at her.
“Here.” Tien unlatched her seat belt and entered a rapid-fire sequence on the smooth deck. The sound abated.
“Thanks.” Hera stared at the image hovering above the deck. “Something’s coming up at us from the ground. Fast.”
Proximity alert flashed in the air. Rai looked out of his porthole. A smoke trail was rising fast toward them.
Ghost glanced at it. “It’s a missile.” He unbuckled himself and pulled his chute from under his seat. “We have to abandon ship.”
Hera shook her head. “Wait. I can outrun it—”
“No you can’t. These things have smart guidance systems, and they’re a lot faster than we are.”
Hera stared at the screen, frozen.
She needs me. Rai took a deep breath, steeled himself, and shook her shoulder. “Hera, snap out of it. We trained for everything. We can do this!” -You can do this.-
She nodded. “You’re right.” Her hands flew across the deck.
Rai sighed with relief, and pulled out his own parachute. Now or never.
...access > direct feed: zhenyi…
Sam paced back and forth in the station’s control center, his feet clanking on the metal floor. It was a bad habit he’d picked up from his human friends.
The feed played inside his head—the view from the Zhenyi’s exterior camera.
He was supposed to be cool, calm, collected, all the hallmarks of machine intelligence. Instead, he felt as jittery as a drone in an asteroid field.
The screen showed the same view from the Zhenyi as Hera tried to out-fly the thing that hurled up at them from Martinez Base.
“Sam, we’re abandoning ship.” Hera’s voice was as clear as if she were right beside him. “We can’t outrun it. We’re going to—” She cut off abruptly and his feed went dark.
...access > direct feed: zhenyi…
...error: feed unavailable…
“Hera. Hera!” Sam turned instinctively up at the screen.
All around him, the station support staff had come to their feet.
The screen had gone black too.
“Where are they?”
Maria Gonzalez, the station manager, shook her head. Her face was white as ash, matched to her short silver hair. “I don’t know. We lost the signal.”
“Dek, get me a visual on the site.”
“One moment.”
A grainy image appeared on the screen. It was hard to read, a mess of blues and browns and greens.
“Sharpen image.”
“Sorry, Sam. We’re moving out of range, and at this angle the atmosphere obscures the view. Seventy-five minutes until we’re over the site again.”
Sam sank down into his chair, staring numbly at the jumbled image on the screen. What went wrong? “I can’t lose another crew. Abort the other launches.” He’d argued against doing this project on a shoestring budget, but Redemption simply didn’t have the resources for all the safeguards he’d wanted.
Maria nodded. “Call off the Gday.”
...access > communications module > message to alpha…
He sent off a quick ping to the Redemption AI, updating him with the news.
Sam wished he had a deity to pray to. “Alpha, please let them be okay.” It would have to do.