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With Farmer Smith gone, Apprentice Tashon was to become the youngest chief the Ship of Nations had ever seen. He stood on the top floor of the ship with all eleven members of the board, the expanse of space spreading out behind him through the towering windows. A large crowd quietly observed the proceedings. He wore the ceremonial robes of the Chief Farmer. Brown and form-fitting, they were the humblest of all the chief robes.
The appointment of a new chief was one of the few times all members of the board were together in a public area. It had been this way since the rebel security team attempted their hostile takeover. But the chiefs were highly respected public figures, and no one would dare disrupt an appointment ceremony. At least no one ever had before.
“Apprentice Tashon,” a woman said. She was thin and tall, with a tight face. The board member of Japan. “You realize the responsibility of this position?”
“Yes, Madam Tiffany,” he formally responded. “To ensure that none on the ship go hungry. To ensure that all crops are vibrant and healthy, nourishing to both body and soul.”
Madam Tiffany nodded and stepped back in line.
Another board member stepped forward, the one from France. His beard reached his waist. It was Johann, the man Tashon respected more than anyone besides Smith. The young chief had personally requested that Johann be the one to officiate the ceremony.
Johann had been friends with Tashon’s dad when he was a kid. Back then, Johann was the chief of security. Tashon would stay up for hours, listening to Johann’s stories of his time on Earth. The man had been a captain in the French United Army. A decorated hero. One of only five to receive the United Nations Medal of Valor. As a kid, Tashon asked to hear the story of that medal every time he saw Johann.
“It was another frozen night in the wilds of Russia,” Johann would start in a whisper. “We’d been tracking the movements of the Georgian neo-Nazis for two weeks. Believe me, I wanted to jump out and start killing those monsters since we first found them. But they had about twenty kids with them that they’d taken from an orphanage in Moscow. They’d been taking orphans and turning them into soldiers for years. So we had to be careful.
“One night I was scouting out their camp. I saw a soldier slap a young girl across the face. This man’s eyes were empty, dark. The kind of people who made me decide to leave Earth. He turned to a young boy and handed him a knife. Told the boy to slit the girl’s throat. If he didn’t, the man would shoot both. Like any good boy would, he refused. Before the soldier got his gun out, my knife was flying through the air. I was right behind the knife. It hit the man’s neck, and I caught him before he hit the ground.
“I ran those two kids back to our camp. Took a few friends of mine back to the enemy camp. By morning, all those monsters were either dead or tied up.”
Even though he was a board member with a graying beard, Tashon couldn’t help but visualize the badass soldier he knew Johann had once been. Tashon turned his attention back to the ceremony.
“Tashon, we’ve known each other a long time,” Johann said with his raspy French accent. “And I always knew you would do great things. But nineteen and already a chief? I never expected you to be this impressive.”
Tashon and the crowd laughed.
“But here you are, with gleaming praise from our beloved Chief Smith. And so”—Johann reached a shaky hand into his coat pocket to pull out a small white box—“it is the pleasure, not just of the board, but the entire Ship of Nations, that you be our next great Chief Farmer.”
He opened the box and pulled out a rectangular pin with the farming ensign etched into it—a stock of corn with nanotech circling it, forming the universal symbol for an atom.
“Unless anyone has reasonable belief that Tashon will not hold this position with honor, I name Tashon Tanger our new Chief Farmer.”
The board clapped and the crowd cheered as the pin was placed on Tashon’s robe, right over his heart. The young man stood up straight, nodded to each board member and turned to wave at the crowd.
“Thank you! Thank you,” he said as he walked away from the board toward the back end of the ship, shaking hands as he went.
He made his way quickly to a back exit, where a young woman with vibrant red hair waited. The closer Tashon got to her, the faster he walked.
“Grace,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “You find anything out yet?”
“No, nothing new. We need to talk about what to do next. Still good to meet at Wench’s?”
“Yeah. Got Mister Johann comin’, too.”
“No way! Didn’t think you’d swing that one, Tash.” She roughed his hair. “I gotta stop by the lab. I’ll see ya there.”
“Hey! You mustn’t mess with a chief’s hair!”
“Hey,” she scoffed as she walked away. “You’ll always be my little bro. I can do whatever I want to your hair.”
“See ya, sis.” He waved after her.
Rubbing his hair back into place, Tashon took a deep breath and walked to the nearest elevator.
The ship was lined with elevators on both sides, spaced exactly one hundred twenty-five yards apart. Tashon sometimes wished they were closer, but knew they were that way for a reason. The same reason there were no moving walkways and the only forms of powered transportation were reserved for the ill and elderly—it was the engineer’s way of keeping the ship’s population more active and healthy. Although it was possible to live entirely in one’s own living quarters, having food delivered daily. And some did. Tashon had tried that, but only lasted for two cycles before he needed to smell the farm again.
He got to an elevator, its cylindrical door protruding from the wall. With a sigh, he saw that his ride was currently on level 5. The elevators moved slow, and he was going to have to wait at least five minutes, or walk to the next one and try his luck there.
His wrist buzzed, and he looked down at the thin, rectangular screen. It was a voice message. He touched a button to listen. The bearded face of Johann lifted out of the screen. His lips moved, and Tashon heard the voice through the mini speaker attached behind his left ear. No one else would hear what was being said.
“Congratulations again, Chief Farmer. I—”
He was cut off by a voice in the background, and yelled at it to shut up. Tashon thought the voice had said something about a defect.
“Can’t meet at Wench’s. Same time, at Jenza’s.”
A soft beep, and the glowing face disappeared. Jenza’s? Tashon thought. Why the hell at Jenza’s? It was nearly eight hundred yards from Wench’s and had far worse food. Tashon was sure he’d heard Johann complain about the place numerous times. And hadn’t the old Frenchmen even tried to get it shut down? The waitresses were prettier at Jenza’s, sure. But that was the only thing it had going for it. Tashon shrugged his shoulders and sent a message to Grace about the change.
The elevator door notified him that it had only moved up four levels. Another twenty-one to go. It must have got stuck loading or unloading a large group. After all, each elevator could carry up to thirty-five people. He decided it made more sense to cross to the other side and walk the seven hundred fifty yards to the elevator closest to Jenza’s. With a sigh, he turned and started moving.
Tashon hated walking. It wasn’t that he was lazy. He would just rather spend his time crouching and bending over his crops. Ensuring they were growing just right. Taste testing them. Getting rid of any and all blemishes. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed the process because it made him feel better about himself in some way. If he couldn’t fix his personal faults, at least he could make the crops perfect. As Chief Farmer, he now had access to the farm anytime he pleased. He wished he could spend his entire life with the soil, plants and nanotech. First, though, he had to figure out why Smith’s colony hadn’t sent a single update from Aethera in the two weeks since they left the ship. And more importantly, why no one on the board had made a single comment about it. It was killing Tashon. It had been hard enough sending his mentor off, knowing they would never see each other again. But then to not hear from anyone on the planet? To be left to wonder why no message had been sent, fighting to not imagine the worst? Tashon had to figure out what was going on.
The Ship of Nations had come out of the Fourth far enough away from Aethera to not risk entering its atmosphere. As with previous colony ships, it would have taken two days for Smith’s group to land on the planet. Protocol and tradition dictated that they wait one day before jumping back into the Fourth and moving onward. And that’s exactly what they did.
After that day had passed, the engineers set a course for the nearest resource belt they could find. They had just sent off their last colony ship and needed to mine for more materials. Thankfully, the belt they found had more than enough M-type asteroids to meet their needs. They had spent the last two weeks outside the belt while mining pilots flew drones to the asteroids to harvest nickel and iron.
Once the metals were back on the ship, they were sent to the manufacturing section of the hangar. Using these materials, an electron beam gun would form each part needed for the colony ship. Once each part was completed, the ship would be assembled manually by the engineers.
The top floor was the most open on the ship. With rounded ceilings that stretched nearly fifty feet high and nothing around but elevators and a line of benches down the middle, it seemed even larger than it was. If he had to walk, Tashon preferred doing it there. It was easier to avoid getting drowned in a large group. Another plus, he thought, for Jenza’s is that it’s never crowded.
The farther he got from the front of the ship, the more the crowds thinned out and the more he noticed the people around him. Some kids running around trying to tag each other, a woman watching and laughing. Further down was a small apple tree at the end of a bench. Tashon’s assistants were assigned to take care of it, along with any other live plants not in the farm.
Next to the tree stood a few young men, all about the same age as Tashon. One of them was talking excitedly as the others hung on his every word. Tashon couldn’t hear what he was saying, nor did he care. As he walked by two of the boys nodded and gave a quiet, “Congratulations, Chief Farmer,” to which Tashon nodded back a silent thank you.
Soon, Tashon arrived at his favorite part of the ship, besides the farm. It had become known simply as “the hole.” It was just that, a hole nearly ten yards across. It was in the exact center of the top floor, surrounded by a five-foot tall glass wall. The hole was in the middle of the top twenty-eight floors of the ship. Looking over the glass wall provided Tashon a sense of freedom he found nowhere else. He could catch a glimpse of nearly every sector, allowing him to get a sense of how vast and diverse the ship truly was. For a moment, he would feel as though he could see the entire ship at once: the family playing cards together, the young couple fighting, the old woman reading alone, the jaded man enjoying a drink with a friend outside his living space, the young boy learning that life is more complicated than he could have ever imagined. And countless others. Thousands of lives, a whole world, living inside a giant, man-made vessel floating across the vastness of the universe.
Tashon smiled, turned from “the hole,” and continued on his way to Jenza’s.
The elevator was packed on its way down. Tashon counted twenty-seven people other than him. All adults. Technically seven more bodies could have fit, but Tashon felt like there were fifteen too many. Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around.
An old woman stood next to him, smiling. Her teeth were startling white, and her eyes a deep blue. She was broad, maybe an inch taller than Tashon. “Smith was the best chief we ever had,” she said quietly, with a sense of reverence. “If you’re anything like him, you’ll be great.”
Tashon nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I would be happy to be half the man he is.”
She nodded, then put her hand on his shoulder. “You seem good to me, hun.”
He was about to thank her, but someone pushed through the crowd toward him.
“He don’t seem good to me,” a young woman hissed. She was about his age and wore a crisp suit that resembled the suit engineers wore, except it was a heavy gray. The color that, during the reign of the security officers, was worn by those lowest on the totem pole. This ensemble, with her jet-black pixie cut, gave her a deathly look. She wore glasses with an all-white frame.
She got in his face. “In fact, I know he’s no good.” She stepped back an inch or two.
She was still close enough for Tashon to see a small black speck stuck in between her gritted teeth and smell her sweet perfume. “Ma’am,” he said.
“Oh, don’t ma’am me.”
He could feel his adrenaline rising. “Girl. You don’t know me.”
“Don’t have to. You were trained by Smith. Sure you’re just as bad as him and all the other chiefs.”
“You watch your damn tongue, honey,” the old woman chimed in.
The rest of the passengers had turned to watch the three.
“What?” Tashon didn’t know what else to say. He’d never heard anyone disrespect Smith or any other chiefs, except maybe Jonstin. And that was just because he was conceited, not for any evil reason.
“You, all the chiefs. The board. Engineers. So-called scientists. You’re all destroying the universe.”
Tashon took a step back. “What are you talking about?”
In one blindingly fast motion her arm was outstretched, a small knife in her hand. The blade caught Tashon’s collar bone and slid across his chest.
He felt the skin split apart, the blood trickle down his chest. It burned, stung. Throbbed. He pushed her away, then pressed his palm against the cut.
The old woman grabbed the girl’s wrist with both hands. “Damn kids today. No damn respect.” She quickly jerked the girl’s hand one way and her wrist the other. The bone snapped with an audible crunch.
The girl let out a short, loud scream.
Some of the onlookers gasped.
The elevator dinged, and the doors swished open.
Silence. For a moment, no one moved.
Tashon glanced around. He realized that some in the crowd held their comm devices up, filming the scene.
“Go get yourself checked, Chief Farmer,” the older woman said. “These idiots have been using poison. I’ll take this specific idiot to Security.”
She walked out, yanking the girl behind. It reminded Tashon of being a kid when his mom would grab him by the arm and pull him out of a store for misbehaving. He took a few breaths and stepped out, the ground feeling shaky beneath his feet. A man walked up beside him and put his hand on his shoulder. A woman steadied him on the other side.
“We’ll help you get to medical, Chief Tashon,” the woman said kindly.
“Thanks,” he said through labored breaths.
It was strange, getting this sort of attention. Just the day before, when he wasn’t chief, no one would have said hi while he walked around. It wasn’t that he had been disliked, he just hadn’t been someone of importance. But now, teens said hi and congratulated him. The elder generation told him how he looked like Smith did all those years ago. And now two complete strangers were helping him when he wasn’t sure he needed the help.
There was no way it was a serious injury, he thought. The knife hadn’t been that large, and Tashon could tell the cut wasn’t that deep. He probably wouldn’t even need stitches. And there was no way someone would poison a chief. Was there? No way, he told himself. And besides, his legs were probably just shaking from the adrenaline.
“You still with us, Chief Farmer?” The man broke into Tashon’s thoughts.
“Yeah, all here. Hey,” he said. “For now, just call me Tashon. Not used to chief.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Thanks.”
“Not me,” the woman said. “You are Chief Farmer Tashon. Better get used to it.”
The man sighed and started to speak.
The woman beat him to it. “No, we will both call him by his proper title. Look, something just happened that never has. Sure, people have spoken out against the chiefs. But no one has ever assaulted one before. We can’t let anyone else lose their respect for you or any other chief.”
“Looks like I’ll end up in the history books, ma’am.” Tashon laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” the woman scolded. “If this girl is part of a larger group like she claims, we could have some big problems.”
Tashon and the man fell silent, pondering her words. The intensity of it cleared Tashon’s head and he stood up straight.
“I’m feeling okay. I think I can walk on my own.”
The two cautiously let go of him, but he stayed upright.
“Thanks. Will you still walk with me, though?”
A sense of fear had entered Tashon. What if they went at him again? It didn’t seem like he’d been poisoned. Maybe the girl had botched her mission and someone would try to get him again.
“Of course,” the man and woman answered at the same time.
Tashon nodded and took a moment to actually look at his saviors. The man looked about ten years older and the same height as Tashon. He had no hair to speak of and brown eyes speckled with black.
“Name’s James,” he said.
The woman was about a foot shorter with white-blonde hair that hung to her waist. She had thin lips and a smile that comforted Tashon.
“And I’m Theresa.”
Tashon simply nodded and looked around as he kept walking. They were on the eatery side of the entertainment level. Every building was the exact same size. Fifty by fifty feet inside, with a fenced patio half that size. This had originally been done to ensure equality among each establishment but, as could have been expected, some did better than others. After a couple decades, the more successful restaurants bought the failing ones that surrounded them. Soon, most restaurants spread across two to five buildings. Jenza’s was one of a handful that still occupied a single building, continually refusing offers.
Tashon heard a whirling coming at him and his head whipped around, thinking it might be someone trying to take another shot at him. It was two men in red, riding a white, hovering tandem bike. Medics.
“Chief Tashon,” one said as they rolled to a stop. “We’ve been ordered to give you a full workup.”
Tashon looked at the med crates on their bike. “Sir, do you have everything you need to do that here?”
“Well, I guess. But we’re supposed to escort you back to the main medic station.”
“No, too far. I have a meeting with Board Member Johann in five. At Jenza’s. Give me the checkup there.”
“Sure, Chief. But, uh, what about other guests eating there? Don’t you want some privacy?”
“Have you eaten there? I don’t think we need to worry about other guests.”
“Point taken. Uh, what about these two?”
“James and Theresa helped me right after. I think they should come so they can tell Johann what they saw.”
He looked at the two to confirm, and they both nodded.
“Copy that, Chief. Let’s get you checked out.”
