Another World Read online

  Leera stood at the entrance to the circular terminal, unsure which gate was hers. She checked her ticket, but could find no gate number.

  “Dr. James?” a man said behind her.

  She turned and saw bright red hair. It belonged to a short man in a dark blue suit. He had a small mustache the same coppery red as his cropped hair, freckled cheeks, green eyes, and pale skin.

  They shook hands. He spoke very quickly, in a thick, Scottish accent, and said, “Glad to finally meet ya. I’m your liaison for the tour. If you’ll come this way, the other team members are already here.”

  Leera followed him to an unmarked door between two gates. He held it open and gestured inside, raising his bushy red eyebrows apologetically.

  “I know it’s not so fancy,” he said. “Better than outside, though, eh?”

  Leera walked into a small meeting room with dirty walls. A dim, buzzing fluorescent overhead light illuminated a warped card table, around which sat the other two members of her team and a young man with a shaved head in a Marine Corps field uniform.

  She sat in the last empty folding chair next to Walter Lyden, the team’s physician. In proper Walter fashion, he wore the same attire as he did at the lab: one of his several blue puffer vests over a long-sleeved, gray thermal shirt, and thick cargo pants. Most of the course hair atop his head had migrated south and settled in his red beard. He was one of the few who hadn’t gone in for corrective eye surgery. He adjusted his thin spectacles and spun a Styrofoam coffee cup in his hand, looking at Leera as if to say, What have you gotten us into?

  She shrugged, then arched an eyebrow at Walter’s cup, intrigued by the prospect of coffee. Walter made a disgusted face and quickly shook his head, warning her off.

  Next to him sat Niku Tedani, the team’s microbiologist. His straight black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He sat with his arms crossed over a light blue, collared shirt. A slight smile graced his broad, smooth face, as if he was privately amused by the current situation.

  “Right,” said the liaison, shutting the door behind him. He stood at the head of the table and clapped his hands once, then spoke in a clipped, rapid manner. “You three brainiacs are familiar with each other. We’ve got a medical man, a microbiologist, and a systems biologist,” he said, pointing at Walter, Niku, then Leera. “This is Corporal Miles Turner.” He motioned toward the marine. Turner nodded at each of the others. “I’m Kellan McEwan, your government liaison. Some of you know a little, some of you know even less. We’ve got a lot to go over and only twenty-five minutes to get through it before you board the sled for Sunrise Station. Now that we’re all best friends, let’s get started.”

  He withdrew a palm-sized, shiny black disc from his pocket and set it on the rickety table.

  “Galena,” he said.

  A thin blue beam of light extended from the center of the black disc, then expanded into a flickering, glowing blue-green sphere two feet above the table.

  “Only habitable world we can find that side of the Rip,” Kellan continued. “Perfect ratio of land mass to oceans, as you can see. It was named for the abundant mineral lead sulfide deposits on the surface, which are visible from orbit. You can see a patch there,” he said, pointing at a small gray smudge of dirty silver hiding in the green.

  Leera found herself mesmerized by the hologram. She had never seen a rendition of Galena in such great detail. The planet spun slowly. It was covered in a maze of narrow, green land formations that seemed to crawl like snakes through bright blue oceans. Two large continents on opposing sides of the planet formed misshapen blobs, each roughly the size of Australia.

  “Gravity is a comfortable ninety-nine percent of Earth’s,” Kellan went on. “You can’t tell the difference.”

  He tapped the middle of the black disc and the hologram vanished.

  Leera and the other three around the table leaned back in their squeaky chairs, blinking off their collective trance.

  “Look,” said Kellan. “I know that none of you wanted to get in bed with the government. I can’t blame you. It’s not like we have the best track record lately. I wouldn’t be here if your grants hadn’t fallen through. But they did. So here we are. Right then. Moving on.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and paced the room as he spoke.

  “Cygnus Corporation is a third-party company which owns and operates the starliner that will carry you through the Rip and on to Galena. They are contracted by the government for that purpose. We can’t afford to build our own, so we have to use theirs. It allows us to run scans on the surface, measure the weather, all the technical stuff we can get out of the way without actually going to the surface. The company makes extra cash by taking tourists through the Rip. It’s good for everyone. Each trip, they’ve been sending down colony supplies, things like house kits and crop silos. If we weren’t forced to delay the initiative so long, the colony would already be thriving. But no one has been allowed on the surface of Galena. Until now. You’ll be traveling with the first wave of settlers. It won’t be many, I’m sad to say. Most canceled their contracts when Cygnus started charging an arm and a leg for the journey. Those who are still going are farmers and pioneers who will lay the groundwork of our first extrasolar colony. While you are only contracted for a two-year tour, many of those you’re with will make Galena their permanent home. They’ll be stockpiling food while trying to adapt Earth crops to the foreign soil so we won’t have to choke down that spliced-soy garbage we grow in plastic tubes. But the food will be too heavy to send back to Earth. That’s not a practical choice, which is why we need to move there.”

  The room was achingly silent for a long moment, then Kellan continued.

  “Now, you’re probably wondering why we’re having this meeting in the first place after all the hoops you had to jump through to get your contract approved. Well, you’ve been given clearance to wander the countryside, so to speak. You’ll run your tests, collect your samples, do your research. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even get to name something after a loved one. It’s a new world, after all. Corporal Turner will make sure you go about your business undisturbed.”

  “We weren’t told there would be a military escort,” said Leera.

  “Surprise,” Kellan replied with a wry smile. “The truth is we don’t know everything that’s down there. But I can tell you that our scans have shown no significant lifeforms.”

  “‘Significant’?” said Niku.

  “Nothing larger than a teddy bear.” He held up a warning finger. “Except in the oceans. We’ve detected massive movement below the surface, but our scans can’t make out any details. Could be organic, could be land mass. Either way, best not go for a swim.”

  Leera, Niku, and Walter shared a hesitant glance.

  “Everybody good with what we’ve covered so far?” Kellan asked, his arms spread as if he welcomed comments or questions. “Yes? Good. Okay. Now we come to the heart of it. Running this kind of operation isn’t cheap. The contract with Cygnus Corporation expires after your return, and they’re asking far too much money for a renewal. The people I beg for funding are going to say no. That means you might be the first and last scientific expedition to Galena. It also means the colony will die before it has a chance to take root.”

  He paused dramatically so his audience could absorb the information.

  Leera chewed her lip nervously. She had no idea the fate of future travel to Galena was balanced on a knife’s edge.

  “Look at our planet,” Kellan said gravely. “No livestock. No crops. Birthrate is dropping faster than we can reproduce. Earth is done with us. We’ve tried to fix it, but nothing is working. Galena is our chance at a fresh start, but the people in charge need a reason to keep going back, something they can use to justify the expense. Simply starting another colony is not it. I’m not alone in my belief that this is the right course of action, but my allies bear the heavy weight of bureaucracy. Those people don’t deal in hopes and dreams. They need more tangible currency. A
native plant that boosts fertility. A sapling that will spawn entire forests so we can have trees again. You’re all here because you’re the best in your respective fields. Whatever the reason to keep going back through the Rip, you have to find it. Otherwise we lose Galena. Because this is how we leave Earth. This is how humanity survives.”

  “What if we don’t find anything?” asked Walter.

  “I really hope you do,” Kellan replied. “Your fee for this tour depends on it.”

  They stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “You didn’t read your contracts?” he asked incredulously, looking at each of them in turn.

  “Why put it in the contract at all?” asked Niku.

  “Retrieving such a sample is absolutely vital to our future,” Kellan answered, jabbing the tabletop with his finger for emphasis. “We need to make sure the people we send have a reason to succeed beyond their innate curiosity.”

  Leera shifted in her uncomfortable chair. Without that extra money, there would be no more treatments for Micah, no more medicine.

  “So, run your tests,” said Kellan. “Learn what you can about the planet. But, I beg you, bring something back that will change their minds.”

  Kellan stood up straight and took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” he said. “Speech is over. Sorry. I get a bit carried away sometimes.”

  “You convinced me,” said Walter.

  “Well, that’s a start.” Kellan pulled three translucent tickets with glowing red lettering out of his pocket and set them on the table. “Here are your red tickets. Swap them out for your blues before you leave. Trust me, you’ll appreciate it on the ship.” He looked each of them in the eye. “Good luck out there.”

  Kellan walked out of the room quickly, leaving silence in his wake. Corporal Turner stood, saluted the scientists sharply, then followed after him.

  Leera picked up a red ticket and thoughtfully turned it over in her hand.

  “What do you think?” asked Niku.

  Leera sighed. “I think we have our work cut out for us.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  MERRITT

  The straps of Merritt’s lopsided backpack cut into his shoulders as he walked around the circular terminal carrying his dripping poncho.

  The outer walls of the north side of the terminal were mostly glass, showcasing an expansive view over a cracked field of asphalt, shrouded in fog.

  Spaceport employees walked the asphalt below the terminal, their yellow safety vests glowing in the haze. Several towering J-shaped ramps loomed behind them, their tops disappearing into the fog. As Merritt walked around the terminal’s wide, central pillar, there was a loud, metallic CLINK from outside — the telltale sound of a sled being released from its mooring.

  A moment later, one of the dart-shaped launch vehicles dropped down the long side of the nearest J-ramp like a cart on a rollercoaster. The single engine burped flame before dipping into the curve of the J, then roared to full power as the sled shot up the short side of the ramp and launched into the air, angled toward the sky. With a sharp TING, the sled-rails popped off the bottom of the craft and tumbled back down to Earth. They landed and rolled to a stop on a wide, padded square patch of ground a hundred meters from the ramp.

  Inside the terminal, Merritt’s gate was on the opposite side of the central pillar, which he preferred, as it offered a barrier between him and the entrance hallway.

  It wasn’t his view of the exit he was concerned about. He was worried that too many others would see what was inside his backpack.

  Twenty ragged chairs faced the exit gate. Only a handful were occupied, all by passengers traveling alone. On either side of the grouping of chairs, smaller support pillars hugged the wall. Merritt stood in the wedged corner that was created where the pillar touched the wall.

  He slowly took off his backpack and set it gently on the floor. Kneeling down, he unfastened the knotted cord at the top of the pack and unzipped it, pulling the sides down past the head of his frightened son.

  Merritt put his hand to Gavin’s cheek and rubbed the corner of his eye, where dried tears had crusted against his pale skin.

  “Are you okay?” Merritt asked quietly.

  Gavin looked around the terminal slowly, taking it all in. He nodded.

  The boy was eight years old, thin, and sickly. He had been ill nearly his whole life. It was the food. Some people could process the heavy soy diet, others couldn’t. Gavin had struggled to keep his meals down since he was born. Emily, his mother, hadn’t been able to nurse him, instead relying on powdered formula created in a lab.

  “You remember what we talked about?” asked Merritt. “Don’t wander off. You stay close. We’re not safe yet.”

  Gavin nodded that he understood, then Merritt lowered the sides of the open backpack so his son could step out.

  The boy was short for his age, coming up no higher than Merritt’s waist — a negative side effect of his intolerable diet. Merritt and his wife, Emily, had struggled to find protein alternatives, burning through their limited expendable income by trying new products. None of them allowed Gavin to put on any weight.

  He was bright, Merritt knew, but it pained him to think he was putting his son at any kind of disadvantage simply because the diet of the masses didn’t agree with his stomach.

  Gavin stood on his tip-toes to look out through the window at the launch field, his eyes filled with rare wonder. Another sled shot down a J-ramp in the foggy distance, zipped through the curve at the bottom, and rocketed skyward.

  Merritt ruffled his son’s hair while they stood watching the launches.

  “It’s really something, isn’t it?” said a tired voice from behind.

  Merritt’s hand dropped instinctively from Gavin’s head to his shoulder. He pulled his son close and pressed him against his leg before glancing back at the old man who had spoken.

  He wore the uniform of a spaceport janitor: gray coveralls and blue waterproof boots. Two thin, reflective strips of bright yellow material ran down his uniform, starting at his shoulders and ending at his knees. Merritt allowed himself to relax, but only slightly.

  The old man shuffled forward to stand next to Merritt at the window, deliberately putting distance between himself and the boy. He peeked around Merritt and wiggled his white, bushy eyebrows at Gavin. The boy smiled and buried his face into the side of his father’s leg.

  “He doesn’t get out much, I take it,” said the old man. “Given the current state of things, I can’t say I blame you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and sighed as he watched an employee loading suitcases into a J-ramp cargo elevator outside. “Smaller craft benefit more from the J-ramp, did you know that? The launch system caused quite a stir when it was first introduced. Vertical runways! The future had arrived.” He shook his head fondly, then bent at the waist to address Gavin. “Listen for the loud clang, my boy, then count to ten. That’s how long it takes for a sled to drop and launch.” He straightened up and spoke to Merritt. “Took them a while to figure out the formula. There’s a warehouse out there full of rusted J-ramps, even some U-ramps, that they couldn’t get to work. Once they realized they could fill the sled-rails with fuel, it all came together. No more clunky booster rockets.” The old man chuckled. “But it’s a good thing they tested it without passengers. You can still see some of the crash trails near the older ramps.”

  “How long have you worked here?” Merritt asked.

  “Thirty-seven years.”

  “Then you’re very lucky.”

  “I know it.” He glanced at the plastic ticket jutting from Merritt’s jacket pocket. “And now you’re leaving to find your own luck.”

  Merritt pushed the ticket deeper into his pocket and stood taller.

  “Don’t worry,” said the old man, his grin creasing the weathered skin at his temples. “I won’t scold you about the dangers of your particular journey. I’m sure you’ve heard it already.” He looked down at Gavin with a twinkle in his eye. “I hope you fi
nd what you’re searching for.”

  He turned and walked away, humming a soft tune.

  Gavin looked up at his father.

  Who was that? he signed, his hands moving rapidly.

  “Just a nice person,” Merritt replied, squeezing his son’s shoulder. For once, he thought.

  He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a faded brochure, creased and flimsy. Merritt had opened and closed it so many times the folds threatened to pull apart with every touch.

  In bold, square letters, the front page of the brochure invited one to SEE ANOTHER WORLD! A smaller subtitle below that read Your Pioneer Adventure Starts Today!

  Merritt didn’t need to open it to know its contents. He had memorized the text long ago, when he first found the brochure at the bottom of a stack of clothes in his wife’s dresser drawer.

  The brochure painted a picture of frontier life on Galena in broad strokes, highlighting the benefits of working the soil of a new planet. It was an advertisement for the Galena Farming Initiative — a program instituted by the government to send workers through the Rip to grow food on a distant world.

  The first page showed a happy family of four walking through a sunlit field, healthy crops growing in the background next to their company-purchased house.

  The opposite page showed two options for build-it-yourself homes. The first was the Wilderness Cabin, a modest two-bedroom abode “perfect for singles or new families”, said the brochure. Merritt’s wife had drawn a faint circle around this choice long ago.

  The second option was the Pioneer Lodge, a sprawling, ostentatious mini-mansion with more of everything than one truly needed. Emily had drawn a face rolling its eyes next to that picture.

  In the early days, if one’s application to the program was accepted, they were put on a waiting list, and their eventual journey to Galena was expected to be free. One would receive a plot of land upon arrival — their own land — and enough supplies to grow fresh crops with the stipulation that seventy percent of what they grew went into communal silos until the engineers could figure out how to get it back to Earth.