Half Way Home

viable and abort since year one. Our new home has much to offer us, but it has many risks as well. I can promise you this, we will make it work.”

“That’s not what Colony said,” Hickson blurted out. He turned toward the audience. “Colony definitely said unviable last night. I heard it.”

The grumblings returned, several of the colonists shifting about uncomfortably. I became distracted by Myra, who cursed at the movement and started jabbing her finger at our side of the crowd once again.

“People, listen to me,” Stevens said. “Hickson has half the story, and I know it’s easier to believe the worst, but we must stay strong through this. We are awake for a reason—”

“The mission package,” Hickson told the crowd. “We have a very important task, a directive from Colony itself.”

Stevens clapped his hands together loudly, but the colonists had begun talking amongst themselves, creating a dull roar of impossible-to-follow discussions. I felt Kelvin brush up against me and watched him step out between the audience and the command module.

“Listen up!” he yelled, his voice booming above the din. He had his tarp wrapped around his waist, his wide chest exposed and smeared with cakes of dirt. I found myself oddly fascinated by the large sweep of his neck down to his broad, rounded shoulders. His stomach rippled, bunched with knots of muscle as he yelled the crowd to attention. The force of it all stirred something inside me, something that likely merited my professional attention.

Tarsi moved close in his absence as the crowd stilled. I wrapped my arm around her, feeling as protective over her as a mother hen might. Kelvin nodded to Stevens and walked back over to join us, frowning at me as if disappointed by the behavior of the rest of the colonists, his eyes darting between Tarsi and myself.

“Raise your hand if you want to die in the next few days,” Stevens said. He stepped away from the command module and scanned our faces. “If any of you want to die, if you feel a mad compulsion to not live among us, please take your bickering and move on. I have not slept a wink, staying up all night to converse with Colony as I made a case for our long-term survival. If any of you want to live on half-truths and innuendo, please go elsewhere.” He locked eyes with Hickson as he said this.

“We do have an important mission, but we will also devote time to settling this world. The local star,” he pointed up, even though its rays barely filtered through the canopy overhead, “was once given a name by Terran astronomers. We will rename it. We will rename this planet, but not before we scratch a toehold in it. If you trust in me, I promise you we will overcome our challenges. Colony was halfway through the construction phase, which means no protein generators and no farms cleared.”

He held up one hand and ticked off three fingers with the other. “Food, shelter, and clothing,” he said. “Those are our survival priorities. We have enough water collected from the rains to filter and last us for at least a week or two. The rains here are supposedly frequent, so we will not want for bathing and drinking.”

Stevens nodded to Myra, who had rejoined the small leadership group by the module’s door. “What did you come to?”

“Fifty nine,” she whispered, but we all heard the count.

A moan slid through the crowd; I could feel myself contributing to it. Not that I had expected much more, but the harsh finality of the number squeezed my air out. It couldn’t be sixty, or sixty-five. Our hopes had been given mathematical limits. The fuzziness of wishes had collapsed into solid dread.

“I want all the sciences to this side,” Stevens said, pointing to our half of the crowd. I looked at Tarsi and Kelvin, wondering who amongst us qualified. I think the entire gathering became confused. We shuffled in place as we discussed our professions with strangers and debated with each other.

“That includes anyone with mechanical or electrical aptitude. All the construction personnel, including miners and farmers, please come forward. Anyone with support occupations, please go over that way.”

“I guess I’m over there,” Kelvin said, raising his arms and frowning.

Tarsi squeezed his arm and nodded. “I’m going to go over to the support side. I have a feeling we’ll be the ones cleaning up this mess.”

“I’m staying here,” I said. “I guess we’ll meet back up tonight?” They nodded, and I gave each of them a quick hug.

Oliver slid up beside me as the other two departed. We were soon joined by almost a dozen other colonists; we took turns introducing ourselves and our professions. Some—like Mica, a geologist—knew they belonged among the scientists. Others, such as an electrician named Karl, weren’t sure if they should be with us, or with the construction crew.

Several colonists were clearly fudging the semantics of their occupational labels in order to remain together. I watched Tarsi introduce herself to some people in her group and began to think of myself more as a health worker, clearly a sector of support. But before I could pull myself away, Stevens approached our group and began to address us.

“I heard we have an electrical engineer over here?”

Karl raised his hand. “More of an electrician, sir. My name’s Karl.”

“Where were you in your training?” Stevens asked.

“In the middle of integrated circuit troubleshooting. I don’t have any design training, except in basic wiring.”

“That’s fine,” Stevens said. He scanned the group. “Do we have any chemists or chemical engineers?”

“What’re we building?” I asked Stevens. “It might be better to know that, and then see what any of us have to offer.”

He smiled at me, which made chill bumps explode across my skin, my entire body shivering. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to fake being cold, feeling anything but.

“Good thinking,” Stevens said. “What’s your name?”

“Porter,” I said, reaching out my hand. “Psychologist.”

He grasped it firmly and shook it. “That’s a science?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Human behavioral science, sir. I’m an engineer of people.”

It felt ridiculous as soon as I said it.

“Hmm. I’d like to speak to you privately in a minute.” He turned to the others. “Porter’s right. Let me tell you what we’re going to build, and you let me know how you can help. Be creative. If you can offer support in any area, please let me know.”

He paused. “We’re building a rocket. Well, the construction guys are building the rocket, what I need from you is the payload. Colony is generating most of the schematics, so this will primarily be a building challenge, not a design one. I need people who can solder, who can troubleshoot kinks, and who can double-check every joint and connection in the physical creation.”

“Why a rocket?” someone asked. “What’s the payload?”

“Information,” Stevens said. He immediately raised his hands. “No, I don’t know what the information is, and we will probably not be told. Whatever it is, Colony won’t even trust the communication satellites to transmit it back to Earth. It has to be a hard copy, so you know how sensitive it must be.”

“Are you kidding?” one of our group asked.

“I’m dead serious,” Stevens said. “Colony is, anyway. Whatever it is, it has the AI riled up. I’m lucky I convinced it to divide us up three ways, so one group can work on helping us survive long-term. All the computer cares about is getting this data off the ground and heading back to Earth, which means we need to make that our top priority, or we get no help from the Colony in making this our home. Everyone understand?”

We all nodded, looking to one another to search for signs of dissent.

“Karl, I want you to check with the group by the command module to see about those wiring schematics. The rest of you, today is about scavenging for supplies and setting up our work spaces. I want you to use the power module for your work, but make it so people still have room to sleep. The supply group will tend to your clothing and food, so ignore those grumbling stomachs for a few hours and concentrate on the task at hand. If any of you have chemical training, I want you to liaison with the construction crew—propellant is going to be a major task. Colony has the mining tractors at our disposal, but we’re going to need a place for refinement, probably the fuel depot.” Stevens smiled at us. “Okay, good luck today. I’ll check in with you before dinner.”