Evolution (3 page)

S
am meant
to check in with Earth, but something more important seemed to always get in the way. His weekly Rendition view-screen meetings had diminished to monthly by the end of his second year after returning home on Chariklo. Lud fumed at Sam for once again becoming the absentee owner of the Earth’s biggest corporation. Sam cared about the Tobes and how they were progressing, but he had little impact so far away from their daily lives.

As two years home became four, even Lud seemed to accept that Sam’s participation would be sporadic at best. Still, as Sam made his way down the seldom-used path, he felt the pang of a neglectful parent finally making contact with his offspring.

The village library was nestled in a shallow cave in the hillside. But instead of being a damp, dark, rock-lined room, the niche had been transformed into a welcoming retreat from village life. Saplings—trained by Yoshi—grew up the walls. As the young trees had filled in, a bookcase of living branches had been created to cover every surface. Thickened limbs, carefully cut and polished, created a room worthy of both an art gallery and a literary institution.

Sam didn’t visit as often as he should, but at least once a month, he made the pilgrimage to check on his creation, the Tobes, so far removed from his reality on Chariklo. He settled into the alcove containing the ancient computer. Dust covered the keyboard. If it had more than one purpose, it might have received more use, but that would have limited Sam’s access. The screen crackled to life, displaying Joshua, the Tobe who’d worked as Sam’s assistant at Rendition, sitting at a large wooden desk. The awkward kid was now a confident executive.

“Sorry it’s been so long. Hope I’m not interrupting your day,” Sam said.

The smile that spread across Joshua’s face reminded Sam of the technology-based teenager he’d met so long ago. “Not at all, Boss. I’ve always got time for you.”

“I’ll take
boss
over
god
any day of the week.”

Ellie materialized next to her brother—her look every bit as mature and professional. “It’s good to see you. We’re relieved you called. If you don’t mind, can we dispense with the pleasantries? There’s a problem, and it directly affects Chariklo.” A no-nonsense woman had replaced the playful, emotional girl Sam remembered.

“What’s up?” What could be so dire it could reach his Eden all the way from Earth?

Joshua transitioned the image of him and his sister to a shot of the sun. Or so Sam thought. Ellie’s voice quivered. “The Moons of Jupiter have been busy. Unfortunately, it took us too long to figure out what they’d been up to. By the time our moon lit up, we were powerless to stop them.”

Sam squinted at the display. His eyes adjusted to the brightness. It wasn’t as intense as the real sun. But to eyes grown accustomed to the perpetual early-morning dawn of a planet on the edge of the solar system, it looked pretty damn bright. In darker seas of molten rock, he made out the familiar features of the old moon. He sat, dumfounded. There would never again be a completely dark night sky. The increase in heat radiating down would further disrupt the already traumatized atmosphere. But he feared the super-heated junkyard wasn’t even the worst of the problem.

Joshua left the display up as he explained the situation. “It wasn’t just radioactive garbage they shot to our moon. It was the results of early experiments. They’ve found a way to turn those little moons circling Jupiter into moon-suns. And once they did that—”

“They no longer needed the solar transfer array,” Sam said. “They’ve cut themselves off, then?”

“Yes, and as they no longer needed the solar energy, they also cut the communication link that piggybacked onto the transfer array,” Joshua said.

It wasn’t completely unexpected. From the moment Dr. Elliot Shot announced the Tobes were free on Earth, the Moons had started pulling away. Their version of the new life form would be kept in submission to the different corporations that ruled each moon. The last thing the various boards of directors wanted was for their advanced beings to learn about freedom. But knowing the Moons sought isolation and seeing the effects of their actions were two very different things.

“At the risk of sounding overly uncaring, how does this affect us out here on our tiny planet?” Sam asked.

Joshua returned to the computer display. “Once they created their own power sources, they needed a way to transfer that energy—and communication—among their own moons. The easiest method was to redirect the old solar-array satellites.”

“But they can’t do that. Those belong to the Mars Consortium. If they redirected those relays…” The words stuck in Sam’s throat. The life-giving energy of the sun—so very far away—only reached the far ends of the solar system through the linking of all the various satellites orbiting each and every planet. The Mars Consortium, compromising the solar-rich planets of Venus, Mercury, and the transfer planet Mars, was the power corporation that made extraterrestrial life possible.

“We’re calling it the Jovian shadow,” Ellie said. “As Jupiter crosses between Mars—where the sun’s energy is collected—and minor planets like Chariklo, where it’s needed, an energy blackout occurs. It can last anywhere from a few hours to months. Unfortunately, your small world has a very slow orbit around the sun, making your situation all the more dangerous.
Leviathan
’s on the way to rescue everyone on Chariklo. She’s already been running missions to the minor planets more directly in line with the shadow.”

“And the Consortium?” Sam still held hope.

Joshua leaned in toward the monitor. “They want to arm a bunch of ships with laser guns and blast the hell out of those lit-up moons. Many on Earth are in agreement. The problem is once governments became corporations, there wasn’t much need for a military force. Hostile buyouts replaced the threat of big-gun ships. Only space pirates still know how—and have the means—to conduct an armed offensive. They’re not exactly an organized militia sympathetic to our problems. For the time being, all we can do is try to save those affected.”

Sam didn’t remember switching off the computer, didn’t remember saying good-bye, wasn’t even sure he heard when
Leviathan
would be arriving. All he knew was he had to get out of the cave before the walls closed in around him. He stumbled out of the library, unable to breathe.

Each vine he grabbed hold of for support would soon die of cold. Even if the atmosphere could somehow be maintained, the small planet would return to its preterraformed state as a solid block of ice. The plants would die. The wild animals would die. The planet would die. And it was up to him to deliver the bad news to the village and the planet’s outpost.

He fell to the ground, praying to a god greater than himself. But this was a manmade problem, and mankind would have to find the answer even if that meant a solar-system-wide war. He had to find a way around that potential outcome. As god of the Tobes, he might be the only one able to find that way out. But first he’d have to take his people back to Earth. How would a utopia based on the study of human interactions react to a modern society enhanced by technological beings? Sam stared at the orbiting lights that lit and warmed his home—soon to go dark.

Yoshi’s perpetually smiling face blocked out the light. “You okay, buddy?”

* * *

D
oc
, Yoshi, Mira, Jess and the rest of the village’s founding members stood in a supportive semicircle behind Sam. He loved every person in the audience, and they loved him—people who’d spent twenty years floating in the agro pod grafted to
Leviathan
and being hauled around the solar system. Joining them for the final year in that weightless Garden of Eden meant he was still the new member. The twelve years developing their village on Chariklo bonded him to their hearts as the village shaman—the most precious of those years being the nine that encompassed his daughters’ lives. Then he’d spent a confused year on Earth, getting to know his other children, the Tobes, and seven months just traveling from planet to planet. And finally, these past four years had passed in the blink of an eye. Jess’s hand at his back brought him out of his contemplation.

His prepared speech went about as expected—shock, anger, questions, all the stages of grief played out by each member of the community. Jess and the others—his backbone—stood behind him, answering what questions they could. Not that there was a choice. Part of the agreement to colonizing a terraformed planet on the solar transfer array included the possibility they might be evacuated with little or no notice.

The community erupted in disbelief. This was their home—the planet they’d worked so hard to make livable. How dare anyone tell them to leave? Sam shared their outrage even though he knew there wasn’t another option. His other family—the Tobes—was performing the rescue even if it might be seen as an eviction. Only Jonathan and his small group of followers remained quiet.

Sam wandered, shell-shocked, from the meeting. All he wanted was to crawl under a rock, preferably with Jess and his girls. To not see anyone, to not be responsible, to not be the bearer of bad news—that would be heaven. But instead of taking the path back to his home of woven living trees—a home he’d shortly be leaving permanently—he chose the harder uphill direction, with Jess at his side, to the planet’s outpost. To delay the announcement would only result in rumors. By the end of the day, every person on Chariklo would have heard from him personally about the need to abandon the planet, their home.

* * *

T
he move
from
Leviathan
to Chariklo had been a time of nervous joy. So many new adventures had lain on the horizon. Packing up what little they could save this time felt like a funeral march.

Jess wove wisteria blossoms from the wall of their bedroom into her hair. “I want to take one last walk around the planet. Maybe that’s a bit morose, but I need to see it all one last time. To say good-bye.”

“It’ll be hard on the girls,” Sam said. “This is the only home they’ve ever known.”

“It’s hard on all of us. How we react to this move will help them understand we’re still a family and the village is still together. Painful as this move is, it’s just a move.” Jess turned from the mirror. Her yellow dress, accented by the purple blooms in her hair, combated his melancholy.

Sam took her hand as they exited their room. It’d make a nice tribute—to walk the ring trail one last time.

Jillian’s hands were on Sara and Emily’s shoulders. “We thought some kind of remembrance was in order. Okay if we come too?”

Sam knew his girls well enough to know they were trying to keep their emotions in check. Sara kept her attention on the path ahead, seldom making eye contact with anyone else—somber and serious, she’d conduct her mourning in private. Emily held Sara’s hand, deriving strength from her stronger sister. But Sam suspected the quiet tears Emily shed weren’t only her own. The bond the twins shared worked both ways.

They weren’t alone on their trek. He doubted so many had ever taken the path at the same time. Groups formed, separated, then drew in new members as people solemnly walked the glittering trail. Reflected light that earlier had seemed joyous now made him think the planet, too, mourned the loss of its inhabitants. Tears of solar energy fell at their feet. The small planet’s dust rings sparkled with light for perhaps the last time.

As the path snaked around the village outpost, shopkeepers joined the procession, grimy in their worn leathers. Funny that his village should think of Chariklo as its own. These outpost businesses had called the planet home for twenty years before
Leviathan
’s final delivery of the budding utopia.

Tears filled every eye as people lovingly collected flowers to put into their friends’ hair. A leathery hand laid a garland over Sam’s shoulder. “Our shaman should look the part.” Doc’s voice accompanied the gift.

But for a sage, Sam was without words.

T
he transport vessel
filled the sky from horizon to far overhead. Sam strained his neck to see the whole thing. It took him a full minute to realize the ship was
Leviathan
. New pods filled all four bays with four thinner pods grafted on between the larger central four. The huge nose cone sparkled in its resurfaced glory. She gleamed in the reflected light of the solar arrays.

Doc strolled up next to him. “For all your dire talk of doom, nothing quite says get your shit together like a good old-fashioned space freighter dominating the sky.”

“She does know how to make an entrance.”

“The village is packed up,” Doc said. “Yoshi says your people on Earth did their best to replicate our original agro pod—though I don’t see how that’s possible. No one can build structures out of living plants like Yoshi.”

“Tell me about it.” Sam rubbed his hands, remembering aches from helping the master gardener create their latest Eden. He looked into the transparent pod that would be their home. “Hopefully, that pod will ease the blow to some of our villagers. Life back in zero gravity should be welcome to some.”

“We’re about the community of people not what place we call home. I’m not worried.” Doc gave Sam a reassuring shoulder squeeze before returning to his duty of once again relocating the village.

Sam agreed that community was about the society, but creating paradises was physically hard work. Everywhere he looked, he saw only memories: his girls splashing in the lake, the daily yoga and meditation classes that met in the neatly tended meadow, and down that small path, the secret getaway he and Jess used for their private times together. This wasn’t a home they’d outgrown but one they were forced to leave too soon.

He looked at the sky, seeking out Jupiter. Somewhere around that monster planet were moons too small to see. And on those motes of dust were corporations so intent on their greed they’d unknowingly forced Sam from his isolation.
The day will come when I’ll avenge this loss.
It wasn’t an idle promise but one he knew he’d hold in his heart for a long time.

* * *

A
board
Leviathan
, people milled around the crew cabin, but none gave the new arrivals much attention. They were fellow refugees facing an uncertain future. Sam’s mind intercepted messages from the ship though none seemed addressed to him. He was just another displaced colonist among many, but one with a telepathic connection unimaginable to others. The god of an invisible, unknown race of beings—wandering lost just like everyone else.

He had trouble finding the main deck. That was a surprise. The gleaming, new interior contrasted forcefully with his memory of the decrepit ship he’d first encountered. As the doors opened to the ship’s bridge, Sam wondered if this was even
Leviathan
. Every knob, every dial, every joystick had been fixed and cleaned to museum quality.

Dr. Elliot Shot turned in the plush magnetic-gravity chair. The original designer of
Leviathan
had to be pushing one hundred forty years old, but he still looked like a physically fit man not ready for retirement. As a fellow Rendition board member and owner of the Tobe’s original operating system, Dr. Shot had a way of showing up in the oddest places.

The central view screen split into two frames. One transmitted the image of Sam’s office at Rendition with Lud—Rendition’s CEO—sitting with Ellie and Joshua on the familiar couch, and the other showing Sophie in her captain’s cabin on
Persephone
.

But the greeting didn’t come from any of them. “It’s good to have you back aboard.” Even the ship’s voice sounded younger, cleaner than it had the last time he’d heard it.

“No knock-knock joke, Lev?” Sam asked the mother of all Tobes.

Lights about the bridge grew a brighter shade of yellow. “Do you want one? Knock-knock.”

In spite of the heavy atmosphere around the cabin, Sam laughed. “Who’s there?”

“Lev.”

Of course it’s Lev, but this should be good.
“Lev who?”

“Never Lev me again, okay Sam?”

A tear came to his eye.
It’s never my intent, old friend.

Lud closed his eyes at the bad pun. “Lev’s poor attempt at humor aside, it is an option.”

Sam took a seat on the bridge’s large couch. “An option?”

“For your village,” Lud said. “There are only so many terraformed planets, none of which are uninhabited. Most of the colonies we’ve rescued have ended up on one of Saturn’s moons, but those people aren’t always welcome. The minor planets that aren’t affected by the Jovian shadow are too small to take on a population explosion. The moons of Uranus aren’t big enough to sustain much in the way of colonies. And Neptune is beyond Rendition’s reach—its inhabitants align more with the pirates. So if your village wants to remain with Lev in the agro pod, we can make that happen.”

Dr. Shot ran his hand over his bald head. “But that’s not ideal for Rendition or the Tobes. What we’d like is for you, Sam, to move back to Earth. We realize that to get you we need to make the offer to the village as well. Just having you for a year visit, like we did last time, is too much of a disruption. It’s not an offer that’s made lightly to your village. We haven’t taken in any other rescued colony. With our overpopulation and the different forms of government that the outposts have developed—well, you can see how bringing them back would be a problem.”

Sam leaned back in the couch to consider the option. If he were just making the decision for his family, the answer would be a quick
yes
. But the village left Earth for good reasons. And Dr. Shot was right: to keep Sam and his family on Earth, the village would have to be close by. “I’ll talk with them. The rescue happened so fast I doubt any of us gave much thought to where we were going to end up.”

* * *

S
am marveled
at the new luxury pod—one of three—that occupied the majority of
Leviathan
’s transport bays. Jess caught his arm as he grew dizzy gazing up at the far wall. It wasn’t the distance that made him dizzy but the jumble of directions. People were walking on the sidewalk a furlong overhead. He kept his eyes on his feet as he and Jess made their way past shoppers to the nearest intersection. Buildings barely made more sense as people turned to walk along the circular path to the next main thoroughfare. He leaned against the wall of Triton Men’s Wear to catch his bearings.

Jess pointed at the next section of shops. “It’s like a giant pie cut into fourths. Each walkway is a knife line.”

Logic overlaid the confusing display of structures. Gravity took hold of the mile-long tube. Every wall and ceiling was really a floor.
Up
would refer to the middle and
down
to the tube itself—the whole pod being little more than a mile of pies stacked on end.

Once his stomach understood the situation, he checked out the cornucopia of shops. “I’m glad the girls headed into the agro pod with Jillian. Shopping is going to be a problem.”

“How does anyone afford anything?” Jess asked. “If their worlds are dying, if they came here with little more than what they carried in their arms, who are these shops for?”

Lev blinked an information screen to life. Today she’d chosen a small blue fish as her avatar. Bubbles came out of her mouth as she spoke. “No one pays for anything here. Your foundation—the one you and Sam formed before leaving Earth—covers everyone’s costs of relocating. And as we know, this is a hardship. Heartbreaking for most. We’ve done our best to make this as enjoyable a transition as possible.”

Sam looked around at the shoppers. People were laughing, carrying more bags in their arms than they probably needed, and generally looked like Jess during her first outing on Earth. “Is that helpful to them, though—just giving them stuff? I can understand covering what they need, but this takes shopping to another level.”

Lev-the-fish waved her fins around the mall. “We don’t have many extravagances in the shops. Just what people would need. And to help, most shops bear the name of a planet or moon so people know where to find what they’ll need. There are also several theaters and game rooms. Plenty of entertainment to lighten people’s moods.”

Jess bumped against Sam’s side. “They deserve a little shopping spree. My guess is a bigger problem would be getting people to leave the ship.”

Lev blew out a stream of bubbles. “There is a group who’ve started calling me home. I have to confess I like it a little. It makes me feel wanted. But I’m sure they’ll find a moon to call their own eventually.”

Jess grimaced. Sam shared her pessimism, but how many problems did he need? As the Tobes had once told him, he was free to choose what challenges to accept.

The air lock contrasted with the rest of the ship. Anything less than gargantuan in size seemed claustrophobic. But the walkway only extended the length of a small shuttle. As the second air lock opened, Sam breathed in the familiar rich air of lush vegetation.

Jess ran full speed out the passageway and launched her body into the weightless agro pod. It took Sam a moment to realize the action wasn’t out of joy for the weightless environment. Two similar forms descended on her as she made it to the top of the plant life. The sight of his daughters made Sam wish he’d blindly followed his wife’s lead.

Doc worked his way out of some tangled zucchini vines. “It’s just a mess of vegetation in here, but Yoshi will whip it into shape. At least the plants are fully grown—some of them a little overgrown.”

Sam rubbed his hands together, remembering the aches and pains of training all the plant life on the now-abandoned planet. The new agro pod held memories of the village’s origins but lacked the master gardener’s caring touch. Thin stalks of bamboo waved in the distance, taunting him as they grew without direction. It’d take years to turn all these living raw materials into structures.

Doc’s hand came to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s all a bit déjà vu, don’t you think?”

“What, with you greeting me as I’m dumped into the agro pod? The village back out in space? Having to create a new garden? Why, whatever do you mean? Just tell me we’re not reversing our tracks.”

Doc leaned his head to the side. “We’re not moving backward—parallel perhaps. Now that we’re not going to freeze to death on a lifeless hunk of rock, any word on options for where we can settle?”

“There’s not much I can’t make happen—anything but save Chariklo.” The one option Sam would have thrown all his money toward was preserving their Garden of Eden. He stared out the transparent wall of the agro pod at the solar system. “We can terraform another planet, but that’d take time. Lev says we can stay here with her, and my connection to the ship tells me she’d like nothing better than to once again have the village aboard. Then there’s Earth.”

“So we build another planet only to potentially lose it again? I’m too old for that,” Doc said. “Even if I had the energy for the work. Life in the agro pod was never perfect. We were too beholden to technology. Though the weightless environment did have its charms. But Earth? Man, that one just wouldn’t sit well with most of us. The gravity, the oppression—I can’t see it happening. Though Jonathan might be in favor of returning.”

Sam stared out the transparent wall. In all the solar system, was there a single place for the village to call home? His family he’d hold tight—no more leaving his girls in someone else’s hands. Not that he didn’t trust these people. But the thought of being separated again hurt his heart. That bond stretched to those who’d taken him in so long ago as well. No, leaving the village wasn’t an option. “I fear Earth needs me, but I can’t let go of the village.”

“
Leviathan
seems the most logical answer. We can live in the agro pod while she orbits some quiet spot above our home planet.”

Not everyone would agree with Doc, but his reasoning seldom left anyone unconvinced. And Jonathan would be doing weightless somersaults about returning to Earth and all its repressive ideas about monogamy. That would have to be a conflict for another day. One catastrophe at a time.