In the process, he hadn’t added any food fuel to his system in 48 hours. His heady couple days of manic euphoria left his brain wrung dry of feel-good endorphins. And worst of all, he deserved every minute of this misery. He was in charge. He screwed up big-time.

  And Sass, looking the blooming picture of robust health as always, projected happy confidence across the room as she took her place at the head of the table.

  “Hello, hello! And welcome back!” she boomed. Abel winced. “I see you’re all on the mend.” She paused to count heads. “Who are we missing? Jules.”

  “Our bathroom,” Abel supplied in a froggy whisper. The projectile vomiting phase did a number on his vocal chords. He hoped his wife would cease her disconsolate sobbing soon. Beside him, a strung out Eli rocked in a disturbing way, and stared at his fists clenched before him. Cope, across from them, flat-out refused further treatment after Farmer’s Joy. The engineer looked relaxed and capable, the swine, though he kept his back turned on Ben, who watched him mournfully like a kicked puppy. Wilder and Cortez appeared hung over. Kassidy, who pranced in just before Sass, never ‘drank the kool-aid,’ away on the Neptune expedition to collect her dad.

  “I’m sorry,” Abel announced to the room in general. “I screwed up. That was bad judgment.”

  “Mm, yes,” Sass agreed. “A more cautious approach would have been prudent. But an excellent find, Abel. After a little product development, we’ll take quite a lot of the enteric bacteria pills back to Mahina with us. I’m sorry for everyone’s discomfort. But this episode highlighted yet another weak spot in settler medicine that can easily be remedied.” She beamed at him. “Well done.”

  “Really?”

  Sass tilted her head. “A few points off for style. We’ll discuss it later. Our main goal with this meeting is to share what we learned in Neptune, and our spiffy new starship. Note star ship. The Nanomage comes to us from another star system. Let’s start there. Cope?”

  “Huh? Oh.” The engineer rose and took his tablet to the foot of the table. He set his screen to echo on the big display, and selected pictures to illustrate his points. “You’ve seen the second ship parked in the yard, Nanomage. Its key features are a 3rd generation star drive, and a warp lens. Looks like that.”

  The warp lens looked like a microwave oven with a heavy-duty power cord akin to the high-voltage plug of a refrigerator.

  “Both of these items,” he continued, flipping to an image of the star drive, “are one-of-a-kind in the Aloha system. We’ve never seen this tech before. Well, maybe Sass and Clay have.”

  Clay offered, “We never saw the warp lens on Vitality. Are you sure that’s it?”

  “Yup. Travel 1.5 years perpendicular to the ecliptic, plug it in, set a destination, hit the Go button, and voila, you’re suddenly light years away. Takes a lot of power.” Copeland scratched his nose ruefully. “But not this much power. The Manatee – the ship that brought the urbs to Mahina – ran on first-gen star drives. The second-gen drives were developed before the Vitality brought us settlers. And during all that refugee transport, somebody developed a tweak for this third-gen drive.

  “Why do we care? Because this drive and its fuel are a massive improvement over what we came here with. The third-gen fuel can give 40% more power to our main drive. The new drive is 65% more powerful, though less if we feed it second-gen fuel. Our backup first gen drive can’t use the new fuel. I propose we swap it out, rather than maintain two different fuel systems in a single engine room.”

  Wilder leaned forward, intent. “Do we overhaul the fueling system?” He and Kassidy bore the brunt of feeding the insatiable maw of the fuel hopper on atmospheric entry. It wasn’t possible for them to work hard enough, fast enough, to supply the higher demand to burn their way out of this gravity hole.

  “We do,” Copeland agreed. “Hopefully, we run on the new third generation fuel only. Of which we expect none on Denali, except in the Nanomage’s tanks.”

  “And we know how to make it?” Eli pressed.

  Cope grinned. “Found that in its database. Full chemical manufacturing instructions. Already sent it to Markley on Mahina and Seitz at Hell’s Bells. They were already able to independently make the stuff and confirm it gets a whopping 40% performance upgrade out of every second-gen star drive. That’s the most common power generator on Mahina. Abel, you’re going to love our share of the profits on that deal.”

  Abel appeared incapable of loving anything, least of all himself. Cope chuckled quietly.

  He summed up. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. But with the new drive, and enough of the new fuel, we should be able to lift with our full kit of 8 containers. I know how to make the fuel. And this is my design for the fueling system.”

  He tossed that schematic up on the screen without any real hope of appreciation. He was wrong. Kassidy, then Wilder, rose and stepped closer to study the diagram in earnest. The new system would tuck into the short-ceiling section of the engine room under the shuttle nook. The old hand-fed hopper was replaced by grabby robotic arms that took the barrel whole, no pouring or removing the empties. It could hold 10 bundles worth of dry pellets before mixing with water to ignite into the usable version in the gas and liquid tanks beneath the floor.

  “We can’t refuel manually during takeoff,” Cope murmured to them. “The g-forces prevent any useful work. So there’s a major increase in tankage here, plus the hopper volume. We’ll still have to refill once we’re out of the atmosphere, but hopefully not too soon.”

  Kassidy murmured, “We wouldn’t make it without this, would we.”

  “No.”

  “And you knew this all along?” Wilder demanded.

  Sass interrupted smoothly, “Please be seated. Copeland and I were aware of the technical hurdles. Nanomage has improved our options substantially.”

  “And the steel glass Wilder found,” Copeland added. “I didn’t understand that material was so easy to get.”

  Wilder looked pleased.

  “Beyond our immediate problems,” Sass resumed, “with our percentage on this new fuel, and the advanced star drive, our profits on this voyage are already assured. But our true mission is to improve settler lives on Mahina. A sudden 40% increase in power back home will go far. That’s our bottom line. Thank you, Cope.”

  “I had a question,” the engineer noted, as he took his tablet back to his seat. “Did you have permission to take that starship? And the star drive?”

  Sass exchanged a glance with Clay. “Always easier to gain forgiveness than permission. Without us, the ship was already lost to them.”

  “Salvage claim,” Clay suggested.

  Cope replied, “Respect, cap. But you and me already served prison time on Mahina and Sagamore. Let’s not add Denali, alright?”

  She sighed. “Point.”

  “Question,” Abel spoke up. “Cope, you said you know how. But do you have the materials to make these newfangled pellets?”

  “Not yet,” the engineer replied.

  Abel pressed, “And are these the last major issues you need to solve?”

  “Need, yes,” Cope agreed. “But I want more protein and steel printer stock. And we need new containers. Whole lot of stuff on my priority wish list.”

  Sass said, “Let’s table that for now. Clay, you’re up next. What we’ve learned about the rest of humanity. Highlights only, please.”

  “When the Gannies left Aloha,” Clay commenced his spiel, “Belker included, they returned to the Sol system – Earth. But they never left the warp point. From there, all they picked up was automated distress beacons. And they did what we suspected was possible, but never knew for sure. They immediately instigated a second warp, to the Gannies’ backup location, a system named Sanctuary, with their own bolt-hole planet as its only colony.”

  Clay raised a wait finger, and placed an image of a planet on the big display, mostly brown land, short on clouds, but with one continent-sized pocket ocean. “I need to correct that. This backup planet was for the Colony Corps, not Ganymede alone. The officers on all the refugee ships knew the coordinates. You see, no one ever really believed that the billion left behind on Earth would stay there to die without a fight. And sadly, that seems to be what happened. Desperate ships of would-be colonists boiled out of Earth to take the colonies on the Moon, Mars, and Ganymede. The locals had the advantage. But outnumbered a hundred to one, they didn’t stand a chance. The large space colonies were destroyed.”

  Sass murmured, “There were asteroid mining platforms.”

  “There were,” Clay agreed. “We don’t believe any of the Colony Corps ships chose to enter the Sol System to rescue survivors. Their orders stated, if in doubt, proceed to Sanctuary. Sass, you can’t blame them. Sol has resources at least five orders of magnitude greater than the colonies. And all too many people available to figure it out. Whereas we have little, and the colony crews had no space for extra bodies. The Gannies simply left the Earth folk to it.”

  “Go on,” she conceded.

  “About 8,000 reached Sanctuary,” Clay continued. “We think maybe 5,000 crewed the refugee ships. It’s possible some came from the long-range explorer ships and returning terraformers. I think about 3,000 launched from Mars. And they now control Sanctuary. A colony of 8,000 is not viable for much except to regress to the Stone Age. The planet itself is a better prize than Denali. Middle of the Goldilocks zone, mostly desert but arable around the salty sea. No pre-existing biome, negligible atmosphere. Gravity about 0.4 g. Harder to render livable than Mahina, because it’s bigger. And they don’t have the labor head count. So they live like urbs, in a single dome complex, and try to maintain their technology level.”

  “Playing a losing game,” Sass added.

  “Yes and no,” Clay quibbled. “Like the 3rd generation star drive, they advanced in a number of technologies compared to us. And like the nanite advances they learned from Mahina, they brought back know-how from all the urb-wave terraformers. So for a few decades, they were the most advanced human society in the galaxy, if a trifle small. And they knew where all the other colonies were.

  “One item that disturbs me,” Clay continued. “Of the 10 colony worlds, three failed before the Colony Corps reached them with the refugee ships. The crews – these were from Mars and the Moon – left the settlers to their fate. No one really expected these colonies to make it. One shared a system with another colony that was viable. Unfortunately, the other two were in the same system.”

  Sass prompted, “And then there was Belker.”

  Clay nodded. “Belker stole the Nanomage in a vote of no confidence. I suppose it’s a comfort that out of all known star systems, he chose ours. Anyway, the Nanomage’s databases are vast, a much higher density storage capacity than anything we’ve got. We might make more money on the technology it contains. Belker headed for Mahina for the nanites, then found Sass and I were still alive. So he fled to Denali instead.”

  “Where he died,” Kassidy offered.

  “We’ve started a campaign to butter up the nanite specialists at Mahina Actual,” Kassidy continued her spiel. “I’m recording lectures now, Dad sharing his advances since he left the city. I’m in touch with Atlas Pratt in the city, and Hunter Burke – Clay’s son – for the settler government. I don’t expect any problem getting clearance for him to return to Mahina as a free man. But, worst case, Hunter’s assured us asylum in Schuyler.”

  “With funding for his research?” Sass asked.

  Kassidy admitted, “Not that far along yet. But if all else fails, Dad can run a nanite shop pay-for-service for settlers. We’d just prefer he not run a business. Because he doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t care. But if that’s necessary, we can find him a business manager. The way Sass originally intended with Josiah.”

  Clay sat back with fingers steepled. “Any benefit to Mahina in the meantime?”

  “To the other nanite specialists, certainly,” Kassidy replied. “To the settlers? Not so much. Any other questions?”

  Wilder spoke up. “Does your father really consider Sass and Clay cyborgs?”

  Kassidy could have tossed her head and passed that off with a quip. Instead she elected to take it seriously. “What is life? If they have mimicked life for 70 years, aren’t they alive? Aurora and Dr. Tyler just told the Waterfalls Selectmen their verdict. These are people. Oh, and you’ll be glad to know, we’re calling you two John Smith and Jane Doe in Dad’s lectures.”

  “Ah, we appear,” Sass murmured.

  Kassidy confessed, “Centrally, I’m afraid. What Dad said that first day, about nanites minus the in-body controllers, is what he proposes for the settlers. No copies of memories and consciousness, no personalized controllers. If you die, rest in peace.”

  “Thank you, Kassidy,” Sass acknowledged, pulling herself upright. “And now my turn. We still need fuel, badly. And Selectman Aden says we need to visit Denali Prime as soon as possible.”

  “Why is Denali Prime still a priority?” Clay asked.

  Sass pointed a finger toward Copeland to reply. “We can convert second generation fuel to third generation. That’s easier than making the pellets from scratch. Also, the bulk stuff I need is the same for both. Prime is where they made it. I’d like an answer sooner rather than later, on what we’re doing for fuel.”

  Sass nodded. “Also, the Denali request our help. They lost all their aircraft at Prime, and want an aerial survey of the damage. Goodwill matters.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do.”

  23

  “The upside to devastation,” Sass quipped, slowing the Nanomage to hover 100 meters over what was once downtown Denali Prime. “No wildlife.” Their flight was briefly harassed by a few pterry and other flying mega-pests along the way. But now their sky gleamed clear turquoise and predator-free under the hot sun.

  They chose to swap sky drives before this expedition, equipping Nanomage with a first generation drive and second generation fuel. Copeland transferred some sensors and asteroid-mining guns as well. The newly sluggish craft should be sufficient for the purpose. But the process took a couple weeks, fraying the tempers of the Waterfalls Selectmen, and putting the sun higher in their sky. Sunrise and sunset were now separate and fleeting segments of the brutal day, now stretching to 7 of Denali’s 20 hours.

  Zan rode shotgun, in a bridge that offered 2nd row seating. Clay leaned forward between them to drink in the post-apocalyptic view. The two guilty volcanoes still smoldered, sending thin streamers sailing aloft. Another trio of tall cones sat silent, their flanks free of trees, facing off against the miscreants across a broad valley. Beneath, the landscape was pure grey from ash and pyroclastic flow. The black of recent lava glinted in the distance under rippling heat waves.

  “Turn the view?” Kassidy requested.

  Zan complied, slowly showing off 360 degrees of ash-covered slopes. Kassidy recorded the scene without commentary until the end. “Rest in peace, Denali Prime. Population was what, 30,000? Like Mahina Actual.”

  “Don’t know,” Zan replied shortly.

  “About that,” Clay murmured agreement.

  Sass sighed. “Well, let’s get to it. Zan, do our maps sync?”

  They bent heads to synchronize their devices, and make sure they were oriented correctly. There weren’t exactly landmarks below to go by. Even the slopes to the valley’s river didn’t quite match the altitude plots. The ash layer seemed to vary from 1 to 6 meters deep, tending to level out the landscape’s rugged dips. The river itself was completely hidden.

  Once they were as sure as they could manage that their maps were right, Sass guided them over the spaceport that was. The city’s extensive agricultural domes spread outward up the slopes from the cosmo domes in the center near the river, with protective hunters at the periphery. She sought an open area not far from the industrial zone for her gun tests. The spaceport fit the bill.

  Not really expecting much, she began a sensor pass. These were borrowed from Thrive, the Nanomage not being equipped for prospecting. Directly below, as expected, she picked up ash and gravel, set by rainfall to the approximate texture of concrete, 2.5 meters deep. A few spots showed high metal content, likely crushed sky ships and shuttles.

  Or would they be crushed? She opened a comm link. “Cope, Sass. Got a sec? Would the Thrive survive under 2.5 meters of ash?”

  “Easily, I think. Need me to calculate that out?”

  “Could you? Call me back. Sass out.” She marked the possible skyships on the map. Then she sent her sensors roving toward the dome closest to the spaceport. And she froze. “No…”

  Zan leaned toward her display in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s hollow,” Sass whispered.

  Clay didn’t wait for her. “Cope, Clay. Are the domes able to withstand 2.5 meters of ash?”

  “The domes are tougher than a skyship,” Cope replied. “Steel glass brick, arches to displace forces. Same stuff they built Neptune out of. Why?”

  Clay pressed, “How about life support? Could the domes still support life buried under that much ash?”

  “Wow. Each one separately, no. The cosmo domes generate too much CO2. The ag domes require too much CO2 and generate O2. But combine them, and recycle the water, and could be. Rego hell. You don’t think they’re alive in there all this time, do you?”

  “That’s what we’re wondering,” Clay agreed.

  “Four months,” Sass murmured. “And we’ve been here wasting time for two of them.”

  Cope couldn’t hear her. “My best guess? At least some of the domes lost pressure. Lava, hurling boulders, whatever. The chances that everyone survived down there are nil. But some, yeah, that’s possible.”

  “Why didn’t we think of this before?” Sass mourned.

  Clay responded, “Because the locals told us the city was destroyed. We believed them.”

  Sass turned to speak to Clay’s comm, wiping a few furious tears from her cheek. “Cope, what would it take for Thrive to evacuate them?”

 

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