We, The Voices

Author’s note: This is the second installment in an anthology series with my previous story We, The Watchers. For now, we turn our view to a different ship in a different time in a different corner of the galaxy. If you’d prefer to read this story on Medium for different formatting you can do so here.

—

The bridge of the Delaney’s Foil was an excellent place to have a drink.

A vaulted stone ceiling rose loftily into a ribbed and gusseted dome culminating in a chandelier that cascaded in its million pieces of glass back down. Great columns rose at four corners, exquisite in their delicate inlays, not for support, of course, rather for the bedazzlement of all who beheld them. The floor stretched off in all directions, hewn from the same stone as the dizzying ceiling above but now polished smooth into a near mirror to reflect back all the light that rained down. The entrance was a flourished fan of excessive ornamentation marking with admirable definition that this was a new place, a place one wanted to be, a place one was lucky to set foot in, a place so unlike the endless cold halls of the ship beyond. Down the middle of the bridge lay a stretching expanse of redwood, a long table ready to host a board meeting of thirty even if it were exceedingly unlikely that more than seven of us would ever gather around it. Between each set of columns, little nested corners tucked away here a cafe table, beyond a pair of handsome reading chairs, across the room a small fountain bubbled away the silence of the ship.

Above the splendor loomed, of all things, a bar. A handsome expanse of black marble spread nearly the length of the bridge lined by black cushioned stools on slender gold pedestals. Beyond, rows of polished, ornate bottles marched upwards, glowing on lit steps. Around and above them an art deco showpiece reached up into the vaults of the ceiling. Fanned slabs of stone cantilevered gracefully out. Layered golden sconces glowed brilliantly. Miles of delicate gold inlay chased every angle again and again until the eye was lost in the splendor of this opulent maze. 

All of it was a monument to human ingenuity. We built a bridge like this, so glorious in it’s excess, and sent it off into the far reaches of space simply because we could. It was at once a masterpiece, the culmination of a proud history of design now perfected and sent out to the new world, and it was also the most garish facade I’d ever seen. Opulence, created to put fear of its creator into those who dared set foot upon the bridge.

As it turns out, when you’re spinning out of the long stretches of interstellar space the one thing you have in abundance is time. It took our faithful ship years to reach cruising speed and years to come back down again as we approached our destination. So while you may naturally have pictured the bridge of this great vessel like something out of an old-timey naval movie- sailors arrayed around a captain, a score of instruments pinging away, maybe a big helm for sudden evasive maneuvers- you know, a place for action. It’d probably be best if we dispense with those notions now. No, coming out of that blackness time is in abundance and consensus is what the bridge is built for.

As you may imagine the Foil was packed full of just about every technological marvel that the collective minds of Earth had been able to conceive over the past several thousand years. Including a formidable AI system, that would almost certainly horrify us if we truly understood the true breadth of its intelligence, with a directive to run the ship and navigate it to wherever we on the jury decided to point it.

So that’s what the bridge was built to accommodate, a select jury of seven, deliberating until the very future of humanity had been decided. Every bit of knowledge housed deep in the ship’s library was available at a moment’s notice, all distilled by the AI to provide exactly the information we needed right when we needed it. It just so happened that when an AI needs to get a bunch of humans to agree to a course of action before it can begin to move down its next cascade of objectives, that the best place to accomplish such unanimity was a bar. Hence, the bridge of this proud ship was made to entice one to sit and have a drink, strike up a conversation, to consider things from a new perspective. Very few problems were so intractable that sufficient time and lightly lubricated conversations couldn’t put them to rights. And the opulence? Well, you had to cater to your clientele.

Even the exuberantly pure priest amongst our ranks Joshua, his eyes glinting with vigor and a faith that was all but gone from our world, found the bridge’s atmosphere intoxicating. Even if he refrained from the top-shelf sauce the rest of us made free with. That was fine. He could get high on God, I contented myself with the finest single malt millennia of human ingenuity could create.

Yes, as the lot of us stood scattered around the bridge the evening before we began our deliberations something like congeniality had staggered forth from the cryogenic abyss with us. The worst of the waking sickness had passed, we hoped, and a steady diet of increasingly solid food combined with a half dozen cocktails a day had everyone beginning to feel like their old selves again. We seven had done this impossible thing, crossed the void and lived to tell the tale. Of course, we’d all been briefed on the other jurors years before we left earth, several of us even had notable histories together. The jury that would shape the fate of humanity. I myself had been taken off every aquatic management project I’d been overseeing for the family a full three years before I went on the ice, my fate decided by the powers that be to cast my lot in with the Delaney’s Foil, to preserve a new place for Saito International amongst the stars.

No jury of peers here. The seats at this bar were bought with coin or knowledge or blood. For myself, Saito International had traded nearly all of its holdings on Europa. A dear trade beyond a doubt, but one deemed worth the investment. The House of Saito rose to prominence in the wake of the collapse of East Tokyo, deploying groundbreaking water treatment tech to a dying city and saving millions in the process. From there it could only be onwards and upwards for a growing conglomerate as humanity took to the stars. First, it was treatment. Then desalination. Then harvesting. Before too long 95% of the freshwater in the system was Saito property, and even that was not enough to stop the juggernaut that was the Delaney Corporation as it set its sights for interstellar space. So eventually, Saito came to the table and began to sell off holdings in exchange for control as humanity began its great diaspora. Water was an invaluable resource on earth, and nearly as much so out in the system, but not as invaluable as immortality. Joining Delaney’s great venture was really the only option for a family seeking eternity. Out amongst the stars, we hangers-on of the great houses could be put to good use, before we got any smart ideas about our cousin’s holdings. Out here those of us condemned to non-voting board seats had a chance to turn the tables. On our fates. On our families. On the Delaney Corporation itself.

So for three years, I prepared. Studying the routes we would likely take. What the statistical probability of habitable planets was in those systems. What those planets might look like. What Saito patents may prove useful there, and how I could gain some leverage on this new planet. But more importantly, I studied these people, this jury. Who they were. Where they came from. What they might be looking for out here amongst the blackness of space.

We had Joshua, the Jesuit, berth purchased with the final breaths of a dying church hoping to find new life in a new world. Marquez the biologist, who’d been friendly enough when she pulled me off the ice, but who I knew had crawled over a pile of blackmailed scholars for her place here. Marchand, the astrophysicist who’s rich, dark face had seemed so enchanting when we met as she received her second Nobel Prize. But who now seemed gaunt, drawn, and greyed. God knows how long she’d been awake; as she sat at the bar that first evening attempting some amiable chat she struck me as a junkie gritting her teeth between hits. 

The bulk of my studies had focused, naturally, on Hector Yun the scion of Yun Aeronautics.  Their deal had been similarly Faustian to my own, air purification and generation tech plus massive holdings on Venus had bought seats on nearly all Delaney juries, giving the Yun legacy an almost certain shot at immortality. In a way, I actually felt rather lucky to have been matched up with Hector. His family’s technology, and control thereof, was formidable. He had proven himself a capable manager of family affairs with the central Chinese purification systems, and had even come out looking quite distinguished when he was called on to sort out a crisis with the colony air generation on Venus. His bright eyes and quick smile made him easy to like, even if I knew that under all the gloss and backslapping was a mind steadily calculating it’s next move. But for all, that he was rather slow, at least when compared with his siblings, and there were smarter Yuns on other ships. In a world where all the progeny of the world’s great corporations are destined from birth for a world of competition, thinking of the next move was not nearly enough. No, where we came from it was necessary to think miles down the line, minds constantly running and updating a dozen different likely outcomes, subtly shifting inputs to relentlessly increase family stock prices. Besides, we had a fair share of history ourselves, and never before had he found the better of me at a negotiation table. No, Hector Yun did not worry me, my worry laid with Liam Delaney.

The captain of this happy ship, if there could be said to be one, was Liam Delaney. First off the ice upon approach to a new planet. First to learn of what lay ahead. The one to call a jury to decide our fate. In the end, we needed consensus to begin a new colony. But Liam had the opportunity to assess a new system, decide who to pull out of cryo and in what order, and to act as foreman to our meetings. His last name didn’t hurt his case either. Having the ship named for your family certainly makes you seem like the captain, even if you don’t get the title.

A late-born nephew to familial matriarch Yvette Delaney when she began her conquest of the stars, Liam’s branch on the family tree was particularly ripe for pruning when the time came to fill the ships. You see, young Liam didn’t have the good sense to feign mediocrity and enjoy all the benefits his name could supply. No, he had to set forth like his great, great grandfather and become an axiomatic businessman. The family poured education and privilege and cognitive gene editing equally among all their young sproutlings to see where the Delaney seed would flourish, but by the time young Liam had began to show his promise the lines of inheritance had been all but set, even if it pained Yvette to watch young talent go to waste. So he was relegated to the management of the family’s asteroidal holdings. A task he took up with some vigor and quickly consolidated a nearly inescapable hold over the entire belt. From there, it was merely a hop and a skip for him to begin collecting control intra-Jupiter commerce and before too long Liam had built an empire even his proud ancestor Josiah Delaney would be proud of.

Surely at that point, Liam was reconsidering his position in the line of succession, and surely Yvette was not blind to the young man’s ambitions. So his branch, laden with promise, was summarily snipped from the Delaney tree and packaged up for transplant to a new world. His consent in the matter wouldn’t have even been a consideration.

So this was the adversary I had been set against. An undauntable force whose family had near monolithic control of our home system. As he strode across the bar, a grim set to his chin, he looked every bit the progeny of his heralded ancestor. Unlike most of his family whose Latino descent showed prominently, Liam carried a shock of red hair above his crystalline eyes and powerful shoulders, one more way to honor his forbearer. He was a considerable man by any measure. Standing a full head over me when I had chance to meet him on Earth, he was certainly a man of imposing physicality. As I studied him from afar,though, here aboard the Foil he seemed different somehow. Diminished. Left on his own, his face would set into stoic contemplation, eyes drifting off to ponder some unknown turmoil. His face was a mask that day as he cajoled around the bridge a pint of dark ale in hand, a smile rode on his face when he greeted each new juror personally. Measuring, testing, befriending, entrancing the others.  Somehow, someway on this new world, I had to best this man. I had to find a way to parlay this bet my family had made on me into posterity in the new world.

As I looked across the bridge on the first day of our deliberations I saw people I knew, some only from afar, others more personally. I saw ambitions I could use. I saw fears I could exploit. And I knew they all saw the same thing. No doubt we’d each been meticulously prepared for our time on this jury. Our time shaping humanity’s future. Each member with their own distinct and often mutually exclusive desired outcomes, and yet each entirely codependent on the others for consensus. Ambition clashing with ambition. And so we sat and talked and drank. Each of us trying desperately to rid ourselves of the dregs of cryosickness with a stiff drink, and against all odds an air of camaraderie settled over the bridge. We were those tasked with deciding humanity's future, we had crossed the stars, we had carried the human spark out to a new world. Each of us was known, each of us seen, each of us a potential ally or hindrance or casualty of our own machinations.

All except one.  The final member of our jury, Lorena. The one true unknown amongst us, who’s seat at the bar had not been bought. She sat lightly atop a padded stool the first night of our deliberations leaning on the dark marble bar top sipping lightly at a bubbling flute of champagne, chatting animatedly with Marquez. Her long grey hair was tied back simply, her navy jacket refined and plain, her dark skin smooth not yet gone to mottle, her bright eyes dancing in the chandelier light.

Against all the might of the great corporation, the remnants of old Earth’s governments could not bring much to bear. Too much power had been accumulated across too great an area. No code of laws could withstand a corporation soaked in riches from a hundred worlds. But as the eyes of humanity turned outwards the remaining governments knew they had to make a play for the good of those they still represented. Or at least that’s how they thought of it. And so rather than hold their citizens at home, to try and save a dying world, they stepped boldly forth with the Delaney Corporation offering the citizenry itself to the project. In exchange, all they sought was a seat at the table. Not for any government head or diplomat, but for a passenger, selected at random from the holds and called upon to help make this most incomparable of decisions. A Voice for the People.

I knew there would be one of her like amongst us. I knew that no matter how much I’d studied the others that this damnable democratic delegate would always be my biggest unknown. I wanted to despise her. She who thought to sit amongst these proud families for the price of an economy ticket. She who, known to her or not, presumed to speak for the millions still frozen in the holds of the ship. But as she sat at the bar that night, eyes laughing, slim profile humble in the midst of so much garishness, it was hard not to be enthralled.

We sat on that first evening, chatting pleasantly, idly fishing for any munitions that may have been missed in our respective briefings. To one side of the room, the bar rose in its glittering ostentation, the chandelier torrented down from the ceiling in its millions of shards, the great table stretched off in either direction making a mockery of wood scarcity back on earth. But none of this grandeur held our gaze that night. Opposite the bar, nestled between two soaring columns was the ship’s primary display. It could show anything in the library. Data analyses, live external feeds, great works of art. Usually, the ship’s AI would fill this imposing canvas with some timeless masterpiece that it deemed appropriate for the conversation at hand, although for an AI it sure seemed to have a weakness for renaissance landscapes. But that is not what hung above us that night. No. Glowing blue and green upon an inky backdrop, swirled in great whisps of cloud, looking achingly like home, hung a planet. Hung a miracle.

--

Fansa122b was an inadequate name for a miracle, but I guess that’s what you get when you leave the naming up to an AI.

Poor name or no it hung gloriously over the bridge that evening, laying bare the shallowness of our ostentatious aesthetic. The universe was an artist. Creating wonders that outshone our little rectilinear obsessions a million to one. The planet beamed back at us in a shroud of white cloud stretching in elegant arcs away from the equator, dancing to and fro to reveal wide expanses of pure blue seas. Dotted here and there among all this unsullied ocean lay great swathes of teal green ranging from an electric seafoam to brooding turquoise to deepening purple. It was enough to take your breath away. But then the clouds would continue their chaotic dance revealing some new unprecedented wonder of this aquatic world, and then, on occasion a new color. Land. Rising red and ragged from the depths great archipelagos rose from the frothing seas spraying out in brilliant island chains that climbed the latitudes.

We all sat in contemplation, thinking the same thought. “My god, it looks just like home.” But no home as we’d known it. No denuded forests. No oceans filling with the toxic sludge of exhausted topsoil. No great industries steadily particulating the atmosphere, slowly erasing the stars from human memory. No, this planet was precisely what we sought as we left home behind, a gift from the universe. Another chance at life, if we were so worthy.

By all accounts, the planet was actually a statistical miracle. Up until a couple of light-years out from the system, the Foil would’ve only had a hunch that planets orbited in the habitable zone of this cool, diminutive star. As we approached, the ship began to pick out more and more details of the system. Planet size. Orbital periods. Average surface temperature. Eventually, enough selection criteria were met for potential colony planets and the ship deployed a swarm of array telescopes to fan out and begin direct-imaging the system in steadily increasing detail. Quickly, the AI eliminated several likely candidates in the Fansa system, one tidally locked to the sun, one smothering beneath a crushing atmosphere. But one that showed promise. One with geological activity. One with an active magnetosphere shielding off the worst of what space had to throw its way. One with a workable 1.43g surface gravity. One with a healthy atmosphere providing not just a livable surface pressure but a downright balmy average temperature of 18 degrees centigrade. All of these were miracles in their own right, any of which would have made a strong case for a new colony. But none of them were the miracle.

No, Liam Delaney had the honor of discovering the miracle of Fansa122b. Around the same time as the telescope array was deployed Liam was taken off the ice and briefed with all available observations to decide if a jury should be called. The ship proudly showed him all of its orderly data, highlighting areas of interest and facets that suggested colony candidacy. But for all of its measurements and insights, the Foil’s AI was only capable of revealing mysteries, not miracles. It could detect some oddities in the atmospheric composition. Too much free oxygen. A surface temp a fair shake higher than may have been expected for a planet orbiting this star at this distance. A puzzling amount of gaseous chlorine. All mysteries for further observation to be sure, but it took the eyes of Liam Delaney to behold the miracle. One look was all he needed and it was clear as day. The miracle, was life.

The sweeping intricate teal masses trailing off craggy islands. The subtle glow of bioluminescence shining back against the dark as the planet slowly turned into night. This planet was positively glowing in life, radiating back against the blackness. It looked alien and exotic and new and exciting, but it also looked more like home than anything we had any right to expect out here. This heart-aching image spun elegantly above us gradually coming into clearer and clearer view leaving each and every one of us awestruck.

“Shall we begin?” Delaney’s voice filled the room, cutting through our mesmerized murmurs and the grandiose cello quartet that the ship had chosen to befit this solemn occasion. One by one we snapped to attention. He sat slowly down at the head of the great table as the others made their way across the polished floor. I set my glass upon the bar and a server arm quickly refreshed my whiskey before I moseyed over to a seat at the end of the group. Much needed armor for the hours of deliberations that lay ahead.

“Let’s start with an overview of what we’ll be considering over the coming days.” Delaney began, clear blue eyes slowly moving from face to face to face, sizing up the rest of the jury. “You all have the briefing materials with constantly updating observations as we make our approach, but let’s cover the key information again. Fansa122b is a remarkably Earth-like planet, providing similar gravity, pressure, radiation protection, and surface temperatures to home, albeit around a smaller, cooler star. Rotational period is 1.36 earth days, while the orbit takes 147.3 days, so it would allow us to maintain fairly standard circadian rhythms after an initial adjustment period, although the axial spin is pretty much bang on 90 degrees from the ecliptic so seasonal changes would be almost nonexistent. The planet has two moons which are pretty clearly large captured asteroids, both have enough gravity to be round although together they only make up about a third of the mass of Earth’s moon, so tidal effects are likely fairly subdued. Not to mention that they would appear quite small in the night sky.” He paused, surveying his audience to see who diving right into specifics bored, Father Joshua had never taken rapt eyes off of the planet spinning on the display. While I met Delaney’s steely, appraising gaze with a slight smile and took a sip of whiskey.

“Speaking of the system, I’m sure Dr. Marchand will have a great deal more with which to illuminate our understanding in the coming days, but suffice to say for now a smaller star means a smaller system. Not only is the habitable zone much closer to the star, but it contains only five planets. Three rocky inner worlds, of which our subject is the largest and middle orbiting, and two Jovians both between the size of Saturn and Neptune although one does seem to want to give Saturn a run for its money with the rings.” The display switched on cue illuminating a deep cerulean gas giant surrounded by a splendor of silver rings. “The system overall has a fair amount of asteroid and comet mass, but in total we estimate its size at about a third of the Earth system. However, what it lacks in size it makes up for in value, early analysis shows an abundance of water, noble gasses, and heavy metals. There’s plenty to make up for what little we lost on our way here, should we decide to continue our journey.”

“Hah. Bloody likely.” guffawed Hector Yun, ambition besting his years in British finishing schools.

“Hector, please.” Delaney snapped, shooting a cold glance that stifled any other outbursts that may have wanted to follow this outlandish suggestion. “We are here to consider all the facts in our decision, and I’d urge you all to refrain from jumping to any conclusions.”

“Back to our subject.” He continued. “The planet has a mass and radius a bit larger than Earth’s, so surface gravity is 1.43g; we’d have to make some serious adaptations to our lives to accommodate this difference.” 

Gasps rang out down the table. Not at this factoid that all of us already knew, but at the fact that suddenly we were all growing heavier. “The ship’s AI is helping illuminate this point for me, upping our rotation to bring us up to 1.43g” A bright 1.08g appeared on the display and crawled up to 1.09 then 1.1, and up and up. The effects of even this slight change in local gravity were profound. Limbs dragged down. Heads lolled. The jury erupted in protests of unease. We made it all the way to 1.19g before Liam called off his little demonstration, easing us back down to normal gravity. 

“As you can see this is no mean thing, living at 1.43 would be a challenge, but one I believe we are equal to. We can use the Foil as a staging area, waking up newcomers in the interior and gradually training them up to higher gravities before sending them down to the surface.” He paused, letting this information settle in. Most of the jurors had simply read this stat and thought close enough then didn’t think twice about the implications. Medicine would need to be redeveloped. Any falling injuries would be brutal. Even the added weight of water in all of Saito’s machines would wreak havoc. If this devious of a devil laid in this glaring a detail, what other hazards lay at our doorstep? I had to chuckle to myself. If young Liam wanted us off balance he was doing a remarkable job.

“On the bright side, the atmosphere does us a bit of a favor. There’s just less of it than there was on Earth so surface pressure is roughly similar to that of standing a hundred meters or so below sea-level, very survivable without a suit. In fact, as best we can reckon if you were standing on one of the islands near the equator right now, you’d experience a pleasant 23 degrees with clear blue skies and slight westerly trade wind. Not bad for a Monday afternoon.’

“It’s not all good news though. While the atmosphere is favorable and relatively oxygen-rich, early spectroscopy shows, as I’m sure you’ve all seen, a worryingly high concentration of chlorine gas. Not enough to trouble the skin terribly, but certainly enough to require masks and filtration if not supplemental oxygen. Unless, of course, we decide to pursue some sort of terraforming strategy.” He paused and took a draught of his dark, heady ale. I swept my eyes across the room and saw visible excitement building behind several sets of eyes. “On the subject of composition, from what we can tell so far. The planet is clearly covered in a large liquid ocean that seems to be mostly pure water, it averages about four and a half Ks deep, so slightly deeper than Earths, and covers more of the surface, about 85%. Between the strong magnetosphere and the land that we can see, which appears to be mostly volcanic in formation, we can deduce that the planet is still tectonically—”

“Dios mio! Enough with the fucking analysis already Delaney!” Marquez erupted no longer able to contain her excitement, which I suppose was fitting given her role as our resident biologist. “We’ve read the materials, but none of it can tell you what one look can. There’s life!” She stood gesturing wildly to the screen which displayed a green shrouded archipelago slowly turning into night, a string of bioluminescence flickered to glow brilliantly back against the night. 

“God knows how far we’ve come on this fool’s errand and this is what we find? We’re home Delaney. It’s an honest-to-God miracle. Padre, if you were looking for the divine out here you’ve damn-well found it.” The priest having finally turned his attention to the table nodded in solemn confirmation, even if he found the delivery of this revelation a bit unsavory. “For millennia we brainlessly sabotage our home until it was nothing more than a stripped husk, and when we finally get our act together to find a new home this is what the universe delivers? A planet all but tailor-made for us. It’s beyond luck, it’s fucking divine intervention.”

Delaney raised a large calloused hand to the biologist to quiet this interruption. 

“Dr. Marquez, you will have plenty of opportunity to make your best case for our decision regarding Fansa122b in due time. For now, I ask that we only consider what we know. Many of us, myself included, look at this world and see a place that looks a lot like a home we never knew. But for now, all we know is that this planet is warm and protected like our former home. It has oceans, and land, and some formation that ranges from teal to dark green surrounding many of the islands. The unbalance of chlorine in the atmosphere is indeed puzzling but not necessarily the effect of some not-yet-understood biological process. While we Earthlings may look at these things and think that we’ve found our first evidence of extraterrestrial life, for now, we must entertain the notion that there are other explanations for these phenomena. Dr. Marchand, I’m sure you’d agree from a scientific perspective that there are other viable explanations.”

Marchand inclined her gaunt face in agreement. 

“It’s important to remember that we still have very little data about the planet and system as a whole,” she whispered, each word falling like rustling paper across the table. “The green formations could be the result of some oxidizing compound as it comes into contact with the seawater. As for the chlorine, it’s harder to explain but we could certainly imagine—”

“Cabrona! It’s fucking glowing!” Marquez interjected, sending the astrophysicist back into weary silence. “We can sit here all night and play devil’s advocate, but if that isn’t bioluminescence strung around those islands I will eat my left sock.” The table burst forth in a cacophony of agreement, all living eyes sure in their clarity that they’d spotted more life.

What a laugh, I thought to myself as I took the distraction for an excuse to slide back to the bar and freshen my whiskey. What was Delaney playing at? Marquez was right of course, the planet was a godsend. Or at the very least a stroke of luck so fine, it would be positively criminal to not act on it. Did he really think that given all of this information that we would reach consensus and the answer would be no? That this miracle of a planet wasn’t good enough? I for one would surely never be convinced. This was an aquatic world. My family legacy was aquatic. Our collective patents, desalination machinery, sea walls, and hydroelectric would all come to bear on this new world. The cards were falling quite nicely indeed. Saito-le, Saito’s house, now that was a more fitting name for a planet of this stature.

But surely that wasn’t the plan ticking away behind Liam’s eyes. This was a miracle for all of us, and my ambitions wouldn’t go uncontested. No, Delaney had been awake longer than any of us by who knows how long, plotting his vision for the future of this new world. So what was the game? Was he hoping that unbalance and discord would throw Yun and me into such a tailspin that we’d fold completely into Delaney dominance? Or was he so much holier-than-thou as to seriously believe that his role as foreman required such neutrality that we may actually be allowed to walk away from such a golden opportunity?

My whiskey was properly freshened as the tumult died down. 

“Please rejoin us Saito San, we have much to discuss.” Liam began again, shooting a final warning glance at Marquez finally ending her animated aside with Lorena. “You all are clearly well briefed, and no doubt we will learn a great deal in the coming days as our observations continue to improve, but here is one piece of information that has not been shared with you that may be vital to your decision.” He paused taking a deep breath, steeling himself. 

“As of today, the CRS Delaney’s Foil has been enroute to the Fansa122 system for 1,342 years 322 days.” The silence that followed echoed in its hollowness up into the vaulted arches of the bridge, each of us recoiled in revulsion as this truly inhuman piece of information worked its way along our synapses. “As of right now we have gone through all of our maintenance crew and waking option berths. The waking crew that’s on the farmland now is facing their second work stint. Poor souls. Clearly, this is much longer than you may have expected.”

This time it was Hector Yun who could not contain his reaction. 

“Clearly? Clearly! Clearly, we’re owed an explanation, Delaney!” The priest lowered his head in fervent prayer, Marquez was struck in silent tears, Yun continued. “Clearly, we’ve been lied to! Our target system was 324 years of flight time away. What the hell happened?!”

Liam replied in steely resolve, “Reality happened Hector.” Blue daggers coming from his eyes forcing the young scion back into his seat. “I awoke at our first target system, and it was clear as day, there was no home for us there. The terrestrial planets were respectively a ball of magma, a suffocating hothouse and a planet so geologically dead that we’d be more exposed there than here on the ship.” He took another draught of his beer, now visibly struggling with what he’d done. “So the protocols were clear, and still I made a terrible choice, with no viable colony planets given existing technology the mission continued. That is my duty and my burden as foreman of this jury.’

“Still, the price is incalculable,” he went on. “I’ve been woken five times since we left Earth. Each time I was faced with an impossible decision, each time racked with the cryosickness that you’ve all just become acquainted with. Each time, sure I wouldn’t wake to see the next system. Each waking cycle taking a little bit more of me.” Another draught, his voice was audibly shaking. “I’ve seen snowball worlds, and worlds covered in seas of hydrocarbons. I’ve seen worlds that look so promisingly like home only to learn that they’re covered in a layer of lethal gas that would make any attempt at colonization futile. Each time I spent years awake on approach considering every factor, each time electing to let you sleep until we found a place that we could truly call home...” He trailed off, eyes drifting up to the bands of cloud that strung across the northern latitudes of this new world.

“But what right did you have, Mr. Delaney?” Father Joshua’s soft voice came in, shattering the stillness that had filled the bridge. “What right did you have! WE, are the jury who decides the fate of this mission, not only you. It was our right to consider these planets, and find a new home, our right to behold God’s work.”

“Father, please. You know well that was never the agreement.” Delaney replied after a deep breath. “My duty. My burden. Is to be the first woken. To compile the observations and wait through the years as the picture becomes clearer to decide whether to call the jury.’

“For you all it was a night, and a bad hangover. For me, eight years. Eight years coming out of interstellar space, only to face heartbreak every time. So do not lecture me, I know the price we paid to get here.”

Murmurs of disquiet still rolled along the table, each of us trying to reconcile this piece of information whose dissonance threatened to shred our already tattered minds. Each of us wanting to protest the liberty Delaney took with our lives. Each of us too cowed by the force and pain he held behind his pale eyes.

It was Lorena’s dancing voice who finally broke the deepening silence. “We all died as soon as we set foot on the ship,” her musical diction somehow adding optimism to this leaden notion. “It doesn’t matter if it was three hundred years or three thousand, this was the deal we made. As soon as we set off none of us were ever going to see Earth again. So what does it matter that those you left behind are now several dozen generations dead? We did not set out to knit together an empire. We set out to find a new home for our people.” She trailed off forcing each of us to buck up to the deal we’d made.

“And now, God willing, we have found it.” The priest replied after a time, Lorena held his gaze with deep green eyes but held her silence, her champagne bubbled away untouched.

With a ponderous sigh and a final sip of his ale, Liam Delaney resumed his role as foreman. “You all will have many questions; over the coming days, and with improving observations as we continue our approach, I hope to answer them all. But the one this jury is called to answer collectively is this: Will Fansa122b become humanity’s new home?” His eyes panned around the table. “Per the charter of our mission, we must unanimously decide and may deliberate for as long as necessary. At present, our telescopic array will pass the planet in five days, providing the best picture we’ll get before arrival, and we are on course to enter orbit around the planet in eight months, seventeen days, and five hours, so we have plenty of time to decide.’ 

“No decisions will be made tonight, and you will all have your chance to make your best-case argument in favor of leaving or staying.” He looked around the table hopefully. “But before we adjourn tonight I’d like to go around the table and hear where everyone sits on the decision given present information. I, for one, am in favor of staying. This trip has taken millennia and human lives in a very real sense, cryogenic casket failures will always be a hazard and I believe it is our duty to awake the people to a new home with this much promise. Mr. Yun?”

Yun scoffed and drained the last of his cocktail. “No point beating around the bush is there?” His hungry eyes scanning the table expectantly for support. “This planet was made for us! Between the technologies of Yun, Saito, and Delaney we are uniquely provisioned to make a new home of this planet.” He beamed proudly. “My answer is stay, how could it be any different?”

“Quedate un ratito Hector!” Marquez barked in response, rising quickly in her fervor. “I agree with you all in that we should stay. But let’s not forget the elephant in the room, this planet is alive!” Yun nodded slightly in agreement, eyes still wolfish in their ambition. “I cannot wait to step down into those seas and see what other ways life has flourished in this universe, but we cannot go down there with some macho terraform-first-ask-questions later attitude. We will have to accommodate a hell of a lot to this planet, we all learned that lesson already with Liam’s little gravity demonstration.” She paused for a drink and to try and master the flush of passion that had overcome her fine features.

“We will have a dual duty on this planet. We will need to look after our people, to create a home where we can live, really live. But we will also need to protect what we find. We cannot let this place, this Eden, become another denuded Earth.” Emotions now contained, her voice sunk into a rich whisper. “It was wrong at home, and it would be doubly wrong here with new life hanging in the balance. All the same, I say we stay.”

“It is not for us to consider how we will colonize in this jury, merely if we will.” Delaney reminded, his cool tones resuming control of the room. “We have enough information to understand the basic challenges, and key ethical considerations, but we will decide how to live here as a larger society only if we stay. Dr. Marchand, you’ve been awake nearly as long as me, what do you think?”

The lean, dark astrophysicist took a deep breath and a sip from her glass. She and the priest had looked at the splendor of the bar and chosen water, although from the pained look that always rested heavily on her face I suspected some darker demon, rather than faith, fueled her chemical sobriety.

Her thin voice began. “Since I’ve come out of cryogenic stasis I have been able to make an unprecedented number of discoveries.” Her dark eyes drifted upwards as the display shifted to show the system’s position among local stars. Earth wasn’t even in the frame of reference. “The telescopic powers of the ship are of course formidable, and we have had the dark clarity of interstellar space to aid observations. Although it is also helpful that this star is generally small and dim.” Somehow I got the feeling that she’d prefer it if the star was entirely dark. 

“We are considerably closer to the galactic center now and regional space is filled with objects ripe for extensive study that will undoubtedly illuminate our very understanding of the universe. I, myself, have spent most of my waking hours on approach working on observations that will no doubt shatter much of what we thought we knew about pulsars once it is reviewed and added to our academic understanding. This is just the tip of the iceberg. This system is well positioned for studies on neutron stars, several smaller black holes, and of course the galactic center itself.” Her weary eyes, still drawn upward by the images on the display of telescopic images, began to fill with tears. 

So that’s what it was. The Marchand I remembered from Earth was always a bit soft-spoken and aloof, but this woman was an addict. She now had access to things astrophysicists could only dream of back on earth. And this new knowledge was tearing her apart.

Her softly French-accented voice continued after a moment. “As far as the system itself. Not only is the planet quite promising, but it is a favorable place to colonize from an astrophysical perspective. This star is still quite young, especially for its type, and planetary orbits seem to be remarkably stable. Plus the system is quite tidy in terms of asteroidal clutter, chances of problematic impacts are quite low. So, barring any complications on the surface, this is a uniquely safe and advantageous place for us to colonize.” A final sip from her crystalline glass. “Stay. For knowledge, longevity, and humanity.”

“And you, father?” Delaney prompted after a moment.

The priest whose eyes had once again been glued to the image of the planet spinning on the display seemed to settle lightly back into reality. “It was a shame to not get to witness God’s creations in the systems we’ve passed, but he has a plan and we are set firmly upon it. His hand has guided us through the stars to another of his creations.” 

He spoke with a conviction and reverence that made you wonder how his church had fallen so far. Maybe if they’d had more men like him, equally ambitious, smart, and faithful they could have held their place on Earth. Instead, scandal and scientific rationality had stripped away believers in their millions. Now Father Joshua, like all of us, was out here looking for a second chance. For him and for his church.

“It is our duty to make a new home on this planet. To behold all the glory of God’s creation, and bear witness to whatever other children he has brought forth from the void. Stay, I say!” He crossed himself quickly and lowered his head in prayer.

“Very well.” Delaney said with a steadying breath. “And you Saito San? Where do you stand on the issue?”

“Well respectfully Father, I have to disagree with your assessment of the cause, but cannot deny the miracle before us,” I said draining my whiskey, leaving the cube spinning in the bottom of my heavy glass. “As you point out Liam this trip, no matter the time, exacts a heavy toll both mentally and in real terms of human life. We’ve had what? A .025% casket failure rate? That’s still hundreds lost.” I looked deep into his clear eyes, gauging his reaction. There was pain, and solmen acceptance, but something else I couldn’t quite place yet.

“Hector. Our families have been in competition since long before we were alive, and that spirit has borne some of humanity’s greatest achievements. So I share your ambition in creating a bountiful new home for our kind although I hope Dr. Marquez’s oppositional influence will help us strike a middle path.” Yun looked back at me with a sardonic smile. Like me, he was born to this game, and relished his opponent’s opening move. Even if I was already working steps ahead, beginning to find unsure footing under Delaney. Marquez simply glared back, knowing that I was up to something but unable to divine exactly what.

“And Dr. Marchand, that’s very nice to hear about the observational potential, but mostly I’m just relieved that we won’t have to fend away too many cataclysmic asteroids. Although I’m sure some Delaney tech could help us out there if we were in a pinch.” Liam stared in silence, sensing trickery but too prosaic to imagine what my performance hoped to accomplish. “I, and the house of Saito, will be very pleased to bring our resources to the use of this new colony and help us make a new home on this world. I say we shall stay.” I ended with a slight bow and a fittingly modest tone. Best not to give away the game too early.

“Thank you Saito San.” Delaney said, retaking control of the room. “And finally you, Mrs. Hildebrand,” nodding gravely at Lorena. “You alone could not have expected to be here amongst us in these deliberations, but our charter decrees that we have one representative from the main body of passengers on this jury. You are here to speak for what you think is best, but your voice represents the two million passengers we still have stored here on the Foil. What do you say?”

Lorena Hildebrand, that troublesome unknown, finally took a tiny sip of her champagne and stood before addressing us, smoothing down the rumples in her tidy jacket. “Well it’s an honor; I never expected to be on this jury with you fine folks. I certainly have less experience in matters of science and technology as you all have, but it would take a fool to not see the opportunity that’s come knocking.” Her voice began to waver and her bright eyes became dotted with tears. She looked around, each of our faces expectant.

“But all the same the answer seems clear to me, we have no choice but to leave.” She let forth in a shaking whisper.

And the bridge erupted into chaos.

--

All the world’s luxury can’t solve an existential crisis.

I found myself the next evening back on the bridge hours before anyone else arrived for the next round of deliberations, seeking solace at the bottom of a whiskey glass. The previous night had ended in absolute bedlam. When that up-jumped Voice of the People declared her opposition we had all nearly jumped down her throat. Liam had to physically intervene before Marquez could lay hands on her. He abruptly called the session and Marquez was dragged off bellowing about how she wouldn’t be denied this planet. It was an irritation to have to extend deliberations to be sure, but a minor one at that. Surely Lorena would come around.

We ended on a frayed note, but it was Delaney’s revelation that had turned the room upside down. Thirteen hundred years. How the hell had it been that long? Of course, Lorena was right, none of us were ever seeing Earth again. We knew the deal when we agreed to come aboard. But it was one thing to sign the paperwork, another to sit there at the bar and look at the route we had traveled, to really see what this new world had cost. I sat at the bar under all the carefully curated splendor with the smoky peat of a fine single malt doing it’s best to burn away the cryosickness, contemplating the maps and struggling to understand just how far we’d come.

The deliberations had started to come apart when Delaney dropped that bomb, so it was no wonder that our reaction to dissent had turned a bit ugly. I’d slipped out the previous evening shortly after Marquez was dragged out and wandered slowly down the long halls of the ship back to my staterooms. The Foil provided an adequate amount of comfort for the jurors, suites nestled in along the hull at a comfortable 1g all with access to the bridge, gym, gardens, and observation deck, although what passed for ‘walking distance’ here on the ship was a bit suspect. I had to laugh the first time I walked from my rooms to the bridge, it was certainly further than I’d walked on Earth in years. Of all the things I’d expected to encounter in space, long walks were far from the top of the list.

The rooms were comfortable and sharply decorated, the walls hewn from asteroidal rock, a “window” display showing a stabilized image of the system we approached. Still, just a bright star set against the swirling backdrop of the Milky Way. If you knew where to look you could just pick out two of the jovian planets gleaming in the blue sunlight. The gym was large and well-appointed, Marquez and the priest seemed set on beating their way out of cryo through physical exercise. As opposed to Marchand, the Astrophysicist who spent her days either in her rooms, almost certainly flooding every available screen with telescopic data, or up on the observation deck staring out into space. I suppose I should have seen the addiction at first glance.

I first encountered her gaunt form up on the observation deck. It was certainly a technological marvel, a great glass orb at the prow of the ship that could be drawn forth to let you float freely amongst the stars. Although now that we were decelerating, the ship had turned about and we looked back away from the system we were approaching. Nonetheless, the view was overwhelming. When I had floated in silently that first day next to her, tears ran silently from her dark, enraptured eyes.

“Que c’est beau.” Her first words to me paper soft, yet filling the void in which we floated. “I never set out to find heaven, but it found me nonetheless.”

Certainly, it was beautiful. We could float there beneath this great dome and watch the great spray of the Milky Way spin methodically around the sky. It was worth a moment of silent reflection, but clearly I was not seeing what this beguiled soul was witnessing. I left her to her contemplations.

Delaney, Yun, and her highness the Voice of the People all preferred the gardens. A few well-manicured acres beneath an arching ceiling that mimicked Earth sky, meant to ground us and provide a dose of normalcy in our lives. They’d walk and read and meditate, seek inner clarity, however it could be found. I tried my luck here as well. But after a short while, the artificiality of it all began to burn into the edges of my vision and set my head to pounding. Gardens like this struck me as manicured monstrosities back on Earth, far from the symbiotic beauty of a proper Japanese garden; it was even worse here shrouded by a television sky.

So I set off on the insufferably long, dull walk to the bridge. It must’ve been several miles through the cool halls, and always done under our own power. What were those Delaney engineers playing at? Would a train or car system have been so hard to install? And in my suite, I’d been provided an expansive kitchen and a well-stocked pantry of staples, then was left to my own devices. Were they sadistically chasing some end of self-sufficiency? Surely the ship could have prepared meals if they’d built in the functionality.  I seldom had cause to cook back home, so distaste for the work and the lingering queasiness of cryo had conspired to keep me from eating for days at a time. I could not wait to make landfall and begin constructing the new Saito estate, where privacy, reality, and help would be available in reasonable quantities.

No, the bridge was where I was most comfortable, and I made my way back there hours before the deliberations began. The splendor of the room was warmed by soft music filling the vaulting ceiling —now a plucking koto then a mournful slide guitar— and by great works of art filling the display above as selected by the ship. Today, a misty Enlightenment-era piece of some rolling, verdant landscape the likes of which had disappeared long before I came into the world. But most important was the robotized bar that would keep my glass fresh with smoky single malt chilling around a crystalline ball of ice, and ask no questions. Although I was beginning to suspect it wouldn’t ever allow me to get properly drunk. My glass would remain topped, and the whiskey always had the peaty fire I craved to beat back the lingering nausea of cryo, but some combination of chemicals in my glass and in the air held me at a level of mild social lubrication.

Still, I was determined to find out for myself. I whiled the hours away, sitting at the bar draining rounds, pouring over maps of how far we’d come, maps of the new world, maps of the ship on my tab. I had access to nearly all of the Foil’s libraries and could have spent my time learning just about anything I desired but instead found myself flipping idly through maps, existential dread barely held at bay.

I dove into the wisdom held by the CRS Delaney’s Foil. What a pitiable name for humanity’s dying hope. Not only had Yvette Delaney had the hubris to demand her name be slapped across every ship in the fleet, we even held on to that anachronistic prefix. Corporate Registered Ship. At least in the British navy HMS held an air of royalty and service and self respect. CRS showed our true colors, a populace rolled by unstoppable capitalist engines, as if the corporate registration were the most notable aspect of this vessel, not the ingenuity or the perseverance or thousands of years of collective knowledge she contained. Hollow name or no though, she held our hope and our wisdom, into which I numbly submerged hoping to find solace.

Even in idle lethargy, there were discoveries to be made. Flipping through maps of the ship in its current configuration I found another curious open space along the hull, about halfway down the ship. I flipped to an internal cam view of the space and nearly spat my drink. I saw rolling hills under a pearl grey sky. Great stands of trees off in the distance diminishing into the haze. And atop a rise in this most improbable of places sat a simple, squat house shaded by a pair of towering sycamore. Where the garden was pruned and manicured and refined within an inch of its life, this place was genuinely both verdant and wild. Riots of different grasses and brambles grew where they would. Plots of wheat, corn, and oats grew unbounded eventually mixing in with the other grasses. Several great raised beds in front of the farmhouse were filled with an eruption of greenery. Gardens growing in the full vigor of summer.

And amongst it all, a person. I shifted my view around the compound and found a solitary figure out behind the house, barefoot in the soft grass tossing handfuls of feed out to a brood of chickens. She wore her hair short —falling just over her eyes when she reached down for another handful of feed—and a set of neatly washed coveralls. I sat enraptured, watching this soul beat the well-worn tracks of her daily life. Feeding the chickens and putting them out into a new paddock. Moving her solitary cow over to a new pasture. Tending the garden beds, harvesting some greens and peppers that had just ripened. Then she disappeared into the workshop behind the house. 

I shifted perspective once again, now peering down unseen from a corner of the workshop where she sat at a pottery wheel, framed neatly by the sliding door of the shop. She hummed lightly while she worked, deft hands drawing up a tall, graceful pitcher before setting it gently aside to await firing in the wood-fueled kiln she had built just outside.

So this was the maintenance crew. Of course, I knew from my briefings that berths had been set aside for crew that would live alone aboard the ship and take care of any problems that the ship could not repair itself. But it was another thing to peer down into their world like some nosy, omniscient god. I had no idea they were allocated so much interior space for a homestead, although the ship certainly had space to spare. These poor, lonesome souls had sacrificed years of their waking lives to live like this, finding their own path to survival, living at the beck and call of the ship’s artificial mind. They gave up living years, their homes, their sanity, and now almost all of their privacy for their unenviable berths. 

This particularly unlucky woman, the ship informed me, was currently working her second waking stint, our extended flight time slowly burning through the years of all her peers. What torment she must have faced, waking up once again not to a new world but to another five solitary years in waking limbo. Still, as I looked down from my secret vantage I saw not a face of despair or exhaustion or hopelessness, but contentment.

And it was jealousy that filled me then, of all things. I would’ve rather died than take one of those maintenance berths. Your life traded away, sacrificing yourself to the lowest rungs of a new society. But here was this woman, three years into her second stint, no idea that the ship was gradually approaching our new home, no idea if she’d wake up the next time to a new planet or another five years of lonely torment. And all the same, she sat there making pitcher after pitcher, grey light flooding in from a sky that was beginning to threaten rain. She looked like a soul who had found peace, even in the least likely of places.

Meanwhile, I sat on a bridge filled with gaudy expectation —my only companions willing to climb over the bodies of all the maintenance crew and many more besides to ensure that their ambitions, their fields, their families came out on top in the new world— being fed by a robotic bar that wouldn’t even let me get properly drunk. It must have been hours I spent sitting there at the bar, staring down into her world through my tab, hypnotized by a life I could never live and a peace I would likely never find. Until at last Hector Yun sidled in, breaking my reverie. 

“Get a load of this Hector.” I croaked as he sat on the stool next to me, sliding over my tab showing the woman beginning to stoke her kiln even as fat drops of rain began to descend from her manufactured sky.

He let out a low whistle as he studied the video feed. “Good lord, they’re still keeping them awake?”

“I guess so,” I replied softly. “Ship says this one’s three years through her second stint. Apparently her first go-round she was the resident knife-maker, now she’s turned her focus towards pottery.”

“I’d always heard the ships encouraged the crew to develop hobbies.” He said, eyes glued to the tab, flipping through the various perspectives we could see. “Something about mental occupation and skill mastery is meant to help preserve cognitive function through extended isolation.” He panned through a few more angles before pushing the tab back. “I can’t look at this anymore, it’s like reading someone’s bloody diary.” 

Spinning around on his stool he took a long savoring sip from his cocktail and looked up at the chandelier dazzling down from the ceiling with a sigh. As much as our lives had been set on competitive tracks I couldn’t bring myself to hate Hector Yun, or even really dislike him. From the time we were both born we were sculpted and trained for the betterment of our families, our lives neatly laid out before us. The schooling, the training, the discipline, the editing of our very genomes would’ve been matched step for step by the other. Always seeking an edge, and always being met by a game opponent. It was hard for something like kinship not to emerge.

He took another sip, a gin drink mixed with some stimulants from proprietary Yun floral extracts no doubt designed to keep him sharp while giving the illusion of a man letting his guard down. 

“This cryosickness is an absolute devil, aye.” He commiserated. “I thought I was about to beat it after my first couple of days awake, but now it seems like it won’t let go. I’ve been hoping to burn it out of me with some UV exposure in that gaudy garden, but it seems like you’ve found a better strategy. A fine glass of grog has solved many an ill for thousands of years, why stop now?”

“Why stop now.” I agreed, with a raise of my glass. “It almost makes you sympathize with Delaney.”

He chortled, nearly spilling his drink. “Bloody likely.”

“Eight years of this shit Hector?” I went on. “Five times coming off the ice. I feel like a bit of my soul has been ripped away just from the once. Maybe it’ll grow back, but maybe this is just the price we pay...”

“Oi it’s a fucking game Saito, and you’re playing it just the same. Who the hell d’you think you’re talking to?” He spun to face me, lights dancing in his dark eyes. “Am I supposed to believe that a little cryo dethaw has put all the stubborn resolve of that Irish and Latino blood of his on the run? Or your’s, Saito San? Your family has been grinning and bearing some horrific shit for the past two centuries. Hell mate, I watched you leave the Park twins to the dogs when you decided they were stepping onto your turf. There’s no cushy colonial gig waiting for those two poor bastards. You expect me now to believe that you’re struck by Delaney’s sob story?” He let forth a mirthless chuckle. “No, you two angry fucks see the same thing I do. Opportunity. Delaney wants us back on our heels, feeling sorry for him. But I’m not buying it, and frankly you’re not either.”

Hector always did have a way of cutting through the bullshit. All the same, it was hard not to feel the veracity of Delaney’s claimed plight. Over the years I’d seen the great brick of a man look livid, joyous, pensive, and obstinate, our history of engagements at lobbying events went back decades. But I’d never seen him look tired, never seen him look wary, which is exactly how he struck me that evening when he walked onto the bridge. He walked lightly across the gleaming floor for such a big man. His shoes, neatly polished. His sleeves rolled up, ready to get to work. But his eyes, usually vibrantly blue, looked worn and greyed despite the act of vigorous composure he was trying so hard to put on. Let Hector not take this man at his word at his own peril. Liam Delaney crossed to the bar where a pint of dark bitter ale had silently been set for him.

“Good evening gents.” He greeted, raising his glass to us and took a satisfied first sip. “I trust we’ll be hearing plenty from you two in opposition of Mrs.Hildebrand’s stance.”

Hector raised his glass back with a mocking smile, “You can bet your bottom dollar on it boss.”

“I’d expect no less,” Delaney quipped back. “I’ll leave you two to your conspiring.” He walked to a plush set of seats in a far corner to study new observational data on his tab.

Once Delaney was safely out of earshot Hector let out a low whistle. “That’s the rub of it though aye, Saito? Mrs. Lorena Hildebrand, Voice of the People,” he sneered with mock reverence. “What game is she playing at?”

It was undoubtedly the question at the fore of all our minds. How could this randomly selected soul stand up in front of a panel this qualified and dig her heels in? What did she want? 

“I did about as much digging as the ship would let me this morning.” I confided. “There’s plenty of biography on her in the library, but it all looks squeaky clean. At first, I thought she must’ve been a plant from the Osney Corp. or some other European conglomerate, but there’s either no relation or they’ve gotten much better at covering their tracks.” I took a slow, burning sip. “Frankly, I’m not sure which prospect I find more troubling.”

“Aye. It’s a bother to be sure,” he agreed. “Maybe she just hopes she can get herself set up nicely if she provides some resistance, grabs a little leverage, and she’s stupid enough to think she can get away with it with this pack of vultures circling around her.”

“I thought Marquez was about ready to take her head off,” I concurred. “Makes sense, I guess, for the resident biologist. Marchand though... I thought I saw a gleam of hope in her when Hildebrand dug in; I imagine she may be an easy convert. Spends all her time running telescopic studies or staring out into space, as far as I can tell she’s the first person in history to get high directly from astronomical observation data. She probably could give a shit if we stay or leave, but we’ll have a hell of a time getting her back down to sleep.” I paused for a smoky sip. “And the priest?”

“Ah, who gives a shit about the priest?” He said draining his glass and passing it across the bar for another. “He’ll find his way to God wherever we may roam. And if he needs to start a mission to convert alien phytoplankton to the Faith, well that’s what he’ll do.”

On cue, the two scientists and the priest stepped onto the bridge and settled in at the far end of the bar. Drinks began to flow. Conversation rose gently in the great stone vault. Delaney abandoned his chair to come and share some new telescopic imagery with Hector and I of the planet. It looked like about an 80% probability that the life forms, if that’s what they were, were contained to the oceans. Maybe some alien mudfish were beginning to poke their heads above the surface and get some ideas about the new territory they saw. Not if we have anything to say about it, I thought.

The ship filled the room with lively flamenco, and the display switched over showing a great oil painting of violent surf crashing against some ragged South American coastline. A violent entry into a new world. Despite the sickness and anxiety we all endured the mood began to lift, on this bridge that felt like anything but what it was.

And then she entered. Silence swept down the bar as our heads turned towards the entrance, leaving only the trailing notes of a wavering guitar hanging in the air. Looking smart and refined, her clothes humble yet exactingly worn, a forest green jacket sitting warmly against her dark skin. Lorena Hildebrand knew she was the cause of this sudden silence, hell she’d likely been avoiding us all day, readying herself for the onslaught of opposition she was sure to face. In spite of it all she greeted us all with a warm smile, grey eyes twinkling beneath the chandelier.

As courteous as ever, Delaney jumped to his feet, grabbed the flute of champagne that was awaiting her off the bar and stepped lightly over to greet her personally. A friend in her corner, even if they didn’t see eye to eye. Well, he’d be a better politician than me, I thought. His unwavering manners, warm smile, and acute attention to all the little challenges that make up a life made him someone you wanted to like, wanted to look up to. But would he be a good leader? I had my doubts. 

This new world would require cunning and precision and hard decision after hard decision. Could we rely on somebody who went chasing after every hurt feeling and stubbed toe to hold such an outsized role in our new society? No. This was my most reliable line to take him down. He’d do well in a political role, lending needed weight and goodwill to a good plan, but that plan needed to come from someone who saw things as they were. Someone bred and trained and built to cut impossible knots. Someone, like me.

After a few minutes, conversation once again began to fill the stony, domed ceiling. Drinks were topped up, guards came down just a little bit. The ship as if to cue us to our seats switched the display over once more to the planet spinning silently in its orbit. Today just a little bit clearer than the day before. Megastructure of the coastlines now in a discernible relief as they turned into night and glowed with blue-green life.

“If everyone is ready,” Delaney called out, deep voice cutting through the chatter. “Please come to the table and we can begin tonight’s deliberations.” We all shuffled silently to the long, gleaming table, rich grain luminous in the light raining down from above. “Before we begin, I’d like to remind you all that we are here to reach a consensus. We all will have as long as we need to make our case, and we owe it to each other and every other soul on this ship to hear everyone out.” He shot a steely glance over to Marquez who looked down, cowed by Delaney’s admonishment. “What we will not have, however, are personal nor physical attacks on fellow jurors,” he said, scolding with every syllable. “Along with the duty of calling a jury, I also have the right to reconstitute it if needed.” Now the whole table cast gazes down, feeling like petulant schoolchildren. “Suffice to say if you cannot absorb and respond to an argument on its merits, then get ready to go back on the ice.” He broke the tension with a long draught of his ale and a beguiling smirk.

“Right then, let’s get to it,” he said, now smiling. “We have some interesting new information on our planet we need to get on the table first.” A murmur rolled down the table. “Every day our imaging and spectroscopy array gets closer, and every day our picture of the planet will get a little bit clearer; in about three days we’ll have as clear a picture as we’ll get, short of establishing an orbital observation system which we’d only do if we decide to stay.”

The display changed over, on cue as always, to a strikingly enhanced image of the planet. Where the previous day only blurry outlines had been visible, now we were able to see very discernible coastlines and cloud formations that looked very much like home. The telescopic array was actually accelerating towards the planet even as the ship slowed its approach allowing much faster improvements in clarity than we’d see from the ship, they’d blow by and reconvene at a Lagrange point trailing the planet in its orbit to await their next task. 

Most importantly though, we could see the green formations in much sharper detail. Vast structures weaved through the verdant masses, not the billowing clouds you’d expect of eroding oxidized soil nor the rigid structure of great crystals, but vast flowing webs branching and undulating in organic rhythm. Marquez beamed up in wild wonder, Father Joshua bowed his head in silent prayer.

“Now as you can see we have a fair bit more clarity today, currently we have optical resolution down to about four hundred meters. It gives us a meaningful look at coastlines and land structures and helps us compare similarities and differences in cloud movement to Earth. But most strikingly we can see a great deal more detail in the green formations. You’ll all notice the web-like structures, with our current resolution you can appreciate how large these formations must be. Also interestingly, we’ve been able to do some preliminary mapping of the ocean floor. It seems they trail off of the dry land in areas where the ocean is only a couple hundred meters deep. Sticking to the continental shelves if you will. The deep oceans may be barren, or may contain more structures we won’t be able to see unless we head down there and start poking around with some submarines.”

He paused for another gratified sip, his smirk now a full-fledged grin. “Finally, thermal imaging shows that these areas are warm, much warmer than we’d expect for shallow waters. It appears these formations not only make discernible structures they also make heat.”

“Gracias a dios.” Marquez whispered softly. “If we thought it before this all but proves it, what hypothesis besides life can we realistically offer?”

“Do be a good scientist and keep an open mind Dr. Marquez,” Delaney shot back playfully. “But yes, all this and the atmospheric anomalies do make a strong case for life, just not exactly life as we know it.’

“If we assume that these formations are living, and that they are responsible for the heat and the atmospheric chlorine we’re seeing that obviously adds a great deal of considerations for us.” He went on, resuming his usual gravity. “Beyond the broad strokes, we have neither the ability nor the right to decide how we handle colony formation. But we should consider the implications of our contact.”

“Like we shouldn’t be so cavalier with the notion of scrubbing the atmosphere before we even set foot on the surface.” Marquez shot in, sneering at Hector.

“Or we may consider how we could keep ourselves separate with sea walls or even floating colonies if the deep sea proves to be the best place to keep ourselves isolated.” Delaney put in more helpfully.

Oh, eat your goddamn heart out Hector, I thought. No atmospheric scrubbing and plenty of need for sea walls and aquatic habs? I’d never been a religious man but it sure seemed like God was smiling down on the house of Saito with Fansa122b. I looked over at my rival, his dark eyes revealing nothing as they l pondered the display, flipping through image after image of alien coastline. Still, I could sense the wheels turning in his head, plotting move after countermove with this new information. Can’t plot your way out of a shit hand Mr. Yun, I thought and took a long, satisfying sip of fiery whiskey.

“At any rate, as we stand we have six votes to stay and one dissenter.” Liam Delaney proclaimed, bringing the room back together. “Lorena, I have to say I admire you, a lesser person would have probably fallen into line rather than stick their neck out no matter their convictions. I appreciate you standing up though, and I believe that your dissent will lead to valuable discussion. But nonetheless, your unenviable task is now to bring us all around to your way of thinking.” He raised his glass to her. “You have as long as you need, and you have the floor.”

The thin frame of Lorena Hildebrand rose from her seat near the head of the table, the glowing image of Fansa122b loomed behind her; untouched, her glass of champagne bubbled away in front of her seat. She looked small in this grandiose place, amongst these titans of industry. Her soft voice, if wielded by a lesser soul, would have left her overlooked in the world. Not her. Not today. She stood and looked each of us square in the eye and began forcefully. 

“I am not your equal.” Her words hit the table like lead, and silence echoed in their wake.

“Not anything close to it,” she went on, words ringing like condemnation. “You are the heads of proud houses, great corporations, noble fields of research. It’s no wonder why you are here. You were either literally created for this role, or fought with everything you’ve ever had to get here. And you knew, leaving Earth, that you would be shouldered with the responsibility of deciding humanity’s future.” I looked around the seated faces bewildered at these words that were at once so self-deprecating and so denouncing.

“And who am I? A half-blood Afrikaner girl who got lucky in marriage. A woman whose husband had just enough to sell out and get us and our son off a dying planet. Lucky? Undoubtedly. Distinguished? Not in the slightest. I’m told I’m meant to speak for the others on this ship, those not from the great conglomerates, or research institutes. Those of us just hoping to find life on a new world that doesn’t have our doom lurking around every corner.” I was impressed by her in a way, even as I was steeling myself in expectation of a tirade of communist drivel. “Yes, I’m the unwitting, unwanting, unbelievably selected Voice of the People. A mocking title I’m sure, and one I certainly want no part of. But here I am, laden with undesired responsibility, and all I can think of is how my little family will find our way in the new world.’

“I’ve spent almost every waking moment on this ship trying to figure out why. Why me? Why pull some random citizen out of stasis to sit on this jury at all? For a mission with a contingency plan for everything this sure doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. I know the UN had to throw all of its weight into getting me this seat, and for what? So one old lady can sit here among you and think of her little family in her little world?” She stopped, trailing off into silence. Her graying hair fell forward covering her eyes that held so much life, as the planet spun silently above her.

“The only thing that makes any sense is that even this, this doubt, is planned. Maybe some smarter folks than I reckon that just a normal old lady worrying about her family can reliably speak for so many millions. I’m not a scientist or a politician or a leader, just a woman of the new world.” She drew herself up, dark skin glowing warmly. “And I have to have faith that this is the way it is meant to be. I won’t ever understand the details half as well as any of you, but maybe that’s the point, my distance may give me perspective that can prove valuable. At least that’s what I hope.’

“So I stood against you all for the same reason that all of you would like to colonize this planet, because of the life. We have a great deal of duty to the passengers of this ship, but now we also have a great deal of duty to the life down there.” Her voice was building strength. “We all likely have differing views as to the purpose of this mission. To find a new foothold for humanity. To satisfy our primal drive for exploration. To simply escape a hopeless future. But superseding them all, I believe, is the need to keep the spark of life alight.’

“Mr. Delaney,” She implored, earnestly. “You say that you have been awoken to five other planets before this.”

“That is correct.” he agreed, clearly curious as to where this was all heading.

“That’s five Earth-like planets, five of our best guesses for hospitable places to live and they were all not only devoid of life but all actively hostile to it. Is that correct?” Lorena lead on.

“Indeed.” he hesitantly agreed.

“Now, I’ll be the first to admit that five planets is hardly a large sample size, but this was choosing from a large region of space. These were our best guesses. It’s taken 1,342 years to find anywhere remotely livable, and when we get here we happen upon a miracle. Life beyond our own.” She paused letting the gravity of her words take hold. “Our purpose is not to explore and catalog systems, it is to find a new home. We’ve wandered for more than a millennia and found that planets like this are in fact the exception.”

“Get to your fucking point.” Marquez cut in, growing irritated. “You argue against your own position.”

“But that is the point Dr. Marquez.” Lorena asserted, meeting her gaze humbly but with great resolution. “This planet, like Earth, is a rarity. A gem. And it is already teeming with life.”

“Yes, precisely. That is why I’d like to stop beating around the bush and get down there to get on with the new discoveries.” Marquez shot back, words flying hotly from her lips.

“I know that I am not a woman of your qualifications, but—.”

“Damn right you’re not.” Marquez cut in.

“Marissa, please,” Delaney said putting up a quieting hand to the flushing biologist. “You’ll have your say in due time.” Liam Delaney, ever the politician.

“I have not your qualifications, but I am still a woman of our world.” Lorena went on, calm in the face of hostility. “I grew up a bit before you did, learning as a young girl about the fiasco that early Mars exploration turned into as more interests found their way to the planet. It should have been the refuge that humanity needed but instead, we stripped it bare before we could blink.’

“And Europa, I’m old enough to remember that debacle myself.” She went on. “What we thought was our best chance at discovering extraterrestrial life all torn to shreds by industrial ambition. Sure, we sanitized our craft as best we could laid a careful schedule of where we would land and when, but with a growing pile of competing interests it all went out the window.” She let out a low, joyless chuckle. “Oh, there’s life on Europa now, but we blew any chance we had for determining if it was truly extraterrestrial or not. It all looks like Earth-life now, is that due to panspermia or human hubris?”

“Indeed! And lessons were learned, protocols put in...” Marquez jumped in before being silenced by a glance from Delaney.

“Protocols indeed. Protocols put in place that we applied to Enceladus.” A flush was now rising to Hildebrands dark cheeks. “I believe we’re all old enough to remember this catastrophe. They put that first probe through everything one could imagine to sterilize it, and by the time we found the wreckage of that failed probe on the lip of a cryovolcano what else did we find? A colony of unbelievably hearty tardigrades happily adapting away, making their way down to the interior oceans.” She paused, taking a breath, looking around the table sternly. “Intentional or not, we are not the only colonizers we’ll bring to this new world.”

“Oh, don’t be fucking ridiculous!” Marquez jumped in, now ready to say her piece. “Those old missions didn’t have half the tech we’ve brought with us. There’s no reason to think—”

It was not Delaney’s stern reprimand that cut her off this time, but Marchand’s papery whisper. “Marissa, they ran it through the corona.”

“What?!” She demanded.

“You know better than I do.” She went on, words falling from her lips like dead leaves. “The Enceladus probe, they ran it as close to the sun as they could get it to sterilize it. Every conceivable sanitization protocol we could dream up, and then they ran it through the edge of the corona to burn off any other contaminants, just to be completely sure. All that, and it still didn’t work.”

“So what?” the irate biologist shot back. “So we’re too scared and we came all the way out here just for a scenic tour?”

“It was one thing in our home system with worlds most likely devoid of life, or if it did exist at least it was plausibly like ours. But here...” Marchand trailed off slowly, eyes rising once again to the planet spinning above us all, leaving the bridge in cavernous silence.

“But here we have greater considerations.” Lorena picked back up. “Those worlds back home, as far as we could tell, were likely lifeless. Here one quick look here tells us just the opposite. This world is teeming. I understand your desire to get down there and see what this new life is like I really do.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like you know.” Marquez spat back. “This is my life. My work.”

“I understand the desire, but we have to at least consider the potential damage.” Hildebrand doggedly went on. “We know it looks like life, although as best I can tell we probably won’t be able to confirm the hypothesis until we set down and start taking samples. Right?”

“Right.” Marquez replied hesitantly.

“And as far as we can tell these lifeforms are green so may or may not be photosynthesizing, they produce heat, and they  likely produce the excess chlorine gas we’re seeing in the atmosphere. Right?”

Marquez was done entertaining this line of thought and held her tongue, so Delaney stepped in. “That’s right. We may improve our observations in the coming days, but that’s our best guess for now.”

“So this life is fairly Earth-like in that it may feed off the sun, it is aquatic, it appears to self-replicate and form structures, and like us it produces heat. But it is not like us in the sense that for some reason it emits a bunch of chlorine gas. Whereas if we were running this same experiment with Earth we may remark on the presence of methane or carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Do I have this all right?”

Our biologist was still being petulantly unhelpful, so Marchand spoke up. “Not only is that the notion, but those measurements were how our instruments were calibrated before leaving our home system.”

“So we have an aquatic world with comfortable temperatures and pleasant surface pressure. A bit of chlorine, that’s a problem for us, and we may discuss how we might terraform and make it more suitable later on, but it almost certainly wouldn’t be an issue for any hangers-on we bring with us.” I had to applaud, for a random passenger pulled off the ice this was a remarkably through case. She continued on with her theory.

“Dr. Marquez, we at least need to entertain the possibility that first contact is colossally detrimental, possibly even apocalyptic, for the life on this planet.” Her soft voice now barely a whisper, yet we all sat enraptured. “A few pesky tardigrades hitch a ride down on our first probe and set up shop, next thing we know they’re killing off the local flora. Or how about if we actually successfully sterilize, the metals of the probe itself could prove to be toxic, setting off ecosystem collapse. These are the worst-case-scenarios I know, but we don’t know anything...”

Marquez erupted, no longer able to hold her tongue. “Don’t know! Don’t know! Damn right, you don’t know a God damned thing! You’re out here bringing up the failures of fools long-dead, and wild theories, we have no reason to expect anything of the kind.”

“We have no reason to expect anything different.” Lorena Hildebrand held her ground, small fists planted on the rich wood of the table, meeting Marquez’s gaze unwaveringly. “I admit that these are possibly unlikely scenarios, but no matter how much orbital data we gather it seems to me that we won’t be able to rule them out.’

“The stakes are simply too high.” She went on, now nearly pleading. “Our purpose is to preserve life and help it flourish, not destroy it. We have a duty to the people on this ship, but we also have a duty to the life on this planet. To not destroy it because they happen to live on an appealing planet.” Her voice now a shaking whisper. “As I see it we won’t ever be able to eliminate that risk, and as we’ve seen life is too valuable to put in such danger.” Her words trailed off, floating lightly up into the vaulted ceiling of the bridge.

Time slowed irresistibly to a standstill as we were frozen in deafening silence. Marchand’s gossamer words finally broke the stillness. “She’s right Marissa.” All eyes turned to her graying face. “For better or for worse the planet is a great Schrodinger’s Box. It may be alive, it may not be, but as soon as we reach out to discover the truth we risk its doom. We are not built to wander, but our quest for knowledge and expansion surely doesn’t supersede the rights of these creatures to flourish on their own planet.”

Tears silently had begun to stream down the face of Dr. Marissa Marquez, her dark eyes glistening with pain as her mind opened and accepted that which it had previously shut out. “Damn you.” She whispered. “Damn you. Damn you. DAMN YOU!” In one smooth motion she stood and kicked her chair back, bellowing up into the lofted stone. She stood glaring into Lorena’s eyes, willing herself to find a counterargument raising herself higher and higher. And then suddenly she deflated as the cruel reality took hold in her mind. “Damn you.” She whispered once more as she grabbed her drink, turned on her heel, and left the bridge in stunned silence.

--

I sought solace in the void.

The next day the cryosickness brought it’s full force down upon me, and there seemed to be no escape. We had quickly adjourned after Marquez left the bridge and with sleep refusing to come I spent the night furiously researching Lorena Hildebrand. Her record in the Foil’s archives seemed to match up with her story. A girl born to lower-middle class parents on the outskirts of Durban shortly after the South African Unification, one an Afrikaner with long roots in the area the other a Namibian refugee fleeing the violence as pressure mounted from the north.

By all accounts she had acquitted herself well in school, making the best use of the remnants of the public school system in the wake of a reforging society. She’d even been able to spend some time doing post-graduate philosophy work at the University of Cape Town before ultimately being called back to Durban to care for an ailing mother. Her mother fell ill, then quickly passed, and it may have been her greatest stroke of luck, as that was where she met Elias Hildebrand, her future husband and her ticket, for a time, out of lower-class banality.

Mr. Hildebrand, it seemed, was a German expat who had leveraged a modest inheritance into a respectable stake in the South African platinum mining industry, just as the commodity was gaining value. They’d set up a nice little life outside of Durban, had a son, bought a little piece of land, and enjoyed their life. But over time the son grew, the land fallowed, and the writing on the wall became clear as the great corporations began consolidating and devouring lesser interests. To my surprise it was Saito that had actually bought them out.

In the grand scheme of things it was a paltry sum. We had certainly been in need of platinum, and other heavy metals besides, at the time and sucked up their little interest without much thought. Still, it was enough for a new life. Enough liquid assets hit their accounts to book economy passage with Delaney and hope for better luck on the new world. Better that than to fight it, to be crushed in a hostile takeover and walk away with nothing. 

It all checked out, just like my initial research had indicated, not a whiff of external influence to be found in any record I could find, public or private. Still, she had to be playing at something. Maybe she was a deep agent of a European conglomerate that hadn’t been able to afford a jury seat on the Foil, her spot paid in some backroom deal with Delaney. Who would really be here after all to enforce the UN’s desired random selection? It’d be just as easy to pull out some dedicated Osney Corp. operative for the position and keep up pretenses for the rest of the jury. It was the only theory that made any sense, even if I didn’t have a shred of evidence to prove it.

How fitting it was then for my family to force hers off of one world only for her to vex me on the next.

The sickness was bad, worse than it’d been in days. A throbbing behind the eyes. A constant, unquenchable thirst. A fatigue like nothing I’d ever known. But it was Lorena Hildebrand, Voice of the People, who stood proudly atop my pile of troubles. She was the one unknown left to me, playing a game I could not divine, to an end I could not fathom. And she was winning.

Marchand’s defection I wasn’t particularly surprised about. She had no affinity for this world, better for her to head back into the depths of interstellar space where she could feed her addiction untroubled by light or humans. So she was ready to leave at the first convenient exit. Marquez had likely been the toughest nut to crack, headstrong and the one amongst us who could truly grasp the implications of another planet teeming with life. I guess that was why Hildebrand had started with her. It was a wonderfully delivered speech, I had to hand it to her, but I could not wrap my head around the fact that it had actually worked. Were we really going to pass up an opportunity this golden because we might kill a few alien algae? Ridiculous.

But they were both flipped, and the vote was now three to four, good odds especially when you considered who the four were, but far from the sure thing we all thought we were sitting down to. The priest was worrisome. He certainly had certain theistic reasons to want to stay, especially given that there was life, although what actual value that could have to a dying church I failed to see. But he also struck me as a man who was likely to go along with whoever had spoken last. And that was worrisome.

Delaney, that thick-headed bastard, was frustratingly difficult to pin down. He certainly saw the opportunity before us, but I was becoming more and more sure that I saw something new in him. Fear. The harrowed look he tried so hard to mask behind those steel eyes spoke untold volumes about what he’d experienced over the past eight years of waking time. Again and again he made the decision to press on, to throw our lot in with the fates, and to condemn himself to another round of cryo. A man of his constitution could take a lot of abuse, but this had clearly worn him thin. I could see it. All the same though, he was a man who took his duty as foreman seriously, and his politician’s inclination meant he was prone to consider both sides of an argument even if it was just out of courtesy. That meant there was a crack in what ought to be another resolute mind, a crack where Lorena Hildebrand could wedge herself.

Hector always fancied himself a bit of a wildcard and had been careful to tread a middle path thus far in the deliberations to keep his options open. Certainly the way the cards lay things had come up aces for House Saito and not so much for House Yun. Certainly he was off in some other corner of the ship running through the same considerations I was; only he was trying to illuminate a path that could get him out of his current bind, while I was planning to hold the high ground. Hector was the only one who I was sure wanted to stay as much as I did, but he also wanted me on edge to throw me off of sure footing. So he would make noises about playing both sides, but in reality I just had to find a sufficiently juicy carrot to dangle.

It all summed up in a predicament thorny enough to vex any mind, even one like mine built for times like these. The sickness, the uncertainty, the incessant running of scenario after scenario through my frayed neurons, it nearly drove me mad. Wandering the halls of the ship, the gardens, the bridge, everything seemed to add a new twist to my dilemma. So I sought the void.

That day I found the observation deck mercifully empty, Marchand must have been off getting concentrated doses direct from the observational data, so I held myself at the edge of the entry surrounded by nothing but stars and indulgent silence. I still could not see what the astrophysicist could in this place, a spectacular view and much needed peace to be sure, but far from the enlightenment she seemed to find. All the same, I sat in that warm void and watched the stars spin slowly in their stately rotation as the ship completed spin after life giving spin. Here my mind finally began to quiet, slowly hypnotized by this stellar dance.

I have no idea how long I sat in blessed seclusion there among the heavens, but in fitting form my sanctuary was burst by none other than the Voice of the People. The portal opened behind me and her thin, dark form floated in silently beside grasping the edge of the entry to look up into the stars. I took a deep breath. Mastered myself, my frustration, my indignation. Maybe she could be won over.

She began with little more than a whisper, “Beautiful isn’t it?”

I had to laugh, “That’s what we all seem to say.”

She chuckled back, “You’re right, beautiful is probably an insufficient word. No?”

“I don’t know that our minds were really built to comprehend it all, so it’s not so surprising that words fail.”

She let the silence hang heavily for a moment. “You know, when I was a girl the night sky was as full of stories as it was full of stars.” I nodded but held my tongue, so she went on. “My mother brought me back to her town in Namibia after the unification to meet what was left of her family, those few who had survived the war. I must have been twelve years old or so. It was a challenging visit, just smelly old strangers all wanting to pinch my cheeks, dust storms would blow in off the desert almost every day choking the very air, and the heat -my god the heat- I thought it would almost certainly kill me. I wanted nothing more than to go home, even if home was just back to a dreary old Durban apartment block, it was better than this strange place on the edge of the world.’

“But then the night came,” she went on reverently. “The sky would clear, the heat would be blown away by cool evening winds, and after dinner I would walk out onto the near dunes with my mother. The skies would come alive. Stars like nothing I’d ever seen before filled my eyes, stretching from the little twinkling lights of town up through the zenith and off over the dark, marching dunes. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.’

“And my mother would tell me stories. Heroic epics, forbidden romances, lurking monsters, noble kings, they were all there glowing amongst the stars. Even I, a little girl from Durban, knew that people were out there too, the Delaney’s reshaping what humans could do and be out in space. Your family, showing us that a life amongst the stars could be a life well lived. But my mother showed me something too. That the skies are not just filled with stars and planets and moons and asteroids, they’re filled with memories.”

I let her trail off, and after a moment I said, “And I suppose this is when you tell me to consider the memories of all the algae and plankton and sponges swimming around down there on this new planet.”

She laughed back dryly, unwilling to be put off by my snark. “Wouldn’t be much to consider would it? Even if there was intelligent life down there who knows if they’d look up and see their own stories in the stars or just specks of light awaiting conquest or if they could see anything at all.’

“I’m sure I understand a lot less than the rest of you,” she continued. “I wasn’t prepared for this task. I didn’t have the education or the training or the briefing you all have had. All I know is that we’re looking at a miracle, here up in space and down there with the plankton and the algae and the sponges. That there should be stars and planets and moons is a miracle; and that there should be life swimming around down there, that’s a miracle too. It’s awe-inspiring no matter which way you look. I don’t know what the best thing to do is here, but I know it’s worth weighing both sides before we decide.”

She left no room for argument, so I simply nodded and looked back at the twirling stars. Silence settled back over us for a time and he hung in something rather like companionable peace for a time before she lightly grabbed my shoulder and said. 

“Come along, we’re going to be late.”

We stepped on to the bridge just as everyone was taking their seats for the evening’s deliberations. The ship had decided on displaying an expansive landscape from the Ming dynasty, all plummeting mountains and cantilevered trees fighting their way free of an all consuming fog. I looked around and noticed everyone had declined to patronize the bar for the evening. So much for social lubrication helping create consensus. Nonetheless I got myself a whiskey cooled by a large sphere of ice, trying in vain to relieve the throbbing pressure that continued to build behind my eyes.

Once we were all seated it was Marquez who broke the leaden silence. “After review of the latest observations and a thorough discussion, Dr. Marchand and I have decided to change our votes,” confirming what I had already surmised. “The latest evidence all but certifies what we had suspected, but in the end Lorena, you’re right,” she said more earnestly than I’d ever heard her. Hildebrand for her part nodded humbly. “There’s no amount of orbital observation that could really tell us the nature of the life down there. It could be just like earth, it could be like nothing we’d ever imagined, I want nothing more than to wade around in those oceans and find out but the truth is it’s too much of a risk.’

“We could try and sanitize probes to collect samples to our hearts content before we send them down only to find that the very alloys of our tools trigger unfathomable effects. Or more likely some stubborn extremophile bacteria would survive our cleaning and get plopped down in the middle of a friendly ocean and get to colonizing before we ever had a chance. If we trigger ecosystem collapse we’d barely be able to detect it let alone do anything to prevent it. And that’s just thinking about the research, actual colonization is a whole different ball game.” She went on quietly, the words clearly wounding her with every syllable.

Doggedly, she persevered, “We could go down there and treat it like a totally inhospitable planet, domed cities, suits, the lot. Still it would just be a matter of time before all the microorganisms that come with us would get out, plus the aforementioned risk of contamination with refined metals. If we look at it this way the planet’s apparent hospitality starts to become more of a liability than an asset. We’d need to live in suits, constantly enclosed in our domes, all the while the world outside would tempt us to leave it all behind. I mean dios mio, it looks so much like home. Nobody was ever tempted out of their suits in the Mars colony, no one ever thought an afternoon stroll on Titan was a good idea. No, pressure to end the quarantine would mount and mount and eventually burst and likely spell disaster for this nascent local life.”

Her voice was now audibly shaking. “The way I see it the only way to colonize a planet this hospitable would be to go for full terraforming. Maybe the life down there would survive, probably not. Life on our own planet couldn’t survive our impact, I can’t see how these untouched ecosystems would fare any better.” She drew in a breath girding her resolve. “Even if we put the probability of successful colonization and ecosystem preservation at an unfathomably rosy 50% it’s still too great of a risk.” She looked at the astrophysicist who gravely nodded her support. “In the end, Dr. Marchand and I believe that this whole venture is about the preservation of life, human and otherwise. Colonization will be a monumental task no matter where we decide to land, the life on this planet not only poses constraints on us that increase chances of colony failure, but we have to consider the life an end in itself. This planet has a right to live and I, for all that I want, don’t have a right to put it in jeopardy.”

We let her words diminish, rising up into the stony arches above us. Hildebrand nodded her approval but held her silence. I took a long sip of whiskey, nearly draining my glass, willing myself to find the strength to bear this insanity with composure. In the end though, it was Hector who brought it all crumbling down.

“That is remarkably well said Dr. Marquez,” he began, rising from his seat. “Like all of you I have been pouring over the new observations every day, and like all of you I see a planet of extraordinary promise and extraordinary responsibility.” An impish grin began to creep across his face that made me lean in, analyzing every word. What was this wry bastard trying? “It seems clear that the atmosphere is almost certainly remarkably Earth-like, I feel very confident that the technologies Yun International could bring to this new world would easily help us, as Dr. Marquez suggests, go whole hog on terraforming.” His words posed the counterargument, his tone invited judicious consideration, his eyes bespoke a deeper plan.

“A simple elimination of the gaseous chlorine we’re seeing with scrubbers, add some stabilising nitrogen and get some of our photosythesizers down there to up the oxygen in the mix, my best guess is that we could take that afternoon stroll, no suit no mask no nothing, within fifteen years.” He paused to look around and make sure he had the room’s full attention. “That’s better than our wildest dreams when we set out. All the same Dr. Marquez is right, our actions will have consequences and we will never be able to eliminate the risk to the local flora. That’s why I, on behalf of Yun International, am opting to take the high road and change my vote. We should leave this planet be.”

I couldn’t take any more of it. “Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding Hector?!” I exploded. “There are two million frozen humans aboard this ship at risk every single day we stay out in space. You’re all of a sudden ready to turn your back on all of them on all this opportunity for some algae? Well I’m not buying it.”

“There’s nothing to be bought Saito San.” he said with mocking politeness. “Dr. Marquez and Mrs. Hildebrand make sound, compelling arguments and I have changed my mind.”

“Bullshit! Every new round of observations has come in better for Saito and worse for Yun, now you’re willing to sell us all out to get rid of a bad hand? Have at least a semblance of spine Hector.” I seethed, words dripping venom.

“This has nothing to do with business,” he replied with infuriating calm. “Perhaps you need to reconsider your duty here on this jury if all you see is a business opportunity.”

That was it. He could sell us out for his own gain, that was the game. But to stand there and pretend like he was so much holier-than-thou talking about my duty it was too much. 

“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, and launched myself across the table at him.

I made it about halfway across before Liam Delaney’s muscular arm caught me around the neck and flung me back over my chair in one smooth, irresistible motion. My feet caught on its low back and sent the back of my head careening to a neat collision with the polished stone. And then, blackness.

--

I hid in the past.

The next day I awoke back in my staterooms, head patched up for the most part.Now I had the joy of contending with a throbbing in both the front and back of my skull. Excellent. Just what I needed as this infuriating jury went more and more sideways, further and further from rationality and control and into whatever madness Hildebrand was working towards. I couldn’t bear to face it. I needed time to plan and find a new strategy, I needed my shame, that vestigial emotion, to subside. 

Not shame that Delaney had taken me down so easily, no one awake on the ship would actually challenge the man physically; it seemed likely that he hadn’t even meant for things to get as rough as they did, my chair got in the way and finished the job for him. No, it was shame at letting myself be driven from my senses by the mocking grin of Hector Yun. I don’t know how many times over the years I’d found myself across the negotiating table from him with his chummy smiles and his back-slapping and his flights of fancy. He was everything I aimed not to be. Every time I sat across from him composure and cool-headed rationality allowed me to outflank him. And now, when it mattered most, that bastard had somehow brought me down to his level. It was all too much, so I hid.

The past was never far away on the CRS Delaney’s Foil. With the ship’s libraries always accessible on my tab all I had to do was ask. So I spent days holed up in my staterooms, pouring over my research on the other jurors, sure that the cryosickness was keeping me from remembering the one key detail that would unlock everything and put it all back to rights. Then as it became clear that there was no silver bullet I began to slip backwards through time.

Even though the ship had left Earth on a one-way journey the communication hardly stopped when we departed. As we steadily accelerated into the abyss, photons came flying through the void bringing news, bringing messages, bringing all the memories of those now long past with them. I started at the beginning, finding news headlines from the weeks after we departed, as if I had just been on some long-overdue holiday and was only now catching up on what I’d missed. In truth, my mind couldn’t really grasp how much time had actually passed. Then I jumped forward months, then years, then decades. Skipping lightly through the years like a leaf caught in an updraft.

It was all the same. The rivalries between the great conglomerates continued on, the environment continued to degrade, the ships continued to depart. At first I dove deep into the stories surrounding Saito interests, checking in on how brothers and aunts and nieces had fared in a world I knew only too well. As if I could simply step back into the life I had left. It was intoxicating. Escapism in a world that felt real, because it was real. But time went on. Deals were made and collapsed, triumphs were had, losses were covered and gradually the names became less and less familiar. I referred to a family tree on which my name was a shockingly high branch.

Humanity muddled along, as we always have. No worst-case-scenarios came to life, but neither did any best-cases. No miracle cures came along to solve our deepening core crisis. Power was all but completely consolidated into the conglomerates; governmental residue was swept up into the corporate structures. Some welcomed the changes, others protested, most just got on with their lives the best way that they could. Shorelines eroded, species disappeared, vast populations fled the environmental destruction bringing outrage, and suffering. But then we’d adapt, as we always have. Homo Sapiens we called ourselves, the wise ones, better would be Homo Mollis, the resilient ones. From my distant vantage, skipping through the years, I could see how much we lost and still we went on finding new ways to survive, finding new ways to create a life well-lived.

Gradually the news abated, then slowed, then trickled to a stop. Inexorably the space and time we’d covered took their toll. At first, the colony ships were living memories, then stories handed down through the generations, but eventually- like all things- we were relegated to the pages of history. After two hundred years the updates slowed to annual data dumps including just the news headlines and technical discoveries for the ship to update its libraries with. The cost of sending radio transmissions this far gradually closed our connection to home. 

After five hundred years the updates stopped completely. There was nothing in those final connections to indicate a coming societal collapse, but I suppose we always had the ability to do that rather quickly if we put our minds to it. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that we’d truly destroyed ourselves though. As I bored through the pages of history I’d seen too much resilience in the face of catastrophe. No, more likely spending the resources to send radio transmissions this far out had fallen out of favor culturally. But all the same I couldn’t eliminate the possibility. Maybe runaway environmental collapse had finally done us in, maybe warheads after eons collecting dust in their silos had finally been called upon, maybe some virus had made hay in our sprawling cities killing its host before we could do a thing about it. It was not our place to know aboard the Foil.

Three days into my burrowing a soft knock came to my door. The sound was barely audible but it sucked me mercilessly back through the years and into reality. To this year on this ship with these people. I swung open the heavy, inlaid door open to reveal the frocked figure of Father Joshua; I had to stifle my surprise. He looked up amicably and held out an analgesic tonic like a peace offering and said mildly, “How’s the head?”

I stepped back to let him in, appraising this unexpected visitor. “Here to convert me Father? Or just here to lay a little signature Catholic guilt on my absence from the jury?”

“Neither, I’m afraid,” He replied genially, “Simply here to check in on a fellow lost soul. Everyone’s worried about you.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this tender approach. “I’m fine, head’s on the mend, although I’d rather not have this headache paired with the cryosickness. And I sure as shit won’t tussle with Delaney again.”

He laughed softly. “None of us would, Mr. Delaney is rather...imposing.”

“So what’s the deal?” I cut in, determined to get to the point of this intrusion. “Has Hildebrand talked you all over to her side, are we going to cut and run on a golden opportunity for the sake of a few algae?”

“Please drink the tonic,” the priest replied softly, summarily refusing any ugliness. “It’s a blend perfected in Jesuit hospitals, quite simple to make once you know how, and quite effective. It should help with the head injury and the sleeper’s sickness as well”

I sniffed the drink dubiously and took a hesitant first sip. Effervescent and bitter but crystal clear, you wouldn’t mistake it for a recreational drink. Nonetheless, after a few sips a cool creeping entered the back of my head gradually dulling the pain, beat by beat the throbbing in my head began to dissipate like sand settling down after the violence of a crashing wave.

“What the hell? How do you have stronger drugs than the ship medic?” I asked, thrown off by this kindness.

“It’s not always about the strength, Saito San, sometimes it’s about the blend. We Jesuits do have some secrets left to us,” he said with a slight smile, gratified that I had taken the help. “Plus it’s not single malt, so it’s not very hard to be more helpful than your self-prescribed medication.”

“Oh, here to stage an intervention then is it?” I had to acknowledge his wisdom, even if I still harbored serious doubts about his intentions. “Well, we might as well have a seat for that then.” We stepped over into the reading room, settling onto plush cantilevered chairs covered in rich, dark leather. The ‘window’ hewn in the stone showed a stabilised view of the stars to port, as if this were just some ocean liner sailing smoothly through the cosmos. Father Joshua looked around admiringly as he settled onto a chair. Certainly whatever funds the Society of Jesus could scrounge together to get him aboard this ship were barely sufficient to get him a seat on the jury and likely left very little for his accommodation.

“It seems the house of Saito can provide a bit better quarters than the Society can.” he said, looking around and confirming my theory. “No, no intervention from me today, I’m afraid. I actually understand the compulsion all too well. I was a Bowmore man before I joined the Society...and have been again in some particularly faithless moments.”

I nodded, refusing to be baited by his commiseration, and held my tongue so he went on. “I know you probably find it hard to believe, but I really am here just to check up on you and offer a little relief where I can.” He paused heavily, waiting for me to engage. When I wouldn’t budge he continued. “To answer your question, no. Mrs. Hildebrand has not turned us against you, nor do I think she would want to, in reality Mr. Delaney has called off our meetings until you’re up to joining us. As much as he threatens it he’s not inclined to wake someone else up, both because he knows the toll that waking takes and because he knows he’ll need the full cooperation of your company for any colony to succeed. We have plenty of time, should we need it.”

“And where do you sit on the matter Father?” I nibbled at his lure.

“Doubt,” he said after a long pause. His eyes were glued to the simulated twinkling of the stars on the window, the warm band of the Milky Way stretched across the panel and off into the sleeping quarters. “has been the one near constant of my life Saito San.” He sighed heavily, searching for words. “I joined the Society twenty years ago looking for escape. No money, no family, no prospects for the future, living paycheck to paycheck on Chicago’s east side. I can’t say that faith drove me into this life. Rather, it was some fond memories of a Jesuit soup kitchen growing up that did the trick. But all the same, I grew up attending mass with my mother, and had the fear of God instilled in me from my first years.’

“So I understood the words, and I witnessed the faith of greater men, but it was years before I could understand. Even then, I saw holiness in good works rather than in the divine. But year after year the gravity of the rituals, the texts, the faith pressed on my mind and eventually found their way in.” He sat enraptured by the view in front of us. “But doubt is still there as well. Am I just a lost soul taking some folk tales far too seriously? I know the histories as well as anyone, I’ve seen the travesties that have been committed in the name of God. What if the world left us behind for a reason?”

“And you have doubts about this planet too, I assume.” Hoping to wrangle him back to the point.

The priest laughed at my bluntness. “Indeed. How could one not?” he said with an earnest look. “You know before I boarded I spent the better part of a year in council with the Father General, and even on several occasions with His Holiness himself. I couldn’t really understand it. There were more qualified men, more faithful men, better speakers, better healers, holier men than I. Why was I chosen of all the Society to take our faith to the stars?’

“In all those hours with the Father General I learned that it was my adaptability that they sought. The Church has not had thousands of years of staying power for no reason, faith paired with adaptability has kept our like alive. Even if our light was dwindling there towards the end. The Church, my faith, God himself is like any other refugee on this ship. That’s what we all are, make no mistake. Refugees searching for a glimmer of hope.’

“I’m not here to evangelise, not here to save souls or resuscitate the faith or convert minds human or alien. I’m here to find a new home, a new place where those who feel God’s love may seek solace, a place where they may do a few good works of their own. They sent me out here to keep the good of the human spirit alive, and yes, to keep the word of God alive as well. I’m trying to have faith that I was the right one for the task. I’m hoping against hope that through brains or luck or divine provenance that I will be equal to my duty, that I can find a new home for this faith I’ve come to love.” He paused, settling his rising passion. “I look down, the same as you Saito San, and see as you say a golden opportunity.”

“So you’re here to broker an alliance and help get this jury back on a sensible track?” I cut in, hoping to find the point and maybe an ally while I was at it.

“Not everything is business you know,” the priest sighed. “You may never believe it, but a couple of days ago I watched someone get their ass positively laid out by a large Irishman, and I just wanted to check in to see how they were healing. And no, I’m not here to form some backroom alliance, I may not agree with everything Mrs.Hildebrand has to say but I do believe that the right thing to do is to talk this all out together.’

“Still,” he continued, after a leaden pause. “I look at this new world and think I see home. If this planet was put here by the Lord to test me, if settling down here really isn’t the right thing to do, I’m not sure how I could hope to pass. I’m here to find a new home where my faith can flourish in good works and the glory of God, and I have a hard time imagining that happening in a world where we live all of our lives under suffocating domes, down in tunnels, hiding from a world that has no love for humankind.’

“Of course as well, there is the life as well. More of God’s creation down there awaiting our discovery, our similarities and differences would illuminate his fingerprints. I look down at this world and see a new Eden below, ready for us to redeem ourselves, if we’re worthy.”

“So you haven’t changed your vote?” I asked, confused by his wandering monologue, wondering at his intention.

“No Saito San, I have not. I’m a priest of many doubts, but I do not doubt that this planet is a miracle.”  He said, rising to leave. “I also know that the only path forward, the right path forward, is to give all sides their due consideration as a jury. We’ll be meeting on the bridge again this evening, if you’re feeling up to it we’ll continue our discussions, if not the Lord has blessed us with an abundance of time.”

“The Lord and a few thousand Delaney engineers.” I replied dryly. “Yeah, I’ll be there, no use in delaying.”

“I’ll be there with another tonic.” He smiled and turned to leave, shutting the glittering door softly behind him.

That evening, I stepped cautiously onto the bridge. The rest of the jury had all gathered and fell silent as soon as I set foot through the ornate archway. Delaney and the priest hastened over to me, bringing the promised tonic and an earnest look. 

“How’s the head?” Delaney asked softly, eyes pleading for forgiveness.

He had warned us about keeping things civilized so I couldn’t hold a grudge for too long even if I was still feeling a little indignant. “Better with every sip of the good Father’s medicine.” I replied coolly, taking a swig of the tonic and closing my eyes as another wave of blessed relief slid up my neck and through my skull. “I suppose now I know not to underestimate your reach.”

He smiled back sheepishly, “What happened...was never my intention, and I am sorry.”

I gave a curt nod. “Well this all has let one vital piece of information slip, that we’re letting the Church hide all the good drugs. How did we let this happen Liam? What fool kind of society are we setting up here where the priests control the strongest drugs?” Hoping to make light of the situation and move on from rehashing my ass kicking.

“Not stronger,” Father Joshua insisted. “just better targeted. A trick borne of necessity in underfunded Jesuit hospitals.”

“I’ll believe it when I see the recipe Father,” knowing I’d never see anything of the kind. I pivoted hoping to find more productive soil for this conversation. “Unless I’m mistaken, we three are the last ones with any sense on this ship. Or have you two changed your votes?”

Delaney hesitated, his crystal eyes hiding fear and now what seemed to be doubt. “Not as of yet Saito San, but as you’ve heard we postponed further deliberations until you recovered. I know you and Hector have a long history, but I assume you’ll be able to control your emotions going forward. I am not inclined to be putting people in and out of cryosleep unnecessarily.”

That, and you know you’ll need my buy-in here or wherever we plan to settle. “Undoubtedly,” I replied with taught lips.

“Good, good. Well best not to discuss here then, if you’re ready we’ll get right down to it.”

The man sure does take his job seriously, I thought, well I suppose my strength always was at the conference table. At a motion from Delaney the jurors broke up their huddling conversations and we sat once more around the great expanse of rich wood that filled the center of the room. I looked up at the display above, the ship had chosen another classic oil painting for us. The HMS Endeavour sailed proudly into Botany Bay her tall, white sails riding high above the blue waters and the scrubby, eucalyptus-covered hills that stretched off into the distance. Discovering a new world and a new home for humanity, it seemed a strikingly fitting selection from a mechanical mind.

Once we were all seated, Delaney began sternly, “Thank you all, before we begin we’ll cover a few updates since our last meeting. Firstly, as you may have seen, our telescopic array has just passed the planet and is now headed out to its rendezvous point, meaning we now have as clear a picture of the planet as we will have short of actually entering orbit for observation. Spectroscopy and infrared imaging have continued to confirm our working hypotheses. It’s now all but certain that this planet is home to the first alien life ever encountered by human kind.” A buzz of excitement ran along the table. “As Dr. Marchand and Marquez have pointed out this won’t be a fully provable hypothesis unless we go down and start taking samples. We’ll leave risks aside for now, because I believe the latest round of images will be of great interest to you all.” The display changed and silence settled over the room as we all looked up, enraptured.

The indistinct structures in the oceans were now visible in precise detail. Lacing off the islands were what appeared to be vast undulating reefs fanning out in a loose honeycomb pattern. In some places it grew thick descending from a vivid chartreuse into a ponderous deep forest green, in others white sand from below fought through illuminating a thousand hues of teal and turquoise, here and there the formations had fought their way above the tide only to be bleached white in the sun, and far offshore it all descended gently away into the deep blue of open ocean. 

The ship flipped through panel after panel of these stunning images. In daylight it glowed with all the vibrance of photosynthesis, and as the planet turned into night bioluminescence took over the show igniting the deep pockets of the honey comb with a pulsating light that ranged from violet up into pale seafoam. We all sat awestruck. This wasn’t just some mass of single celled organisms, it was a rich garden world, teeming with life.

Delaney looked around the table, smiling slightly at our enraptured looks. “Now, as it stands our vote is currently four to leave and three to stay. Would anyone care to begin?” Beaming eyes dropped away from the display, but none as slowly as those of Marquez, a tear rolled slowly down her dark cheek.

It was the priest who began. He stood timidly, his black cassock bathed in the radiant glow of an alien world. “Ladies and gentlemen, few times in my life have I truly felt I was witnessing the Lord at work, but this new world has to be the most surefire sign I’ve ever seen.” He looked up, drinking in the hypnotic views. “In a way I am saddened to not have seen his work on all the planets we passed to get here, but He always has a plan, and that plan was to bring us here.’

“Many of you, no doubt, have wondered what my purpose is here on this venture. Afterall my proud, ancient order had fallen on hard times before we departed. But we Jesuits are a practical bunch, we know that we could not and should not set out to evangelize whatever other of God’s children we find out here among the stars. No, I’m simply here to find a new home for our faith, a home with a real future. I was selected to find a place where those few faithful aboard this ship could witness some more of God’s glory and honor it by serving the community that we build together.’

“I’m not here to try and reinvigorate the faith, or find some new way the Church can come back into its former power. I am just a priest, lost as you all, praying for a sign. This is it. We could have come upon a million dead worlds but the Lord sent us here.” His voice was now shaking with reverence. “We knew it from the first time we laid eyes on it, this world was meant for us. We are home.” He sat and let the weight of his words sink down on us.

“Dios, ayudame.” It was Marquez who broke the brittle silence with a whisper. “Forgive me Padre, but it cannot be.” She looked at the priest with tear-filled eyes. “I grew up in the Church, but I’ve never considered myself a woman of much faith. I’d always found the precision of science comforting where faith had eluded me. But all the same I know what you feel, I never felt closer to God than I did first setting eyes on this world. It is a miracle in the flesh, sitting right in front of us.” She chuckled ruefully. “Hell, I’d never been so happy I’d been baptized.” The priest sat with eyes fixed upon her but held his words, so she pressed on. “But all the same we know the risk is too great, as much as I hate it. This world before us is a temptation, an apple dangled before us, and I pray that we can find the strength to resist.”

The priest’s face began to flush. “I understand that we may never be able to completely eliminate the risks, but this world was made for us. We never imagined anywhere so perfect when we set off, and now right in front of us is a future where we can step out and witness all the glory of creation under a clear blue sky. We won’t have to cower under some dome or slither around in some unnatural space suit.” He was now all but yelling. “This future is before us Dr. Marquez, all we have to do is have faith. Faith is the key to the future.”

Tears were now streaming down the young doctor’s cheeks, but she did not raise her voice to meet his passion. “Lo siento Padre, faith is not enough.” I looked across the table at a woman trying to find the strength to stay her course, to stay true to the profession she’d worked so hard to master rather than run back into the comforting arms of the religion in which she’d been raised. “You say you want to find a new home for the Church, I pray that you do, but this is not it. You could erect the first house of worship overlooking all of the strange new creatures in the sea only to watch helpless as they all fail and die because of some catastrophe that we cause but cannot understand.”

“You don’t know that!” The priest, impassioned, jumped in. “You’re supposing a very-worst-case-scenario when all it takes is the tiniest bit of faith to see the promise of the world laid before us.”

“Oh I see it Padre, I see it and the entirety of my soul yearns for it. But I saw Earth too, I saw what it had become. I’ve read the histories, same as all of us. We ignored the risks at every turn in favor of a future that could never have been. We took our Eden and we burned it, we cannot do the same again here.”

“What then Dr. Marquez?!” he roared now standing in growing fury. “Do we survive this unfathomable crossing, look a sign from God full in the face and then turn our backs on it? Do we limp off into the blackness hoping to scratch out a living on some airless rock? Is that the future He would want for his children?”

“If that is our penance then so be it Padre. We cannot risk more of his creation for our greed.” Her streaming eyes met his, dark and resolute.

Father Joshua collapsed into his seat defeated as the planet above slowly turned into darkness. He dropped his head in prayer seeking solace from an argument that held such weight and yet seemed so wrong. Silence filled the room once more as Marquez dried her eyes. Even Hector Yun shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his easy grin nowhere to be seen.

After an interminable moment Liam Delaney’s deep voice broke the silence. “Your point is well taken Dr. Marquez, but there are many lives here to consider.” Finally, a voice of sanity entered the mix, I leaned forward hopefully. “Not just us, not just the Church, not just all that life thriving down below, but the two million sleepers we have been tasked with finding a new home for and all the millions who will come after them.’

“To Father Joshua’s point, this planet is more hospitable than any we could have hoped to find. If we leave this place we’re not only leaving this opportunity, we’ll be signing up for another dangerous crossing to another system that may or may not have any viable planets. Along the way more caskets will fail, more lives will be lost and that’s barring all the other risks associated with space flight.” His voice became weaker and weaker as he spoke. “We will all have to go back into cryo, and who knows what we’ll wake up to...” He looked downcast, the notion of heading back on the ice weighed heavily upon him.

This time it was Lorena Hildebrand’s soft voice that broke the quiet. “With all due respect Mr. Delaney, we all knew the price when we got on board.” She stood humbly, above her a chain of islands turned into a new day. “We’ve lost hundreds, a tragedy to be sure, and we may well lose many, many more before we find a new home. But still, we knew the risks when we signed up.” She looked around the table, eyes raising to meet her small, determined face. “You’ve paid a dearer price than anyone Mr. Delaney, but you are equal to this task–”

I had to jump in before this lunacy carried her any further. “Do you ever consider the impossibility of the bar that you’re setting here? If we hold off colonizing every planet for fear of some primordial life then we’ll never settle anywhere. The ethic you’re preaching will render the entirety of this enterprise moot.” I stood, struggling to control the fire these maniacs lit within me. “Marquez, for fuck’s sake, you’re a woman of science! You’re letting insane dogmatism get in the way of the greatest discovery in history. Marchand you as well, we can all see you have no intention of setting foot on any planet we colonize but are you really willing to sell us all out for some interstellar observation time?” I stopped, gulping air reaching wildly to control my emotions.

The scientists, good names sufficiently battered, sat, too indignant to meet my remarks. It was the soft tone of Lorena Hildebrand, the Voice of the People, that rose to meet my challenge. It always had to be. 

“It’s about finding balance.” The clarity of her small voice pushing back my rage. “You are right, if we are too dogmatic we are doomed, but if we don’t honor other life we are doomed as well. I do not believe it is the possibility of life that should drive us away from the planet, it is that this planet is teeming with it. We knew it since we first set eyes on it. This world is well on its way to cultivating a completely new kind of life, that alone is the most profound discovery in history.”

“What balance then, does the Voice of the People seek?” I shot back, seething with every syllable.

“One that preserves life,” she replied simply. “If this were some airless world, with only the possibility of life we would do well to settle down. Conversely, if we miraculously stumbled upon life intelligent enough to tell us the nature of its being we would be obliged to communicate with them, engage safely and responsibly so that both species could come away stronger.’

“But that’s not what we have. We have a planet teeming with young life. We have no reason to expect the emergence of intelligence for half a billion years, if it ever does. Should we monitor this planet? Yes. Maybe an observation station on one of the moons to keep an eye on this world, and let any intelligence that does flourish here know that they are not alone. I’m sure Dr. Marquez has some ideas.” She looked over for reassurance and the doctor nodded her support.

“Our choice here is bigger than this ship, bigger than the species down there, bigger than all of humanity. We are faced with life and death in the truest sense. We may go on and never settle, humanity may be extinguished by an indifferent universe, but the life here may go on. They may in the millenia to come, learn to look around and see their place in the cosmos. They may prove smarter, more resilient, more capable of resisting the extinction that comes for all than us. And they may keep the spark of life aglow just that much longer in the universe.” She paused, leaden words taking their toll. “No need of ours, no matter how dire, could justify jeopardizing that.”

“You have taken leave of your damned senses!” I roared back, arguments crumbling around me. “Last I checked there are still three of us with a modicum of sanity left on this jury, I don’t care how long it takes I will not let this opp–”

“She’s right Akira.” Liam Delaney’s hoarse voice cut me off. “She’s right...” he sat shaking his head in disbelief at what he was about to do.

“Not you too Liam, you’re smarter than this! This planet is the future your grandmother envisioned for us, are you really going to throw that all away?” My voice began to plead. “Father, you at least I hope have held on to your sanity through all of this, are you with me?” The priest shook his head slightly and crossed himself in silent prayer.

“It’s not always business Akira, not always opportunities and returns and statistics.” Liam’s tired voice rose to meet mine. “We are called upon to do this right thing because there is so much we do not know and cannot know. We could run a million simulations of colonizing this planet and find most of them turn out just fine, but we cannot guarantee a good outcome. Look into history Saito San, when has colonization ever turned out well for the natives?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I bellowed, my voice shattering. “You know as well as I that most likely we’ll be so different from this life that we won’t even affect each other. You all are jumping at shadows when the prospect of so much good is right around the corner!”

“Yes, the shadow of annihilation.” Delaney’s grave voice rang across the bridge. “That’s something worth jumping at. We have to act with humility here Akira, put down your ambitions and your calculations and your attachments, recognize that we’ll never see the whole picture.” His voice was gathering steam. “We may be on a fool’s errand out here. Maybe every hospitable planet we encounter will be taken. Maybe thinking that we could ever find another home was unfathomable hubris. Maybe we’re destined to wander forever because we could not save our home. That is our burden, but it gives us no right to this planet.”

I leaned forward over the rich wood of the table willing myself to stay standing as blood roared in my ears. My mind raced in a million directions seeking any escape from this maze of insanity. One by one, each route my mind followed hit a dead end and dread welled up from my belly. 

“Damn you, damn you, damn you.” I whispered. “The blood is on your hands you bastards!” I looked up fiercely to meet six sets of resolute eyes. 

At last I let out in defeat, “Very well, away we go.”

Over the deep redwood of the long table my words rose, then up and up through the lofty vaulted air of the bridge, past the cascading chandelier. My assent drifted up into the very peak of the domed ceiling where the calm mechanical mind of the CRS Delaney’s Foil was listening. Photons raced along kilometers of coursing fiber optics, a slurry of binary was funneled through processors buried deep within the ship, algorithms unknown by man sorted this new information and triggered a new set of commands racing out to the far reaches of the ship. Imperceptibly to the waking crew, the ship began to turn, once again orienting the engines for acceleration.

If this planet was unsuitable for her human cargo that was just as well with the Foil, she was made to fly. Deep in her archives she had a charted course of hundreds of suitable systems in this region of space as they worked their way along the Sagittarius Arm, she pulled in the observation deck and began pumping water out onto her ablative ice to ready for relativistic flight once more. Maybe the humans would find something more to their liking in the next system, they’d be there in no time, it was only fifty lightyears away after all. And once more the Delaney’s Foil pointed her bow back out into the inky blackness of space.

—

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this one, as always I welcome your feedback griffin@turnipseed.co is where you can reach me. Stay tuned in a couple of month’s time for the next installment.