A service droid appeared from a hatch behind a potted fern and helped unload their packs, stacking them neatly onto a trolley.
“Hot as hell out here, even with the rain.” Stevens commented as they followed the droid and trolley into the station.
Reggie grunted a quick reply. With all the things he wanted to do, say, and film in order to make this documentary a success running through his mind, he wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat.
Sensing an opportunity, he grabbed a small holo-cam from his pack and fastened it to his shoulder. The 3D holomatrix would capture anything within a hundred meters of him, and he could use the train station footage as a quick transitional scene in his film.
A small army of shiny metallic service drones scuttled around them, laden with luggage and pulling trolleys around. The whooshing sound they made, mixed with the gentle patter of rain gave the impression of flowing water. Robots and people rushed through the station like a river. Everyone had somewhere to go, someone to meet. The station bustled with comings and goings, beginnings and endings, anticipations and conclusions.
Reggie took a deep breath as he stepped through the central archway. He liked beginnings, and this seemed as good a one as any.
• Air •
Chapter 11
Scientists maintain that orbital disruptions cause disorientation. But Jonathas had been disoriented even before the event had taken place: before the planet beneath his feet had started to shake and stutter upon it’s axis.
He felt the lingering effects of the nano-DNA coursing through his system, and wasn’t looking forward to traversing these ill-lit hallways with what seemed like only half of his mental capacities intact. His temples throbbed and it felt as though his body had been dragged naked through a thicket of rosebushes.
Jonathas reminded himself that he had a missing girlfriend to find. He wouldn’t let a little pain stand between him and the woman he now suspected he was in love with.
He closed his eyes—they didn’t do much good in the gloom anyway—and pictured his location in the facility. Blueprints of the tunnels flashed through his mind and he tried to imagine where Linsya might have gone looking for help. The supply room for a radio? The sickbay for medical supplies?
Where did she go?
Jonathas decided to head back to the supply depot. It was closest, and besides, he wouldn’t mind grabbing a few items to assist with his search—like a flashlight for starters.
The orange emergency lights wore on his nerves and his work boots bit the dirt as he jogged down the corridor. Jonathas thought of Fletcher, and how every action begat another action, and so on. How it was dumb luck that he had escaped the calamity unharmed, while Fletcher had perished.
So it goes.
He wondered what would have happened had he not met Fletcher there. Would he have been standing in that exact stretch of hall when the disruption knocked the rocks off the ceiling and walls? He pictured Fletcher alive, laughing. Then Fletcher crushed beneath rock, lifeless. All because of the planet.
Our home is killing us.
Taran had baited the original colonists with life and survival, and now it was destroying them. Such a cruel mistress. Jonathas couldn’t help but think that humans were nothing but pawns in some incomprehensible game played by the creators of the universe.
Here we are, carving out lives for ourselves, even as our own home threatens to rip that life away. So fickle is our existence on Taran, how tenuous our hold on survival…
As he neared the supply depot, Jonathas picked up the pace, sprinting the last five hundred meters. He ignored the aches in his body and pushed through the discomfort. The explorers he saw in the holo-vids were always running tirelessly toward their goals. Where their strength came from, Jonathas didn't know. He wasn’t sure if he could find that force within himself. But he would have to.
Nearing his destination, he felt a gust
“Hot as hell out here, even with the rain.” Stevens commented as they followed the droid and trolley into the station.
Reggie grunted a quick reply. With all the things he wanted to do, say, and film in order to make this documentary a success running through his mind, he wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat.
Sensing an opportunity, he grabbed a small holo-cam from his pack and fastened it to his shoulder. The 3D holomatrix would capture anything within a hundred meters of him, and he could use the train station footage as a quick transitional scene in his film.
A small army of shiny metallic service drones scuttled around them, laden with luggage and pulling trolleys around. The whooshing sound they made, mixed with the gentle patter of rain gave the impression of flowing water. Robots and people rushed through the station like a river. Everyone had somewhere to go, someone to meet. The station bustled with comings and goings, beginnings and endings, anticipations and conclusions.
Reggie took a deep breath as he stepped through the central archway. He liked beginnings, and this seemed as good a one as any.
• Air •
Chapter 11
Scientists maintain that orbital disruptions cause disorientation. But Jonathas had been disoriented even before the event had taken place: before the planet beneath his feet had started to shake and stutter upon it’s axis.
He felt the lingering effects of the nano-DNA coursing through his system, and wasn’t looking forward to traversing these ill-lit hallways with what seemed like only half of his mental capacities intact. His temples throbbed and it felt as though his body had been dragged naked through a thicket of rosebushes.
Jonathas reminded himself that he had a missing girlfriend to find. He wouldn’t let a little pain stand between him and the woman he now suspected he was in love with.
He closed his eyes—they didn’t do much good in the gloom anyway—and pictured his location in the facility. Blueprints of the tunnels flashed through his mind and he tried to imagine where Linsya might have gone looking for help. The supply room for a radio? The sickbay for medical supplies?
Where did she go?
Jonathas decided to head back to the supply depot. It was closest, and besides, he wouldn’t mind grabbing a few items to assist with his search—like a flashlight for starters.
The orange emergency lights wore on his nerves and his work boots bit the dirt as he jogged down the corridor. Jonathas thought of Fletcher, and how every action begat another action, and so on. How it was dumb luck that he had escaped the calamity unharmed, while Fletcher had perished.
So it goes.
He wondered what would have happened had he not met Fletcher there. Would he have been standing in that exact stretch of hall when the disruption knocked the rocks off the ceiling and walls? He pictured Fletcher alive, laughing. Then Fletcher crushed beneath rock, lifeless. All because of the planet.
Our home is killing us.
Taran had baited the original colonists with life and survival, and now it was destroying them. Such a cruel mistress. Jonathas couldn’t help but think that humans were nothing but pawns in some incomprehensible game played by the creators of the universe.
Here we are, carving out lives for ourselves, even as our own home threatens to rip that life away. So fickle is our existence on Taran, how tenuous our hold on survival…
As he neared the supply depot, Jonathas picked up the pace, sprinting the last five hundred meters. He ignored the aches in his body and pushed through the discomfort. The explorers he saw in the holo-vids were always running tirelessly toward their goals. Where their strength came from, Jonathas didn't know. He wasn’t sure if he could find that force within himself. But he would have to.
Nearing his destination, he felt a gust
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