Space Colony One Books 4 - 6: Space Colony One Series, #2

INTERSTELLAR MISSION

One

35, 835 kilometers above the planet the humans called Concordia, a probe sat in geostationary orbit. The device was tiny, undetectable to all except the most sensitive astronomical scanners. Even then, the scanner operator would have to know exactly where to look in order to find it. The debris remaining from the battle for the planet was scattered throughout the immediate area of space, acting as the perfect camouflage for the spying device.

The probe focused on a small area of land on the largest continent. Covering approximately 2,184 square kilometers, the area encompassed a razed human settlement, a region where the native vegetation had been cleared, and a small forest. The forest was the point of greatest scrutiny.

Penetrating the forest canopy and a certain depth beneath the surface, the probe peered at a spot below the forest floor where the humans had constructed a habitation.

The existence and location of the site had been gleaned from disinfectors sent down to clean the human infestation from the prized world. Had this information not already existed within the probe’s data banks, the heat and carbon dioxide emitted by the concentrated numbers of humans were clear indications of the invaders’ presence. And, when the system’s star lit that place, the probe detected the movement of humans as they departed their subterranean dwelling.

For each revolution of the world orbiting its star, the pattern of movement was the same: in the daylight hours, the humans traveled to the cleared area and its neighboring lake. Then, just before that area turned away from the star and the line of darkness crossed it, the humans would return to their forest dwelling and disappear below ground.

During the time they spent at the secondary site, the humans tended to their plants, which were non-natives. They applied unidentified substances and, when precipitation had been minimal, they also applied water from the lake. Always, they removed any native flora growing in the space.

The probe monitored the size of the invasive population, its typical behaviors, and evidence of technological advancement. The data it had gleaned up until now had been minimal. The humans’ numbers were small and their activities limited. Had it been sentient, the probe would have been supremely bored. It was working at a level far below the amount of information its scanners, data banks, and transmitter could handle.

Had the probe’s creators been too optimistic when they had configured its data handling capabilities? Perhaps. The device’s construction had been hasty, a last-minute decision based on an abrupt change of plan.

Were the Scythians’ hopes for a successful human colonization too high? The planet thieves were primitive. Their colony ship had resembled a relic of the earliest eons of galactic exploration, like something out of an ancient historical file. It had been a miracle the humans had survived to reach their destination. Even their second ship, which had caught up to the first, had carried only a few ineffective weapons, and its engines had been slow. Only by a fluke had it defeated the scout ship.

In addition to the humans’ low level of development, further factors worked against the colony’s survival. The destruction of their first habitation had set them back significantly, no doubt. Then a second attack had been launched with the intention of finishing them off. The destruction had probably pushed the colony to the limit of its existence.

Had the second attack not been aborted, it would have entirely annihilated the humans. The disinfectors had never been known to fail. Even the unexpected arrival of the irritating aquatic beings, who for some unknown reason had decided to ally themselves with the primitives, would not have made any difference to the final result.

But then, at the last moment, another, more appealing, solution had been suggested, exactly at the moment the humans had foolishly crashed their vessel into the flagship. Perhaps it would be possible to turn the unanticipated appearance of the humans to the Scythians’ benefit. The decision to spare the invaders, temporarily, had been made.

Only two possible futures for the humans lay ahead: they would live or die. Whichever result eventuated, the Scythians would win, in a fashion. As the fate of the colony played out all the watchers had to do was wait.

On their far-distant planet, the Scythians monitored the incoming data. They read the population estimates, studied the humans’ behavior, and tracked their development. The latter was pitiful. It was clear the humans were clinging to survival. All that would be required to finish them off would be the failure of the food supply they appeared to be growing.

The probe had been programmed with various triggers. If the humans transferred to a new location, it would adjust its geostationary position accordingly. If the creatures spread out across the globe so that constant surveillance from a single vantage point was impossible, the probe would react.

Finally, when the required conditions were met, the Scythians would return to claim their prize.

Two

Cherry lowered herself into the narrow, two-seater capsule, steadying herself against the bobbing of the waves by grabbing the side with her right—and only—hand. The vessel was barely large enough to accommodate both her and Ethan, and she was forced to squeeze up close to her old friend as she sat down.

The sea breeze was chilly and made colder by the spray it blew from the ocean. The sun was halfway to the horizon in a gray, cloudy sky.

How long will this take? she asked, eyeing the water. Somewhere beneath those snowy peaks and deep blue troughs thread creatures lay, waiting to transport the humans to their vast underwater metropolis. Her stomach muscles tightened, and it wasn’t only due to the waves’ motion.

Three or four hours, Ethan replied. At least, that’s how long it took last time. I’m assuming the threads have something similar in store for you as they did with me.

I guess it’s too late to change my mind? she asked hopefully.

He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. Yeah, pretty much. I need a second in command, and I picked you. The Joining Ceremony with the threads is only a formality.

In need of a distraction, she asked, Aren’t there any controls in this thing? She scanned the featureless interior. All that lay around her was the lid to the vehicle, opened at an angle, the well where they put their feet, and the smooth, opaque lower hull.

How did the threads manufacture equipment like this submarine capsule while living under water? The process had to be remarkably different from the way humans did things. The enigma made her curious. On the other hand, the less she knew about the threads the better.

No controls, Ethan replied, and even if there were, we wouldn’t know how to drive it.

Pilot it, she corrected. If a vehicle goes on water, or in the air, or in space, you pilot it.

Drive it or pilot it, we’re doing neither, in this case. Relax. It’s an interesting trip. You might even enjoy it.

So we let the threads take us wherever they want?

That’s what happened last time, and I was totally safe.

Why are you telling me it’s safe? she asked. Do you think I’m scared?

Ethan didn’t reply, only smirked in a maddening manner.

Huh! She squirmed in her seat. I’m not scared. I’m…uncomfortable. I mean, I’m grateful to them. They’ve done so much to help us and we couldn’t have survived without them, but, stars, I don’t like those things. The waves were growing stronger, the capsule was bobbing higher, and she was beginning to feel sick. I wish we could⁠—

A hiss cut through her words as the lid of the vessel suddenly lowered, activated by unseen hands, or rather, tentacles. The lid met the hull and soundlessly closed. They were sealed in and wouldn’t be able to get out again until the threads allowed them. The capsule lifted and eased forward until it was fully on the surface of the water. A particularly large wave smashed into it, causing the front to rear up, rise over the wave’s crest, and nose down the other side.

Ethan gave her a half smile. I don’t really think you’re scared. No one who ran out to face certain death by the cuts of thousands of Scythian spiders could be scared of some friendly thread creatures.

I thought you were going to say single-handedly. She also smiled but then the death of her ex-lover, Garwin, sprang to her mind and her expression fell.

If anyone can make amputee jokes, it’s you and me. Ethan lifted his artificial foot.

The threads’ vessel was moving steadily forward. As it reached deeper water the bobbing became less pronounced but more regular. Suddenly, the sun blazed through a gap in the clouds, instantly warming the capsule’s cool interior. Then the nose dipped. Cherry gripped her armrest.

Here we go, said Ethan as the vessel slid under the waves.

Green water rose up the capsule’s sides and over the transparent lid. A force dragged them along and downward. Sunbeams glittered through the waves, dappling them in shifting spots of light. But the sun’s rays quickly faded and the darkness of deep water encroached.

The light from above had almost entirely disappeared when the rim of the vessel burst into light, illuminating the interior and the water around them.

Ugh. She’d spotted, at the edge of the circle of light, long, thin, tentacles writhing. Thread creatures had come along as escorts.

Oh yeah, said Ethan. They do that. They’ll stay with us all the way down.

No kidding. Isn’t that great?

Why don’t you like the threads?

Is it surprising? They tried to kill me once, remember?

They weren’t trying to kill you. They were only trying to capture you, like they did with me. They wanted to find out about us.

"Oh, I’m sorry. They were only trying to capture me, put me in a little box, and experiment on me. Like they did with you that time you nearly died." Cherry folded her arm across her chest. The action still felt weird now she only had one arm to fold.

Ethan chuckled.

Something funny?

"Fila cherryensia. I love the fact the Woken named the threads after you."

Isn’t that joke getting a bit old? In truth, Cherry enjoyed bantering with her old friend, even though her dislike of the threads was no joke. Their back-and-forth also helped her to momentarily forget the gravity of the colony’s situation. She stole a glance at Ethan’s profile. They had been through so much together. Their closeness in the small capsule almost made her want to reach out and take his hand. How are Cariad and the baby doing? Meredith is such a pretty name.

It is, isn’t it? We named her after someone I used to know. They’re fine. Absolutely fine. She’s a sweetheart. Hardly ever cries. Always smiling.

You’re talking about the baby, not Cariad?

Well, both of them really.

Cariad is a sweetheart too. I realized that once I got to know her. Cherry paused. She isn’t a typical Woken. I guess she must have told you what a bitch I was to her.

Huh? No. She never told me that.

Well, I was, though maybe I was justified in the circumstances. Anyway, I don’t hate the Woken any longer. It doesn’t make any sense anymore. We’re all on the same level now.

Yeah, that’s right.

The divisions that had existed in the early days of the colony were a thing of the past. If it weren’t for the Gens’ uniform coloring, with their olive skin and dark brown eyes and hair, she wouldn’t have been able to tell her kind apart from the Woken: the scientists who had left Earth aboard the Nova nearly two hundred years ago. They were all kinds of colors, from Kes’s chalky white, freckled skin and ginger hair to Cariad’s deep brown skin and black, frizzy hair.

The two Scythian attacks had been great equalizers. The original settlement, planned and built so carefully from materials brought from Earth, had been razed. And the underground hideout, created from the remaining materials scavenged from the wreck of the Nova, had only just survived the second attack. It had taken weeks to clear the passages of the deactivated spider-like search-and-destroy devices. Their claws sliced like razors at the slightest touch, and now that the colony’s medical supplies were severely limited, avoiding cuts and infections was vital.

Her stump ached with the memory of the slash that had severed her left arm.

Thinking about what’s coming up? Ethan asked, drawing her from her reverie.

No, actually.

We’re about halfway now.

The capsule’s beams only illuminated the surrounding threads’ tentacles, streamlined with speed. Everything else was impenetrable darkness. She was reminded of her time aboard the colony ship, when the Nova’s hull had been the only thing between her and deep space. I’m flattered that you want me as your second in command, but I’m not clear on exactly what you want me to do.

I’m not sure myself. I only know we have a long, difficult time ahead of us, and I’m going to need all the help I can get if the colony is to survive. There’s the organization of our defense, for one thing. I have enough to do just keeping us all fed, and I’m no military strategist. You seemed the obvious choice after you helped coordinate the response to the second attack. Unless you think I should have asked Aubriot?

Stars, no, she exclaimed. The thought of Aubriot in charge of defending the colony filled her with unease. He had some good ideas, but his number one priority was himself. Given the choice of sacrificing everyone else in order to save his own life, he probably wouldn’t think twice about it.

See? You’re the best person, Cherry. I know you’ll do a great job.

I’ll do my best.

You’ll be fine. And after you’ve been through the Joining Ceremony, we can talk to the Fila about the Scythian threat. Maybe they can give us some advice on how to prepare ourselves for when they return.

When they come back to collect their tribute? She gave a shudder. She hoped the day the Scythians demanded human sacrifices in return for sparing the colony was a long, long time away.

We need a plan, Ethan said, and so far I have nothing.

Three

Wilder tied the final living vine in place, and then stood up, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She grabbed the handrail she’d constructed from intertwined vines and tested it, pushing and pulling on it. The rail seemed secure. It should be. The material it was made from was fibrous and so tough only a very sharp blade could cut it. The vines’ properties had put her off using them at first, imagining the hours she would have to spend just sawing the stuff off the trees where it clung like a sluglimpet to its prey.

But then she’d realized it made more sense to use living vines. Not only would it save time, the plants would continue to grow and the walkways between the trees would become stronger and carry more weight.

Was using five vines per handrail overkill? Perhaps. But the handrails and the bridges—made from interwoven tree fronds and more vines—had to be entirely safe. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And though a fall onto the soft, deep leaf mold of the forest floor probably wouldn’t be fatal, an accident would mean the end of her little hamlet among the trees.

That would be a disaster. All her work would be for nothing. The adults might even insist that she permanently return to the underground settlement.

Sidhe.

That was what they’d called the place, after a vote. It was a name from ancient Earth, a dwelling place of mythological beings.

Her own name for the close, stinking, noisy passageways and tiny rooms of her former home was Shithole. Naturally, she never used the name out loud around anyone important, but she loved how the word encapsulated her hatred for the crowded habitation.

She understood why the colonists continued to live there, even though the Scythians appeared to be leaving them alone for the time being. It was the menace of the sluglimpets. The threat of the nocturnal creatures plagued her too. If they sensed a living, edible thing while out on their nightly prowls, the horrible predators could actually climb trees. Nothing seemed to be a barrier to their many legs and hook-like feet except for electricity, and the remaining fences and generators were all being used to protect the farming district.

It had been the problem of the Concordian native wildlife that had deterred her from her plan to build treetop settlement initially, notwithstanding her eagerness to leave Shithole. Without an electric current as protection, she would have quickly suffered a terrible death on her first night outdoors.

But she’d been determined. The sluglimpets were not intelligent. All they had on their side was their deadly, sticky digestive secretions and a relentless drive to reach their prey. If humans could make their way across the galaxy to a new home, they should be able to think up a way to protect themselves from the predators.

She’d done it. She’d found a solution. Though the first time she’d tested her idea, all alone, illegally outside Shithole at night, had been terrifying.

She’d done it all. Everything she’d planned. Peeking out from the tree fronds were four sturdy platforms, linked by walkways. She stood on the fifth platform, which happened to be the first she’d constructed and the one she would keep as her own.

Below, the forest undergrowth was green and lush and the decaying leaf mold was deep brown, moist, and fragrant. How much nicer it was to be above ground rather than crushed in with everyone else, skulking in dimly lit confinement.

The construction work had been easy compared to the difficulties she’d faced sneaking away to complete it. She’d made a few enemies along the way: door monitors, educators, her parents. But that was nothing new. For years, even prior to Arrival—ever since she’d decided to not attend any more useless, boring schooling, in fact—she’d rubbed up against authority figures in one way or another.

Never mind. When some friends joined her in the tree village, the people in charge would be forced to acknowledge the benefit of her work. They would understand that her time was better spent doing what she wanted, not following any stupid Manual. The people who wrote that plan hadn’t taken into account the real difficulties the colony would face. How could they? No one else had ever attempted a deep space colonization.

All she had to do was prove she’d created a sustainable living space. She didn’t think it would take much persuasion for other kids to come and live here too. Who in their right mind would choose to remain in an overcrowded, stuffy slum filled with crying babies when they could live in fresh, clean air and silence above ground?

The tree village was ready for inhabitants. A few more facilities were required before the place would be entirely independent, but it was fit for sleeping in overnight.

One more test remained.

She breathed in, gripped the handrail tightly, and stepped onto the walkway. The fibrous floor bent under her weight, but held. She took a second step, entirely leaving the safety of the platform. The bridge swayed, and she grabbed the other handrail. The vines creaked. The farther platform, which had looked so close a moment ago, seemed to draw away.

Remembering she needed to breath out, she exhaled between pursed lips and carefully trod another few steps. The farther she walked, the more the bridge swayed. Was that something she could fix? She wasn’t sure, but providing she held on tight she didn’t seem to be in any danger.

Alternating her hands to let go and grip the rail as she moved along, she quickly walked the remaining distance. As she stepped onto the second platform, she whooped with delight and punched the air. The surrounding vegetation absorbed the sound of her voice, deadening it and supplanting it with hushed rustling.

So far, so good. But she’d bent the rules as far as she could. If she wanted to move forward with the tree hamlet and turn it into an official, alternative dwelling space, she needed permission from the Leader. That might not be easy to get.

Four

About an hour into the journey to the threads’ underground city, Cherry spied thousands of lights spread out on the ocean bed. Hey, is that it?

That’s it, Ethan replied. It’s quite something, isn’t it? If we go the same way I went, we’ll sink down a long tunnel to the chamber where they hold the ceremony.

Wow, Cherry breathed as the extent and complexity of the threads’ metropolis became clearer. The underwater city reached as far as she could see, lights twinkling in the far distance, piercing the pitch black of the water. As she looked more closely, she saw plumes of bubbles and distorted, probably super-heated, water rising from some structures on the sea bed. Transparent tunnels linked buildings, and thread creatures slid along them. I had no idea it was so sophisticated. She peered at the constructed expanse. Do you think they have vehicles?

Apart from starships? Ethan answered. I’ve never seen any of the Fila being transported in a vehicle. I don’t think they need them. They move so fast and so easily in water.

The thread escorts had kept pace with the capsule, even though it had seemed to be traveling at a great speed.

I think this is their main site on Concordia, said Ethan. The places where we originally encountered them are only small outposts. This is where all the important stuff happens, like the Joining Ceremony. He glanced sidelong at her. There’s no need to pull that face.

What face? I’m not pulling a face.

The ceremony doesn’t take long. It’ll be over before you know it.

The capsule abruptly halted and sank rapidly downward. A hole was opening below. They were about to descend into the tunnel Ethan had mentioned.

She twisted in her seat, staring at the surface of the city as they passed it. Despite the utter darkness of the water, she could see details of complicated structures due to a glow emanating from them. The light was unlike sunlight or the artificial indoor lights.

You know when we lived in the caves by the ocean? she said. Did you ever look out to sea at night?

All the time.

The water used to glow sometimes. Did you notice?

I did. It was beautiful.

The light the threads’ city gives off is similar, don’t you think?

Now you say it, I see what you mean.

Their vessel passed into the tunnel, plunging them into darkness except for widely spaced lights along the walls. Then they changed direction and headed into a large chamber. She tensed at the sight that greeted her. So many thread creatures all in one place. She surveyed the ranks of assembled aquatic aliens.

They’re probably listening to us right now. I should have told you. They can hear what we say while we’re in here, and they can talk to us too.

In the end, the ceremony really was as straightforward as Ethan had said it would be, though like everything else to do with the threads, it was weird and unsettling. When it was over and most of the creatures had left, they remained inside the threads’ spherical chamber. Only one of the organisms had stuck around, a large specimen.

Hey, Quinn, said Ethan. Long time no see.

"You recognize it?" Cherry gaped at the creature’s mass of gently writhing tentacles.

Hello, Ethan. The voice seemed to come from all around them, as if the walls of the capsule were broadcasting.

Ethan said to Cherry, Remember, anything you say, he’ll hear.

Got it. She whispered, It’s a he? How can you tell?

It’s probably better to let me do the talking.

If you say so.

This is Cherry, he said to his thread acquaintance.

Your second in command. Thank you for bringing him to us.

Her. Cherry is a woman.

I see. Thank you. It is difficult for me to see your differences. I notice that Cherry is missing a tentacle too.

What? Cherry asked.

She’s missing an arm, Quinn.

Ah yes. You have different words for your tentacles according to where they are situated on your bodies. I remember now.

Cherry lost her arm during the Second Scythian Attack.

But why hasn’t she grown another one?

I can’t grow another one, said Cherry.

You can’t? Are humans not able to regrow their tentacles?

Ethan said, I still only have half of one of my legs. I wear a false one.

I didn’t know, said Quinn. We still have so much to learn about human anatomy. To be unable to regenerate your limbs seems a great disadvantage.

We manage, said Ethan. Quinn, we have more important matters to discuss.

The Scythians, said Quinn. I have bad news. Our seeding ship, which came to your defense, must depart soon. Our young ones are growing to maturity and if we do not find a home for them they will die.

I understand, Ethan replied. We appreciate your help, but we realize we can’t rely on you forever.

Cherry’s heart sank. How could they hope to defend themselves from another Scythian attack without the help of the thread creatures?

When the Scythians arrived to destroy your colony, Quinn said, we had grave fears that they would succeed. They are an ancient and highly developed species, and we doubted they would allow a foreign intelligence to live on a planet they consider their own. Yet they did withdraw, after your ship self-destructed by crashing into theirs. The message they broadcast as they left did not make much sense to us. Then we discovered words in your language that seem to describe similar concepts—concepts that do not exist in our culture. Words like sacrifice and tribute. You know what their message means in terms of what you can expect.

I know, said Ethan. I haven’t thought of much else since the battle.

It appears the Scythians decided to accept the deaths of the crew in exchange for the cessation of their attack. If that is the case, it seems reasonable to predict they will return at some point, expecting further offerings, or they will not allow your continued presence on this planet.

"It’s lucky they didn’t realize no humans were aboard the Mistral, Cherry said. Do you think the Scythians might accept something other than human lives as tribute?"

As always, she felt conflicted by the memory of the enigmatic Guardians, androids sent from Earth to save the colony from sabotage. They had masqueraded as humans, and when their artificiality was revealed it explained the creepy feeling she’d always had about them. Yet she couldn’t deny that these sentient machines had sacrificed themselves in battle without hesitation.

We cannot say, Quinn replied, but we believe it would be prudent to act as if this were not the case.

Could you transport us somewhere else? Cherry asked. A place where the Scythians won’t find us?

We have considered that, but we do not know of any other planets that would support you indefinitely, and that would not also be known to the Scythians. We continue to search, but it would be wise for you to make alternative plans.

What kind of alternative? asked Cherry. We only have two: run and hide or stay and fight, and currently only the second one is open to us.

You do not have to fight, said Quinn. There is a third possibility.

You mean we should sacrifice some of us as tribute? Cherry asked.

It is an option to consider.

Okay, let me consider it, said Cherry, her heart racing with rage. "Er, NO! I’m not going to suggest that some of us die to save the rest. That is not happening. We would never sacrifice one of our own, even if it were to save all of us."

Don’t worry, said Ethan. There’s no question about that. But I’m guessing Quinn has more to tell us. Am I right? There’s a reason you asked me to bring another human representative to Join with you, isn’t there?

You are right, Ethan. As I said, our seeding ship must depart soon, and it’s doubtful it could return to help defend you from another Scythian attack. Furthermore, I must warn you that the Scythians are growing stronger, and we are not a warlike species. We could not have defeated them when we tried, and we won’t defeat them the next time.

So we’re on our own? asked Cherry.

Perhaps not, Quinn replied. If we cannot help you, perhaps others might. You are not the only ones who have been targeted by the Scythians. Other intelligent species have been attacked, and in response they are forming an alliance called the Galactic Assembly. It’s possible that they might accept humankind into their midst.

Is it likely, though? Ethan asked. I mean, what do we have to offer?

You’re assuming the alliance exists only for self-interest, Quinn replied. Do you find it difficult to believe they would try to protect other intelligent species without receiving anything in return? Only because they believe it is right?

Of course not, said Ethan, looking abashed. That’s exactly what you’ve done. Even though you were here on Concordia first, you’ve protected us when you didn’t have to.

We are grateful, said Cherry, her aversion toward the thread creatures beginning to fade. They could have easily allowed the Scythians to do their work and rid Concordia of the uninvited newcomers.

Quinn said, Species come into existence and die out all the time, but we believe your destruction would be a loss to the galaxy.

We think so too, said Cherry.

The Galactic Assembly may come to the same conclusion, he continued, but they will not accept you without meeting you first. However, our seeding ship cannot take you to the site of the Assembly. There are no planets suitable for colonization in that sector, and our ship could not sustain human life. Therefore, we will build another ship. This vessel will journey to the Assembly, conveying one or more representatives of your colony. Perhaps you could go, Ethan?

Ethan replied, I’m needed here.

I understand. I should also warn you that the Assembly is a fragile organization. As far as we know nothing like this has been attempted before. Bringing many disparate, intelligent species, each with their own interests, into agreement is difficult and fraught with danger. It is very easy to cause great offense when interacting with unfamiliar cultures. I would advise you to carry a weapon, Cherry, to reduce the risk of attack.

Wait. What? said Cherry.

You will go to the Galactic Assembly, Quinn said, and seek admittance to their alliance, in order to ask for help to secure the future of humanity.

I heard you, Cherry said. I just don’t quite believe it.

Five

The problem of the Scythian hunting spiders had been bothering Wilder for ages. Since early that morning, she’d been studying one of the devices she’d ‘borrowed’. But time was getting on. Her appointment with the Leader was soon and before the meeting she wanted to take some vids of her little hamlet to show him.

She put down the spider, its sharp claws bound in rags, and piled more rags over it. Then she searched for her interface, mulling over the hidden Scythian device.

After the colonists had carefully cleared them from the underground settlement and emerged onto the surface, the sheer numbers of the devices the Scythians had dropped became apparent. They littered the forest floor, creating a bizarre carpet of silvery, angular, razor sharp undergrowth.

From the drop site to the forest, tens of thousands of the lethal devices lay motionless, frozen when their creators deactivated them. At the original settlement, the pattern of silver sprayed out to all sides where the spiders had traced human scent.

It had taken weeks, but eventually all the devices had been cleared and piled in eight massive heaps surrounded by fences. Meanwhile, the scientists had started work, trying to identify what the spiders were made from and how they operated. But all their scientific equipment had been destroyed, both at the first settlement and on the Nova. They’d concluded with some certainty that the spiders were constructed from a metal alloy—feather-light and extremely tough—but what type of alloy it was, none could say. The material’s properties were unlike anything they had previously encountered.

No tools penetrated the smooth, seamless parts of spiders. No one could study the material or their inner workings. With a great deal of effort, a forge was built to heat a spider to a temperature high enough to melt titanium, but it had no effect. Finally, after thousands of hours of work, the spiders had been designated useless trash.

Yet they remained highly dangerous. If the Scythians returned and changed their minds about sparing humanity, they might be able to reactivate the devices. When time could be spared, giant pits would be dug to bury them, a temporary stopgap to keep them out of immediate harm’s way.

It was a great shame, Wilder had thought, when the colony was in such desperate need of construction materials. The Fila’s donations dried out and cracked after a few days’ exposure to air. Until mining operations were underway and smelting and manufacturing plants built, the settlers had no source of metal other than what had been scrounged from the Nova. All that remained of the ship was wreckage in the ocean.

The scientists might have given up on the Scythian spiders, but Wilder had not. She’d taken one from a heap and brought it to her tree platform, delighted to finally have the privacy and freedom to work on it. She was determined to unlock its secrets.

She’d first tested one of the spider’s blades on a dead sluglimpet. The creature’s tough carapace had parted like the soft, pale fungi growing on the forest floor. When she’d dipped the blade into the sticky, corrosive acid that spilled from creature’s innards, the mucusy liquid had no effect on the Scythian material.

She pulled out her interface from under her pillow The cracked surface was dusty, so she carefully wiped the tiny lens. Setting the interface to record, she focused first on her platform. The she pointed the interface at the floor and swept it up toward the roof, made from fallen tree fronds. The forest canopy kept most of the rain out, but later on in the year heavier rains would arrive, and she wanted to be prepared.

Next, she lay on her stomach and stuck her head and shoulders over the platform’s edge angling the interface toward the downward-facing cone around the tree’s trunk.

Sluglimpets could climb, and they would sense and attack anything living, but she had thought up a solution to the problem. The predators were long and flat, and their shells were rigid. They could climb vertical surfaces, but they could not bend to navigate something pointing outward and downward. If a sluglimpet climbed a tree with a cone encircling its trunk, the creature would try to crawl along the inside of the cone, tip backward, lose its grip, and fall. She had cut off branches touching other trees, isolating the ones in her village so the predators couldn’t reach them.

She also filmed the sluglimpet barriers around the other tree trunks, and the hoists she had constructed to lift people up. She had plenty more ideas about what could be done to the platforms, but she figured she had enough to show the Leader the site’s viability and potential.

She checked the time. She only had a few minutes before her appointment. If she missed it, she would have to wait weeks for another, assuming she was given one at all. The man responsible for giving them out had argued with her, saying she was just a kid and had no good reason to see the Leader. She had been forced to point out that there was nothing in the Manual forbidding young colonists from meeting with the Leader. It was everyone’s right, young, old, and in between.

She slipped the interface into a bag, slung it over her shoulder, and climbed into a cradle at the edge of the platform. The cradle hung from a rope attached to a pulley. She lowered herself to the forest floor. As soon as her feet touched dirt, she jumped out and ran to the entrance of the underground settlement.

The opening had been reconstructed since the Scythian attack. The destroyed thick, metal doors had been replaced with simple ones made from plastiwood, and they stood open. She ran through the doorway and down the stairs. The familiar smell of the place hit. Damp, mold, and human sweat assaulted her nostrils, and the ceilings and walls seemed to close in. Fighting down the feelings of disgust and unease that Shithole sparked, she ran on.

She arrived at the Leader’s office. The man who arranged the appointments looked up sternly as she appeared, and his frown deepened as he said, You’re late. You’ll have to reschedule.

I can’t, she panted. I’ve waited so long already. It’s only a few minutes.

I can’t help that. The Leader’s a very busy man.

The door to the inner office opened, and the Leader looked out. Verney… He spotted her. Are you my next appointment? You can come in.

Leader, Verney said, you have another appointment in eight minutes.

I’m sure this won’t take long, right? the Leader asked her.

No, sir. Not long.

Good. Come inside.

She followed him in.

Take a seat. The Leader closed the door and gestured toward a chair before sitting down himself.

She suddenly became aware that though she had thoroughly prepared her little hamlet to be ready for this meeting, she had entirely failed to prepare herself. Her mouth turned dry as she struggled to think of what to say, wondering what she looked like. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed or brushed her hair.

She coughed to clear her throat and calm her nerves. Thanks for seeing me, Leader. I’ll be as quick as I can. I want to ask your permission to start a new settlement.

His eyebrows rose. A new settlement?

She looked down at the backs of her hands. They were grimy and her nails were black with dirt. How could she have forgotten to wash before meeting the most important person in the colony?

Does this have to do with your activities in the forest? he asked.

She gaped. You know about that? I…I’ve been building some living areas among the trees. I’ve finished them now. They’re entirely safe.

He leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. It’s Wilder, right? Wilder, I know living conditions down here aren’t great, but I’m not prepared to allow you to put yourself at risk. It isn’t safe above ground right now. As soon as the new residences out at the farms are finished, I promise you’ll be one of the first to move out.

I don’t want to move out to the farms. I need to be near the spiders’ dump. She stopped short. She hadn’t meant to mention that part of her plan. But now she’d let out her secret, she figured she might as well tell him the rest. I’ve been working on understanding their tech and I think I’m near a breakthrough, but I can’t work on them down here. It’s too cramped, noisy, and distracting. When I live here I’m tired all the time from babies waking me up. I can’t think properly.

Ever since the babies from the Nova had arrived, her difficult life had become nearly unbearable. She didn’t have anything against babies per se, but hundreds of them all at once, plus the babies born naturally to the colonists, had been torture. She needed quiet to work on her various projects.

I understand, said the Leader. It isn’t easy for any of us, but you know we’re doing our best to minimize the disturbance.

At least let me show you what I’ve done. She pulled out her interface and showed him the vid she’d recorded.

She watched his expression as he studied the recording. How old was he? She didn’t know, but he had gray in his hair and beard, so he had to be pretty old. Maybe too old to remember what it was like to be young and want to live your life without everyone telling you what to do.

The vid ended and he returned his attention to her. Very impressive. Those cones are to deter sluglimpets?

Yes, and they work.

They do? How come you’re so sure?

She didn’t answer. The backs of her hands suddenly became extremely interesting.

You know that spending the night outside the settlement is strictly prohibited?

When she remained silent, he continued, You’re fourteen, right?

Yes, Leader.

When I saw you were coming to see me, I looked up your details. There’s no record of your education after the age of nine.

Shit. How did he know that? She’d thought the Guardians had wiped the colony’s unimportant records when they dumped tonnes of data into the system before they crashed their ship. I’d worked through the entire schooling scheme by then. There was nothing else to learn, so school got really boring for me. I didn’t see any point in attending.

And no one followed up with you?

She looked down again.

The Leader laughed. Don’t worry. I didn’t like school either, though for different reasons. I guess you managed to avoid the chasers.

Yeah, I did, she mumbled. The meeting was not going as well as she’d hoped. She certainly hadn’t expected the conversation would turn to her truancy. What difference did that make?

Another thing I discovered, he said, was that the couple who took you in haven’t seen you in weeks.

She sighed. "They’re good people, but I don’t need parents. I don’t need a mom or dad telling me what to do all the time. And they took in three of the babies from the Nova. Three! I just couldn’t stand it. There’s so much I have to do, so much I want to do, but I’m not going to get anything done until I have the freedom and quiet to do it."

A voice came from the Leader’s interface, saying, Your next appointment is here, Leader.

I’ll be finished soon, Verney. Please ask them to wait.

She took a breath. She only had a few moments before the Leader would refuse the permission she sought and kick her out. Leader, Sidhe is heavily overcrowded. There are too many of us to live comfortably here. And when the crops are harvested, where are you planning to store all the food? The only option is to force more people to live in even less room. I’m suggesting a viable alternative. If five or ten young people like me live outside, it will give everyone a little more breathing room. Then, if the experiment is successful, we can build more platforms. The forest is large. I figure it could easily provide dwellings for five or six hundred people. I’m sorry for playing hooky and leaving my family. But, please, can you give me this chance?

The Leader’s interface spoke to him again. Your next appointment is asking if she should reschedule, Leader.

One more minute, Verney. The Leader rubbed his beard and gazed thoughtfully at the frozen image on Wilder’s screen. He looked tired. Shadows haunted his eyes and cheekbones. Finally he said, I’m not too concerned about your misdemeanors. This colony wasn’t built on everyone following the rules. We’re all learning as we go along. But it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I want to see what you’ve built with my own eyes. I’ll come over there later today when I have a bit of free time. Then, if it all seems okay, we can talk some more about moving ahead with your plan.

We can? Thank you!

He lifted a finger. But first I want two or three door guards to spend a few nights out there, just in case it isn’t as safe as you imagine.

That’s fine. Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.

Six

The day after Cherry returned from her visit to the threads, she decided to go and see Aubriot. Through some secret machinations she couldn’t even guess at, her lover had managed to wrangle a room all to himself in the overcrowded settlement. She didn’t approve but she couldn’t deny it certainly made their assignations a lot easier to carry out.

The passageway leading to Aubriot’s room was especially crowded. Parents were collecting their babies from daycare after their day’s work in the farming district, tending to the crops and constructing permanent housing. The colony had precious little farming or construction equipment left. Scythian spiders had passed over the place where the colonists had hidden the machines in preparation for the expected attack. The enemy’s search-and-destroy devices had inflicted considerable damage during their passage, and though many Gens had the training to fix the machinery, they lacked tools and parts.

But what the colonists missed in terms of equipment, they made up for in plain laboring skills and determination. No one was under any illusion about how closely they were skirting the prospect of failure. Nearly every able-bodied individual spent the daylight hours either helping to build houses, weeding crops, or picking off Concordian pests that had discovered a taste for the non-native produce.

Cherry eased through the people crowding the narrow space until she came upon the cause of the congestion. It was Anahi, the Woken who had once illegally taken the Leader’s position in order to exert her control over the colony. Cherry halted in surprise at the sight of the older woman. Not because she was shocked to see her, but because Anahi wasn’t wearing her visor. Her sightless eyes stared ahead, and she was swinging a cane to navigate. The other colonists were trying to stay out of her way, causing a human traffic jam.

The scientist’s visor must have broken and no one was able to fix it. For the first time, Cherry felt a pang of pity for the older woman. What could she do now she could no longer see? It would be difficult if not impossible to conduct any experiments, and going outside would be dangerous.

Side-stepping Anahi’s swinging cane, Cherry continued to Aubriot’s door. Stepping into his room was a relief after the noise and crush. She found him sitting at a table working on his interface. He looked up as she walked in, acknowledged her arrival with a nod of his head, and then gestured at the seat opposite. Sit down. I’ve got something to show you.

She pulled out the chair. Aren’t you going to ask me what happened? How everything went on my trip to the threads’ city?

You can tell me in a minute. First, you need to see this. He turned his interface around and slid it across the table.

She had been expecting to see a design for a weapon. Aubriot had been fixated on designing weapons for weeks, laughing at any suggestion that he should perform manual labor, and entirely ignoring the fact that they had absolutely no means of making anything more complex than plows, hoes, axes, and shovels.

But what she saw on the screen was a list of words. What’s this?

Come on, Cherry. Isn’t it obvious? It’s a ranking system. See, this is you here. He pointed at the top of the column.

General

General what?

Not General what. General who, Aubriot replied. General Cherry. Or whatever your last name is.

Lindstrom. My surname’s Lindstrom. I can’t believe you didn’t know that. But what the hell are you talking about?

His eyes narrowed. Come on. It’s simple. Read the rest. See what you think.

She scanned the list of titles. I can’t even read this one. How do you pronounce it? Loo⁠—

"That’s Leftenant. It isn’t pronounced the way that it’s spelled. Unless you’re a Yank. Give it back to me. He pulled the interface from her grasp. General, lieutenant-general, major-general, brigadier, colonel, lieutenant-colonel, major, captain, lieutenant, second-lieutenant, officer cadet. I think that’s right. I had to write them from memory. There isn’t anything in the data banks about military ranks. Ethan would be captain general, I suppose."

His gaze shifted to the middle distance. Makes sense. Bloody pacifist scientists. I should have guessed that’s what they would do. Never mind. It’s water under the bridge now. Got to make the best of it. He looked at her. So, what do you think? If we’re going to have a fighting force it needs structure. A clear line of command. I thought the ranking system for the Royal Marines was as good as any other. Though maybe we don’t need all of these ranks. But if you’re General, that makes me Lieutenant-General, right?

She had grown bored of his babble. She hadn’t come here for a chat.

Their affair had been going on for months, but she still found herself mesmerized by his looks. Though he was a man, the only appropriate word for describing Aubriot was beautiful. His face was so symmetrical she doubted she would have been able to tell his mirror image from the real thing. His body was perfectly proportioned and his muscles honed though he rarely did any physical exercise. Aubriot was so good-looking, it was hard to take your eyes off him. It was as if his appearance was too flawless to be believed.

Cariad had once said that on Earth if you were extremely rich you could buy genetic engineering to give your baby whatever attributes you wanted, including physical perfection, and that Aubriot was an example.

The man snapped his fingers in front of her face. Hey, pay attention. I’m your Lieutenant-General, okay?

Yeah, whatever you say. She had to organize Concordia’s defense force before she went to the Galactic Assembly. As was usual with the threads, Quinn hadn’t been able to give her a clear idea on when the ship they were building would be ready, but in truth it didn’t really matter. The Scythians might return tomorrow or they might not come back for decades. Whenever their enemies decided to pay the colonists a third visit, they had to be ready.

If Aubriot wanted to play soldiers, she could turn his enthusiasm to the colony’s benefit.

I don’t know why Ethan chose you and not me as his second in command, said Aubriot, partly under his breath. It isn’t like you know anything about military strategy.

You don’t know why Ethan didn’t choose you? You don’t think it might have something to do with that time you attacked him because you didn’t want him to run for Leader?

Hey, he threw the first punch!

You deserved it.

Maybe, maybe not. But that was ages ago. There’s no need for him to hold a grudge for so long. I have a lot to offer. It’s a shame he can’t see it.

It’s a shame you aren’t beautiful on the inside.

What’s up with you? Aubriot asked. You’re acting weird today.

Am I? I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and I have too much to think about. Maybe I should lie down for a while. Want to join me? She raised her eyebrows and turned her head to look pointedly at his bed.

He sighed. All right, if you like. He stood up, pushing back his chair, and unfastened the top few buttons on his shirt. As he pulled the shirt off over his head, he said, So do you want to tell me what happened when you went to the Fila city?

She walked to the bed, sat down, and pulled off her boots. It was just about the strangest experience I’ve ever had. The threads behave differently down there, you know. They don’t move around anywhere near as much as they do on the surface, and they glow. The whole place glows. It looks quite pretty, in fact.

Pretty? Are you sure you weren’t suffering from nitrogen narcosis?

You say that like you expect me to know what it means.

Don’t worry about it. He sat next to her but didn’t seem in any hurry to do anything. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared absently at the opposite side of the room. His expression was uncharacteristically pensive, though now she thought about it, she realized he’d had that preoccupied expression often lately.

Was he thinking back to his time on Earth, when, by all accounts, he had led a highly privileged, even charmed life? Of all the Woken, Aubriot’s experiences on Concordia had to be the most different from his former existence. Did he regret his decision to join the colony expedition? She had never asked him. For all their physical intimacy, they were not emotionally or even socially close. She preferred it that way.

He suddenly turned toward her, grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her hard on the lips. With his other hand, he pulled her shirt out of her pants and reached up underneath it. At the same time, he pushed her down on the bed and effortlessly swung her small frame under him.

He seemed in a hurry. She barely had time to take precautions to prevent pregnancy, and he was rougher than usual. When it was over, he didn’t say anything. He only lay on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Something was bothering her lover. She didn’t know what it was. Maybe he was sore that Ethan hadn’t made him second in command, but she had a feeling it wasn’t that. Something else was nagging at him.

She got dressed and left without saying goodbye.

Seven

Wilder’s heart was racing as she went to collect her friends. She had already comm’d and told them the Leader had given permission for them to live out in the forest. Her dream was coming true. She would never have to sleep in the stuffy settlement again, hiding from the busybodies who wanted to make her return to her ‘family’. No more dodging the hordes of people going to and fro along the passageways. No more tolerating the stink of stale baby sick and dirty diapers.

She and her friends would have to return to Sidhe for meals and to wash and use the bathroom, but even those needs might eventually be taken care of out doors. She had been thinking about how to build a latrine. It had to be sanitary, of course. But she hoped the Fila would be able to help them with that. The creatures did seem to want to help when they could.

And if she could build a latrine, building a cookhouse shouldn’t be too hard. The group could invite more friends to join them and create their own village, outside in the fresh air of the forest. A place of their own.

She arrived at her destination. The numbers and letters ‘E 1, L 2, 17’ had been painted on the door: East First Street, Lane 2, Number 17.

Tycho’s place.

She knocked. The settlement was already buzzing with noise, but over the hubbub she heard raised voices inside the room. The door flew open. Tycho stood in the frame, but he was facing away from her, looking into the room.

You can’t stop me, he yelled. I want to do this!

Don’t, said a woman’s voice. We’ve talked about this, Tycho. It isn’t safe out there.

Yes, it is. If it wasn’t the Leader wouldn’t have given permission.

A tall man appeared and grabbed the door frame. You’re Wilder, right? Please reconsider what you’re doing. You’re tearing families apart.

Tycho exclaimed, We’re not a family and you’re not my parents!

The man laid a hand on his shoulder, but the boy wrenched it out of the man’s grasp. Leave me alone. I can do what I want.

The sound of a weeping woman came from inside. Wilder’s happy mood disappeared in an instant. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was supposed to be a happy time. A new beginning for the colony’s youngsters. That was what she’d been trying to do. Not make people cry.

Umm, maybe you should stay, she said to her friend. You can always join us later.

I want to come with you.

But—

It’s okay, said the man. If you really want to leave, I don’t want to stop you.

Tycho’s expression switched from angry defiance to guilty shame. "It isn’t that I want to leave you. He turned around to speak to the unseen woman. You’ve both been good to me. I know you’ve tried. But I didn’t grow up in a family. I just don’t feel comfortable living like this, no matter how hard I try. It doesn’t feel right to me and, honestly, I don’t think it feels right to you two either."

The man hung his head.

You’re trying to make me stay because you feel bad, said Tycho. You feel like you’ve failed. But it wasn’t ever going to work. It’s nobody’s fault. Please don’t feel bad.

Inside the room, the woman sniffed. Will you come back to see us?

Of course I will. Tycho went into the room, out of Wilder’s sight.

She stared at her toes, wishing she wasn’t here. A moment later, Tycho was back and hugging the man. Then he picked up a bag and stepped out. The man closed the door.

Phew, said Wilder. I’m glad that’s over.

Me too. After I told them what I was going to do, they spent all yesterday evening and this morning trying to persuade me not to leave. But you know what? They didn’t really mean it. They wanted to be good citizens and care for a minor, but I’ve never fit in. I was never happy, and neither were they. They’re hurting now, but in a few hours I know they’ll feel relieved.

Well, if you’re sure…

I’m sure.

Okay, let’s get the others.

They checked on her interface to see which of their friends’ addresses was nearest. She stole a glance at Tycho as they went along, checking that the teenager really was as resolute about leaving Sidhe as he made out.

But the fifteen-year-old’s features were set firm.

It was easier for her. She’d never gotten along with her ‘parents’ and they hadn’t been at all persistent about looking for her. In fact, she was sure the man from the couple had spotted her and deliberately changed direction a few days ago.

The plan to resettle the older children with adult colonists after Arrival had not seen much success. She recalled the shock of going from a communal care center, living with thirty children of different ages, to sharing a small house with two adults. As was often the case, the grown ups were almost strangers, though they’d made some attempts to get to know her before the move. In circumstances like that, how was everyone supposed to suddenly act and feel like a family?