Synopsis: Captain John Sterling and the crew of the Pegasus, Earth's first interstellar vessel, have returned from their mission to a nearby star only to find that civilization has been destroyed by a nuclear war. The sole survivors of the atomic holocaust eke out a harsh existence on the ice bound continent of Antarctica. The Pegasus and her crew are their only hope of survival, for they can convey a remnant of Humanity to the earth-like moon that has been discovered. But dark plots are afoot in which the captain and his crew are soon enmeshed. Will our valiant heroes survive these machinations and save what is left of humanity? Only by reading the story will you find the answer to this question.
Captain John Sterling stared out the window and gazed upon the spherical bulk of the Pegasus, Earth’s first interstellar spacecraft, as she rested on her immense tripod landing gear a quarter mile from the snowbound International Antarctic Research Station, the last refuge for humanity on this devastated world.
Sterling’s mood was as bleak as the icy waste he stared across. He still couldn’t quite believe the disaster that had befallen Earth during the thirteen terrestrial years of his absence. Project Stella had been an international effort – the first manned mission to Alpha Centauri A, one of a pair of stars (the second - Alpha Centauri B) that orbited each other some 4.4 light years away.
Eight people of both genders and from as many nations had been trained extensively for the mission. Thanks to the hypno-induction learning and memory enhancing techniques of the late 21st century it was possible to attain multiple qualifications at an early age. For the sake of efficiency, the crew was multi-skilled as follows.
John Sterling: Captain. Male, age 27. Primary qualification – applied chemistry. Graduate of Oxford University.
Vihann Singh: First mate. Male, age 25. Primary qualification – geologist. Graduate of Delhi University.
Irina Ivanov: Second mate. Female, age 26. Primary qualification – Astronomer. Graduate of Saint-Petersburg State University.
Khalil Abbas: Chief Engineer. Male, age 24. Primary qualification – physicist. Graduate of Cairo University.
Antonio Rossi: Second engineer. Male, age 26. Primary qualification – meteorologist. Graduate of the University of Bologna.
Yua Takahashi: Medic. Female, age 26. Secondary qualification – zoologist. Graduate of Kyoto University.
Aaliyah Kimathi: Nurse. Female, age 24. Secondary qualification – microbiologist. Graduate of the University of Pretoria.
Li Jing Chen: Psychologist. Female, age 25. Secondary qualification - botanist. Graduate of Peking University.
People without any ties had been selected, for the dangers were many and success uncertain. They’d left with such high hopes that the cooperative endeavor of many nations would bring a divided world together. Oh how naive, how foolish they’d been.
Sterling shook his head in disbelief. How could humanity, which was capable of so much, as was evidenced by the genius of Pegasus and the bravery of her crew, be so stupid as to destroy the world in the madness of a nuclear holocaust.
The captain was still a young man, not much older than when he’d departed on the exploration mission. Pegasus could attain 90 percent light speed and time slowed down for travelers at such velocities. In addition he and his crew had been in suspended animation for most of the voyage. To him only six months had passed subjectively. It was difficult for Sterling to reconcile his memory of the world he’d left with the scorched wreck he’d returned to over a decade later.
Sterling’s first inkling of the disaster was when he and his crew had come out of suspended animation a week from Earth. Pegasus’s automated systems had been set to record messages from home. With growing alarm he had listened to the saved transmissions as the drums of war beat ever louder with each sequential recording. The last message was garbled, hysterical, and then - ominous silence.
They went into orbit about a ruined world, one of radioactive desolation as were the lunar bases where the Pegasus had been constructed. The entire crew was in a state of utter disbelief, and they were on the verge of giving up all hope of finding any survivors when a faint message from Antarctica was received in response to their despairing calls.
Sterling brought his mind to the present. The Pegasus had landed about twenty minutes ago, guided down by radio beacon. The captain had ordered his crew to remain aboard, uncertain of the situation they faced. He’d spoken by radio to a man who claimed to be the President of Antarctica, but that title was meaningless to him. Who knew what they’d find on this broken world of shattered nations where nothing was as any had remembered it.
Figures, clad in heavy Antarctic clothing, had arrived at the lowered ramp with spare apparel for him. When dressed he’d been escorted to one of many dome buildings, half buried in the continent’s eternal snows. Now he waited in an anteroom and was about to meet the man who called himself president.
The door swung open breaking his speculations. The captain turned from the window and saw a nondescript man beckon him.
“President Nelson will see you now,” announced the aid in a heavy German accent.
Sterling entered. The man closed the door behind him. The room was clean. But this couldn’t hide the overall impression that things were in a state of slow decline. The long table had been crudely made from salvaged materials, and the man occupying the creaking chair behind it looked tired and harried.
The president, the only other person in the office, was a balding middle aged Englishman in a poorly ironed suit. He stood and stepped around the rickety table to weakly shake Sterling’s hand as he introduced himself.
“I’m President Nelson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Sterling. Please have a seat,” he continued, pointing to a chair.
Sterling eyed the gimcrack dubiously, wondering if it could bear his muscular frame. It creaked as he sat, but held his weight.
“You must have many questions,” said Nelson as he resumed his seat. “I don’t want to sound rude, but those will have to wait. As you can no doubt see we are in desperate straits. Civilization has all but ended. There’s slightly over a thousand people here – the last of humanity. Things are breaking down and we haven’t spare parts. Hydroponics may last another few years, and then we die of starvation. The sea is too contaminated by radioactivity to fish and the other lands too polluted by the bombs to farm.
“Captain Sterling, You and your crew are our only hope. Your mission to Alpha Centauri A,” Nelson continued desperately, “Did you discover the planet; is it habitable? No doubt you sent radio messages of your findings, but the war … so much knowledge has been irrevocably lost.”
Sterling thought for a moment, wondering how much he should disclose, given he knew so little about the political and social situation. He might be dealing with the very person who started the conflict. Nelson’s weak handshake didn’t inspire confidence, but he seemed an honest and decent man, although probably out of his depth when dealing with the enormity of the situation in which he found himself. The captain decided to trust him.
“We discovered the planet and named it Archon from the Greek word for ruler. It is in the star’s habitable zone. It’s a gas giant about the size of Saturn.”
Nelson slumped dejectedly in his chair. He seemed on the verge of weeping. “Then its dense atmosphere is poisonous and the pressure crushing, incapable of sustaining human life.”
“Its moon is a different story,” continued Sterling. “The satellite is within the circumplanetary habitable zone of Archon. The moon is a huge world – a super earth with a radius of 70,436 miles. The surface area is eight times larger than our planet. The gravity is a little over 1g. The moon is tidally locked. It doesn’t rotate on its axis. But because the moon’s primary is a planet it continues to rotate relative to its star so a day-night cycle exists.
“We’ve named the moon Tellus after the ancient Roman earth goddess. It has a breathable atmosphere not to dissimilar in pressure and composition from our own. Its seas, which cover 85 percent of the globe are liquid water and are full of life. Its continents abound with fauna and flora similar to those we are familiar with. Temperatures are higher than Earth due to greater CO2, but not unbearable. Humans can survive there. The only issue is the disruption to the circadian rhythm due to the longer day, which is 40 hours 17 minutes 32 seconds. But after twelve of our months most colonists should adjust.”
“Oh, thank God,” replied Nelson with feeling. “For so long I feared humanity was doomed to extinction. How soon can the Pegasus be made ready for a return voyage to Tellus?”
“Possibly within twenty four hours,” replied Sterling. “But there is a major problem,” he continued glumly. “The Murchison drive coils are failing. We can get back to Tellus, but by the time we reach our destination the coils will have deteriorated to the point where a return journey to Earth would be suicidal. It’s a one way trip we’ll be making. And if you’re wondering if we can make more coils the answer is no. We’d need a specialized factory and its compliment of skilled technicians, but all that has been blown to hell.”
Nelson sighed dejectedly and rubbed his tired face. “Pegasus clearly can’t carry over a thousand people.” He raised his haggard countenance to Sterling. “How many can you safely take?”
“I’ve a crew of eight, myself included. If we pack the colonists in like sardines then probably about twenty, but to be sure I’d have to consult doctor Takahashi as well as Mr. Abbas my chief engineer. We won’t be in suspended animation for the entire trip. We need to ensure life support can handle the extra people. The biggest problem, however, is inbreeding,” continued Sterling, glumly. “With such low genetic diversity and the accumulation of harmful mutations the colonists are doomed to extinction.”
“Not necessarily,” replied Nelson. “We do have a sperm bank with about 500 different donors and covering the major racial groups, all carefully screened for hereditary diseases. Doctor Minchin, our chief medical officer, established it early on as insurance against some other disaster befalling us. It’s a compact portable unit that can be hooked up to one of the new atomic power cells that last centuries. This will provide the genetic diversity which will stop the degeneration of the colonist’s descendants.”
On this more hopeful note the two men continued their discussion, a discussion that was eagerly listened to by the eavesdropper who had let Sterling into the room. The fellow’s ear was intently pressed to the listening device he held against the thin door. After about ten minutes the scrape of a chair on bare concrete announced that the men were rising and that the meeting was over for now. The spy also stood, pocketed the instrument and quietly slunk away.
**********
Sterling stood by the entrance to the starship’s cargo ramp reviewing loading and security proceedings. About twelve hours had passed, ones filled with hectic meetings of government officials in which all had been sworn to utmost secrecy. The captain was tired and edgy. Nelson was rushing him to complete preparations and was evasive when questioned as to why. Something was up. There seemed to be an air of tension and suspicion among the survivors he’d met, not of him and his crew, but of each other. He suspected rival factions were the cause.
The first mate approached, breaking his unsettling train of speculations. “The portable sperm bank has been securely stowed, skipper, and the last of the freight containers are arriving. We should be finished loading in about fifteen minutes. Has the president given you the list of colonists?”
“Not yet Mr. Singh. They’re still working on it. In the meantime keep our people on high alert. That is all.”
“Aye aye, skipper,” smartly replied the first mate, then departed.
Sterling looked out of the huge cargo bay. A snowcat – a truck-like vehicle with caterpillar tracks – was approaching, dragging a freight container mounted on a sled. Behind it was another machine, similarly burdened.
No sign of trouble had presented itself so far, but if word leaked out that only forty people out of a thousand would be saved then the possibility of a riot couldn’t be discounted. A horrid vision thrust itself upon the captain – a frantic mob of wild eyed screaming people clawing at each other like beasts as they madly fought to get aboard the ship.
He looked at the guards he’d posted by the ramp. They were armed with stun rifles – microwave beam weapons designed to disable rather than kill. The Pegasus had been on a peaceful mission of exploration, and the Board of Scientists had forbidden the use of lethal ordnance. If trouble came he hoped what he had would be enough.
The snowcats drew near and shortly the lead vehicle clattered up the ramp and entered Pegasus’s spacious hold. The second slowly followed suit, but no sooner had it dragged the sled within than the freight container’s door burst open. Attackers armed with a miscellany of weapons poured out.
A revolver exploded thunderously. One of Sterling’s men went down in a welter of blood. The captain swore. A wild eyed red bearded attacker charged him, brandishing a length of steel pipe. The bellowing man swung at his legs, intending to disable him. Sterling leapt back and hard metal painfully grazed his shin. The captain lashed out with a kick and drove his boot heel against the fellow’s elbow.
Red beard swore, dropped the pipe. Sterling stepped forward to deliver a smashing right to his foeman’s jaw. His opponent managed to block the blow. They clinched as a furious melee erupted all around them – the hum of stun rifles, the blasts of firearms and the wild cries of desperate men.
Sterling managed to throw his opponent to the deck. He dropped his knee on red beard’s chest, gripped the fellow’s throat and raised his fist to deliver a hammering blow. But then he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against his nape and it froze him in a chill of knifing fear.
“Don’t move!” The voice was feminine, but had a hard and dangerously convincing edge.
Sterling relaxed his grip on red beard’s throat. The brute tore the captain’s hand free and drove his fist against the young man’s jaw with a grunt of vengeful satisfaction. Sterling rolled with the punch, toppled off the man. It was a cowardly blow. He couldn’t fight back. Fortunately, it left him more furious than seriously injured.
His erstwhile opponent lurched erect and would have kicked him in the ribs had the girl not swung her shotgun towards him.
“That’s enough Johansen,” she sharply warned, stepping back so she could cover both men. “There is to be no unnecessary violence. As you know, the Philosopher has ordered restraint. Now, be off with you.”
Red beard grumbled under his breath and stalked off. Sterling shifted his attention and saw that the fight was over, but not in his crew’s favor. His people had been overwhelmed by numbers and the unexpected nature of the attack. At least one was dead. Several others though injured were not in danger of succumbing to their wounds.
The survivors were under heavy guard. Their stun rifles had been confiscated and added to the armament of the hijackers. Someone had found the ramp controls and closed the doors of the cargo bay, cutting off any help from outside. Small groups of the enemy, armed with the captured stun rifles, were now fanning out through the ship, hunting the other crew that hadn’t been on guard duty. The attack had obviously been well planned. The hijackers were no doubt part of the rival faction that accounted for the air of tension and suspicion Sterling had perceived among the Antarcticans.
“All right captain, on your feet. But don’t try anything foolishly heroic.”
Sterling slowly stood. The girl was Brazilian by accent and appearance. But with a gun pointed steadily at him the captain wasn’t in the mood to appreciate her dusky beauty. Besides, there were far more important things to think about.
“Some of my crew have been injured. I request you allow doctor Takahashi to treat the wounded as a matter of urgency.”
“I’m sure the Philosopher will agree. We’re not savages.”
Sterling looked past her to his dead crewman. His eyes grew hard and his lips thinned. Rossi had been a decent person and a good second engineer. He’d be badly missed. He gave the girl, who had seen the direction of his gaze, a look that said he thought otherwise of her spurious claim. For a moment her stance faltered. Then she steeled herself against remorse and gestured with the gun.
“You’ll find the Philosopher, our leader, over there. He’s the tallest one.”
Sterling walked towards the indicated man, who was well above the captain’s own six foot two inches. The girl, with the shotgun still alertly upon him, followed.
The Philosopher, having finished issuing orders to his followers, turned at the captain’s approach. Sterling judged him to be in his late fifties. The young man saw his face had the look of the ascetic – as thin as his gaunt body. His eyes were large, dark and unsettling in their brooding and penetrating gaze. There was an aura of fanaticism about him that added to the disturbing quality of his intense appearance.
“You must be Captain Sterling.” The Philosopher’s voice was cultured, softly spoken. Nonetheless, the young man could sense the iron fist in the velvet glove. “Good work Juliana,” he complimented the Brazilian girl. Then to Sterling:
“We have taken the Pegasus, captain. If you and your crew cooperate all will be treated humanely. I am not by nature a violent man, but our cause is noble and must not fail. If necessary I will not hesitate to sacrifice Individuals for the greater good, no matter how innocent they may be. Do you understand?”
Perfectly, thought Sterling, cynically. You’re going to save your own skin and leave the rest of the Antarcticans to die, you sanctimonious bastard. Then aloud with forced docility: “It seems I have no choice but to cooperate.”
**********
Sterling stood by the helm with Ivanov, the second mate, a tall willowy blond woman with a rather placid and laconic disposition. Pegasus was currently well beyond the orbit of the moon and steadily accelerating. The young man now had a better understanding of their captors. It seemed that a cult had grown up around the Pegasus and her mission.
The Philosopher, as he called himself, had spent some time outlining his beliefs and objectives to the captain. It was the same old delusional ideas – the belief in mystical destiny. That he, the Philosopher, was the chosen one who would lead his followers to a better world – a new Eden on a new Earth.
Wicked humanity had destroyed itself. But the chosen few, his disciples, would be saved. Technology was evil – look at the destruction it had wrought upon the world: pollution, inequality and finally the horror of global nuclear war. Humanity needed to return to a pure state of nature where people would be in harmony with the Cosmic All.
Sterling considered it crackpot philosophy, but he could understand how desperate people, even intelligent people, could fall for anything that offered hope in the face of utter hopelessness. There were twenty hijackers – five men (the Philosopher included) and the rest women of various ethnicities in their late teens to early twenties. Sterling suspected there were probably other devotees in Antarctica, and that the Philosopher had selected more women than men for the purpose of quickly building up the colony’s population.
The captain morosely shook his head. He never thought he’d be in this situation. His ship had been taken from him and it deeply rankled to feel so powerless. Being the skipper, it wasn’t something he was accustomed to. Still, considering the state of humanity he knew he had far more important things to worry about than his own prestige.
The sound of voices raised in argument made Sterling turn. There was a commotion in the corridor that led to the bridge.
“Continue navigation checks, Ms. Ivanov,” he ordered his second mate as he quickly went to investigate.
Sterling stepped into the passageway and his lips thinned at the sight confronting him. Red beard had Juliana in a bear hug and was attempting to kiss her. The girl had other ideas. She sunk her teeth into his lip. Red beard howled, let go. The captain stepped forward and slammed his fist against Johansen’s chin.
Red beard went down like a felled tree, much to the young man’s immense satisfaction. The girl snatched up the shotgun Johansen had leaned against the wall and pointed it at Sterling, ruining the pleasure of his revenge.
“It’s not me you have to worry about,” he calmly said.
“I can take care of myself,” she responded defiantly.
“I don’t doubt that for a moment.”
“Have you finished checking the ship’s systems,” Juliana continued, ignoring his remark.
“All systems are green and the Pegasus is on course,” he confirmed. “The ship is now under the control of its artificial intelligence. At current acceleration we will attain 90 percent light speed in four months Earth time.”
“Then call your second mate. Both of you can carry Johansen to the primary suspended animation chamber where the rest of my people have been put under.”
Sterling did as he was ordered and the task was soon completed. The rest of his crew had already been prepared for suspended animation in the secondary chamber that they now approached, which was the backup for the first should it fail. Juliana was a qualified nurse and had given the injections as Johansen stood guard. As Sterling and Ivanov neared the room the captain wondered how the Brazilian girl could rationalize her dedication to helping people with what she was now involved in.
They entered the compartment through its hermetically sealed door. The room was basically a huge freezer that would lower body temperature to a few degrees above absolute zero after the injection of a cocktail of chemicals that would stop damaging ice crystals from forming in their tissues as well as act as an anesthetic.
Sterling gazed at his unconscious crew. They were lying on double bunks set against the walls, as still as statues in their death-like state. He and Ivanov were soon to join them, and for the umpteenth time Sterling wondered what on earth he could do to get his crew out of the situation they were in.
Juliana placed her medical bag beside one of two vacant bunks. “Inject Ivanov first and then yourself,” she ordered as she covered both with her shotgun.
Grimly, Sterling complied and as the second mate went under he turned to the girl. “I’m curious,” he carefully said, “how you plan to create this Utopian society of yours given its violent beginnings.”
“Sometimes violence is necessary in order to achieve a greater good,” she replied a little defensively.
“Really? Was it necessary for someone to kill engineer Rossi, and what about all those other people in Antarctica? Our calculations show we could have taken more, but your leader refused. He has left them there to die.”
“They are unworthy,” she angrily responded. “They are part of the evil that destroyed the world. So says the Philosopher.”
“Unworthy?” he asked with forced composure. “Even the children? Is that brute Johansen more worthy than they are? And my crew, are they also expendable when their usefulness has ended?”
She thrust the gun aggressively at him. “I’ll hear no more of this talk. Inject yourself.”
“Very well,” he replied as he picked up the second slim drug loaded instrument and lay back on the remaining bunk. “But I will say one last thing: Everyone is a philosopher in the sense that we all think. Don’t let your Philosopher do all the thinking for you.”
Sterling pressed the injector to his arm. He felt the prick of the needle, then a sensation of cold spreading through his body. His senses began to fade. His last memory was of Juliana’s troubled expression as consciousness slipped away.
Tellus was displayed on the bridge’s main viewscreen with the reddish cloud banded bulk of Archon looming immensely behind it. Sterling adjusted the magnification and the planet size moon swelled before his eyes. Like Earth, it was a blue world of glinting ocean and green land. The ice caps were much smaller due to higher temperatures, and the landmasses of a different configuration – three small continents and many archipelagos that spiraled about the globe from pole to pole.
All aboard had emerged from suspended animation a week ago, the ship’s AI having revived them at a predetermined time by slowly raising the chamber’s temperature to room normal. Sterling and his crew had been released from their locked chamber by the armed and watchful followers of the Philosopher, who constantly surveilled them. The crew went about their duties with disciplined professionalism despite the fraught situation they were in. Outnumbered and outgunned any attempt to retake Pegasus would have been tantamount to suicide.
Surprisingly, the Philosopher had proved to be largely amicable. He kept his followers under control. No violence had broken out and even the surly red bearded Johansen hadn’t sought further revenge upon the captain. The Philosopher had sense enough not to interfere with the daily operation of the ship, and even asked Sterling’s advice on various matters, as he was doing now concerning the landing site.
“There, that is where we landed,” said the captain as he again increased the magnification. A continent, roughly triangular and about the size of Australia filled the screen. The Philosopher, who stood next to him, stared intently at it.
“We named the landmass Triangulum for obvious reasons. I’ll zoom in on the touchdown site.”
The coastline swelled. A bay appeared. The sea rolled against a beach of white sand fringed by an emerald forest of tall vegetation, the dominant species resembling tree ferns. Unlike the true fern these were flowering plants, their large black and ivory blooms similar in form to those of passion fruit. The bark of the trees was cork-like with an outer layer of thick wool-like fibers black in color. The growth’s fluted boles were true trunks, not the modified rhizome of the terrestrial plants they roughly resembled.
The scene of tropical fecundity brought a rush of pleasant memories to Sterling – the warmth of the sun, the hiss of the sea as it laved the sandy beach and the smell of nature untainted by pollution. But this world was no idyll. There was danger here, and it could come from the most unexpected sources.
One such hazard was a parasitic vine with metallic purple leaves. Seemingly innocent, the strange liana bore pebbly spherical nuts about four inches in diameter. But when these nuts fell and struck the earth they exploded, scattering their many seeds like buckshot and with such force that they penetrated the surrounding trees where they germinated in the boles.
Li Jing Chen had almost been killed when one had detonated near to her. Fortunately, a shielding tree trunk had saved her life, but nonetheless the usually imperturbable botanist had been badly shaken. Li had given the plant the colloquial name of the petard vine; privately she called something else that was entirely unprintable.
“It’s one thing to read your reports,” observed the Philosopher, breaking Sterling’s reminiscence. “But to see the reality is more than words can tell. This is the new Eden,” he concluded exultantly.
Sterling looked at him askance. The captain didn’t quite know what to make of the man. He now knew the Philosopher was a qualified anthropologist, and during his years of field work had acquired the knowledge of stone tool making and all the other skills that Neolithic peoples would find essential to survive in a primitive environment.
These skills he had taught to his followers in preparation for the hijacking of Pegasus upon its return to Earth and the establishment of a colony on another world. Everything had been carefully thought out and executed with precision. It was difficult for Sterling to reconcile the fact that such an intelligent man could hold the crackpot beliefs that he did.
“How long before we land?” asked the Philosopher, interrupting the captain’s musings.
“The ship’s velocity must be retarded further for optimum orbit. We can make planetfall in about six hours.”
“Then please set about the task,” ordered the Philosopher excitedly as he turned upon his heel and departed to ready his chosen people for their arrival in the Promised Land.
**********
Sterling and his crew were now imprisoned in one of the shipping containers, which had been converted to a makeshift jail by cutting bread plate size holes in the sides for light and ventilation.
Within ten minutes of the Pegasus’s landing they’d been herded at gunpoint to the improvised cell. The Philosopher’s explanation sounded plausible at the time – his followers needed to set up camp and they couldn’t spare the manpower to guard the captain and his crew as they undertook this task. He’d promised they’d be released in a couple of hours, and allowed to make the choice of either joining the commune or going their own way in peace.
Half an hour had now passed, and as time went by Sterling had become increasingly worried as he spotted holes in the Philosopher’s explanation. If the man was truly sincere about allowing them to join the commune then why not do so now? Surely extra hands wouldn’t go astray with the erection of the tents and assembly of other survival gear.
Sterling had been reluctant to initiate any violence out of concern for the safety of his crew and also from a broader perspective – if the Antarcticans were doomed then all aboard the Pegasus were the last survivors of the human race. They couldn’t afford to kill each other. They had to put aside their differences and work together for the survival of the species. The Philosopher had indicated he shared this view.
The man had crackpot beliefs, true, but he’d acted quite rationally during his dealings with Sterling. He wasn’t insane, at least not by clinical standards according to Li Jing Chen, the mission psychologist. Logically, there was no reason why the Philosopher should either want to or need to kill them, at least in theory. But what if he, Sterling, was horribly wrong?
A dull thud interrupted the captain’s dark musings. Sterling turned and saw that a cloth wrapped bundle had been thrust through one of the holes cut in the container and had fallen to the floor. The crew tensed at the sight, nervous of what it might be.
“Stand back,” ordered Sterling quietly as he rose and cautiously approached the object.
The crew gave him room. Sterling knelt. Carefully, he unwrapped the mysterious bundle. It proved to be a compact cutting laser and the necessary protective goggles. With hand signals he enjoined his companions to silence least their growing excitement give the game away. There was also a handwritten note that he began to read. Fear gripped him, for it said as follows:
The Philosopher has no intention of releasing you. He considers all of you a contaminating influence – a threat to his utopian society. He has damaged critical systems. The ship’s antimatter power plant will explode when its magnetic containment field geometry becomes unstable. I don’t have to tell you what that means if you are still aboard. We’ll be leaving in ten minutes and heading west along the coast. Wait until then before cutting your way out.
PS. It may give you some comfort to know that we are taking the sperm bank with us to ensure Humanity’s survival. The Philosopher has at least seen sense in that regard.
The message wasn’t signed, but Sterling had a good idea who it was from. Juliana had been avoiding him, and when they’d accidently met on those few occasions she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze. His talk with her, just before he’d entered suspended animation, had had the desired effect. Clearly, she was now experiencing genuine doubt and remorse, and the discovery of the plan to ruthlessly murder all of them had been the final straw that had prompted her to act. He felt relieved and at the same time quite shaken at how close to death they were.
Quietly, he informed his crew of the situation. The men and women waited anxiously as the minutes passed with glacial slowness. But pass at last they did. Sterling donned the goggles and powered up the cutting laser, which looked a little like a gas axe. The narrow beam sliced through steel with ease, and he’d almost cut a full circle when the ray perversely flickered and died.
Sterling swore. He checked the charge indicator and found it full. An internal component must have been damaged by the fall and now it had failed with use. Without the proper tools there was no chance of repairing the device. He looked at his crew and saw the despair and fear on their faces, the realization that they were trapped, that they were going to die.
“We’ll get out yet,” he told them with studied confidence as he threw his brawn against the weakened wall. “Push with me. Together we’re stronger than this steel.”
The crew heaved, sweated; cursed. The metal bent outwards, slowly, painfully. It took twenty minutes of tremendous struggle before the gap was wide enough for them to squeeze through, gasping and trembling from the effort.
Sterling wiped sweat from his face. They’d lost valuable time. The containment field might be minutes away from catastrophic failure. He called his chief of engineering to him.
“Mr. Abbas, there is a datapoint over there. I want the status of the antimatter containment field, and I want it now. Move.” Then, to the rest of the crew: “Our friends have left us one snowcat. Mr. Singh you have experience operating tracked vehicles. Start that machine. The rest of you get aboard. Cling to the roof racks if you have to. Go!
The chief engineer sprinted back as the others piled in and on the vehicle. “Thirty six minutes before collapse,” he gasped.
Both men raced for the snowcat. Sterling leapt in the cab next to Singh, slammed the door. Abbas clung to the roof rack with the three other crew who couldn’t fit in the cramped cabin. The engine revved and they clattered down the ramp and turned east at the captain’s command.
Sterling noted the grim expression on Sing’s face. “I know why they left this snowcat, skipper” the first mate explained. “It’s only got about twenty minutes of fuel left.”
The captain swore. They’d never be clear of the danger zone. There was one slim chance. He knew from the drone’s mapping survey that ahead the coastline ascended to cliffs. He couldn’t remember clearly, but it was possible there might be an outcropping that would shelter them from the shockwave and radiation of the blast.
As the snowcat roared along the beach word was quickly passed around to keep a sharp lookout for such formations. The land rose and Singh angled the vehicle towards the growing acclivity. The minutes tensely counted down. The cliffs grew higher – a rugged wall of heartless stone that offered no protection. The crew’s anxiety was almost palpable.
Then, from the roof of the vehicle someone shouted: “A cave! I see a huge cave over there.”
Sing saw it too. He sent the snowcat racing in its direction. But then the engine spluttered, died. The vehicle rattled to a stop. Sterling glanced at his chronometer. Five minutes to go.
“Everybody out and to the cave,” he yelled.
Men and women burst from the cab, leapt from the roof. Everyone sprinted madly for the safety of the cave a half a mile away, and all the while a seething hell of titanic proportions was about to explode behind them.
Sterling glanced at his timepiece as he sprinted with the others. Two minutes remained before the matter-antimatter blast erupted and drenched their surroundings in a deluge of lethal radiation. The captain hung back a little to keep an eye on his companions as they dashed madly for the shelter of the cave. It was just as well that he did for the chief engineer took a nasty tumble when his foot landed in a hole.
Abbas cried in agony, clasped his twisted ankle. Sterling shouted to the others as he came up beside the injured man: “Keep going.”
“Save yourself,” gasped Abbas as the captain hauled him across his brawny shoulder. “You’ll never make it carrying me.”
“Shut up, Mr. Abbas. That’s an order. I’m not leaving anyone behind.”
Sterling ran like he had never run before. The cave mouth loomed. The rest of the crew had made it. They stood at the entrance watching breathlessly as Sterling raced towards them. The captain’s breath came in ragged gasps, sweat flew from him. His heart seemed about to burst like the looming explosion behind him. There was no time to glance at his watch, pointless if he did. He’d either make it or he wouldn’t.
He could feel himself faltering. With grim determination he drew on the dregs of strength. The distance closed – ten yards, five yards; a few feet remained. Sterling staggered. With a final effort he stumbled within the cave. Strong hands caught him, others grabbed Abbas. They hauled both men deep into the natural tunnel.
White light exploded. The world outside was drenched in actinic glare. Then the roar of the mighty detonation washed over them in a wave of apocalyptic sound. The ground trembled. Men and women tumbled to the shaking earth, cried out in fear. Loose rock fell in a rain of stinging fragments, grit and dust.
Sterling thought the cave was on the verge of collapse, but the rock miraculously held. The glare faded as did the noise of the tremendous blast, and the earth’s trembling subsided until only a deathly quiet remained.
The captain slowly stood and surveyed the scene. Everyone was sweat streaked, disheveled and covered in grit, but very much alive. Then a sobering thought occurred to him.
“Dr. Takahashi,” he asked, “what’s our radiation exposure?”
The doctor sat up and consulted her multi-sensor, which the Philosopher had allowed her to keep. “We’re lucky,” she replied, greatly relieved. “1.72 milliroentgens. It’s a safe dose, the equivalent of a hip X-ray. The surrounding rock shielded us. If I remember correctly matter-antimatter reactions produce very little residual radiation. We won’t have to worry about fallout. Is that right Mr. Abbas?”
“Yes, doctor,” replied the engineer-physicist. “But even so I suggest we keep well away from the site of the explosion out of an abundance of caution.”
“Then it seems we are safe for the moment,” said Sterling, addressing all of them. “This environment is not completely strange to us. From our experiments we know what plants and animals can be eaten. We can survive. But our enemies are still out there. If they discover the snowcat’s tracks then they’ll know we’re still alive. The Philosopher tried to kill us. We must prepare for the grim possibility he and his followers may strike again.”
**********
Two Tellus days, or slightly over eighty and a half hours had passed since the explosion, and life had settled into a routine for the surviving crew of the Pegasus. Food gathering and hunting had been organized. Fruit was abundantly available from the fern-like trees of the forest, principally an apple size spiraling ovoid shaped variety, dark purple in color, whose flavor was reminiscent of pineapple. The ocean also added to their larder by way of a tailless scorpion-like creature with a spiny exoskeleton mottled in black and canary yellow, and whose average size was about twelve inches.
Yua Takahashi had named them sea-scorpions, but after dissecting one during their previous visit she informed her colleagues that they were not all like the similarly named arthropods of Earth’s Ordovician Period – the Eurypterids. According to her the flesh was similar in taste to fugu, a Japanese delicacy.
They had abandoned the original cave and had moved to another further down the coast; which was well clear of the devastated area. Vihann Singh had identified both caves as lava tubes from the step marks on their walls which indicated the various lava flow levels, as well as the mineral crusts and small crystals also present. The tube they now occupied had been formed during a massive outflow of a long extinct volcano that also made the basaltic cliffs. It was about ten miles long and was one conduit of a system of a dozen tubes, many of which were breakouts from the main tube the geologist had traced.
Sentries had been posted near the cave mouth, but so far no sign of the Philosopher or his followers had been detected. Weapons had also been made using the folding saw and blade of the multitool salvaged from the snowcat’s toolkit – crude spears of sharpened fire hardened wood as well as whittled clubs. Irina Ivanov, whose interest was archery, was also working on a bow and arrows.
In the evenings Khalil Abbas played the ney flute he had carved from a smaller bamboo-like plant and entertained them with a wide repertoire of Middle Eastern tunes while the others contributed with song and dance routines from their respective cultures. When the fire died down couples would depart for the secluded areas of the cave for more intimate activities.
Normally, such liaisons were discouraged during missions for reasons of discipline, but Sterling knew this world was now their home, and that under these conditions celibacy was neither practical nor desirable, especially for young men and women. It was evening now, and the captain watched Vihann Singh disappear into the darkness, his arms about Aaliyah Kimathi and Li Jing Chen, both of whom were already partially disrobed.
Mores had liberalized considerably since earlier times. Eros had at last been entirely liberated from the idea of sin, and consensual group sex was now considered quite normal and commonly practiced. Consequently, the sight didn’t shock Sterling as it would have his forbears. But it did make his thoughts turn to Juliana as he stood and wandered to the cave’s mouth to take his turn at sentry duty, spear in hand. The girl had taken a considerable risk helping them. Sterling hoped she was safe and doing well as he stared up at the twilight sky.
Archon loomed huge in the heavens, dominating the firmament with its sheer massiveness. Tellus was orbiting into its far side where the bulk of the gas giant would occlude the light of Alpha Centauri A. Night would last for approximately twenty hours, but it would be more of a gentle dusk than absolute blackness, for Archon glowed with a placid illumination due to the titanic ever present auroras in its upper atmosphere, many larger than the Earth.
Tellus took on a strange unearthly quality in the ethereal auroral glow of its primary. Both land and sea were painted in a subtle wash of wavering scarlet and amethyst light, creating a surreal dreamlike landscape. It was a fey scene the captain gazed out upon, and he was overcome for a moment by the sheer strangeness of it all, which roused within him emotions impossible of description.
He shivered, partly from the weirdness of the alien scene, partly from the growing cold. Temperatures would drop considerably during the long night, but not to freezing. The moon, which was much larger than Earth, retained more heat, particularly in its extensive seas, which acted like a vast thermal sink with ocean and atmospheric currents distributing the warmth fairly evenly across the globe.
The hours passed. Yua Takahashi arrived to relieve him, and they exchanged small talk for awhile. Sterling was about to retire to the warmth of the cave when crunching noises like the sound of someone stumbling over gravel made him and the doctor tense.
Both turned as a shadowy form loomed out of the dimness. The figure stumbled, collapsed with an exhausted cry. Sterling and the doctor rushed to aid the unknown person. A woman lay face down on the rough earth, unconscious. Hiking boots were her only apparel. Her body was bruised and scratched where her clothes had been violently torn from her. Sterling swore at the confronting sight. He quickly knelt, gently turned her over and gasped in shock. It was Juliana.
“We have to get Juliana out of the cold,” urged the doctor, her words shaking him out of his distress. “I’ll examine her inside the cave.”
The captain picked Juliana up and quickly carried her in. Sterling laid her by the dying fire on a bed of feathery fronds the doctor had hastily made. He then added more wood to the coals and hovered anxiously in the background as Yua began an examination of the still unconscious girl.
The warmth of the rekindled fire brought a healthy color back to Juliana. She regained consciousness mid examination. The doctor’s touch brought back vivid memories of terror. Disoriented, confused, Juliana screamed, struggled, forcing Yua to back away.
The crew rushed to investigate her cries of unbridled terror. They gathered around. Juliana gazed wildly at them, terrified, covering her nudity with trembling hands.
“Get back. Give her room,” ordered Sterling. Then gently to the frightened girl: “You’re safe now. You’re among friends. We’re here to help you, not harm you.”
Juliana wept with relief. Her injuries were superficial but clearly she’d been badly shaken by her ordeals.
Sterling ordered more sentries posted as the doctor comforted her patient. They needed to be on high alert in case Juliana was being pursued. The captain made a quick round of their defenses and, seeing they were as prepared as they could be, returned to the fire. He found Juliana dressed in the doctor’s shirt and in a more composed condition.
He sat by her, his expression one of concern. “Please tell me what happened. I’m sorry to press you, but I must know what danger my people are facing. Are you being pursued?”
“I don’t think so. I was gathering fruit when Johansen attacked me. I managed to fight him off. I hit him on the head with a rock and fled. I … I think I killed him. We were alone. No one saw us… This was supposed to be the New Eden.” She laughed a little hysterically at the thought. “Oh, what a fool I’ve been.”
“You’re no fool,” reassured the captain. “You’re a very brave woman who risked her life to save us. Please rest now. Later, you can tell us more if you like.”
The doctor left, but as Sterling rose to go Juliana grasped his hand.
“Stay with me,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Sterling lay beside Juliana and placed his arms around her. He was smart enough to know it was comfort, not sex that she wanted. The girl snuggled up to him. Soon she was asleep. For a while the captain lay awake gazing at the girl; her face relaxed in the peacefulness of Morpheus’s embrace. It had been a long time since he’d been intimate with a woman, for he was not seriously attracted to any among his crew. Desire came upon him very strongly, but he controlled his rising urges. It was a long time before he joined her in restful slumber.
**********
Eight hours had passed since Juliana’s arrival. The young woman had awoken about thirty minutes ago. Refreshed and largely recovered from the worst of her ordeals, she had revealed to Sterling what had come to pass in greater detail.
After leaving the ticking time bomb that was the Pegasus, the Philosopher and his followers had travelled about forty miles down the coast, some riding in the snowcat; most on the sled being dragged behind it. When the explosion had come they were well clear of the blast, and the Philosopher had proclaimed it a symbol of the destruction of the old evil order and the heralding of a new beginning.
But the commune was not what the leader had promised his followers, at least not those who were female. It was supposed to have been the ideal society based on equality and harmony with nature. Instead, tyranny now reigned. The weapons – the ultimate example of the evils of technology - were kept rather than being destroyed as had been promised, and were now being used to enforce the Philosopher’s autocratic rule.
Women were not being treated as equals. Instead, the men gave the orders and they found themselves doing all the work, and being coerced into having sex when not in the mood for intimacy. The leader and his male cronies, now free of the restraints of civilization, were showing their true colors. The Philosopher justified this state of affairs by saying they were getting back in touch with nature, that they were reverting to the true order of things where men ruled and women obeyed.
Naturally, there had been strenuous objections from the women as well as from Alejandro, the youngest of the men, and the only one to take their side. These reasonable protests were met with extreme violence. Alejandro had been stripped naked, strung up from a tree branch by his wrists and viciously beaten with a cane - a warning to all dissenters. Although sickened and disillusioned Juliana had stayed, hoping to organize a rebellion against their oppressors, but Johansen’s attack upon her had forced her to flee before plans could be made.
The girl knew there was a good chance that Sterling and his crew still lived, so she had returned to the landing site. Fortunately, she correctly reasoned the direction the crew would take and had been able to locate the snowcat’s tracks, which the elements had not fully obliterated. She had trekked for more than twelve exhausting hours. It was the dim glow of firelight seeping from the cave mouth in proximity to human footprints, which had alerted her to the presence of the captain’s camp. All these things Sterling had related to his crew who, with Juliana, were now assembled before him.
“To date,” Sterling began, “I have avoided a direct conflict with the Philosopher. My reasoning was that as we are the last representatives of humanity we must not fight among ourselves, for to do so would risk extinction. But considering what has come to pass this option is, in my opinion, no longer possible.
“I believe our group represents all that is good in Humanity – tolerance, equality, diversity and democratic values. The Philosopher’s values are the antithesis of these things. He seeks to impose his ideas by force and silences those who disagree with him. There is no tolerance, no equality, and no democracy in his regime.
“There is no long term future for a society based on oppression and brutality. The Philosopher and his henchmen must be defeated, the women liberated from the tyranny of the men.
“This will mean violence, possibly death. But I believe we owe it to our unborn children to end this evil now. All of you have elected me to remain your captain, but I will not order you to fight, for this is my opinion and I would know yours. I ask there be a show of hands for those who agree with me. None need fear to differ.”
Not one hand was left un-raised. War, it seemed, had come to Paradise. The irony was not lost on Sterling.
Four more Tellus days had passed. Sterling peered cautiously through the greenery, gazing at the Philosopher’s encampment which was situated about a hundred yards inland from the beach. He and his crew had timed their arrival to coincide with nightfall, and in the wash of Archon’s eerie illumination he could see that all was quiet.
The encampment consisted if a single building – a large longhouse based on an Amerindian design in which the commune resided. It had been under construction when Juliana had been forced to flee and was now complete.
From her description Sterling knew the nature of its construction: The frame was built of vertical logs and horizontal saplings, with the rafters of arched saplings bound to the frame and ridge pole. The entire building, walls and roof, was clad in layers of overlapping sheets of the cork-like bark of the pseudo tree ferns, which was waterproof and insulating. No modern fasteners had been used. Everything was carefully bound together with cording made from strips of tough bark cut from another species of tree.
A long wide passageway ran down the middle of the building with rooms on either side. The floor, constructed of saplings, was raised slightly from the ground to prevent dampness and covered with bark and then mats woven from a rush-like plant. The longhouse was heated and illuminated by a series of fire-pits of fieldstone construction that had been built on the ground and rose up through the floor.
Smoke was vented through holes in the roof that had bark caps to prevent rain from entering. Each end of the building had a single door. There were no windows. The retention of heat during the moon’s long cold night was a priority at the expense of natural light. Small outbuildings that served as a bathhouse, kitchen and pit toilet were at opposite ends of the longhouse.
“Everything looks quiet,” observed Juliana who knelt next to the captain, her nudity now partially concealed by a brief loincloth she had knitted from the vegetable-wool of the trees. “There are no sentries posted outside. I think we can safely proceed with the plan.”
Sterling signaled to his crew, who were crouched behind him. The group moved quietly through the undergrowth; their black cloaks, also knitted from the woolly hair of the trees, helped both conceal and warm them in the chill darkness of the alien night.
Within about five minutes they were hidden in the undergrowth by the pit toilet, and here they hunkered down to wait, weapons at the ready. An hour dragged by - an hour that seemed like an eternity to the cold and weary group. But at last the rear door of the longhouse opened; a young Indian woman stepped out and hurried along the path to the latrine.
She entered the shack. Sterling and Singh quickly moved to the entrance and grimly positioned themselves on either side of the door, waiting with the quiet ferocity of crouching tigers. Shortly, the door opened. The girl stepped out. Both men sprang upon the startled woman. Sterling grabbed her from behind in a bear hug; Singh clamped his hand across her mouth.
The teen struggled wildly. Singh grunted as a knee rammed against his thigh. He managed to catch her leg, to keep his hand clamped upon her mouth. Her free leg flailed about madly, striking him painfully. Other crew leapt from concealment, grabbed the girl. With an effort they dragged her into the brush, pinned her writhing body to the ground.
Juliana stepped forward, spoke to the young woman whom she knew well. “It’s all right Saanvi,” she soothed. “We mean you no harm. We’re here to free all of you from the tyranny of the Philosopher.” Then, angrily to the men holding the girl: “Let go of her, can’t you see she’s terrified.”
The crew released the girl and moved back, abashed. Saanvi settled as Juliana spoke quietly to her, and shortly she was calm enough and sufficiently reassured that she was in no danger for Juliana to beckon Sterling to approach.
“I’m sorry we grabbed you like that,” he apologized. “We couldn’t be sure if you were still loyal to the Philosopher or now against him. If our plan is to succeed, as I’m sure Juliana has explained, we need someone with inside knowledge of the sleeping arrangements and the general disposition of the group. I take it you will help us free the women?”
Saanvi nodded. “The situation has gone from bad to worse since Juliana left. That brute Johansen is still alive. He’s now the Philosopher’s right hand man. There have been more beatings. The women are thoroughly disillusioned as am I.
“I think the Philosopher is becoming paranoid. He sleeps with a shotgun and most of the weapons. There are always two men inside who are on guard at each exit to the building, to prevent us overpowering the men when they’re asleep. Alejandro is the only decent one among them,” she continued. “He sided with us and I think I may be pregnant with his child. Please, promise me you won’t hurt him.”
Sterling gave his word. The girl then cast a nervous glance in the direction of the longhouse. “I’d better be heading back. One of the guards let me out. If I’m gone too long Steve may come to investigate.”
The statement proved to be prophetic. The door opened. A man stepped out and looked around suspiciously. He turned and spoke to someone in the building, then closed the door and began to warily advance towards the latrine, stun rifle at the ready.
“We’ll rush him when he gets close,” whispered Sterling to his companions as he hefted the heavy club dangling from his belt. “Wait until I’ve hurled my weapon.”
The guard drew near. He loudly called: “Saanvi, are you there?”
No answer came. The man halted. Some sixth sense must have warned him that something was amiss, for he hesitated and glanced back towards the longhouse. Sterling silently cursed. If the guard returned and brought others there was every chance they’d be outgunned and also lose the advantage of surprise.
“I’ll lure him closer,” whispered Saanvi.
The girl rose and stumbled from concealment before Sterling could reply. “Steve,” she gasped, “help me.” The girl moaned, collapsed on the path and lay still in feigned unconsciousness.
His suspicions quite forgotten the man rushed forward and knelt beside the fallen woman.
The captain stood and hurled the club with all his might. Steve caught the flash of movement. He jerked around, weapon raised. The club slammed against his shoulder as his finger tightened on the trigger. The humming beam missed Sterling by an inch as he dashed wildly from the verdure and flung himself upon the enemy.
Both went down as others of the crew quickly ran to assist. Saanvi rolled clear as they piled on like grid iron players, smothering the man with their weight. Sterling clamped his hand across the fellow’s mouth. Steve was down but not out. He sank his teeth into the captain’s finger. Sterling gasped in agony. He managed to claw his foeman’s eyes. Steve cried out, let go. Juliana grabbed the stun rifle, jammed its barrel against the struggling man’s head and squeezed the trigger.
Steve’s body convulsed; went limp. Sterling’s companions hurriedly climbed off the insensible man. “We must move quickly,” urged the captain as he drew tough cords from a pocket and swiftly bound the fellow’s limbs. “Someone may have heard his scream.”
The group quickly sprinted for the entrance of the longhouse, leaving Saanvi to guard the prisoner. The crew gathered tensely by the door. Sterling flung it open and leapt within, firing the captured stun rifle in a continuous hissing arc. The slashing beam caught the guard at the far end of the building. He convulsed violently, collapsed. His ancient shotgun struck the floor butt first, the impact causing it to discharge thunderously.
In an instant the foe were alerted. The hoarse questioning shouts of men erupted. Woman shrilly screamed. In an instant the longhouse was in an uproar. Sterling swore. They’d lost the element of surprise. He dashed for the third door on the right where Saanvi had informed him the Philosopher slept.
A man poked his head out the doorway as Sterling’s crew piled into the building behind him. The Philosopher’s eyes went wide in shock. The captain swung his weapon at the fellow, but his wily foe leapt back within the room, and the lancing beam missed him by a foot.
The door slammed shut. Juliana leapt forward and grabbed Sterling by the arm as he was about to break it down. She jerked him back violently, pulled him to the floor. A shotgun, fired from within the room, blasted a ragged hole in the wall. Buckshot whined overhead in a narrow miss. Screams of terror and violent curses added to the bedlam as Sterling’s crew dropped on their bellies.
“Saanvi told you he sleeps armed,” reminded Juliana, angry at his recklessness. Again, the Philosopher fired, forcing the couple to retreat.
At a safe distance Sterling shouted at his enemy: “Give it up, Saulias,” he said, calling the Philosopher by name. “You’re outnumbered. End this peacefully before someone gets seriously hurt.”
A feminine shriek of pain and terror sounded within the room. “I have a hostage,” yelled the Philosopher, defiantly. “I’ll not have my life’s ambition ruined by a bunch of interfering fools. Leave now or the girl dies horribly.”
“Please go,” cried the terrified hostage. “He… he has a knife between my legs. He says he’ll shove it in me…”
The girl’s voice broke down into hysterical sobbing. Sterling and Juliana looked at each other in utter consternation. Neither had counted on this. Saanvi hadn’t known of the girl’s presence.
“The bastard is ruthless enough to carry out the threat,” confirmed Juliana, a sick expression on her face.
Sterling swore violently. Should he sacrifice the girl to gain victory? A horrid vision arose within his disturbed mind – the naked writhing girl impaled by the knife, blood gushing from her mutilated loins. Her imagined screams of agony, which would become reality if he fought on, tore at his conscious.
Could he let this happen? The paralysis of indecision gripped him. The guard at the far end of the building would soon recover. More of the Philosopher’s men, emboldened by their leader’s defiance, might burst forth at any moment and assail his crew. But if he retreated the women would remain in the power of this monster, continued victims of his twisted mind. Time was running out. He must decide.
Juliana gripped Sterling’s arm before he could either fling defiance at the enemy or capitulate.
“I have an idea,” she urged whisperingly, sensing his vacillation. “I spotted a petard vine nearby. I can use it like a percussion grenade; hurl it against the outer wall. The explosion will distract the Philosopher. It will enable you to burst within the room before he can harm the girl.”
“It’s too dangerous,” replied Sterling. “We discussed using the explosive nuts. They’re very unstable, as dangerous as nitroglycerine. The mere act of pulling one off the vine might be enough to detonate it. You could be killed!”
“I’m getting impatient,” yelled the Philosopher. His victim screamed, the shrill cry dying to a sobbing whimper. “Leave now or her blood will be upon your hands.”
Juliana, her expression grim, bit back a vile oath. “If you can take suicidal risks so can I. I’m going now,” she determinedly said. “Stall for time. I won’t be long.” In stealth she hurriedly departed, pausing only long enough to whisper her plan to the worried crew.
Sterling also felt like cursing. She was taking an incredible risk. He reigned in his fear for Juliana, focused on the situation before him. Again, he called out to the Philosopher.
“Wait,” he cried. “Let’s negotiate. I’m not here to rob you of your leadership, Saulias, but to join you. The survival of humanity is at stake. There are women among my crew that can add to your breeding stock.”
These debasing words galled Sterling, but he knew he had to talk to the Philosopher in the language that only a ruthless fanatic would understand.
Saulias laughed derisively. “Do you think I’m a fool? Do you think I believe your feigned change of heart? You’re just a dupe, as are your crew, of the corrupt society that destroyed itself – one which you’d rebuild if given the chance.
“Johansen,” he called to his chief henchman. “Step into the hallway. I’m going to start counting. If our uninvited guests haven’t left by the time I reach ten then tell me. You hear me, captain. This is your last warning. If I reach ten and you and your crew haven’t left, or if you attack Johansen, then the girl dies horribly.”
A door opened as the Philosopher began to count. Johansen stepped into the corridor, an antique Colt gripped in his hairy fist and an ugly scowl further darkening his brutish features. His eyes locked upon Sterling. Wicked murder was in his steady gaze as he called to the Philosopher and let his leader know he’d taken up position.
The Philosopher’s count reached five. All was silent but for the hysterical crying of the hostage. Sterling knew Saulias wasn’t bluffing. Where was Juliana? What was taking so long? Sweat was upon the captain’s brow, fear was in his heart. The count reached eight. Johansen’s finger curled about the trigger.
Sterling saw the act. He flung up the stun rifle, desperately fired as Johansen raised his Colt. At the same time an explosion shook the building. The shock of the unexpected ruined both men’s aim. The bullet whined above Sterling’s head. The hissing beam struck the wall. An arrow flew above the prone captain. Irina Ivanov’s shaft thudded into red beard’s chest.
Blood spurted. The captain yelled commands. He and his crew were up and charging before the corpse hit the floor. Sterling flung his shoulder to the flimsy door and burst wildly within the room. Bedlam erupted in the longhouse as his crew broke down other doors and assailed the enemy with unrestrained ferocity.
Sterling’s stun rifle blazed furiously. The lancing beam struck the Philosopher’s arm as he was about to stab his victim. The man gasped. The knife fell from his paralyzed hand. His terrified hostage, an African-American girl, scrambled clear as Sterling prepared to fire again.
Though injured Saulias was far from helpless – in utter desperation he flung himself on Sterling in a low one armed tackle. The captain went down under the crashing impact. The stun rifle slid across the floor. The Philosopher scrambled up and lunged for the weapon. Sterling pounced upon his back. Saulias slammed a bony elbow against his jaw, flinging him off.
Sterling sprawled on the floor, dazed by the power of the blow. The Philosopher, his face contorted by feral hate, aimed a brutal kick at his ribs. The captain fought off pain, managed to grab his foe’s foot. He twisted savagely. Saulias gasped, lost his balance and crashed to the ground.
Both men grappled furiously. Their muscles strained. Sweat flew. Saulias, like a feral beast, sank his teeth into the captain’s shoulder. Sterling screamed. The Philosopher broke free, slammed his bony fist against Sterling’s jaw.
The wild blow thudded into the captain like a wrecking ball. He crashed sprawling to the floor. Sterling was in agony; helpless to defend himself. Saulias, now upright, grinned madly. Gone was the cultured academic. A savage brute stood revealed – a throwback to the era of the caveman.
The brute raised his foot to stomp upon his victim’s head. Dimly, Sterling sensed it was the end. But before Saulias could land the fatal blow the cultist screamed. He staggered away from the captain. The Philosopher turned. Dazedly he saw his former hostage and the bloody knife she tremblingly gripped.
The shock of pain and disbelief were large upon Saulias’ face. He opened his mouth to decry his end, but only a rattling gasp escaped his pale lips. Then his eyes rolled in their sockets and he crashed dead upon the floor. The young woman dropped the gory blade, turned away and was violently ill. Now, the healing process could begin…
**********
Twelve Earth hours had passed. Sterling’s crew had captured the male cultists, sustaining only minor injuries from the wild fray. The surviving men, Alejandro excluded, had been put on trial for a variety of crimes. All had been found guilty.
The problem was the absence of a prison in which the violent offenders could be incarcerated, and the fact that anything that could be constructed would fall far short of a secure concrete cell with iron bars. Nor could these dangerous criminals be driven out into the wilderness. There was nowhere for them to go, and they would undoubtedly lurk in the vicinity of the colony and pose an ongoing menace to its inhabitance.
The possibility of reform had also been considered. But without specialist therapists success was uncertain, and understandably the women were not prepared to take the risk of the prisoners reoffending.
With no other viable alternatives the captain, after much anguished soul searching grimly saw there was no option other than execution. The shooting of the condemned had been a terrible thing to undertake. Sterling had done the horrid deed himself, not wishing to burden anyone else with the dreaded task.
This ugly act, combined with all the other stresses he’d experienced and the loneliness of command, proved to be the final straw that had cast Sterling into dark despondency. After the burials he had wandered off from the longhouse to be alone with his bleak thoughts, and now sat on a large rock staring dejectedly at nothing in particular.
They were on a new world, and already this fresh beginning had been sullied by the old evils of violence, intolerance and brutality. In the harsh light of unpalatable reality he wondered if the future held out any real hope for this fragile remnant of Humanity.
A shadow cast by the early morning sun fell across Sterling. He looked up and met Juliana’s worried gaze. He tried to smile, but the effort wasn’t convincing to anyone. The young woman sat next to him and placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
“A burden shared is a burden halved,” she quoted sympathetically.
Sterling sighed heavily. “We are on a new world, but we have brought the old evils with us. We have escaped the doomed Earth, but we cannot escape our flawed natures. Have we come all this way simply to repeat the ills of the past?”
Juliana remained silent for a moment, thinking.
“It is difficult at times to maintain faith in the goodness of Humanity,” she admitted. “No doubt challenges lie ahead. But to give way to despair, to believe we are beyond redemption risks making this assumption a self-fulfilling prophecy. Am I not an encouraging example of our capacity to change, to put aside evil, and to see what is good?”
Juliana took Sterling’s hand and placed it on her belly. Her bare skin felt warm and soft to his touch.
“Here is the future,” she continued confidently. “The sperm bank is undamaged. Humanity will survive. Your men and women are fine people who set a good example of what is right and true. Your values are the antithesis of the Philosopher.
“I see that. The other women see that now also, and I can speak for them. Despite the evils that have befallen us we still crave love. Saanvi's child is on the way. In time more babies shall be born and it is my ardent desire that you be the father of our child, for I sense you care for me as I have come to care for you. In the light of a distant star we shall create love and life, and thereby hope for the future. To cynics this may sound trite, but I now believe it is a fundamental truth.”
The strength of her convictions, as with the warmth of her body, flowed into Sterling like a healing balm. He felt his black mood lifting. Again he smiled, and this time it was truly genuine.
THE END