The Last Colony Read online

  Jane settled back, not entirely convinced. I didn’t blame her; I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. The three of us fell silent as the shuttle negotiated the terms of docking at the gate.

  “Where’s your daughter?” Rybicki said, as the shuttle settled in.

  “She’s back at New Goa,” Jane said. “Supervising our packing.”

  “And having a good-bye party with her friends that it’s best we not think too much about,” I said.

  “Teenagers,” Rybicki said. He stood up. “Now, Perry, Sagan. Remember what I said about this colony process having become a media circus?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. “Then prepare to meet the clowns.” And then he led us off the shuttle to the gate, where apparently the entire news media of the Colonial Union had camped out to meet us.

  “Holy God,” I said, stopping in the tunnel.

  “It’s too late to panic, Perry,” Rybicki said, reaching back and taking my arm. “They already know everything about you. Might as well come out and get it over with.”

  “So,” Jann Kranjic said, sidling up to me not more than five minutes after we had landed on Roanoke. “What’s it like to be one of the first humans to set foot on a new world?”

  “I’ve done it before,” I said, toeing the turf under my boot. I didn’t look at him. Over the last few days I’d come to loathe his smooth vocal delivery and telegenic good looks.

  “Sure,” Jann said. “But this time you don’t have anyone trying to shoot that foot off.”

  Now I glanced over to him and saw that annoying smirk of his, which was somehow regarded as a winning smile on his home world of Umbria. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Beata Novik, his camerawoman, do her slow perambulation. She was letting that camera cap of hers record everything, the better to be edited down later.

  “It’s still early in the day, Jann. There’s still time for someone to get shot,” I said. His smiled faltered slightly. “Now, why don’t you and Beata go bother someone else.”

  Kranjic sighed and broke character. “Look, Perry,” he said. “You know that when I go in to edit with this there’s no way you’re not going to look like a jerk. You should just lighten the tone a little, hey? Give me something I can work with. We really want to work the war hero thing, but you’re not giving me much. Come on. You know how this goes. You did advertising back on Earth, for God’s sake.”

  I waved him off, irritably. Kranjic looked over to my right at Jane, but didn’t try to get a comment out of her. At some point when I wasn’t looking, he had crossed some sort of line with her and I suspect she ended up scaring the hell out of him. I wondered if there was any video of the moment. “Come on, Beata,” he said. “We need some more footage of Trujillo, anyway.” They wandered off in the direction of the landing craft, looking for one of the more quotable future colony leaders.

  Kranjic made me grumpy. This whole trip was making me grumpy. This was ostensibly a research trip for me and Jane and selected colonists, to recon our colony site and to learn more about the planet. What it really was was a press junket with all of us as the stars. It was a waste of time to drag us all to this world just for a photo opportunity, and then drag us all back home. Kranjic was just the most annoying example of the sort of thinking that valued appearance over substance.

  I turned to Jane. “I’m not going to miss him when we start this colony.”

  “You didn’t read the colonist profiles close enough,” Jane said. “Both he and Beata are part of the Umbrian colonist contingent. He’s coming with us. He and Beata got married to do it because the Umbrians weren’t letting singles colonize.”

  “Because married couples are more prepared for colonial life?” I ventured.

  “More like couples competing made for better entertainment on that game show of theirs,” Jane said.

  “He competed on the show?” I asked.

  “He was the emcee,” Jane said. “But rules are rules. It’s entirely a marriage of convenience. Kranjic hasn’t ever had a relationship that’s lasted more than a year, and Beata is a lesbian in any event.”

  “I’m terrified you know all this,” I said.

  “I was an intelligence officer,” Jane said. “This is easy for me.”

  “Anything else I need to know about him?” I asked.

  “His plan is to document the first year of the Roanoke colony,” Jane said. “He’s already signed for a weekly show. He’s also got a book deal.”

  “Lovely,” I said. “Well, at least now we know how he weaseled his way onto the shuttle.” The first shuttle down to Roanoke was meant to be only the dozen colonist representatives and a few Department of Colonization staffers; there was a near riot when the reporters on the Serra figured out that none of them was invited on the shuttle with the colonists. Kranjic broke the deadlock by offering to put the footage Beata shot into the pool. The rest of the reporters would come down in later shuttles, to do their establishing shots and then to cut to Kranjic’s material. For his sake it was just as well he was going to become a Roanoke colonist; after this some of his more resentful colleagues would be likely to walk him to an air lock.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jane said. “And besides, he was right. This is the first new planet you’ve been on where someone wasn’t trying to kill you. Enjoy it. Come on.” She started walking across the vast expanse of native grasses we had landed on, toward a line of what looked like—but weren’t exactly—trees. For that matter, the native grasses weren’t exactly grasses, either.

  Whatever they were precisely, not-grasses and not-trees both, they were a lush and impossible green. The extra-rich atmosphere lay moist and heavy on us. It was late winter in this hemisphere, but where we were on the planet, latitude and prevailing wind patterns conspired to make the temperature pleasantly warm. I was worried what midsummer was going to be like; I expected I was going to be perspiring a lot.

  I caught up with Jane, who had stopped to study a tree thing. It didn’t have leaves, it had fur. The fur seemed to be moving; I leaned in closer and saw a colony of tiny creatures bustling about in it.

  “Tree fleas,” I said. “Nice.”

  Jane smiled, which was rare enough to note. “I think it’s interesting,” she said, petting a bough of the tree. One of the tree fleas jumped from the fur to her hand; she looked at it with interest before blowing it off her with a gust of breath.

  “Think you could be happy here?” I asked.

  “I think I could be busy here,” Jane said. “General Rybicki can say what he wants about the selection process for this colony. I’ve read the colonist files. I’m not convinced most of these colonists aren’t going to be a danger to themselves and others.” She nodded in the direction of the shuttle, where we last saw Kranjic. “Look at Kranjic. He doesn’t want to colonize. He wants to write about other people colonizing. He’s under the impression that once we get here he’s going to have all the time in the world to do his show and write his book. He’s going to get to the edge of starvation before he figures it out.”

  “Maybe he’s an outlier,” I said.

  “You’re an optimist,” Jane said, and looked back at the fur tree, and the crawly things in it. “I like that about you. But I don’t think we should operate from an optimistic point of view.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “But you have to admit you were wrong about the Mennonites.”

  “I’m provisionally wrong about the Mennonites,” Jane said, looking back to me. “But, yes. They’re much stronger candidates than I expected.”

  “You just never knew any Mennonites,” I said.

  “I never knew any religious people at all before I got to Huckleberry,” Jane said. “And Hinduism didn’t do much for me. Although I can appreciate Shiva.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said. “That’s a little different than being a Mennonite, though.”

  Jane looked up over my shoulder. “Speak of the devil,” she said. I turned and saw a tall, pale figure coming towar
d us. Simple clothes and a wide hat. It was Hiram Yoder, who had been chosen by the Colonial Mennonites to accompany us on the trip.

  I smiled at his form. Unlike Jane, I did know Mennonites—the part of Ohio I had lived in had a lot of them, as well as Amish, Brethren and other variations of Anabaptists. Like all sorts of folks, individual Mennonites had the usual range of personalities, but as a class they seemed to be good and honest people. When I needed work done on my house I’d always picked Mennonite contractors because they would do the job right the first time, and if something didn’t turn out right, they didn’t argue with you about it; they’d just fix it. That’s a philosophy worth getting behind.

  Yoder raised his hand in welcome. “I thought I’d join you,” he said. “I figure if the leaders of the colony are looking so intently at something, I might want to know what it is.”

  “It’s just a tree,” I said. “Or, well, whatever it is we end up calling this thing.”

  Yoder looked up at it. “Appears to be a tree to me,” he said. “With fur. We might call it a fur tree.”

  “Just my thinking,” I said. “Not to be confused with a fir tree, of course.”

  “Of course,” Yoder said. “That would be silly.”

  “What do you think of your new world?” I asked.

  “I think it could be a good one,” Yoder said. “Although much will depend on the people in it.”

  “I agree,” I said. “Which brings me to a question I’d meant to ask you. Some of the Mennonites I knew in Ohio kept to themselves—would separate themselves from the world. I need to know if your group will do the same.”

  Yoder smiled. “No, Mr. Perry,” he said. “Mennonites vary in how we practice our faith, from church to church. We are Colonial Mennonites. We choose to live and dress simply. We don’t shun technology when it’s required, but we don’t use it when it’s not. And we choose to live in the world, as the salt and the light. We hope to be good neighbors to you and the other colonists, Mr. Perry.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “Looks like our colony is off to a promising start.”

  “That could change,” Jane said, and nodded off toward the distance again. Kranjic and Beata were heading our way. Kranjic was moving animatedly; Beata was moving at a distinctly more sluggish pace. Chasing after colonists all day was clearly not her idea of fun.

  “There you are,” Kranjic said to Yoder. “I have comments from every other colonist here—well, except for her,” he waved in the direction of Jane. “And now I just need something from you to put into the pool stock.”

  “I’ve told you before, Mr. Kranjic, that I would prefer not to be photographed or interviewed,” Yoder said, pleasantly.

  “This is a religious thing, isn’t it,” Kranjic said.

  “Not really,” Yoder said. “I’d just prefer to be let alone.”

  “The folks back on Kyoto are going to be disappointed if they don’t see their hometown . . .” Kranjic stopped, and stared behind all three of us. “What the hell are those?”

  We turned, slowly, to see two deer-sized creatures about five meters into the fur trees, eyeing us placidly.

  “Jane?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” Jane said. “There’s not a whole lot on the local fauna in our reports.”

  “Beata,” Kranjic said. “Go get closer so we can get a better shot.”

  “The hell I will,” Beata said. “I’m not going to get eaten so you can get a better shot.”

  “Oh, come on,” Kranjic said. “If they were going to eat us they would have done it by now. Look.” He started to inch closer to the things.

  “Should we let him do that?” I asked Jane.

  Jane shrugged. “We haven’t technically started the colony yet.”

  “Good point,” I said.

  Kranjic had snuck up to within a couple meters of the pair when the larger of the two decided it had had enough, bellowed impressively, and took a quick step forward. Kranjic shrieked and took off like a shot, nearly stumbling as he sprinted back toward the shuttle.

  I turned to Beata. “Tell me you got that,” I said.

  “You know I did,” she said.

  The two creatures in the trees, their work done, sauntered casually away.

  “Wow,” Savitri said. “It’s not every day that you get to see a major colonial news figure wet himself in fear.”

  “This is true,” I said. “Although to be entirely honest I’m pretty sure I could have gone my entire life without having seen that and still died happy.”

  “Then it’s just a bonus,” Savitri said.

  We were sitting in my office on the day before my final departure from Huckleberry. Savitri was sitting in the chair behind my desk; I was sitting in one of the chairs in front of it.

  “How do you like the view from the chair?” I asked.

  “The view is fine. The chair is kind of lumpy,” Savitri said. “Like someone’s lazy ass had deformed it beyond all recognition.”

  “You can always get a new chair,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure Administrator Kulkarni would be delighted with that expense,” Savitri said. “He’s never gotten over the idea of me as a troublemaker.”

  “You are a troublemaker,” I said. “It’s part of the job description of being an ombudsman.”

  “Ombudsmen are supposed to resolve trouble,” Savitri noted.

  “Well, fine,” I said. “If you want to get snippy about it, Miss Literal Pants.”

  “What a lovely name,” Savitiri said, and swung back and forth in her chair. “And anyway, I’m only an assistant troublemaker.”

  “Not anymore,” I said. “I’ve already recommended to Kulkarni that you be made village ombudsman, and he’s agreed.”

  Savitri stopped swinging around. “You actually got him to agree?”

  “Not at first,” I admitted. “But I was persuasive. And I convinced him that at least this way you’d be required to help people rather than bother them.”

  “Rohit Kulkarni,” Savitri said. “Such a fine man.”

  “He does have his moments,” I allowed. “But he did give his approval, finally. So just say yes, and the job is yours. And so is the chair.”

  “I definitely don’t want the chair,” Savitri said.

  “Fine,” I said. “Then you’ll have nothing to remember me by.”

  “I don’t want the job, either,” Savitri said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I said, I don’t want the job,” Savitri said. “When I found out that you were leaving, I went looking for another job. And I found one.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s another assistant job,” Savitri said.

  “But you could be ombudsman,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, be ombudsman in New Goa,” Savitri said, and then noticed my look; after all, that had been my job. “No offense. You took your job after you’d seen the universe. I’ve been in the same village all my life. I’m thirty years old. It’s time to leave.”

  “You’ve found a job in Missouri City,” I said, naming the district capital.

  “No,” Savitri said.

  “I’m confused,” I said.

  “This is not news,” Savitri said, and then continued on before I could retort. “My new job is off-planet. On a new colony called Roanoke. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  “Okay, now I’m really confused,” I said.

  “Seems that a two-person team is leading the colony,” Savitri said. “I asked one of them for a job. She said yes.”

  “You’re Jane’s assistant?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’m assistant to the colony leader,” Savitri said. “Since there are two of you, I’m your assistant, too. I still won’t get you tea.”

  “Huckleberry’s not one of the colonies that was allowed to send colonists,” I said.

  “No,” Savitri said. “But as the colony leaders, you are allowed to hire whomever you like for your support staff. Jane already knows and trusts
me and knows that you and I work together well. It made sense.”

  “When did she hire you?” I asked.

  “The day you gave notice here,” Savitri said. “She came in while you were out to lunch. We talked about it and she offered me the job.”

  “And neither of you bothered to tell me about this,” I said.

  “She was going to,” Savitri said. “But I asked her not to.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because then you and I wouldn’t have had this wonderful, wonderful conversation,” Savitri said, and then spun around in my chair, laughing.

  “Get out of my chair,” I said.

  I was standing in the bare living room of my packed-up and stored-away home, getting misty, when Hickory and Dickory approached me.

  “We would like to talk to you, Major Perry,” Hickory said to me.

  “Yes, all right,” I said, surprised. In the seven years that Hickory and Dickory had been with us we had conversed a number of times. But they had never once initiated a conversation; at most, they would wait silently to be acknowledged.

  “We will use our implants,” Hickory said.

  “Fine,” I said. Both Hickory and Dickory fingered collars that rested at the base of their long necks, and pressed a button on the right side of the collar.

  The Obin were a created species; the Consu, a race so far advanced of ours that it was almost unfathomable, had found the Obin’s ancestors and used their technology to force intelligence on the poor bastards. The Obin indeed became intelligent; what they didn’t become was aware. Whatever process that allowed for consciousness—the sense of self—was entirely missing from the Obin. Individual Obin had no ego or personality; it was only as a group that the Obin were aware that they were lacking a thing all other intelligent species had. Whether the Consu accidentally or intentionally made the Obin nonconscious was a matter of debate, but given my own encounters with the Consu over the years, I suspect they were simply curious, and the Obin were just another experiment to them.