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Chapter 33
Nicolas Carver: 2030
Prescott was finished.
It was a long, hard-fought journey, but one that was finally coming to an end. As Carver stepped into his new office with the last of his boxes, he realized it was true this time. It was done.
Even more importantly, Earth was safe from whatever the colonists had contracted on Mars. Initiating the Emergency Protocol ensured that the dropships would be sealed off, preventing anyone left alive on the Gateway from bringing the Red Plague back home. Everyone was quarantined on the station, where they’d eventually succumb to the illness. It was a tough decision, but Carver was no stranger to tough decisions—he had made his fair share of them in the last few weeks. They were for the best, though. He was sure of that.
As he set down the cardboard crates, he kept his eye on the office window and awaited the imminent fireball streaming across the sky. Since the launch command had already been issued, the dropship would fly to the ground regardless of the Emergency Protocol lockdown. But nobody would be on it. OSE would have to explain how it launched—a glitch, probably—then he’d order the agency to destroy the thing. It wasn’t worth taking any risks.
Carver picked up the nameplate from his new desk. It was an extravagant thing, engraved in real silver. “NICOLAS CARVER,” it read in bold capital letters. Then, below, “Director, Organization of Space Exploration.” Carver was the youngest man to ever lead OSE. Of course, Congress hadn’t officially approved him yet, but that was just a formality as far as he was concerned. He was the obvious pick. The best pick. Until then, he’d fill the role in an interim capacity.
He wished his father could see him now. Mason Carver, the narcissistic scumbag who never gave a damn about his family. Never gave a damn about his wife. His kid. Never showed up to any parent-teacher nights or ice cream socials. Wasn’t there to teach Carver how to shave, drive, and file taxes. Half the time, he wasn’t even home. Carver never really knew where his father went. He was probably gambling away what little money they had or passing out in the bathroom of some musty bar. Thank God he at least wised up enough to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.
When the news of his father’s death reached the house—Carver was only ten—his mother descended into a sobbing mess. Her reaction never made any sense to him, even back then. With his father gone, Carver and his mother would be free to live without someone breathing down their necks or extinguishing cigarettes on their skin. There would be no more late nights waiting for the inevitable knock at the door, followed by two police officers depositing his father, bloodied from some pointless bar fight, on the threadbare couch. There would be no more shouting. No more cursing. No more bloodied mouths or blackened eyes. His mother wouldn’t need to spend an hour applying makeup every morning to conceal her husband’s rampage from the previous night. They were safe.
After Mason died, it took a while for Carver and his mother to bounce back. Money was tight, but every night Carver would remind himself how lucky he was that his father was dead and gone. The world was a better place without him.
A loud boom startled Carver out of his memories. He could see the streak of light he’d been expecting through the window. It broke through the atmosphere and plummeted toward the ground, headed for the landing pads adjacent to the OSE headquarters. With the autopilot working as expected, it would be on the ground in minutes.
While he waited for news of the ship’s arrival, Carver unpacked his boxes. He placed a photo of him and his mother on the shelf, one taken at his college graduation. Next to it, he put a picture of himself with Victor, God rest his soul. On the wall behind his desk, he hung an oil painting he had created a year prior.
Just as he finished arranging his belongings, a woman bounded through the door. “Sir, thank god you’re here! We need you in the landing bay.”
“Why? What happened?” Carver slid his charcoal blazer back over his white dress shirt.
“There’s a kid.”
“What kid?”
“On the dropship! There’s a kid on the dropship.”
Carver’s stomach plummeted. A kid? Whose kid? And how was that even possible? The Emergency Protocol should have prevented anyone from boarding before the ship took off. “Are you sure it’s a kid?”
“Yes, sir,” the woman answered. “We’ve been speaking with him on the radio. He said he’s ten years old.”
“Did you get his name?”
“His name is Zach.” The woman glanced at her paper. “Zach Croft.”
Zach Croft: 2030
The air was chilly in the quarantine room. It wasn’t as cold as on the Gateway, but somehow it cut deeper. Zach’s expression was empty, lacking any emotion. What was he supposed to do, smile? Be grateful he was back on Earth with other people? Something about that didn’t feel right. His father was dead, and Ryker was trapped on the Gateway. Should he be sad, then? No, that wasn’t right either. He certainly was glad he had made it home after all he’d been through.
Through the glass, Mr. Carver—that was his name, right?—tapped a stack of paper into alignment. He surveyed Zach with a sympathetic look, then spoke into a microphone.
“I’m sorry we’ve had to keep you here for so long.”
Zach shot a look around his small isolation room. The bed. The bathroom next to it. After a week locked in a sterile hellhole, he only wanted to feel the sun on his face. Or his father’s hand interlocked with his own. But that wasn’t going to happen.
“It’s okay,” Zach said. “I understand.” In truth, he didn’t. He obviously wasn’t infected. Otherwise, he’d be dead. So why was he being quarantined? “Can you at least tell me if my friend is alive?”
Carver took a deep breath, then gave a sad, sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry, son. It doesn’t appear so.”
For the first time since returning to Earth, Zach lost control. Tears welled in his eyes. “How can that be?” Zach asked. “I was just with him!”
“We checked every system we could,” Carver replied. He flipped through the papers in his hand. “Security cameras, motion sensors, thermosensors, microphones.”
“That’s impossible.”
“If he was alive up there, we’d know. He’d show up in at least one of those systems. But there’s nothing. No signs of life.” Carver sighed. “He didn’t make it.”
“But there was nothing wrong with him! He was fine.” Zach replayed his last moments with Ryker in his head. Ryker banging on the airlock. The ship leaving without him. The terror in his eyes.
Carver turned as someone walked through the door, approached, and whispered something in his ear. “Really? So soon?” asked Carver.
“The doctors say he’s clear.” The woman shot a look at Zach, sizing him up.
Carver got out of his seat and strode toward the door of Zach’s quarantine room. Zach could hear the beeps of the keypad on the wall, then the door slid open, and Carver stepped inside.
Zach instinctively got up and moved over to his bed, putting as much distance between himself and Carver as possible.
“It’s okay, Zach. You’re not sick.” Carver walked up to the mattress and squatted in front of Zach. “You remember Sarina Keaton?”
Zach squinted at Carver, puzzled. “Cora’s mom?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Carver nodded. “Well, Mrs. Keaton has agreed to take you in for now. She’s waiting outside.”
“I’m going to live with Cora?” It didn’t seem real. Cora was a good friend, but he couldn’t imagine living in the same house as her.
“Come on.” Carver stood and gestured for Zach to follow him. “I’m going to help out too. Me and your father… We were good friends. I’m terribly sorry for what happened to him.” He squeezed Zach’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”
“If you’re here for me, then check the Gateway again. Send someone up there. Bring my friend home.”
Carver released his grip on Zach’s shoulder. “He’s gone, son. I’m sorry..”
“Just try. Please.”
Carver placed his hand on the small of Zach’s back and tried to guide him toward the door. “Let’s get you home now, okay? Sarina’s waiting.”
People moved aside as they walked down the halls to allow them to pass. Zach couldn’t tell if that was because Carver was the head of OSE or because he was the only remaining Prescott colonist. A survivor.
Light spilled into Zach’s eyes when the two stepped through the giant glass doors that acted as a gateway into OSE. The brightness should have made him wince, but he welcomed it. Martian sunlight was dim and red. But here on Earth, the sunlight was pure, silky gold. Zach gazed off into the distance at the rolling green hills just beyond the buildings of Pasadena.
They walked through the courtyard and to the asphalt parking lot. A black SUV pulled up with Sarina Keaton in the driver’s seat. The back door suddenly sprung open, and a little girl jumped out. Her smile seemed impossibly wide.
“Cora! Come back,” Sarina said.
Cora ignored her, running as fast as she could up to Zach and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so happy you’re home.” She closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.”
Then, Zach did something that even surprised himself.
He smiled.
Zach Croft: 2054
It started with a jolt, a snap, as the dropship separated from the Gateway. Sweat poured down Zach’s face, but he made no effort to wipe it away.
He replayed his last conversation with Ryker before they parted ways. They had just collected Carver and Rhea from the prisoner pods and loaded them onto Dropship One. After getting the two prisoners strapped in, they returned to the docking bay. Zach knew they should be rushing to depart, as everyone was already loaded up, but he couldn’t move away.
“I guess this is it,” Zach said. His voice felt thick in his throat. He could feel his body shaking despite his best efforts to conceal it. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Ryker moved forward and hugged Zach. “Definitely. I’ll get them down there safely.”
Zach nodded, pressing his chin into Ryker’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming back to Earth. We’d be dead if you hadn’t.” They really would have been. His return had led Zach to Wilford, to discovering the vast supplies of irogen in the colony, to Mars, and, finally, to Alpha Cen. Ryker had started it all.
“Yeah… You definitely would be.” Ryker patted Zach on the back, then released him.
“Okay. Okay, you’ve got this,” Zach said.
“Damn right, I do.” With one last smile, Ryker walked past Zach and into his dropship.
As the airlock shut between them this time, no tears were shed. They weren’t slamming their fists against the divide, begging for it to open. They only exchanged a brief nod as Zach mouthed, “See you on the other side.”
Zach looked at the dropship beside his own and prayed they would be okay. The turbulent orb in front of them held little promise. But, he reminded himself, they had no choice. They would die if they stayed on the Gateway. They were probably still doomed trying to fly through the storm, but maybe less so. They still had a chance, no matter how small.
Zach leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes. He wanted so badly to disappear. To fade away into the sunset, never to be seen again. But he couldn’t do that. The survivors depended on him. He had to get his people to safety.
His people.
When had he started thinking of them like that? He never considered himself much of a leader, but the last few weeks had left him feeling responsible for everyone. With Carver out of the picture, people had started looking to him to make decisions. He didn’t love doing it, but someone had to. It just so happened to be him.
After tugging on his restraints to ensure they were secured, Zach asked the pilot to hand him the radio. It was patched through to the other dropships. “Dropship One here. Is everyone ready?” he croaked. Of course, they weren’t ready. They never would be. Neither would he.
Ryker responded with, “Two here. We’re all good. Three?”
The pilot for Dropship Three’s gravelly voice cut through the air. “Ready as we can be.”
Zach glanced out the window. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his words steady and commanding. “All dropships, engage thrusters.”
“Engaging,” the other two said in succession.
The next few seconds were surreal. Those on his ship released a collective gasp as the floor began to rumble. The sound built into a roar, then they were off. The dropships blasted forward, the darkness of space disappearing around the windows’ edges, only to be replaced by an endless gray. Zach felt his breathing hitch as they sliced through the top layer of the atmosphere. Unease gripped his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter.
Tendrils of flame ascended up and around the glass, framing the scene before them. Clouds buffeted the ship. But there was no lightning. Not yet. Where was it?
The fire of reentry—or just entry, he supposed—was thinned out by water in the clouds.
Then, the first bolt of bluish lightning flashed outside, accompanied by an immediate boom. Reflexively, Zach recoiled back. Others did too. But miraculously, the bolt didn’t hit them, nor did the next few.
Zach clutched the sides of his seat so hard that his knuckles felt like they might burst through his skin. His stomach tightened with a powerful sense of deja vu—it was like his first descent to Mars as a kid. The shaking, the terror, the flashing lights. It was all happening again. As frightening as the memory was, he reminded himself that he had survived that descent, and he would survive this one too. The thought calmed his nerves a little. But just a little.
Another bolt of lightning blazed outside. Then another. And another. Zach glanced at the side windows, a baseball-sized lump appearing in his throat. Through the layer of fog, he could see the outlines of the other two ships, each maybe five hundred yards from his own. At least they were still intact.
The deeper they went into the storm, the more violent the lightning got. The dropship bounced and tilted on its side, sending Zach’s heart lurching into his throat before the pilot managed to get his bearings and get the ship back on course.
Suddenly, Dropship Two veered to the side. “Everything good over there, Ryker?” Zach asked into the radio.
“Just peachy,” Ryker answered breathlessly. His ship drifted away from the rest a few times, but he always managed to get back in line. It was surprising how good of a pilot he was. All those years of killing time in the simulator on the Gateway had really paid off.
“Hey, we’re… we’re having some troubles over here,” the pilot for Dropship Three said in a trembling voice.
Zach looked to his right, studying the ship. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary from what he could see. “What’s the problem?”
“I— I don’t know. One moment, I have control, and the next, I don’t!” He pulled in a shaky breath. “We’re slowing. I… I…” The astronaut, who had only been a trainee back on Earth, stammered for something to say.
“Hold on. Just keep calm and focus. You hear me?” Zach assured him. “You’re going to be fine.” But his voice lacked conviction. Dropship Three continued to fall behind, sputtering like a car running out of gas.
“I can’t— I don’t—” the pilot said. He cursed at the dropship as he struggled to maintain control. “Come on, goddamnit!” Suddenly, a blinding bolt of lightning struck the ship. It tore a flaming hole through the heat shield, setting off a series of explosions around the hull. When the fire reached the fuel cell, the whole ship exploded in a brilliant ball of fire. Thick, black smoke followed the wreckage as it plummeted toward the ground. Plates of sheet metal peeled off the flaming wreckage. Debris spilled from the gaping chasm in the back of the craft. Bodies, too—some dead, some alive.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Zach stared in horror at the disaster unfolding before him.
“Fuck!” Ryker roared through the radio. “Do you read, Three? Do you read?”
“DROPSHIP THREE DISCONNECTED,” the intercom blared. The monitor above the control panel, which once displayed black outlines of the three dropships, now only showed two. The third flashed red, with a label above it reading: OFFLINE.
Zach felt a bubbling wave of bile rise up his throat. Three hundred people were gone in a split second. And it was his fault. He made them launch. He knew not everyone would make it, but he gave the order anyway.
“Do you see that?” Ryker cried, and a whoop of joy followed.
The sound obliterated the guilty thoughts flooding Zach’s mind. He looked out the window to see what Ryker was shouting about. Outside the glass, flashes of greens, reds, and blues had begun to emerge between the roiling storm clouds.
Zach couldn’t stop himself from smiling. An irrational burst of laughter spilled from his lips. He had never been so happy to see anything in his life.
Ryker’s gleeful shouting continued. Zach could practically hear him bobbing up and down in his seat. “Let’s fucking go! We made it! We—”
There was a flash of light. A burst of fire. An ear-splitting crack of thunder as Ryker’s dropship was practically cleaved in half by a massive bolt of lighting.
“Ryker!” Zach yelled.
The blast sent Ryker’s dropship spinning in circles, detritus rocketing from the craft in all directions. The ship dove, shedding plates from its heat shield as it fell. Its roof tore open, exposing everyone and everything inside to the violent winds of its spiraling descent.
“We— ca— ar—” Ryker’s voice, detached and grainy, rasped through the radio. Then there was another explosion at the back of the ship. The voice turned into a scream.
“Ryker!” Zach yelled again. “Ryker, can you hear me? Answer me! Come on! Please! Please, respond!” He strained to hear anything; a yelp, a groan, something to show Ryker was alive. But there was nothing.
One thruster on Ryker’s ship tore free and rocketed toward Zach’s dropship. Zach’s pilot swerved out of the way, slamming everyone to the side. A sudden pain in Zach’s upper arm screamed for Zach’s attention, but he ignored it.
With that final maneuver, Zach’s dropship sliced through the last layer of storm clouds and emerged into a sky as clear and bright as Earth’s best day. The planet below was a lush world filled with green trees. Red grass. Mountains. Hills. Lakes.
But the jaw-dropping display of beauty did nothing to distract Zach from the horror in the sky beside him. Ryker’s dropship continued to break apart, charred metal plates curling and twisting as debris spewed from a hole in the back. With the ground drawing near, the ship disappeared behind a tall mountain range. A deafening boom and a smoke-filled, fiery explosion followed.
“Ryker!” Zach’s voice morphed into a loud cry. Then something rattled beneath him, and the pilot announced the reverse thrusters had kicked in. Zach’s chin fell to his chest.
A moment later, a heavy thud rattled his teeth.
They had landed.
Zach released his restraints and staggered to the front window of the dropship, leaning against it for support. In the distance, towers of oily smoke billowed from behind a mountain range, reaching high into the sky. The clouds overhead looked peaceful—the lightning couldn’t be seen from the ground. If Zach didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a pleasant spring day with some light rain in the forecast.
Cora’s voice snapped him back to reality. “You’re hurt.” The next thing he knew, she was bandaging up the deep gash in his arm. The gauze wrapped around his bicep, pulled tight to stop the bleeding. Some soaked through. But Zach wasn’t thinking about his arm—he was picturing Ryker lying dead in a pile of flaming wreckage. Or no, worse, already incinerated. How could Zach have let that happen? If he’d forced Ryker to go on Dropship One with him instead of allowing him to pilot Dropship Two himself, his friend would still be alive. Instead, Ryker’s blood was on his hands. Zach squeezed his fingers into fists to stop them from shaking.
Cora hugged him from behind. “Listen to me. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault,” she said. But it wasn’t okay.
Somehow, seeing Ryker go out like that was harder than when Carver told him Ryker was dead when he was a kid. But why? The simple answer was that Zach hadn’t seen Ryker die back then, so he always held on to a tiny hope that he was still alive. But this time was different. Zach had seen Ryker’s dropship explode, first in the storm, then in one last boom behind those mountains. The evidence was in that massive pillar of smoke right in front of him.
“He could still be alive out there,” Zach said quietly. He didn’t believe it but couldn’t bring himself to say otherwise.
Cora put her hand on Zach’s cheek, turning his face away from the window and toward hers. “Maybe. But we’re alive right here.” She gestured to the shell-shocked passengers starting to rise from their seats. “Let’s take care of them first. Then we’ll go look for the others. Okay?”
Zach nodded. He knew Cora was right.
For the next half-hour, the pilot monitored outside conditions through the dropship’s external environment scanners to ensure the air was safe to breathe and the temperatures weren’t too extreme. Meanwhile, Zach instructed a group of passengers to assemble supply packs that could be distributed to everyone as they disembarked. By the time everyone was ready, plans to send a rescue party toward Ryker’s ship had been hammered out, and the survivors were doing their best to line up at the airlock. Mabel quickly stepped in and announced, “Zach should go first.”
All gazes turned to him. He looked to the floor. “Thanks.” Silently, he approached the blast door, feeling Ryker’s spirit with him. As incredible as it seemed, it had been barely a week since they were reunited—not accounting for cryo. One short week. That was all they got. After twenty-three years apart, struggling with the trauma of the past, their only reward was a dangerous few days which ended with Ryker dead.
Zach reached up to grab the release lever, then pushed it down slowly. The airlock hissed, then slid open. The ramp descended.
Rays of golden sunlight cut into the ship, making Zach shield his eyes. When the ramp thudded against the alien ground, he dropped his hand and marveled at the sight before him.
Their dropship had landed in a field of bright red grass that stretched for about a hundred yards before it met a dense tree line. Each blade of grass was nearly up to Zach’s knees. The trunks of the trees in the distance were shrouded with moss-like growth that filled the deep ridges that rippled across the bark. The trees’ branches looked more like vines than wood, with colorful, prismatic leaves sprouting along their lengths. The hues of the foliage seemed to shift with the angle of the light.
Further toward the horizon, jagged mountain peaks jutted straight into the air, higher than any mountains Zach had ever seen. Then, there was the sky. It was a deep greenish turquoise, smooth as silk, with orange-tinted clouds. Sunlight sliced through the sky like god lights.
Zach couldn’t believe his eyes. He didn’t deserve a place this breathtakingly beautiful after all that happened. He felt a tingling in his nose and slight pressure in his eyes. As he breathed in, he realized he could taste the air. It was sweet, almost like cotton candy, leaving a heavy feeling in his chest that he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t bad, just … different.
As Zach gazed at the landscape, two brown, fur-covered animals scurried across the grass, weaving together in a zigzag. The grass crunched under their tiny feet as the animals let out quiet cries like birds chirping.
“My god…” Cora said from the dropship. She smiled, her teeth gleaming. “They’re beautiful.”
For a few moments, Zach took it all in. The forest beyond the clearing seemed to go for miles, and… what was that? Zach could just make out a group of figures emerging from the trees at the edge of the grass. Although they were silhouetted by the bright sunlight, Zach could still see their basic outlines.
They looked human.
A broad smile formed on Zach’s face as he realized who it must be. It was people from Dropship Two. Survivors! Zach ran back into the ship and began delivering orders immediately.
“Everyone! There are people from Dropship Two out there! Mabel?”
Zach searched the crowd for her. Mabel pushed her way through the group, waving her arm at Zach. “Here!”
“We need to be prepared to treat anyone who’s hurt. Medical supplies, surgical gear. Whatever you’ve got.”
“On it!” Mabel motioned to several other doctors in the crowd. They disappeared back into the dropship to assemble whatever supplies they could find.
“Water,” Zach said to Cora. “Clean water. How much do we have?”
They didn’t have much, but it only had to last them until they found another source on Alpha Cen. Given the trees, grass, and foliage, something was bound to be nearby. But they needed water immediately to help the injured.
“Okay,” Zach said. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I’m gonna go see how many there are. Have everything ready as soon as possible!”
Zach felt hope swell in his chest as he headed down the ramp. If there were survivors, then Ryker could be among them. He could have made it. He could still be alive.
Zach reached the sea of red grass, then suddenly stopped. He felt his stomach drop. First, confusion set in. Then, fear.
The figures that had emerged from the trees were barely thirty feet away now. They were spread out in a half circle around the dropship. None of them were injured. And none of them wore the torn and tattered clothing the survivors had been wearing when they left the Gateway.
Instead, these people were clad in leather-like armor and hammered metal helmets. They wielded handmade spears with long, menacing blades in their right hands.
All except for one.
A woman wearing a long white gown with embroidered flowers stepped forward from the front of the pack. Her long black hair fell over the front of her shoulders in two thick sheets, extending almost to her knees. She held no weapon. With a wave of her hand, the people in armor stood at attention, their chins pointed high.
What the fuck? Zach thought. What the actual fuck am I looking at?
He had to be dreaming. Or dead. Yeah, he was definitely dead. How else could he explain what he was seeing? He had a million questions. A billion, perhaps. But he could only muster one.
“Who are you?”
The woman ignored his question.
“Welcome to Eden,” she said instead. Zach opened his mouth to speak, but the woman cut him off once more. “We’ve been expecting you.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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