The Herem Saga #2 (Them and Us) E-Book

Davide Sassoli

• Herausgeber: Davide Sassoli
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Milky Way, thirteenth millennium of the stellar age.
Human beings have long since left the surface of the Mother Planet, Earth, and so much time has passed they barely remember it.
They have established themselves as the predominant form of life among the stars and all the while they expand, colonize and multiply undisturbed. At times they are at peace, other times they quarrel with one another in an endless strife of meaningless skirmishes.
But one day the balance is broken. A terrible alien race, relentless and apparently unstoppable, now threatens to upset this delicate order and wash away over twelve millennia of progress and expansion.
People in the Milky Way call them Herem, the Anathem…

BOOK TWO: THEM AND US

Araia Research Starbase, Orion Nebula. Emra is a brilliant scholar, a man who traveled the galaxy far and wide and lived on dozens of worlds. He is solitary and extremely jealous of his work, especially now that he's working for the army, trying to pry the secrets behind the Herem's very existence and feeling close to a sensational discovery. But now, a group of young PhD candidates from the Otamendi Academy has reached Araia, looking to upgrade their resumes. They are determined and willing go well out of their way to surpass their companions, and some of them have taken an interest in Emra’s study of “cerebros”: a colorful name for the mysterious Alien organisms which seem to be responsible for the Herems’ thought processes.
Meanwhile, the shadow of a terrible epidemic looms over Araia and its population. Just when he feels he's getting close to a breakthrough… Emra could very well be out of time.

Leseprobe

Davide Sassoli

The Herem Saga #2

(Them and Us)

More about the saga at:

www.theheremsaga.com

On the cover: Emra

byJenny Parrini (Jessy Rosa Art)

Editing by:

Loredana La Puma (original Italian edition)

The Herem Saga #2 (Them and Us)© 2022 Davide Sassoli

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Cover page

Front page

On the Universe and its Distances

Intro

PART 1 – Cerebros

PART 2 – The Fair Planet

PART 3 – The Hardships of Research

PART 4 – At Arkadiev’s Court

PART 5 – Bad Omens and Close Encounters

PART 6 – Unexpected Assistance

PART 7 – Choices

PART 8 – Out of Time

EPILOGUE

The Galactic Chronicles

The Herem Universe

Thank you!

About The Author

The Works

On the Universe and its Distances

The easiest and best way to imagine the Universe, is thinking of a sandbox.

Take the Milky Way: spiral galaxy, very common… You could just take a flat board and draw a sort of map, where stars and planets take up various positions, like cities on a landscape. That’s cool, but it would give you a very wrong idea of the actual distances which separate objects in the cosmos.

The Milky Way is in fact – just like the Universe itself – a box. It’s a container which gathers many objects, all very close to one another, at least if you consider the enormous distances which separate, for example, two different galaxies.

Astronomical distances are often measured in multiples of c (the speed of light). How long does it take for light (the fastest thing we know of) to travel between two places? From Earth to the Sun it “merely” takes 8 minutes, and from here to the next star it’s “just” a few years trip. To reach the closest star cluster, however, it would take over four hundred years, and that becomes forty thousand if we’reheading to the center of the galaxy. Not to mention Andromeda, the closest other galaxy we can see in the sky, which is currently two million and a half light years away.

The reason for all this is the Universe being an enormous gravitating system. It’s made of objects which exercise a constant pull on one another, so the closest ones tend to become even closer, and they will eventually come to revolve around a common center of mass. That’s why planets and asteroids tend to stay close to their star, leaving vast expanses of empty space all around, and stars (with their full systems in tow) will keep close to other stars, forming clusters, and star clusters will then form the spiral arms of a galaxy. A galaxy will then seek the vicinity of its nearest companions, forming a cluster of galaxies, and so on… up to the Universe, which is the biggest container we’ve discovered so far.

So it’s actually no wonder that science fiction is forced to call upon some very improbable concepts – like hyperspace, warp speed or worm-holes… – to allow us to travel to other planets. It’s also no wonder, though it might not be so easy to imagine, that an inhabited solar system might actually have no knowledge of its closest neighbor: though bound by gravity, the two would be incapable of actuallyreaching one another, so they might just as well be on opposite sides of the Cosmos.

In the Year 2491, according to the Gregorian Calendar, the first interstellar space-faring vessel left Earth, never to return.

The Galactic Chronicles record this event as the Zero Hour of the Stellar Age.

PART 1 – Cerebros

Araia Research Starbase (civilian research outpost), Orion Nebula, galactic year 12.594

Emra tapped his finger against the glass and the thing inside reacted with a jerk, twisting part of its purplish mass and extending a lump in his direction, like a dude who’d just turned his head.

Emra was standing well beyond the red lines bordering the safety area. They’d been set down by the base’s military personnel in accordance with a complicated and very stupid regulation which, in their quite limited minds, served to ensure the safety and well-being of all civilian personnel; just in case one of these terrible Aliens decided to break free and eat the entire research team, students included.

He stared at the thing, precisely in the direction of the lump that was pointing at him, pretending he could read its expression. When he tried tilting his head, it reacted.

«Professor!!»

Emra jerked.

«We’re ready to begin. If you would be kind enough to step back…»

Emra turned, chuckling.

Obediently, he headed back to where Ines was waiting for him, well behind both the red and the yellow lines. The purpose of the latter he still ignored, even though a very patient Lieutenant had thoroughly explained it to him, quoting very interesting technical details and making many reassuring gestures. He shook his head.

Ines was the best assistant he’d ever worked with: young, intelligent, extremely capable and exquisitely beautiful (to the point he could stand being scolded by her like a boy who’d just been caught stealing his parents’ electronic stimulators), but she made it a point not to tolerate his transgression of security protocols, though he’d explained to her a thousand times that those things were totally harmless, especially as long as they remained confined within the containment tanks, from which they couldn’t have gotten out even if they were armed with bombs and explosives. Then tanks looked like glass, but those “glasses” were actually a blend of extremely resistant and resilient polymers, ten times tougher than any carbon-based crystal and practically impossible to bend or erode. They were the metaphorical belt and braces.

«Did we calibrate the sensors this time?» he asked, hoping the change in subject would be enough to appease her.

«Yes, Professor,» she confirmed. «All frequencies you suggested will be monitored within the minimum possible error allowed by uncertainty principles.»

«What about interference?»

«Filtered out to the limit of our current knowledge of cosmic and quantum physics.»

«And by “our knowledge” you mean…»

«I mean what is currently known to the human race, Professor.»

«Very well.» Emra never made many compliments. To get people to work properly you always needed to suggest that things could have been done better or more rapidly, or both. «Have we heard from our spectators?»

«Spectators?»

«Weren’t we waiting on that school trip, those youngsters that wanted to witness the experiment?»

«Are you talking about the PhD candidates from the Otamendi Academy?»

«Ah… yes, I think so.»

«I’m just waiting for your authorization to begin the streaming session.»

«Good! Let’s start then.»

«Do you wish to review the parameters one last time?»

«Ines…» he answered, showing her a sly smile, «if we reviewed them again, we’d go beyond Akkadi’s uncertainty principle, don’t you think?»

«I don’t believe it applies to this circumstance, Professor.»

Emra turned, chuckling again.

«Please don’t forget to remain inside the safety area during the experiment,» she reminded him.

«I know, I know…» He’d actually already forgotten about it, but why admit it? «Ready when you are, my sweet assistant.»

Ines made no answer. She never took up on those small provocations, nor did she show any pleasure or displeasure at his compliments, whether they were quiet and elegant or openly preposterous.

Maybe that’s why I like her… he thought, while he tidied up best he could in the seconds before they went live: because she’s a challenge.

«We’re live, Professor. You can speak freely.»

Emra was aware that, at a reasonable distance (though close enough to enable optic and electronic communication), sat (or stood) about twenty young future scientists. They had been accurately tested and selected by the Otamendi Academy, which strongly valued first-hand experiences among its best subjects and whose internships covered all the best research stations in the sector; and that stood quite well with Emra, so long as the brats didn’t pester him.

«Welcome, eager young minds of tomorrow!» he greeted them out loud with a theatrical gesture while speaking to the lab’s rear bulkhead, where he knew most of the micro-cams would be fluttering about. «I know this is a moment of great interest and excitement for you all, but I must remind you that security always comes first! We are dealing with an extremely dangerous and aggressive life form, which has already exterminated countless millions of human beings across every sector of the galaxy.» He glanced at Ines, hoping to get some reaction: even a small tilt of the head or a muffled little sigh would do, but he got nothing. «So please be very careful not to pilot any micro-cams or probes beyond the security lines, which were gently put in place by the FIA personnel under the orders of Major Dison. I’d also like to remind you that it is highly recommended you activate the sonar filters on your receivers and regulate them to a minimum setting of 4. Failing to comply with these restrictions will result in the termination of your contract and in a note of demerit to be forwarded directly to your supervisors. All right… if there are no questions, I believe we can begin.»

There were no questions, obviously. He gestured for Ines to…

«Professor? Excuse me, Professor!»

Emra froze with his arm in mid-air.

The voice was coming from behind his back, from one of those micro-cams still stupidly equipped with loudspeakers, though he’d expressly insisted that the model be eliminated and its designers fed to the specimens (provided they actually ate). Ines chose that moment to show the faintest of smiles.

Emra cursed the day he had agreed to that charade and turned again, putting on his best poker face. «Yes, Ms. …»

«Gwen… Gwen Oskovic, Professor Arkadiev. And… thank you for your patience.»

Well… at least she was respectful. She also had a cute voice, all things considered; Emra wondered what she might look like in the flesh. «Speak up then, Ms. Gwen. I’m listening,» he encouraged her.

«I was wondering how exactly will a neutronic bombardment induce organic reactions in what you refer to as the subject’s sub-sensitive cortex. Wouldn’t electronic stimulation be more effective?»

«Naturally, but only in a carbon-based life form like ourselves,» Emra conceded, sparing an angry glance for Ines that meant: “Couldn’t you at least make sure they were minimally prepared.” «But as you are surely aware of, Ms. Oskovic, alien species 9-4-89-K’s organic structure is primarily composed of silicon and germanium, plus lesser but still relevant quantities of tin and even minor traces of lead. The current theory on their cerebral and sensory processes (my theory) places both of these in the deeper layers of their sensitive cortex which, as you correctly reminded us, extend to the entire form of the creature and thus are not limited to a single and clearly definable organ. It is a structure so complex that, by comparison, our primitive human brain is…»

«Professor… Sorry for interrupting you, Professor!» Emra forcibly unclenched his fists. «My name is Gillian Strauss and I’m from the Calypso System.»

And why the hell should I…

«I’d like to ask you if you believe the extension of the sub-cortex to be the same in all variants of species 9-4-89, and whether we’ll have the opportunity to conduct any experiments on those subjects.»

Emra kept smiling. It was his best smile, the one he used when he was speaking in front of a very ignorant and rich audience. That smile said: “Thank you for this excellent question, my dear sir! I see that, unlike the others around you, you are quite the expert…”

Emra was still holding on to that smile when he answered: «My dear Mr. …»

«Strauss, Professor! Gillian Strauss.»

« … my dear Mr. Gillian Strauss, if by variants you’re referring to the insectoid sub-units cataloged as sub-species 9-4-89-00X, and sadly known among the non-academics as “crustbreakers”, allow me to re-direct you to section beta, level 8, sub-level 46 inside this very structure. There you will find an abundant quantity of specimens on which you may conduct any and all experiments you deem worthy of your attention, including goading, slicing by means of sharp blades and auditory disturbances generated by impacting the transparent walls of the containment tanks through the use of the lab’s numerous chairs; I suggest holding them by the backrest, with the help of both your hands. But, Mr. Strauss, please don’t ever interrupt me again: my time is precious and I’ve already lost enough of it on you.»

The gravely silence he obtained was extremely gratifying. He pointedly didn’t look towards Ines, who was probably just giving him another one of her stern looks (in four standard years of cooperation, he’d never been able to impress her), and took his sweet time, allowing the annoyance that PhD brat had given him to deflate on its own.

Variants… those things were called 9-4-89-00X for the simple reason that every time you thought you’d cataloged them all, you discovered just as many new ones, none of them holding a shred of interest. They were a byproduct, a regurgitation; they came out totally random and baring one single purpose: shredding things to pieces. He’d had to put up with them for over fifteen years, until he’d taken it upon himself to bring fresh air to those sterile researches after the discovery of variant 9-4-89-K, now purposely called “cerebro”. Cerebros appeared to be just a bunch of inform violet masses with no purpose whatsoever, but the reality underneath their looks was much, much more promising…

«So, where were we?» he went on as if nothing had happened. «Oh, that’s right! As I was saying… what makes neutronic bombardment so important, my dear Gwen, is my personal belief that the Alien’s cognitive processes take place on the level of those very few, yet vital, lead molecules, which are extremely heavy and thus extremely slow, making it imperative they revert to a totally different method for the purposes of transmission and storage of information. Which is…»

Emra waited, confident that this time no one would have anything to say, and he was about to reach the climax of his lecture when…

«Which is a series of variations in the atomic weights due to isotope decay,» Ines’s voice said from behind his back. In that voice, Emra noticed a distinct note of satisfaction.

And this is when I wonder if it would be more pleasing to just kick her out of my lab for good or to finally get her clothes off, he mused, trying to control his temper. «Precisely, my dearest Ines,» he finally conceded. «Now, if you would be so kind to activate the neutron accelerator… we will start the experiment!»

«Professor, wait!» it was sweet Gwen's voice again. «If your theory is correct, don’t you think that a neutronic bombardment might cause a sudden increase in the subjects’ cognitive and rational capability? Wouldn’t we make them more… intelligent?»

There was a hint of worry in that question, fear even.

«When we strive to look beyond the horizons of the unknown, my dear Gwen,» Emra said as solemnly as he could (he always got a kick out of that), «we are always confronted by some form of risk. But if we left the Mother Planet and conquered the stars, it is only because some of us had the courage to take it.» Then he raised his voice again: «I once again remind you all to keep your micro-cams far from the containment tanks and to not, for whatsoever reason, fly them beyond the yellow and red lines. Ines, my dear… are we ready?»

«Of course, Professor.»

«Then let’s begin!»

The accelerator turned on, flooding the transparent tank with a shower of invisible neutrons. Then, suddenly, the whole lab shut down.

Externally, Gillian wore a perfect mask of calm and composure. Perhaps a mindful observer would have noticed the slow and methodical rasping of his nails on the polished glass of that antiquated workstation, or the all too perfect and regular rhythm of his breathing, which he exhaled in short puffs and through tight lips. But apart from that, no one would have guessed the rage and indignation that were burning him up, hotter than a neutron star.

I haven’t felt so humiliated since… since… Why you ugly little piece of pre-stellar space shit! Who the hell do you think you are??

Gillian flew his micro-cam very close to Arkadiev’s left ear, so close that if he had maximized the zooming he would have been able to spot every single speckle of ear wax obstructing the drum. His fingers were already circling on the polished command console to raise the loudspeaker volume to max when, naturally, security protocols took over and piloted the micro-cam at a safety distance.

Defeated, he told himself he’d make that bastard pay some other way, sooner or later. But at that point, his attention was drawn, obediently followed by his micro-cam, to the side of the lab where the testing equipment was installed, to the spot where… Gillian was dazzled, his fingers perfectly still on the console, unable to avert his gaze.

And where did you come from…?

She was a young woman, so young she didn’t bear any sign of youth treatments. She was tall, had green eyes and a sharp face and her hair was dyed a classical blonde, though a little less bright than normal like it was… authentic. Fuck! She was wearing her natural color! Who did that anymore?

Meanwhile, Arkadiev was entertaining himself with cute little Gwen Oskovic, whose previous interruption, needless to say, hadn’t bothered him at all. Gillian had heard of Arkadiev’s… fondness for female students, but he never would have thought him to be such a pig.

He tried to relax, stretching the muscles on his neck which, he could feel, were quite tense, and allowing himself to linger on the blond assistant’s face and her exquisite body.

Since the experiment was about to start, he imitated his colleagues and activated the molecular filters, adding some amplified graphics just for the taste of it. With that kind of configuration, he would see some convincing images of the otherwise invisible neutrons that would be hitting the creature beyond the glass of the containment tank, plus all other possible reactions coming from its Alien body. Puritans advised against amplified graphics, labeling them as useless scenery, but Gillian didn’t mind some entertainment, especially considering he’d have to witness the experiment through a visor (a visor!); he’d been convinced everyone in the galaxy had a cortical implant by now, even here. When he’d found out, he hadn’t believed his ears

«Professor, wait!» Gwen was interrupting again. «If your theory is correct, don’t you think that a neutronic bombardment could cause a sudden increase in the subject's cognitive and rational capability? Wouldn’t we make them more… intelligent?»

It was the stupidest question he’d ever heard, but Emra Arkadiev didn’t show the slightest annoyance and even took the opportunity to show off some more, talking about unknown horizons, courage and other bullshit.

Gillian was shaking his head, but then he noticed that Gwen was looking at him. Her visor was up and her charming blue eyes, amazingly enough, spoke of a real worry. He automatically produced what he hoped looked like a reassuring expression, though it couldn’t have come out properly, since his eyes were still covered. Meanwhile, in his ears, Arkadiev’s voice was inviting Ines, his beautiful assistant, to activate the accelerator controls.

Gwen hastily pulled her visor down, just as Arkadiev was giving the initial start signal (like he was hosting a race), but a moment later, all micro-cams stopped transmitting and went dark, followed by some visible moments of perplexity among the over twenty PhD candidates.

The workstations were arranged in concentric circles, the ones in the back raised higher like in a round-based theater, and Gillian could see his colleagues touching and tinkering with their visors, looking for some plug or switch that would reboot the signal. There was a lot of grumbling in the background.

After some minutes, the first unfriendly comments came. They were aimed at the Professor (and these pleased Gillian very much), at the equipment (“How could a place like Araia Starbase still be equipped with this pre-stellar crap?”), at bad luck and at everything in general.

Gillian was about to remove the visor supports, because they were starting to bother him, when a message string appeared before his eyes. It was Gwen: “The micro-cams are working. Did you notice?”

And why the hell are you telling me this? he wondered, before realizing she was right: the signal hadn’t been interrupted and the micro-cam commands still worked. There was simply nothing they could transmit: no light and no infrared from the lab’s interiors, not even the neutrons that were supposed to be showering down from the accelerator. All that came through was a dead silence and a pitch-black view.

“Something must have happened on the other side. Do you hear anything?” it was Gwen again.

Gillian was about to answer that he didn’t when suddenly all lights in the room – including the command consoles and all other equipment – blinked repeatedly and then shut down, while some very loud noises coming from one of the secondary accesses told them that someone, or something, was trying to get in.

There was a scuffle of feet, of arms and legs and of heads bumping, along with a lot of swearing and many thuds of people falling, while all twenty candidates tried to reach the place where they knew to be the exit; some were carrying small light sources, which just added to the commotion and confusion. Gillian was sitting in the second row and scrambled for a way out but hit his knee in the process, then someone tried to use his head as a support, but slipped and fell, cursing. A hand grabbed his own, it was a girl's hand.

«Come on!» said Gwen Oskovic.

«Ok,» Gillian stammered, grasping her wrist and allowing her to lead the way.

He was hit, pushed and pulled for the better part of a minute, but Gwen’s hand was firm and guided him out of the turmoil. He heard the puff of doors opening and the noise behind him change when others discovered that someone had found a way out; then they all rushed in that direction.

«This way! Hold hands and follow my voice!» Gwen shouted over the babel.

«Where are we going? What do we do?» asked Gillian.

«I think we should head to our rooms, but I’m not sure…» tried Gwen, her voice trembling. «I don’t know any other ways, do you?»

Gillian did, actually, but he didn’t think they’d be useful. And anyway, she was the one who could see in the dark somehow. She must have a personal visor, or maybe some ocular implant… he had no idea how rich she was.

Gwen pulled him along a path she evidently knew and Gillian told himself that she was very tough, to have reacted so coolheadedly. He didn’t want to think of what had happened: he knew that Araia Starbase hosted Alien experiments under the army’s supervision and that there were many live specimens onboard, especially on the inferior levels, but no use wondering on that now. Better to just keep following Gwen, who seemed to know exactly what she was doing, even if her voice trembled and she kept asking for his opinion. Then, suddenly, the girl stopped.

«What’s going on?» he asked, while he was already being squashed from behind.

«Dead end! What do we do now?»

Gillian didn't know what to reply, he was blind and compressed by the weight of other eighteen people, provided they hadn’t lost some already.

«Does anyone else have a visor?» Gwen cried desperately.

«Where the fuck are we?» came the angry response from behind.

They were clearly inside a very small room and the air was beginning to grow hot. Perhaps they could go back, but Gillian doubted the last in line would agree since they kept pushing and swearing because they wanted to go forward. Behind them, further away, they could still hear those noises.

«I’m sorry… I’m sorry…» Gwen kept saying. She was crying. «I thought I’d memorized the way out.»

Gillian felt she had cuddled up beneath him and he was doing his best to shield her from the weight of the others, but he was tiring rapidly.

«Hey! Hey, it’s here! Go forward! Go forwaaard!!»

There was a terrorizing scream. Gillian didn’t know where to go or what to do, he just felt he could no longer breathe, but still all he wanted was to be as far away from where that scream had come from as possible. Then, suddenly, like in some very bad practical joke, the lights turned back on.

Ines entered Arkadiev’s private office. Her stride was smooth and measured, her expression neutral; she folded her arms. She wasn’t sure what that gesture would mean to the Professor, but in her intentions, it conveyed a very hard rebuke.

Emra Arkadiev was slouching on his favorite armchair, staring out towards the stars and the nebula’s ever-changing rainbow of colors, and laughing his head off like a madman.

«Did you see them? Did you see them?» He had tears in his eyes and was unable to dry them up. «I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life. The best students from the Otamendi Academy, the great and young – and a bit too gullible – minds of tomorrow. Ahahaha! I wonder how they managed not to piss their clothes!»

Ines didn’t reply.

«Oh, come on! You can’t say I’m not a genius, you can’t!»

She sighed, but just because she couldn’t refrain herself.

«Don’t look at me like that! We have to find some amusement in this rat cage of a station, right? Ines… did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?» then he burst out laughing again.

Ines closed her eyes and made it a point not to sigh again. «At least tell me you’d thought it through,» she pleaded.

That reeled him in, for a moment. «Absolutely not,» he said unfortunately. «I had the idea when that sweet little student asked me that question. What was her name again…?»

«Gwen Oskovic.»

«Yes! That’s the one.»

«Someone could have gotten hurt. There could have been an accident!»

«But there wasn’t one! Right?»

«There wasn’t one out of pure luck.»

«You’re just mad because I had you in too. Say it!»

Ines decided to ignore him and pulled out her omni-tool. It was a trinket from home, in the shape of a small hollow pyramid missing its tip. She turned it on and allowed the semitransparent holograms to materialize between her and Arkadiev. «I’ve reprogrammed your schedule and made new appointments,» she reported, «I just need to know if you’ll be attending Professor James’ lecture.»

«In his dreams,» cried Arkadiev (hearing that name always put him on edge, Ines knew it). «And I still don’t understand why you keep using that antiquated tool. The cortical implants we have here are much more…»

«It belonged to my grandmother,» she cut him short, «and I like it. Can I persuade you to change your mind, regarding the lecture? You know the Board members won’t be pleased if you don’t show up.»

«And they can go fuck themselves while they’re at it!»

That particular point would take some convincing, but Ines was accustomed to it. She decided to let it drop and tend to other matters: «We’ll have to repeat the experiment and apologize to the PhD candidates.»

«Apologize?» Arkadiev immediately recovered his smile. «And what should we say exactly?»

«That we’re sorry for the equipment malfunction and the trouble it caused and that we’ll be glad to have them again as our guests, this time making sure we’re not interrupted.»

«And that’s why I like you, Ines dear: you always know what to do. What would I do without you, I wonder.»

Ines made no reply and left. She had work to do. A lot of work to do…

H965 mining installation – Planet Cronos, Centaur Cluster, galactic year 12.453

Little Emra was sitting in the locker room beside the entrance, and he was tinkering with the last toys Daddy had brought him. He had a whole bunch of ‘em, all scattered across that tiny space: his own private kingdom. He really liked the sound some of those objects made when they hit one another, that metallic tinkling… it rang so nicely in his ears, though it made Mom really angry.

Emra played because it was fun, and also because, when he played, he could pretend not to hear the shouting coming from the other room, the bigger one where his parents dwelt (mom was the king there) and where he only came in as a shy guest, careful not to disturb the quiet and the dull tidiness of that foreign reign.

«This can’t go on!» Mom was shouting. «We need those credits. For our future, for his future!»

It was usually Mom who did all the shouting, while Dad always talked in a low voice. Emra liked the sound of his voice, and he would have liked to hear it always, but Mom didn’t like it and whenever he said something to try and calm her, she would shout even more.

Steps. They were coming his way and they were Mom’s. A moment later the door sprang open and she leaned inside to look, her shiny and short auburn hair reflecting the ceiling’s even light. Her eyes scanned the room and then fixed on him, and the toys he held, widening with anger.

«You brought him another one?» she bellowed, looking at Dad. «How much more of this junk will you bring back here? Do you realize if they find out they’ll take the house away?»

Her anger wasn’t directed at him, he knew that. But when mom was angry at dad, Emra always felt like he was being held accomplice: he and dad were a close-knit team.

«Come on, honey… you’re scaring him.»

Dad’s big and gentle hand delicately touched Mom’s shoulder, though it looked like she meant to bite it off, then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she did that, she usually ended up crying.

«Can’t you see you’re just making it worse? Can’t you see it?» she said, sobbing.

«I want him to have some nice memories, that’s all.»

«But…»

«And I want you to have some as well, my love.»

He pulled her gently, and she let him, until her figure was back on the threshold of the locker room, then she fell to her knees in front of Emra and cried with her hands on her face.

«I’m sorry, dear… mom’s just very tired and worried. I’m so sorry!»

Emra looked at his father. His figure, as tall as the door itself, towered over them with its eternally gentle gaze. He made a nod of encouragement and Emra, a bit shyly at first, scooted close to Mom and let her hug him; her cheeks were warm with tears.

«Come on, sport,» Dad said after a while. «Time for dinner.»

Mom usually calmed down after those outbursts, and she and Dad would spend the evening watching the flat screen, while she rested her head on his big shoulder, and he caressed her softly. Emra would take a seat between their feet, holding one of his toys, until it was time for bed. But this time he would stay awake and not fall asleep as usual. No sir, he wouldn’t!

Emra’s father worked in the extraction plant: block 42, subsection 634, team F. Emra had been ordered to learn that name by heart by both mom and dad (it was one of the few things they actually agreed upon), so in case of an emergency, he would have known how to get in touch with them, although Emra had no idea what an “emergency” was.

Dad usually left when Emra still hadn’t woken up and got back in time for dinner; sometimes, he would also bring him a present, the last one had been a “quadri-axial compass tool” which had immediately become a favorite. Mom, on the other hand, didn’t leave till she and Emra had finished breakfast, and she always gave him daily chores (today, he was supposed to clean the big room), returning well before Dad to make sure he’d done his job.

But that day, Dad came back early. Emra had been playing and he still hadn’t begun cleaning, so he was expecting to be punished, but Dad was smiling when he picked him up. «Come on, sport,» he said. «Let’s go for a ride.»

It was the happiest day of his life.

Dad took him out of the house, out of the hab complex Emra had rarely seen and never thoroughly explored, and even out of Hive 14, the huge complex where (Dad explained) their house was just a tiny, tiny cell and which housed more than two hundred thousand people (Emra had no idea how much that was, but from dad’s tone, he gathered it must be a lot).

They took something called an elevator: a strange and very huge machine, which had an entrance just like a house but was much bigger inside, and empty; Emra thought he’d like to try and build one with his tools. The elevator took them down, a whole lot down, creaking in a way that reminded him of his playtime, and when it finally stopped and let them out, Emra’s eyes opened wide with enthusiasm.

«This is the main walkway,» Dad said happily, «and it’s rare to see it so empty.»

They were in a huge tunnel, with lights shining up top, and it was so long it got lost in the distance. Emra had never seen such a high ceiling, and he had never thought it could exist. To the sides, where the curving walls touched the paving, there were two rows of big transparent things that looked like giant eggs.

«Those are trains and they take you right to your section,» Dad explained. He made way to one of those egg-shaped “trains”, and Emra couldn’t believe how much time it took them to reach it. He finally discovered that the “train” was at least ten times taller than he was, though it had looked small from afar.

«Today we have a special permit,» Dad said, without explaining to him what a special permit was. «The trains usually only run on pre-scheduled timetables or in case of emergency, but I called in some favors,» he added with a wink.

He walked up and put his hand on a print reader, and the great semi-transparent ovoid lifted with a strong vent that made little Emra jump, while his father laughed and tried to reassure him. It revealed a large tubular corridor colored in blue light, full of strange seats, with belts and buckles. They were completely empty.

«Come on,» Dad said, «have a seat. I had this brought in just for you.»

One of the seats had another smaller seat right on top of it, tightly fixed. Emra followed Dad’s instructions and sat down, feeling excited, while he was being buckled in.

«What are these for?» he asked, a little worried.

«You’ll see,» Dad just announced with a smile.

As soon as he was finished, his father took a seat right next to him and buckled up as well, then he winked again. «Ready?»

Emra had no idea what he was supposed to be ready for, but he nodded promptly: he would have followed his father anywhere and he was super excited.

«Let’s gooo!»

And the train dashed forward. Emra was pinned to the seat while the straps tightened and kept him completely immobile. He was scared at first, he couldn’t even tilt his head to look at Dad, but then he heard his joyous shout; he’d never heard him yell so loud before. He realized they were going really fast, and that he was having fun. He started laughing and he and Dad yelled together when the train made a sharp turn, tossing them around through sheer inertia.

The trip ended too soon. The train slowed and then halted, freeing them from their restraints, and Emra regretfully got off, finding it so hard to stay firm on his legs that if Dad hadn’t helped him up, he would have fallen. Then they got out, holding hands, and stepped into a completely different environment.

The place was full of people, and they were all dressed the same. They walked very fast and in every possible direction, sometimes eyeing them curiously but never stopping, just going their way without hesitation; Emra had never seen so many people all together. He would have stared at that multitude forever if he hadn’t been firmly grasping Dad’s hand. He kept wondering where they all might be going, and how they could all know where to go and what to do. Though they were moving so fast and apparently at random, they were always able not to bump into each other.

They walked through that river of people which seemed impassable and reached a railing that was taller than Emra. Dad hoisted him on top of it, holding him by the arms and saying: «Welcome to Block 42, sport.»

Emra was looking down an empty and dark hole, illuminated by the white lights of dozens of levels like the one they were on, clinging to the walls like thick luminous rings.

«This is level 75,» Dad said. «That’s about halfway down the well. Pretty cool, huh!»

Emra nodded, fascinated by the game of shades and lights made by the innumerable levels of Block 42. They seemed to go on forever, both downward and upward.

«What do you say, sport? You wanna see where daddy works?»

«Yeah!!»

«Then let’s get going!»

They took some elevators again, this time much larger and taller, and faster. They rose a good number of levels, but Emra almost instantly lost count, and they emerged in a place that was identical to the one they had just left, though a lot less crowded. Dad took him by the hand to a point where a man, shorter than Dad but with thicker arms, was waiting for them.

«Hey, Barca!» Dad greeted him.

«So this is the little champion!» Barca said laughing. Once they were close, Emra noticed he had black dirt both on his face and on his arms. If mom could see him…

«Sorry again, Bar,» Dad answered, «and… thank you.»

«Cut the bullsh… ahh… cut the crap, Hank! Team F takes care of its own, you know that,» Barca announced. «So, little guy,» he said speaking to Emra, «do you know where we are? You don’t? That’s what I thought. Well… this here,» he said pointing to a hole in the ground, with metal pieces protruding from it, «is the main hook, and now we’ll put you in a nice miner’s harness so you won’t fall. Whaddya say? You’re not scared of heights are ya?»

Emra was overwhelmed by Barca’s continued chattering, but he turned to Dad and received an encouraging nod, so he let the other man help him into a strange overall full of straps and hooks, it felt very tight.

«It wasn’t easy finding one so small, but Mold knows his way around,» Barca was saying while he worked. «How’s yours holding up, mate?»

«I’m all set,» Dad answered. «Ready when you are…»

«Come on, little guy,» Barca said to Emra, «just be careful where you put your feet.»

They climbed down the hole. It was narrow at first and it smelled like burned stone, but once they got a few feet down Emra found himself in an entirely new world, made completely of dark rock and illuminated by white hanging lamps.

It was a “vertical” world, where dozens of men, all wearing harnesses, chiseled and chipped the rock with a quantity of tools Emra would have never thought could exist, making that beautiful sound he badly tried to reproduce in his small playroom back home. He was a little scared, scared to fall for the most part, but Dad’s firm hand never left his own and Barca’s presence in front of him was reassuring enough.

Everyone smiled when they greeted him, but they got right back to work.

«It’s time I got some work done,» Dad said. «The guys have covered for me but I need to make up for lost time. You wanna give me a hand? Just… keep an eye out for the rock-biter ferrets, ok? They’re harmless… but they like to pull pranks.»

Emra made no objections.

It was very late when they got home, even later than when Dad usually got back, and they were covered head to toe in black soot, happy as ever. Emra was so tired he barely noticed they took his clothes off and put him in the nebulizer, and the warm sensation felt so good he nearly fell asleep. In that moment he made up his mind: all he wanted to do in his life was work like dad, with all those tools on that black wall lighted by lamps, taking the train and the elevator; he wanted to be a miner.

He wasn’t aware they’d put him to bed, and he only barely heard his parents’ voices talking to one another. Mom, for some reason, seemed sad, and Dad was trying to cheer her up.

«Our sacrifices paid off, my love,» he was saying. «We gave him a future.»

«And what if I’m not strong enough?» Mom answered. «What if I can’t let him go?»

«You will be. We will be, together. He’ll have a better life, a longer and richer life, full of things we could never give him.»

Mom was sobbing.

«He is our gift to the Universe,» Dad said again. «He’ll make us proud. I know it.»

Emra didn’t know what they were talking about. His eyes were closed already and the world of dreams was calling to him. The next morning, he wouldn’t remember a thing.

PART 2 – The Fair Planet

Araia Research Starbase, Orion Nebula, galactic year 12.594

It just didn’t add up.

Emra did another lap in that wide space adorned with multifunctional panels he considered his living room, hoping to have an idea, or at least an intuition…

The experiments with neutronic bombardment had produced the expected results: a predictable change in the energy states of the lead atoms and an abundant creation of heavy isotopes; everything had gone as the initial calculations had predicted, and they had found exactly what they’d expected to find. And that was essentially the problem.

A “successful experiment” Ines had called it, while she was efficiently cataloging the results and sending them to his personal portfolio, but Emra had rarely felt such a burning disappointment.

He was at a dead end. Dead as in dead, stiff… unmoving! Years of research and hopes… just to find out that his hypotheses were wrong, that in the crystal ball where he had looked so intently, there was really nothing to see, apart from some stupid light tricks. 

He couldn’t help but think about what his competitors would say or do if they’d seen him in such a state, and that thought alone made him grit his teeth till they hurt. James, Barokon, Milardi, Mortimer and that weasel, Mina Yankai… they were all waiting for his false step, his inevitable fall: the great Emra Arkadiev, proving he was just a broken engine making some big sparks, a windbag. 

«Ines,» he called out loud to the empty room.

Just a few seconds went by, then his assistant’s voice answered him as if it had come from behind his back: «Yes, Professor?» 

«Would you please come here? I need to talk to you.»

«I’ll be right there.»