Colony Fever (Novel Preview)

Owen’s boots clanged against the hull. A seam on the starboard side was giving him particular trouble. Over and over he’d laid a line and had to separate it because it wasn’t perfect enough. About the fourth time through, Owen had pondered just leaving it as a sort of middle finger to the company. They could launch their colony ship out into space, and it would crumple like an empty can, destroying valuable property. Wasted company money was lives saved as far as Owen was concerned. Then again, he’d also kill all the helpless colonists who’d just taken the credit incentive to move their lives off-world. They didn’t deserve to be victims of Owen’s material revenge plot. He cranked his torch and began his fifth attempt at a space-worthy seal.

How do you even cut a hull like this? Space lances?

“Railey!” A booming voice echoed through the bay.

Owen flinched and dragged a stray mark away from the cut. He froze, his stomach suddenly in knots. The voice wasn’t Lin’s and he was sure he hadn’t told anyone else his real name. Maybe there was someone else in the bay also named Railey. It wasn’t that uncommon of a name, right?

He fought the urge to look around. Maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, no one would know it was him. Curiosity gnawed at his brain, though, and he lost his battle.

He scanned the bay. Other workers looked around. They recognized the tone of voice. Usually, when someone’s name was hollered, they were in trouble. Their pay was about to be severely docked, or in egregious scenarios, they’d be sent to a camp on an undisclosed planet to work off whatever debt they may have incurred. Rumor had it that there was one on Neptune, but no whistle had been blown on that one yet.

Owen made eye-contact with a man in military fatigues by the podium. The man’s chiseled jawline flexed. His hands were clasped behind his back in a matter-of-fact kind of way. His broad shoulders filled the room and in that moment, he seemed gargantuan.

“Whatever that Railey guy did must be serious,” Grant, a worker near Owen, said.

“Sounds like it.” Owen turned around and focused on his seal. If he ignored the man, maybe he’d go away and Owen wouldn’t have to face whatever was coming his way.

“Owen H. Railey, former Chief Science Officer of Gaia Colony,” the military officer boomed. “If I do not see you here within the next thirty seconds, you are at risk of being court marshaled.”

Owen sighed and turned off his torch. The crack had been sealed and up to snuff. No helpless colonists would implode today. He stood up and walked down the hull.

Murmurs raced through the bay. Grant stared at Owen. Fingers locked onto him felt like they would burn holes in his skin. The Gaia Massacre had been big news when it broke. Across the globe people had protested space colonization saying, “We’re not ready,” “How many more have to die,” “Justice.” In the end, Titanis ignored them and proceeded with their mission as planned, and the movement fizzled out as time faded its urgency. The company got better at hiding their mishaps after that, and no real scrutiny had been applied since.

Owen stepped onto the floor of the bay and hit the button on his shoes to unstrap them. He stepped out, grabbed them, and headed for the podium. His supervisor’s eyes were locked on the name stitched on Owen’s shirt, “Kennedy.”

The military man held out a hand to shake Owen’s. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Who am I meeting?” Owen shook his hand. The thick scent of teakwood and tobacco drifted off the man.

“General Hicks.”

“Now hold on.” Matthews stepped from his podium and place a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “I don’t know what game Mr. Kennedy is playing at here. But you’ve got the wrong guy. There’s no Railey on the roster today.”

Owen brushed off Matthews’ hand.

“There’s been no mistake,” Hicks said, “and there will be no more questions.”

“Sir, we’ve got plenty—”

“Did I not make myself clear?” Hicks got in Matthews’ face. Spit spewed from his lips and dotted Matthews’ face. “I will revoke this station’s contract faster than you can blink! Do you think I don’t know what goes on here?” He pointed above Owen’s left eye.

Owen must’ve missed a spot with the gel.

Matthews shrank and backed off. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Hicks backed off and gestured for Owen to follow him. “Let’s go, Kennedy.”

He stepped toward the hall. Owen stole a glance toward Matthews who sulked behind his podium. He wasn’t used to his power being challenged, and weak men weren’t keen on having their softness exposed. A siren screamed in the bay and steam billowed from a line of vents in the ceiling. The temperature in the bay was about to rise a few degrees. When the superiors were mad, they often made work conditions worse as a form of overcompensation.

Owen followed Hicks out of the bay and into the corridor that stretched the length of ship. He hadn’t been requested by the military since the month following Gaia. He’d done countless interviews with researchers and investigators to find out what happened and how they might prevent it in the future. But, ultimately they did nothing with the information as far as Owen was aware. He’d peeked at modern protocol once and it looked nearly identical to the regimen he’d followed. The only difference was that a dampening material had been added to construction so that storms wouldn’t be so disruptive.

Crashes of thunder and bangs of gunshots woven together like a discordant duet echoed through the hallway and pushed on Owen’s ears. It was too loud. It was too much. Sparks of exposed wire danced across the hall. The floor under his feet was suddenly made of metal grating and splotched with blood. His daughter’s laugh taunted him from somewhere behind him.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Owen clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He fell to his knees, and shook his head.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Oh, get up, son,” Hicks said, his voice muffled through Owen’s palms. “I don’t have time for your dramatics.”

Owen opened his eyes and looked around. It was the same supply depot corridor he traveled everyday. His cheeks warmed and he stood up. All he was missing was a white lab coat for the complete insane scientist look. He ran a hand through his hair. It had been two years since his last breakdown. The ichor had stifled them enough, but a general summoning him had successfully broken through that numbness. Owen suspected Hicks was about to violently rip open some old wounds, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

***

Owen took a sip from a tin mug of coffee Hicks had smacked onto the table before he stepped out. The room felt like an interrogation room. Bright lights beat down on Owen’s eyes. Blank gray walls pressed in on him. A mirror covered one wall, and Owen suspected there were multiple people behind it, studying his every move. He put the mug down and the rich smell of coffee was replaced again by the stale stench of an uncleaned room. Mold wasn’t so much an issue in space as un-recycled air. If someone didn’t come in every once in a while and do a full change, the smell of sweat, dead skin, and bad breath lingered indefinitely. It may have been a deliberate choice in that room—a room he’d never seen before. It was tucked at the far end of the administration wing and he’d tried to avoid management as much as possible, lest they find out his real identity.

Of course, that was out the window now.

“So, will you tell me why I’m here now?” There was no one in the room, but there might be a microphone somewhere. In fact, he was almost certain.

The door slid open and Hicks stepped back in with a tablet in hand. He set it on the table and slid it over to Owen. “I hope you know that you’d have to try a lot harder to erase your identity completely.”

“Was less about faking my death and more about being a normal employee.”

Hicks nodded with a grunt.

Owen picked up the tablet and inspected it. On the screen was a picture of his face and a profile. Some of the data was outdated. His weight was definitely a lot less than four years ago. But what bothered him was the occupation section that had him listed as a warehouse worker. They’d known where he was the whole time. As much as he wanted to believe what he’d told Hicks, he’d hoped to just fall through the cracks until he eventually croaked. A stat at the bottom of the list caught his eye. Drug use: addict. How could they possibly have found out about his ichor habit? He felt naked.

“Owen Railey, we didn’t want to have to use you again. Frankly, you’re a liability. I don’t think you are mentally ready to go back onto a station, and I’m not sure you won’t blow the whistle on our entire operation. I don’t trust you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your father.”

Owen’s breath caught. His back straightened and he scooted to the edge of his chair. Dr. William Railey had been MIA since before Gaia. Somewhere along the way, the government had taken an interest in his work and contracted him to do God knows what, and Owen hadn’t seen him in at least seven years. Maybe it was longer, but Owen had stopped counting when he had his own family.

“Haven’t seen him in years,” Owen said. “Not sure what kind of help you think I’ll be.”

“I think none, but my superiors think otherwise.” Hicks grabbed the pad and dragged his finger across the screen.

The lights in the room dimmed, and a tiny square compartment opened in the wall. White streaks of light burst from it and in the air by the table, a screen materialized. On it was a set of blueprints for a station that looked like a silo—tall, cylindrical, with point at the top. The inside was a web of rooms that didn’t fit neatly into clear levels, but staircases and lifts connected them seamlessly. Zigzagging catwalks jutted at odd angles and created landings that were labeled “common spaces.” To the side of the blueprint was a live footage of a planet labeled, “Veitrus.” Owen had never seen it before, but by the looks of the swirling, flashing clouds on its surface, it wasn’t a friendly place.

“Good ol’ Veitrus,” Hicks said. “A few lightyears outside our Solar System and raging storm central. The eggheads up top decided it’d be a perfect place for a research colony because Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

Hicks hit a button on the tablet and the screen flashed to a chemical composition readout. At the top of the list was a prominent oxygen presence and below that was a question mark and a percentage just below the oxygen levels.

“Early recon missions detected elements unknown to humankind,” Hicks said, “and we wanted to find out what it was. Plus those oxygen levels were promising if we could calm down the storm patterns.”

“How could you possibly think you guys could alter an entire planet’s atmopshere?” Owen asked.

“Wasn’t up to me.” Hicks shrugged. The screen flashed back to the blueprints and the live footage. “We dropped this facility onto the surface six months ago and flew in your father with a small team of colonists to get a start on the operation. Research looked promising until three weeks ago, when your father went on an incoherent rant and threatened to blow up the facility if we didn’t send you down to meet him.”

Hicks gestured toward Owen in a “You know where I’m going with this” way.

Owen’s jumpsuit suddenly felt too tight. What could his father possibly want with him? He was shocked that his dad even remembered he had a son.

“So, you’re sending me down there?”

Payne Spiva (c) 2024