Chapter One; Mission Year 2101
Jahn Lal awoke to a buzzing in his head. It took him a moment to realize that the buzzing really was inside his head, and not in the dim metal room around him, and then his heart began to pound.
It's in my mind.
He began to tremble, and he looked around, realizing that he lay in something like a glass coffin. Tubes and wires snaked down into his arm, which was thin as a rail, and a plastic tube jammed down his throat choked him.
What's happening to me? Last thing I remember I was on Earth, in the cryochamber, the suspension gel welling up around me....
He began to panic. Someone in a blue uniform loomed above him for a moment, his face a mixture of affection and concern. Jahn felt a warm hand touch him and then the figure hurried on.
That was my father.
Jahn took a deep breath. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, but beyond that he could hear shouts and scuffling, and then he heard screams. One word stood out.
" -- mindworms -- "
His heart pounding, he tore the IV tubes from his arms, then grabbed the thick plastic tube in his throat and pulled it out. He gagged at the taste of bile and the hideous sensation of the tube sliding out. His vision blurred and nausea wracked him, but the buzzing sound seemed to have retreated a bit, like a cautious animal.
He put his hands on the side of the coffin, which he now dimly recognized as a cryocell, the one that had held him in stasis on the forty-year journey from Earth to Alpha Centauri.
The new world. Is this the new world?
Somehow he hooked his limbs over the rim of the cryocell and pulled himself up. Nausea wracked him again.
His vision was still blurry, but he could dimly make out a small room with some equipment piled in a corner. He knew he wasn't on the Unity anymore; he couldn't feel the vibration of the ship around him. In fact his limbs felt heavy, and the air tasted stale. It could all have been a side effect of the cryosleep, but somehow he knew it wasn't.
I think we made it. We actually made it!
There was the stomping of feet and more shouts from somewhere nearby, and then a rushing sound, like fire from an exhaust. He felt an odd sensation of heat from somewhere, and thought he saw the orange light of flames in the narrow metal hallway outside. The hissing sound swelled in his brain, then began to die out.
I really don't feel well.
He slumped to the ground, his hand touching the glass of his cryocell and then sliding down it. As he fell into unconsciousness he saw a vision of the burning rings, the rings of fire that consumed the cities of Earth, right before the launch of the Unity. And those rings now contracted around him.
The next day
Mindworms.
In his cramped pressurized room, Jahn lifted the small weights that would help to recondition his body following his near-disastrous cryosleep, remembering the word he'd heard during the chaos that accompanied his awakening. Part of him wondered if he'd dreamed the whole thing. But no; after he'd come to, his caretaker Paula scrupulously avoided answering his questions. Something bad had happened.
He heard someone enter the room and looked up to see his father, a tall, slender Indian man in the pale blue uniform of a ship's surgeon, even its hightech fabric now somewhat tattered from wear. Jahn rose quickly, letting the small weight fall back to the metal floor.
"Father!"
"Jahn," Pravin Lal answered with a smile, and moved toward him. They embraced. "I am so glad you're well."
"I'm doing better." He backed up and looked at his father, at the lines of worry etching his face. "What happened here?"
"A mindworm attack. Indigenous animal life. Most of the time they leave us alone, but there is a field of native plant life nearby that they sometimes...nest in, I guess you would call it. We don't know. Sometimes they stir all at once, seeming to boil up from the ground."
"They were inside my mind. A buzzing..."
"If you only heard a buzz, you're lucky, Jahn. The worms were right outside the base. Most of the people saw, and heard, their worst nightmares. We think they're empathic." He shook his head. "But forget about all that. You need to rest."
"I am resting," said Jahn with determination. He glanced at his reflection in the glass of the cryocell. He was a tall man in his late thirties, with a light brown complexion typical of his ancestry. His muscles, once lean and strong, were now thin from disuse, but he would fix that. Long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was his father's son, but with a special toughness, the toughness that came from being raised in chaotic times.
Pravin touched his shoulder. "You know that your cryocell was damaged on the ship and that you're lucky to be alive. Don't push too hard. I'll bring you up to speed in good time."
"Will mother be visiting?" asked Jahn, looking back at the weights.
"You will visit her, in time," said Pravin, and when Jahn looked up his father had already left through the narrow curtain that served as his door.
Kilometers distant, Corazon Santiago watched as her medics stood over the crude metal hospital crib, yanking tubes and cords from the body inside. She clenched her teeth as they went about their work with brutal efficiency. Finally, one of them turned to her.
"What would you like us to do, Colonel?" The man's face remained cold and stern as he watched her, although there was no hint of disrespect in his manner. Just an expectant waiting.
Instead of answering, she stepped forward, gesturing for the medics to stand aside. They backed up slowly, mildly confused by the change in procedure. She looked into the cold metal crib at the body inside, pale and weak, with a blue tint to the skin. The face contorted with pain, and the baby's back was arched, as if against a blade in the spine. But the pain this child felt came from within, from some kind of inherited weakness.
"Put him on life support," she said, never taking her eyes from the boy's tiny limbs. She started to add something more, but did not. Instead she turned away and left the room, feeling the dark stares of the medics in her back.
She walked quickly down the hallway outside the hospital room, heading back to the command center. Five Spartans jogged by her, heavy lead weights hanging from their wrists and ankles, but they all managed a salute as they passed. She noted the sweat pouring down their faces with approval.
"Colonel," said a voice behind her. She did not stop, but waited for her second-in-command, Diego, to fall in step next to her. "Permission to speak freely."
She turned, cool eyes appraising him from a face that was smooth and stern. He shifted back a step; Santiago had been forty years old when she first entered cryosleep for the Unity exodus. Her body retained a youthful vitality and strength from rigorous training and periodic genetic treatments. Her jet black hair was pulled back from her face, giving her a clean, efficient look. She was nothing if not an intimidating presence.
"What is it, Commander?" she asked.
"That child, sir...why did you save him? He barely survived his birth, and his condition has grown worse over time. He won't survive long on Chiron. And if he does survive, he'll only be a liability."
She stopped and turned to look at him. "I know that, Diego. But he is dying. What would you have me do?"
He held her gaze. "I know you have the strength to do what is necessary, Colonel. Letting the boy live will look bad to our people. I fear it will be seen as a sign of weakness, and will undermine your authority."
"I built this base, and I defy anyone to challenge my authority, Diego. This child...he is only one life, nothing more. He will not bring down the Spartans."
"I know he is only one life, Colonel, but he represents a different way of life. A way of life you know we can't sustain. It is too hard in this world to coddle the weak."
She leaned toward him, her dark eyes burning into his. "Do you think that I am weak, Diego? Do you question my resolve, or my prowess?"
He glanced away. "No, sir. But not every king bears a prince."
She held his gaze, and he shifted uncomfortably. "He is my son, Diego. He has a strength in him. I believe he will do good things for us." She waited, watching him, as several moments passed. Another five Spartans ran by, their heavy breathing echoing off the walls of the narrow hallway. "Do you have any further objections?"
Diego bowed his head slightly. "No, Colonel. Permission to continue in my duties."
"Granted," she said, and accepted his salute. He turned and hurried away, and Santiago continued toward the command center, her pace a little slower than before.
Two weeks later
Jahn Lal awoke in his cryocell, which he still used as a bed. He waited for his eyes to adjust as he stared at the curve of carbon-scored metal that arced over his head, illuminated by indirect sunlight that crept from gaps between the walls and floor.
It's a tomb, he thought. A tomb I still need to escape from. He felt his belly churn from the crude protein synthetics he had eaten the night before. That and the heaviness of his limbs, courtesy of Chiron's greater-than-Earth gravity, still made him feel out of sorts. He wondered when he would feel whole again.
A face loomed over him, soft and round, with wide blue eyes. A smile followed, and he groaned.
"You look good," said a voice that never failed to torment him with its quiet huskiness.
"Thanks," he said ruefully, glancing down at his chest, which was stronger from his exercises but not quite where he wanted it to be. He still didn't know what to make of Paula and her constant flirtations. "Why do you always arrive at the exact moment I'm waking up, Paula?"
He felt her warm hands on his arms, pulling him up. "You're very predictable, Jahn. You still haven't adjusted to the shortened days on Chiron, and you still wake up every twenty-four hours."
"But you're always here!"
"I've scheduled my shifts around it." She helped him to a sitting position and checked his pulse and blood pressure, nodding as she did. Jahn took the time to look around his small room. Not a room really, more a curve of carbon-scored metal that the techs had used to form his makeshift recovery area. He wondered when his father would release him from medical care and allow him to work again.
I want to see this world.
When Paula was done he pushed her hands away, wanting to get out of the cryocell under his own power. She stood back respectfully as he leaned on the cold glass edge of the cryocell and heaved himself out onto a low rubber stair, holding his sweaty white bed sheet around his waist.
"Did everyone get this hammered by the cryosleep?" he asked, catching his breath.
"Everyone had to adjust," she said, appraising his movements. "But you were in a cryobay that took some damage during the fighting on the Unity, disrupting your life support. You're very lucky to be alive."
"You look like you came through it all right," he said, looking at her tight blue uniform as he lifted his hands to smooth back his long tangle of jet-black hair. At that moment, the sheet slipped from around his waist, leaving him exposed. She stifled a laugh.
"Great," said Jahn, bending over gingerly to pick up the sheet. "Mornings are the worst, I think."
"Do your exercises and get dressed," she said. "I assume I don't have to bathe you anymore."
"You ask me that every morning, Paula."
She laughed again. He looked back at the cryocell with its smooth glass shape. "I'm tired of sleeping in that thing. It smells like death."
"It's been sterilized, Jahn. It doesn't smell like anything."
"It still smells like death to me, and weakness."
"Well, it's about time to move you to the common rooms anyway. You were only staying here because of your father."
He nodded sharply. "Good. I don't want any more special treatment."
She smiled. "Your father will be pleased to hear that. He wants you to join him in the Planet Walk at eight hundred hours."
Jahn looked at her. "He told you that?"
She nodded. "Wear your uniform. I think this is business." She moved closer to him and kissed him on the cheek. He leaned into the kiss, making sure to hold on to his sheet this time.
"Take care of yourself, Jahn," she said. "Chiron is not an easy place to live."
He moved closer to her, and then she turned and pushed through the curtains that served as a door to his crude recovery room.
At least I have a door, he thought, as he threw the sheet in a bundle against the wall and began a series of strengthening exercises his yoga teacher had taught him back on Earth.
Jahn walked with Paula down a narrow, metal-lined hallway. He had washed himself from head to toe with the tepid water in the bathing room, and now had on a clean uniform. He felt good, as fresh as he had felt since arriving on Chiron.
"As you know, your father has done a wonderful job getting this base up and running," Paula said. "When the Unity broke apart, the seven pod leaders barely made it down to the surface. In fact, we still don't know where everyone landed, or if they're still alive."
Jahn nodded. He had started to piece all of this together during his recovery, but he appreciated Paula's summary.
"We know that Deirdre Skye is somewhere to the northwest, and Director Morgan is due north, and Zakharov is pretty close by as well. They each had over a thousand people in their landing pods, just like us." She suddenly fell silent as a tall, gangly man in a high-collared white tunic entered the hallway from the other side and walked past them, fixing them both with a cool gaze.
"That was one of Zakharov's citizens," Paula said softly. "Of course the entire crew of the Unity is supposed to work together on Chiron, but since welanded far apart there has been a certain degree of self-sufficiency required. Travel on Chiron is hard, and your father fears that the bases may become more like city-states than parts of a larger society. He really wants everyone working together." He felt their shoulders touch briefly.
Coming from Earth, we're used to fighting, he thought. He closed his eyes for a moment and saw the burning rings again, fires that consumed cities.
"Let's go this way." Paula turned a corner into another narrow metal hallway. "I know a shortcut." It was dark, but he could see scorch marks on the metal.
They looked as though they'd been caused by closerange weapons fire, and he knitted his eyebrows.
"So it's true," he said. "We really did try to kill each other on the Unity, before even reaching the Promised Land."
"If this is the Promised Land, then someone has broken their promise," said Paula, and Jahn glanced at her, startled by the bitterness that sometimes slipped through her warm facade. He ran his hand along the metal of the wall, which felt hot from a sun he could not see.
Three suns, actually, he reminded himself. Alpha Centauri A was the primary star in this system, but Alpha Centauri B would be visible in the skies and have some effect on the tides. The last star, Proxima Centauri, was little more than a hunk of smouldering rock too far away to have much influence at all. Paula picked up her pace and he hurried to catch up to her.
"These hallways are narrower than my cryocell," he said, and she nodded.
"Survival base. Everything you see has been constructed out of pieces of the Unity. We've had to become very creative."
As they walked, he noticed how numerous the makeshift innovations were: the spindly wreckage of the Unity's gridded superstructure had apparently been reshaped into hallways, living spaces, and workrooms. Everything was small and crude, but had a certain functional elegance to it.
Up ahead Jahn noticed natural sunlight streaming into the end of the corridor. They reached the end and rounded a corner, and Jahn found himself in a long hallway with glass walls that let sunlight pour in from all sides. He stopped short at the entrance to the hallway, stunned by the vista that opened up around him. His gaze immediately went to a golden sphere in the sky that looked almost identicle to Earth's sun and then, lower in the horizon, he saw another small nexus of light that burned with a rich orange color.
The new world. And two suns. My God, there are two suns in the sky.
He stared at them, feeling their heat on his face, and knowing it was worthless to look for tiny Proxima Centauri in this bright midday light. Finally he let his eyes drift down from the suns to a landscape that stretched on forever, with a far longer horizon than Earth. He felt overwhelmed by the vast emptiness, as flat and rolling land made of a reddish soil rolled on and away from him.
"Chiron," he said in a quiet voice, trying out the name of the new world as he continued to absorb the sight before his eyes. It overwhelmed his memories of crowded, dirty, pre-Apocalypse Earth. He looked up into the sky again, noting its pale bluewhite color and tendrils of clouds tinged with brown drifting lazily across it.
"The brown is due to the high nitrogen content of the air," said Paula, following his gaze. "This place is a nitrogen heaven."
"It's incredible," said Jahn. "I haven't really gotten a good look at the landscape until now."
"We can go up to the observation room later. As far as we can tell, the soil everywhere has that reddish brown color. You can see on that hill to the right some of our workers tending a farm, on the slopes leading up to that ridge overlooking the base. The hybrids that we've produced from our emergency stores grow well in Chiron's atmosphere and soil, although the air is too nitrogen heavy for us to breathe for very long without pressure masks. This place is more friendly to Earth's plants than its mammals."
Jahn nodded. The farmers, wearing thick jumpsuits and light, translucent face masks, tended neat rows of dark green hybrids. They looked quite insignificant against the sweep of Chiron's surface. Coming from an Earth choked with metal and concrete, Jahn could hardly believe the expansiveness of it all.
"Where's the native plant life, this xenofungus I've heard so much about?" he asked.
"Turn around." Paula put her hand on his shoulder as if to steady him.
He turned and felt his spirits dampen a little, as if a shadow had passed across his eyes. The landscape to the right of the hallway differed radically from what he had just seen. The earth still had the same reddish brown soil, but starting at a distance of about ten kilometers from the base, and stretching almost to the horizon, he saw a tangled mass of crimson growths that looked several meters tall. The bright colors and tangle of shapes confused his vision.
"My God," he said. "Why is it so close to the base?"
"This is where we landed. Your father had to decide whether to move the damaged landing pod before setting up a base or hope that nothing bad would come from the xenofungus. So far it hasn't been too bad. The mindworms leave us alone for the most part."
He looked over at her, but her soft face was turned toward the tangled fields. "Can you hear it?" she asked after a moment.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Can I hear what? The fungus?"
She shrugged dismissively. "Some people say they can hear it, although none of our scientists have ever been able to record the sounds." She looked past him to the other end of the hallway and lifted a hand in greeting. "Your father's here. I'd better get moving."
Jahn turned to see his father, Pravin Lal, standing at the far end of the Planet Walk with a woman he didn't recognize.
Pravin waited calmly, his hands clasped behind his back, as Jahn approached. The older Lal wore an elaborate light blue robe pinned with a silver clasp decorated with the United Nations Space Agency seal. The woman next to him was older than Jahn but younger than Pravin, and stood with an almost regal bearing.
That's not my mother, thought Jahn, and remembered again that his father still hadn't explained what had happened to her. He feared the worst, but the nurses and attendants had told him not to worry, that she was not dead. Just let her be well, he thought. Let me have a chance to talk to her again.
"Father." Jahn found himself hurrying the last few steps to clasp his father's hand warmly, and then found himself in an embrace.
"Jahn," said Pravin. "It is very, very good to see you alive." They broke the embrace and smiled at each other. "I am very sorry I have not had time to stop by and see you often. Things are very busy here, as you can imagine." He gestured at the woman at his side. "This is my good friend and advisor, Sophia. We are on our way to a council meeting now, and I would like you to accompany us."
Jahn turned to the woman and reached out for her hand. As she touched him, he felt something like an electric shock. Her eyes were bright and green, and her hair, though growing a little wild like that of most of the crew, fell in dark waves around her shoulders. She nodded to him, a nod with all the grace of a queen.
She's a Perfect, Jahn thought, recalling the crew members with near-perfect genetic profiles that had been seeded throughout the Unity crew to assure the health of the next generation on the new world.
"Let us go inside, Jahn. The meeting will start shortly."
"Deirdre Skye, Nwabudike Morgan, and Prokhor Zakharov," said Sophia, standing in front of a computer touchpanel salvaged from the Unity that displayed everything they now knew of Chiron's terrain, which wasn't much, as far as Jahn could tell.
Sophia pointed to locations around the map as she mentioned the three names.
"We know the approximate locations of these three. By chance or design, Deirdre ended up with most of the plant hybrids, Nwabudike ended up with most of the drilling and cutting equipment, and Zakharov, of course, has the finest scientific mind on Chiron, as well as most of the science staff.
He also has most of the raw materials for the genetic treatments that our most prominent citizens use to keep young and fit. We've all pledged to work together and share resources as much as possible."
"A pledge and real life are two different things," said a squat man with a reddish face and rough bearing that Jahn already disliked. "Skye would rather piddle around with her plants than help make this planet more habitable for humans, as far as I can tell."
"We're still trying to get ourselves established, Pierson," said Sophia. Jahn studied her eyes discreetly for any hidden feelings about Pierson, good or bad. "We should give them some time."
"Earth was paved with good intentions, that's all I'm trying to say," said Pierson. "Paved and buried. Just because we're nicknamed the Peacekeepers doesn't mean everyone will listen to whatever we have to say."
"He has a good point," said Pravin. "The sooner we can open permanent commlink channels and establish a mutually beneficial relationship with these three, the sooner we can start knitting the human settlements together again. We have a lot to overcome."
"What about the rest of the command staff?" asked Jahn, unsure of his place in the meeting but deciding a don't-speak-until-spoken-to attitude would get him nowhere. The other advisors, ten of them in all, glanced at him. Some smiled. Most of them seemed well-spoken and intelligent.
"We've pieced together what we could from the Unity black box," said Sophia, taking the lead. "As far as we can tell, Miriam Godwinson, the Unity's psych chaplain, made it to a damaged pod and may have landed somewhere to the east of us."
"God help her," said Pierson, and there was some chuckling.
"Executive Officer Yang took command of a pod, but we haven't heard from him. And we believe that Colonel Santiago also took command of a pod and may have landed somewhere to the southwest."
"We need to continue to try to locate these individuals, through any means available to us," said Pravin. "That means scanning and scouting."
A silence fell over the room for a moment, and Jahn could see that the advisors were considering the ramifications.
"An isolationist policy, at least in these early years, might give us a chance to get on our feet," said thoughtful-looking older woman with long silvergray hair, whose polished ID badge read Eldridge.
"We have a few working rover vehicles salvaged from the Unity," said Pravin. "If we can find the lost crew and help them, we must do it. It is a moral imperative."
"Hard to argue with an imperative," said Pierson quietly.
"Then don't argue with it," Pravin said firmly, looking at the man. "I believe we can better serve ourselves, and all of humanity, by reaching out to the others. It will also help us to explore Chiron's surface. In the meantime we can build a recycling facility here, until Deirdre can help us with some better farming techniques."
"At least let's put a limited crew with the scout patrols," said Sophia. "After all, we might not like what we find out there."
"Agreed," said Pierson. "That singing fungus is bad enough."
In a small room lit only by two salvaged glowlamps, Santiago sat on a cold metal bench and looked into the eyes of each of her advisors. There were only four of them now, most of them good fighters and aggressive crew from the Unity, sitting in a circle with her. Diego sat to her immediate right, his broad arms ready to burst out of his tight uniform.
"As far as we can tell, at least some of the other pods landed to our east and northeast," said Messier, a tall and noble-looking warrior with scars running down one side of his jaw. "We need to send a scout patrol to find them."
"Agreed," said Santiago. "We are in dire need of medical technology."
"And more food," said a quiet young man with bright red hair. He looked only at Santiago, refusing to meet the eyes of the other advisors, and he seemed ill at ease.
"Can't your farmers get the hybrids growing fast enough, Brady?" asked Diego in a low voice.
"They're working as best they can. In fact, the atmosphere is very friendly to Earth plants. But without more hybrids, and more citizens to work the farms, our diet will be very sparse."
"Citizens don't work farms. Citizens fight," said Diego. "Besides, the sparse diet will toughen us up." He jabbed a finger at Brady, who brushed a shock of red hair nervously from his face. "Work your people harder, Red. We need our best people to deal with these damn planet worms."
"These worms are unlike anything we could have anticipated," said Messier. "Very few of our troops are able to withstand their attacks."
Santiago nodded, remembering that first terrible attack when the mindworms, hundreds of thousands of the wriggling vermin, boiled out of the xenofungus fields near Sparta Command. She had listened over the comm link as her most disciplined troops had gone down screaming, overwhelmed by visions from their worst nightmares. When the attack was over, dozens of her people were dead, with mindworms still burrowing into their skulls and consuming their flesh.
"We need a harder training regimen," said Santiago. "We have the bulk of the Unity's security force with us. If we can't discipline them to hold their ground against these worms, then no human on this planet has a chance against them."
"I can't create food from air," said Brady, finally looking around at all the men. He lifted his arms, which were well toned and tan but much smaller than those of the toughened fighters in the room. "We should try to make contact with the other pods. If Deirdre Skye is alive, she can help us."
"I can tell you this: all food goes first to our warriors, and then to other Spartans," said Diego.
"Everyone has to learn to make do with less. It will make us all stronger."
"You can't build a civilization with warriors alone," said Brady.
"Spoken like a true farmer," said Diego.
"All of our citizens can learn strength and discipline," said Santiago. "In fact, we should give everyone a training regimen."
"And those that fall behind must suffer the consequences," said Diego.
"Spoken like a true fanatic," said Messier. Diego stared at him, but Messier held his gaze coolly. Santiago continued, heading off the clash of wills. "It's true that most of us here understand the benefits of a strong body and an indomitable spirit. Given what happened on Earth, and the dangers of life on Chiron, we must make sure that the strongest among us have a chance to flourish. We will need strong individuals to work our farms and build walls around our base."
Diego grinned with pleasure. "Any of us here would welcome that hard labor," he said.
"That's why you're here," Santiago said. "Have the technicians continue working on weapons to fight the worms. And send our scout patrols to the east. We need to find better land to farm, and some sign of the others. Dismissed."
Her advisors saluted her and stood up to file out. Santiago dismissed them, ignoring the rumbling in her own belly.
"It's good," Jahn said quietly. He sat with his father on the observation deck, which consisted of a floor welded into the top of a tall cylinder that rose up in the center of the base. In one wall a window had been cut and fitted with glass. Jahn took another sip of liquor from his plastic cup and felt its heat inside of him.
"Do you recognize this place, Jahn?" asked Pravin, gesturing at the space around them.
Jahn stood up and ran his hands along the walls of the room, which were perfectly smooth. "It's part of the fuel injector mechanism from the Unity," he said. He looked out the window. Night had fallen, but the two moons of Chiron were both visible, sending a pale wash of light over the landscape.
"Between the shorter days and the lights at night I don't know if I'm sleeping or waking anymore," said Jahn.
"You are finally awake," Pravin informed him lightly. Jahn smiled and looked down over the base. From this height, he could see how the base had been built around the original landing pod. Several tunnels created from salvaged pieces of the Unity super-structure radiated out in all directions, creating extra hallways and rooms. Some were covered in metal, while others had been formed by stretching lengths of highly durable colored fabrics over metal grids.
"It's ingenious, what you've done here," said Jahn. He looked back to see his father smiling, flushed with pride. Jahn frowned. "I wish I could have helped."
"I had to leave you in stasis until we had our medical facilities prepared. But that's behind us now."
Jahn nodded absently. "Will you tell me what happened to Mother now?"
The silence that followed told Jahn more than he needed to know. He took another sip of the liquor in the glass and grimaced. It really does taste bad.
Pravin came up behind him to the window. "Is she dead?" asked Jahn, ignoring the shakiness in his own voice. Down below him, he could see tiny lights winking in the farms.
"No," said Pravin. "Pria is in stasis, as you were."
"Then she can still be awakened, like I was!"
"Jahn, your mother was awakened on the Unity. She was shot in the back, several times, during the infighting on the ship. She was dying. I had to put her back into cryo." Pravin's voice cracked a little.
Back into cryo. Jahn knew what that meant. He remembered the warnings against putting people back into cryosleep once they had awakened.
He turned and looked at his father, and saw the tears forming in his eyes as he remembered his beloved wife. Jahn felt his father's grief, and his own grief, mingling in the room above the alien surface of Chiron. Jahn gripped his father's shoulder, and then put his arm around him.
"What happened up there?" Jahn asked.
"Human nature," said Pravin quietly. "And we can't ever let it happen again."
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