Chapter 1 Owl

Chapter 1

Owl

He’s here on Minerva, projected from the beacon: my dad. Who was shot. A version of him who isn’t my dad. With a version of Father who isn’t really him, either.

They’re a lot younger, somewhere around my age. Dad isn’t wearing fancy garb, but simple traveling clothes. These versions of the dads look exhausted, hollowed out. Judging by the deep shadows on their faces, they recorded these at night. The light reflected in their eyes looks orange. Maybe they’re near a fire.

Dad still has glittering skinprints and body mods. It flips me out a little, and I remember all over again that Father never wanted to see his other recording—and he’s watching this right behind me. But he doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t stop me from watching. He stares along with me, stepping forward and taking my hand in his as he does.

“Do you know what this is?” I ask Father.

He shakes his head.

“We only have a few minutes of time for each fly,” Young Dad says, “so we’ll have to go quickly.” His wide eyes, his slack jaw: it’s clear he’s in barely contained panic. Of course he is. This Ambrose is doomed. The Coordinated Endeavor picked up radio signals indicating nuclear war, and much later a burst of explosive radio activity from Earth’s location, which means everyone on Earth is long dead. For that or a million other reasons, I could be watching the final moments of his life. “When we discovered the true mission of the Coordinated Endeavor , we were furious.” He glances at Young Father. “I should speak for myself. I was furious.”

Young Dad takes a deep breath. “I helped someone, Devon Mujaba actually, do something that impacts you. He sabotaged the zygotes. The animals. Our children. Their developmental pathways... are altered.”

“They have a genetic virus that worked on their DNA during the voyage, instructing their own bodies to generate lesions on their amygdalae,” Young Father says from off camera.

Young Dad continues. “This means that they might eventually turn aggressive and antisocial, especially once their hormones are in full swing. Some might be nonviable even earlier.”

Young Father is taller and heavier-limbed than the one I know. Must be a result of the better diet. Maybe he worked out more, too, what do I know. “I’m sorry for what this must have done to you,” he says.

“I hope you’ll get this message while they’re still inert zygotes, or at least while they’re little children. We can send these flies to precise coordinates, but if there are unexpected stellar events in the galaxy during the next thirty thousand years, or even if they encounter too much water vapor on the way out of Earth’s atmosphere, they might arrive sooner or later, or not at all—which also means they’ll land on imprecise locations on your planet as it rotates. We’re sending multiple flies at slightly different speeds to increase the chances, and aiming across the planet’s surface, but the degree of precision...”

Young Father gives him a “speed up” hand motion. I’ve seen the same one from our Kodiak.

“Here’s what it means,” Young Dad says. “You have schematics for all sorts of devices saved to the OS of the Coordinated Endeavor. One of those is for nanotech. Build that device, if you haven’t already. Also build the ‘binary interface’ module and attach it to the nanotech machine. You’ll see a file in the root directory of this fly that is called ‘corrections.’ Run that through the module. Then let the nanobot work on the brains of the affected embryos, or children. It will use a version of the tech that created you clones, actually. The operation should only take a few days, plus a few more for recovery. ‘CorrectionsTwo’ will work with the gene editing interface to remove the virus from the remaining zygotes. You need to run ‘CorrectionsThree’ on the yaks.”

There’s a shuddering sound on the recording that grows in volume until the audio glitches out. Then the reel is back, at a slightly different angle. It’s Young Father talking now. “You must be... angry. I was angry. For a brief period of time, right after he found out about what his mother had done without his permission, Ambrose wanted the mission to fail. I did, too. I think you can understand why. But once he realized what it would mean for you, he came across the world to find me, and we are trying to fix it. You deserve some control over your life, after that—”

The recording cuts off. Young Dad used up way more time than Young Father. It’s frustrating, but also makes me smile grimly. It’s just so Dad.

Father and I are in the Minervan dawn again. It’s quiet compared to the background ruckus of the reel. I listen to the hush of a soft breeze. The sound of a baby malevor’s breathing. A malevor who might have a manipulated mind, like me.

“Wow,” I say. I’m still holding the beacon. The thing they called a fly. This speck of material that traveled across the galaxy with news of hope. I hold it out to Father. I don’t know why, I guess because he’s my parent and parents are the ones who hold important things.

“Put it in your pocket,” he says. “And don’t lose it.” He strides toward the settlement. I have to jog to catch up to him, resisting the urge to remind him that I was the one who convinced OS to start sewing pockets into our clothing.

“Here’s the plan,” Father says once I’m alongside him. The baby malevor is a ways behind us, kicking into a trot to catch up. “Thirty thousand years ago, an earlier me was trained in military maneuvers, and we’re going to use some of that knowledge that’s in my brain now. We have very little cover until we’re inside the settlement, which means we need to be cautious in our initial approach. Look for the line of mussed soil from the perimeter shots. We’ll have to assume Yarrow’s printed gun has a similar range, but we’ll also have to be ready to adjust that assumption. We’ll test the perimeter line first, and reassess based on whether the guns fire.”

“Then we do what, if we make it back inside?”

“We locate Dad. We restrain Yarrow however we can. And we get OS to briefly prioritize that nanotech machinery over the bunker construction. It might resist, but this is a high priority. What if you—”

“—go aggressive too? Believe me, I’ve been thinking about that nonstop,” I say. I mean, how does anyone know what their own amygdala is up to? It’s too bad there’s not a self-test, like one of your fingers is longer than the other or something. “I feel fine, I can tell you that. Well, not fine , of course.”

“The little one gestating right now... I wonder if the others, the ones that we’ve lost, if it was because their own...” Father’s voice trails off.

“Let’s go,” I say gently. “There’s no more time to waste.”

He nods.

The settlement comes into view. It felt like we traveled lifetimes on our escape last night, but the habitats aren’t so far off in the calm light of dawn. We slow, listening for any signs of conflict. But it’s quiet. Unnervingly so.

At the mussed boundary, I find the dense hydrocarbon pellets the pneumatic guns strewed in the soil. They ring the circumference of our home, each surrounded by its own tiny impact crater. I kneel, pick up a handful of soil, and toss it in the radius of fire. Nothing. Before I can stop her, the curious malevor toddles after the dirt, within range of the guns. Nothing happens. I didn’t mean for her to be our test subject, but at least we now know the guns are off.

Father eases into the radius. Nothing. “They seem to be offline,” he whispers.

“Do we call out?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Keep behind me,” he says. Crouching, he starts on his way to the settlement gate. The malevor and I follow.

Our world is sunshine and quiet breeze. The simple sounds of a primeval planet.

Father keeps in his crouch and pauses every meter or so, his hand in the air to stop me. I stick close and listen along with him. Sensing our unease, even the malevor goes quiet, except for one grunt when I halt too suddenly and she bumps into my calf. About halfway, she stops following and waits, ears erect. If there was a malevor bloodbath yesterday, it was on the southern side of the settlement... but coming anywhere near the fence has clearly gotten her spooked.

Click.

The fence gate is unlocked.

Before I have time to think about what that means, Father is inside, his hand raised to stop me. The habitats bob and sway as the morning breeze kicks into a wind. I focus on their outlines, looking for any movement from behind them—or, when sunlight passes through the polycarb walls, silhouetted within.

Father reaches cover, ducking beside the wall of his and Dad’s sleeping quarters. He stays in a crouch, hands clenched into fists, before passing to the next covering habitat, out of view.

He didn’t have his hand raised anymore when he did that, and I decide that means I can follow. At least I can tell Father that later—the truth is I’m not about to let him keep me from helping. Keeping low like he did, I creep through the open expanse between where I am and the dads’ quarters. My heart surges, time expands, and my senses grow sharp. But no bullet comes.

I jump when Father appears around the edge of the half-submerged Endeavor. “If your brother is still here, he’s hidden away inside one of the habitats.” Your brother.

Father checks Yarrow’s and my sleeping quarters, comes back out shaking his head. Then he creeps into the infirmary. He shouts, and I start running. Father appears outside before I get there, hands out in a “stand down” move. “Go in,” he says. “It’s safe. I’ll check the rest of the structures to secure the perimeter. But you go in there now.”

He’s off, heading to the greenhouses.

I enter the infirmary. Rover is what I see first, hovering in the middle of the structure. A figure is in the bed, his back to me. I can’t tell from the size whether it’s Dad or Yarrow. Though, if Father still felt the need to secure the perimeter, it must be... and it is! “Dad,” I say, voice trembling. “Dad?”

He turns onto his back, wincing, then spies me at the entrance. His voice comes out as a cry. “Owl, Owl!”

I rush over, Rover beeping at me in alarm as I do. I almost throw my arms around Dad, then think better of it and put my hands on his foot instead. “You’re alive.”

He nods, eyes leaking tears. “It was a little touch and go at first. You should see this mattress cover. Soaked through with blood. It’s going to be murder to clean.”

“OS, you saved him,” I say.

Rover pivots and rolls. “The wound required constant UV treatment to prevent infection. But yes, he is saved, and I was the one to do it.”

“I was mercifully knocked out for the lifesaving part,” Dad says. He raises his shirt, showing a stretch of belly that becomes a mess of bandages. “Even so, I’ve been feeling plenty of sensations during the recovery time.”

“Yarrow,” I start. “Do you know—”

There’s a shadow at the entrance, and then Father is inside, kneeling beside Dad, like he’s praying, only his hands are clasping one of Dad’s wrists. Father—Father!—is crying into his lover’s hand. “You’re alive. I was so scared.”

“It must have been absolutely terrifying, imagining a life without me,” Dad says.

Father gives a wet laugh.

I slap Dad’s foot, and he pretends it creates pain lancing up his body. Or maybe it actually did. Whoops. “This is good,” I say. “If you are able to exaggerate your suffering as usual, I think that means you’re going to be okay.”

“His prognosis is optimistic, though his recovery will last weeks,” OS reports through Rover. “It would have been ideal if there had been only the one bullet, or of course if he hadn’t been shot at all. But given the circumstances, the path of the bullets through his body could have been much worse.”

I kneel beside Father. “Yarrow? Any sign of Yarrow?”

He shakes his head. “A few pairs of his garments are missing. And some water sleeves and algae planks.”

“He was gone when I woke up from the surgery,” Dad says. “And OS told me—well, you tell them what you saw, OS.”

OS orates in Devon Mujaba’s—the traitor’s—voice. We’ll have to change that setting. “Yarrow went motionless after he shot Ambrose. Though he was stationary, his pulse surged. He held the gun to his temple. Then he dropped it and ran for supplies before fleeing the settlement, picking the gun back up at the last minute. I was unable to track him after he left, since Rover was needed to care for Ambrose. This was all during last sunset, from 23:07 to 23:21.”

I tell Dad about finding the beacon. About the recording from old-Dad and old-Father. I offer to try to replay it for him.

Dad lets out a long breath. “Nope, nope. Not up for that yet.”

Father helps me fluff Dad’s pillow, and then he returns to his position at Dad’s side, pressing his forehead against Dad’s palm. Dad isn’t quite crying, but tears keep streaming from his eyes. It feels awkward to be there, suddenly, so I head out to the settlement’s center. There, on the far side of the fence, I can see the hulking corpses of the slaughtered malevors. The fence killed them during all this. Collateral damage.

That makes me think of the orphaned one, all alone on the other side of the fence.

I backtrack to the gate and find her lying on the gound, looking almost bored, making occasional grunts. As soon as she sees me, she’s on all fours, whisking her ears as she stares my way. She doesn’t take a single step in my direction, but as I approach she flicks her tail and bobs her head, butts me. She needs milk.

I can wallow in my feelings, or I can work to get this little creature fed.

I kneel beside her, and she nudges me. I think it’s a loving nudge, but then I realize she keeps prying at my fingers and snuffling around my pockets. She’s really hungry. “Okay, we’ll get you something in a second.”

A whir, and then Rover is with us. “Wanted to give them privacy, too?” I ask OS.

“Actually, I need to speak to you, Owl. My understanding is that it is important for their emotional well-being that Kodiak and Ambrose have at least twenty minutes of reunification time, but since you are not participating I decided to risk taxing your own emotions by providing you additional information I have not supplied them.”

I lay my hand on the malevor’s head. I need the touch of something real. “Okay, OS. What is it?”

“Look up, where Sky Cat’s right ear would be if it were night. Do you see something unusual?”

There’s a light. Bright as a planet. My stomach drops. “That’s not Cuckoo, is it?”

“No, it is not a local planet.”

No. After all this, it’s coming. “How long do we have, OS?”

“Approximately twenty-two days, ten hours, and seventeen minutes. With an unfortunately large error window—a day or so.”

“Do you know where it will land?”

“One hundred five degrees of arc, 38,350 kilometers south-southwest from here.”

“Which means...”

“The impact is potentially survivable, if models hold, and if your bodies are all well underground inside the Aurora bunker. But we have to hurry.”

“OS, I have a nanotech schematic. Do you think it’s possible that I could, you could...?”

“There is no way we can use precious metal to produce that device now, not if we want the bunker to be ready.”

My mind is all tension and energy, my thoughts jagged and incoherent. The comet. Almost here. Fuck!

I stroke the blood-matted fur of the malevor. I graze my cheek against it. I’m going to turn out like Yarrow. There’s no fix for me anytime soon. Or for him. Maybe it won’t matter, if we all burn up.

We’re all going to burn up.

“I know it’s not psychologically healthy, but could you suppress your evident emotions for the time being?” OS says. “I need you to act. Once we’re secured in the Aurora , I can continue to drill and print new devices using our waste hydrocarbons and any leftover metals. Once a few weeks of cooling have gone by, we might even consider scouting for more metal beneath the Aurora. A nanotech device shouldn’t require a lot of metal to build. We can repurpose the beginnings of our drone program. I could begin to print it soon after we’re safely hidden away.”

“Before my sixteenth birthday?” There’s no reason for me to think that these changes will come on right then for me, but they did for Yarrow.

“Very likely so.”

I instinctively tuck the baby malevor into my arms and hold her to me. She barks in rage, kicking out. I release her and she runs a few paces away before turning to me, grunting her shock. I chuckle. “Sorry. Got it. You don’t want to be held. We’re going to have OS look into your brain, too.”

I look out at the broad plains of the planet, faintly glowing even in the light of both the Sisters. I hope you come back to us in time, Brother. He’s out there somewhere, suffering more than I can imagine.

I get to my feet. “Let’s go deliver the news, OS.”

The end is upon us. I find myself strangely ready.