Professional Documents
Culture Documents
by John H. Harris
“…but then we found Earth” C cbea 2017
This work is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license.
It may be freely distributed, so long as the author, John H. Harris, is credited and it is done in its totality.
This short story 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 persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
John H. Harris
Visit my Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/Gahyens
The idea was so far out there, so completely insane, that it woke Bewan Gwaam from the
soundest sleep he’d had in a long time.
“That’s it,” he said to the quiet, darkened room.
Of course, it was only quiet because of the quad-paned windows and white noise generators
that masked the ever-present sound from outside and it was only darkened due to the lined blackout
curtains on those windows, shut tight against the lights that accompanied the sound.
Reaching to his right, he grabbed the slim personal com unit from its cradle and activated
the screen. Then, more by touch than sight, he found the familiar entry, triggering the comm code.
The ringback music played for less than a second before the screen changed to show the beta
team coordinator’s face.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” the elderly man asked. It was a question he'd asked Gwaam many
times, since Donu Kolartani had been Gwaam's mentor, employer, and friend since Gwaam had been
a child... and Kolartani had a full head of hair.
“Never mind that. I just thought of a way to save more people, but we’ll have to radically
re-plan the mission to do it.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just dream it?”
“Very.”
“How radically are we talking?”
“Radically enough to make anyone who isn’t a parent want to kill us, and the rest begging
us to tear their families apart.”
Kolartani was silent for several seconds before replying.
“Now I’m interested.”
“Good,” Gwaam answered, swinging into a seated position. “Have Galatem wake up the
entire team. By rights, I should pitch this to Director Phas, but this is going to need everyone’s input.
I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Don’t even try to drive, Bewan,” Kolartani said, his voice iron. “If this is the answer, we don’t
want you running off the road from lack of sleep. I’ll have a passenger drone there in three minutes.”
“Fine. I was going to call one anyway. I’ll see you when I get in.”
All but one of the one-hundred and seventy-eight faces that comprised the leadership of the
Gahye Civilization Sustentation Project had the same expression: Utter disbelief.
Gwaam was the one-hundred and seventy-eighth face, and his expression was one of
cautious optimism as he waited for the silence to break.
Strangely enough, it was Kolartani who did so.
“You. Are. Completely. Insane.”
Nearly all of the expressions in the large room changed to that of agreement, but Gwaam
could see the gears starting to turn in the heads of several of the planning and crew selection team.
“But it would give us a chance – a slim one, to be sure – of preserving our species and our
heritage,” Gwaam argued, “albeit by sacrificing living memory.”
“But what if the Earthmen don’t welcome the ship?”
“Then we’re right back where we would have been if the probes hadn’t detected the
signals,” Wilia Phas answered, plunging the room back into silence.
Gwaam slowly nodded.
“We knew from the astronomers that exoplanets were out there, even some with water. So
we built and dispatched our probes, using the new Kolartani drive, thanks to the woman I have loved
since she was born. And those probes reported back. Star after star, planet upon planet. The probes
found thousands of them. Gas giants, ice worlds, a few that looked promising, but proved to be
uninhabitable.
“And then the astronomers detected it. The thing that will kill us all.
“They’d made that prediction before. Asteroids in our own system had passed close, some
had even impacted, but the public had heard it so many times that they greeted it with... ambivalence.
“We know that planet is coming,” he said, slowly and softly, but pitched just loud enough to
ensure everyone in the room heard it. “And we know it will hit. We know there will be no surviving
it.
“So on and on the probes went, now with a new mission. Out and back. Out and back. They
were finding worlds with life, but not one able to support the life we would plant upon it.”
He paused as if for dramatic effect.
“But then we found Earth.
“Think about that. Earth. A planet with conditions so close to our own one would think it
was made for us. And a native species so close to us in cultures and technology. Once we learned
their symbology, we saw that even their genetic structure was so close to ours that one might argue
we were from the same parent species.
“Yes, the people of Earth may turn the ship away, but I’m willing to take a chance they
won’t. A chance that enough of them see themselves in us; see the shared instincts we have... and
take in the babies we will send them.”
The veteran blew out a sigh after reading the computer tablet Wilia Phas had placed in front
of him. He then looked around at the posh restaurant, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
The world is about to end. All these people will be dead soon, and yet they still go about their lives as
if nothing is wrong. Amazing.
He then looked back down at the manifest.
“I see only two outcomes,” he finally said, his deep, stentorian voice pitched low so as not to
carry. “The Earthmen welcome us, or everything we are and ever have been will die.”
Phas slowly nodded. She’d been as shocked when she’d read the document, given to her by
the head of the crew selection committee.
“The engineers are already working on converting the crew quarters into pod bays, and the
coders at the various AI companies are already working on a build that will automate as many
functions as possible.”
“I’ll have to pick a new crew, obviously.”
“Check page seven.”
He quickly scrolled down to the indicated page, finding his own name, Bebesi Miroka, listed
as having been selected. The rest were all labeled proposed.
Miroka frowned when he reached the proposed science officers.
“I don’t see your daughter on the list,” he said, looking up at Phas.
The director looked back, a wan smile on her face.
“I wanted to avoid all those with family connections. All those going into stasis will be...”
She stopped, feeling herself choking up. After a breath, she added, “...unadopted infants. Besides,
my thirteen-year-old daughter is much too young to qualify as a science officer.”
“I disagree. Brinda is the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. Her videos have made
science easy to understand, and she already knows as much as anyone about Earth. The rest of the
crew, as well as the ship’s AI, can complete her training en route.”
Phas didn’t even try to hold back the tears.
“Thank you, Bebesi. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Miroka reached across the table and placed his hands over hers.
“I vow to you, Director Wilia Phas, that I will cherish your daughter just as if she were my
own.”
As Phas wiped her tears, Miroka made the change official on the mission plan.
SCIENCE OFFICER: BRINDA PHAS
“I notice there’s only one name for engineer, and I concur.”
“We figured you’d need her should something happen to the FTL drive.”
“Agreed.”
The two quickly moved their work out of the way as the waiter approached with their steaks.
As Miroka cut into his, he stopped and looked up with a question in his eyes.
Seeing it, Phas stopped, too.
“What?” she asked.
“I wonder what the steaks on Earth will taste like.”
Later, Brinda sat in her room, looking up at the stars, unable to sleep.
A gentle knock on the partially open door broke her from her reverie.
“You can’t sleep, either?” Wilia asked.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“Welcome to my world. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night’s sleep since the project
started.”
“Mother, I don’t know if I can do this. I mean, I can’t just land in the middle of their
biggest city, pop the hatch and say, ‘Hello! I’m an alien refugee. Can I and a thousand of my species’
children live here with you?’”
Wilia couldn’t help it. She started laughing.
“I’m serious.”
“I know, Baby, I’m just laughing at the image of an Earth person landing in the middle of
Freedom Square.”
“Half would panic, and the other half would think it’s just another ThirdDay.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, they both dissolved into giggles, but they faded
quickly.
“Now I know why so many just... go about their lives as if they don’t know the exact
moment of their deaths,” Wilia said.
Brinda tore her gaze from the window outside as her mother joined her on the small sofa
that had been built into the bay window.
“I was ready, you know,” Brinda said. “Ready to go with you to meet Father in the
Oververse.”
“Not yet, Baby. You have so much more to do.”
Suddenly leaping across the sofa to hold her mother, as she did when she was little, Brinda
cried, “But I’ll be alone!”
Putting her arms around Brinda, Wilia slowly rocked her.
“Oh, no, Brinda. You won’t be alone. You’ll have billions of souls watching over you and the
others, just like your father has done since the Great One called him away.”
The two sat like that for what felt like a lifetime before Brinda’s sobs ebbed. Wilia looked
down at the top of her daughter’s head as she heard Brinda say something.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Do me a favor when you get there?” the girl asked, in return.
“Of course, my precious little girl.”
“When you get there, see if you can find some Earth spirits and ask them to let their people
know we’re coming. Can you do that?”
“Oh, you know I will. Can you do something for me in return?” Wilia asked.
“Anything.”
“When the time comes, don’t look back. Close all the ports, turn off all the cameras except
those that face forward. That’s where your future is. Some will want to watch. Don’t let them.”
Brinda nodded as she continued to hold her mother.
“That’s it,” Dr. Tik ih Shotula said, confirming the readings from the computer tablet she
held. “One thousand infants on ice.”
“That sounds rather morbid, don’t you think?” Brinda asked, nodding for the loading techs
to move the last set of stasis pods into the shuttle that would take them to the ship.
“Call it professional detachment, Miss Phas.”
The crew had begun using words from Earth languages in preparation for the journey and
had progressed to the point where most of those around them had no idea what they were saying.
“I don’t think I could ever be that detached.”
“You’d be surprised. And, if I have anything to say about it, you’ll learn, since it’ll be part of
your job to check on each and every one of them with me.” She then nodded in the direction of the
shuttle. “Have you chosen your slot yet?”
“Not yet. The captain wants me on the main deck with him, but I’m not sure I belong
there.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Child. If anyone belongs there, it’s you.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“An intelligent woman, the Director. It’s clear you got yours from her.”
“She would disagree with you. She always says I got it from my father.”
Tik noticed the look of melancholy that appeared on the girl’s face at the mention of her
father.
“What is it, Child?”
“How am I going to say so many prayers?”
Tik slowly shook her head.
“I don’t even try. I write letters to them, instead. It’s how I keep my journal.”
Brinda blinked at the simplicity of the idea.
“I never thought of doing it that way.”
“That’s always how my tribe has spoken to those who have gone before. Every time I fill a
journal, I transcribe it to electronic form and then burn the paper, so the smoke will transport the
letters to the Oververse.”
“That’s so beautiful.”
The doctor smiled.
“I’ve always liked it. Come on, let’s find something for lunch.”
“I hate that we have to keep this whole thing a secret,” Wilia Phas said, a few days later.
“That story should be about those infants providing hope, not about how they were kidnapped.”
“We went over this, Wilia,” Bewan Gwaam answered. “If we hadn’t kept it secret—”
“—there would be a hundred thousand expectant mothers tearing down the fences,
clamoring for us to take their babies instead. I know that, Bewan, but I don’t have to like it. I’m
actually surprised nothing about the mission has leaked. Great One knows somebody should have
figured out one ship survived by now.”
“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are, but it seems the treaty is holding, and the ones
who can detect it are keeping quiet. Plus, we were careful to source supplies from enough sources
that it would take a wild stroke of luck to figure it out before impact.”
Wilia looked up at the old countdown clock, which read 35:10:04, the last digit changing with
each second.
“Thirty-five hours,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
“To launch of the last shuttle. To when my little girl leaves home.”
“No, Wilia. To when your daughter leads a thousand of our babies to a new home.”
As if summoned, Brinda’s voice answered from the open doorway.
“Way to drive home the responsibility on my shoulders, Dr. Gwaam,” she said, drawing both
adults’ attention.
“Brinda! What brings you to the corner office?”
“I just wanted to stop in and do this before heading into pre-launch quarantine.”
And with that, she crossed the office to embrace her mother.
“I would have hated myself if I didn’t do this,” she said.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Wilia said. “It’s best this way. No tears, just hopes.”
Brinda looked up. “I like that. I think we should put that on the ship’s plaque.”
“We already did,” Gwaam said, producing an engraved brass plaque.
“And you named her... Gahye’s Hope. It fits so well.”
“I’m glad you think so. Got a hug for me? I don’t have any children, so I’ll just have to
adopt you.”
“Of course, Dr. Gwaam,” Brinda answered, shifting her embrace from her mother to the
scientist. “Thank you for everything.”
“You are Gahye’s hope, my dear, and you’ll take the hope of every one of us with you.”
The End