“No, they transferred over fine. They’re too high. Still.”
I stared at him. “Too high? They’re too conservative if anything. I’ve run these projections a dozen times, and they’re all saying the same thing: We need these plants, Harry; the colony is depending on these seedlings to help generate a new farming system. If we’re off by even a little, we risk jeopardizing the nutritional—”
“You really think we need all of this”—he waved a hand at the garden behind me—“to come down with us?”
Damn it, why couldn’t he see? “Absolutely. Failures in the transplant process—”
“And this…cultivar? You need a dedicated support pod just for a large plant?”
“It isn’t just a large plant,” I said, growing angry again. “The cultivar is the ancestor of all of these plants. If we experience any sort of yield loss, her survival is critical in—”
“ ‘Her’?” he interrupted, and I closed my eyes, fighting off another wave of exhaustion. “Kweku, your personification of these…these plants, was amusing at first, but it’s quickly growing old. We can’t take all of this with us.”
“Harry—”
“No. Find a way to cut it. End of story. And go see Jen—we need a full run-through with all reserves.” He glanced at my feet one more time, then shook his head and left. I stood there as the door slid shut behind him, trying to suppress an overwhelming urge to shout, scream, swear, kick something, and pull my hair out. The frustration spread from a tight ball of anger in my stomach. I counted to ten before I walked stiffly back to the garden. The cultivar—no, Nana—stood there, her leaves still, even as the recirculator chugged along.
* * *
The second tremor caught us all by surprise.
We were minutes from approaching the exit window to drop into the system for the Colonies. I was standing in the back of the command deck, staying out of the way as Jen and Francis ran through checklists and whispered instructions and murmured confirmations. They were surrounded by printouts and barely focusing on the console’s readouts. Ironic, really. We’d been preparing and double-checking and readying ourselves for anticipated disaster so much that when it actually showed up we didn’t recognize it.
There really was no need for me to be there. Those two could handle any situation. I was just beginning to announce I was heading back to my lab when Liberia slammed into the tremor and reality twisted inside out.
The distortion picked up the room and shook it, turning everyone on their heads and sending objects whizzing by at breakneck speeds. The floor was the wall, and the wall was a mess of broken displays flashing pixelated streaks of red, green, and blue lightning.
Sirens wailed. I could hear them through the muffled helmet that had snapped out and over my head during the impact. Vital signs flashed green in my display, so I stood, waited for the wobble in my knees to steady, then hailed the emergency frequency.
“Everyone all right?” I asked. While I waited for a response, I checked on Francis and Jen. Both seemed fine, though Francis had a yellow warning flashing on his display—he had a gash below his eye, which his suit was working on patching up. Still, he flashed me a thumbs-up and began sorting through his readouts.
“Okay, I think,” someone responded before coughing.
“Tomas?”
“No, Ty.”
“Sirah here. Tomas is with me in Medical. He’s fine, but his comms are damaged.”
“Okay, thanks, Sirah.” I cleared my throat and fidgeted as others began to check in. Jen moved next to Francis, looked over his numbers, crawled over to the only functional console on the former wall, now the floor. I flashed her the okay sign and waited for someone else to take over.
“Harry here. What’s the status?”
“Running diagnostics now,” Jen said, “but it looks like that tremor triggered a premature separation.” She tapped a few commands and then shook her head. “Yep, the entire Research module is partially disengaged. Holding steady for now, but no telling if it’ll hold through reentry.”
“Research?” My voice sounded faint in my ears. The lab. “Air loss?”
A pause, then, “Can’t tell. Seals are still holding, it seems.”
Please, God.
“Okay,” I said, thinking fast. “Okay. I’m heading to prep for harvest and storage. Sirah, tell Tomas to ready the containment pod for Nana, and—”
“Wait,” Harry broke in. “Kweku, we need all hands up here. There isn’t time.”
“Jen and Francis have it covered, Harry, and I need to assess the damage.”
“No, I need you to assist them while we start reentry. We don’t have time—”
“They’ve got it handled, Harry.”
“Kweku, the time—”
“Make. Time.”
Jen’s helmet whipped around as she stared at me. My voice was tight and my fists were clenched, so I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced some calm into my words. “Please, Harry, make time. This whole venture is a failure if we don’t rescue the harvest.”
Silence stretched on the line, then Harry sighed.
“No unnecessary risks, hear me? We need you.”
I exhaled as well. “Roger.” I commed Jen directly. “Jen, I’m heading down. Tell Tomas through Sirah that Francis is here and has a head injury, but he’s okay.”
“Got it,” she answered. Then, “And be careful.”
* * *
The lift was a disaster. A ladder system connected all of the modules in case of emergencies, so I squeezed through the narrow trapdoor and started the climb down, hand over hand, my breath echoing in the confines of my helmet.
Each floor I passed had bright-red emergency lights flashing above the entry hatch. I glanced in a few of the windows, trying to determine the extent of the damage, but darkness and impatience prevented me from seeing much. After a while I stopped checking and just continued down. My hands were beginning to ache, and a knot formed at the base of my neck from the position I was holding it in, trying to watch my footing. I stopped once to rest, but the panicky need to verify that everything was okay quickly swamped me, and I continued on. No more breaks.
Down and down and down some more. Dark and dark and darker. I planned as I descended. Talking out loud reassured me.
“Bag and seal the herbs. Separate by soil pH, and send them on. Have the tractor start pulling and boxing the cassavas, then move to the beans. Once the pod gets here, we can load up Nana and go.”