“How did this happen?” Aguila asked.
Galluzzi winced. “I don’t think you can understand until you realize the horror that engulfed Deck Three, ma’am. Like I said, they did the math. Knew that hydroponics could only produce enough to support around two hundred people in the long term. They started with a lottery. Some of the families that were chosen to starve to death didn’t think much of the idea. Embarked on a more sanguine means of decreasing the population.”
Benj said, “Things got ugly in a hurry down there. Think atrocity and horror and no way out. The ones who survived committed the kind of abominations that defy description. They’ve been locked away on that deck for close to seven years now . . . lived in the midst of their self-reinforced insanity. They’ve prepared themselves for the moment of their emergence from Deck Three, and when they do, they expect to initiate a wave of horror that is so terrible it will both consume and regenerate the universe.”
Aguila’s brow had knit. “What kind of lunacy . . . ?”
Shig placed a mild hand upon the Supervisor’s arm. “Unfortunately, depending upon the reality in which one has existed, atrocity might seem the only possible explanation for existence.”
Aguila asked, “You think people can make a religion of violence?”
In an oddly calm voice, Shig said, “Human beings can create a religion out of anything. It’s hardwired into our genetics. And, when you think about it, it’s a lot easier to make a religion out of mayhem than salvation. Let’s hold judgment until we see what’s on these records Ashanti is sending.”
Aguila turned her attention to Galluzzi. “And what about you and your crew, Captain?”
Here it came. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Hated the feel of nervous perspiration. “Supervisor, it’s been rough. Most of us who are left, we’re hanging on by our fingernails. Not so many suicides these days. We’ve gotten good at patching ourselves together when we’re on the edge of insanity. Would have given up long ago except that we could see the finish line. We knew there was an eventual end to the nightmare and could count down the days. As soon as we have Ashanti in orbit around Capella III, it’s going to be all I can do to keep my people from storming the shuttles to abandon this ship.”
“Yeah, well, Captain, I don’t want to rain on your hopes, but you might not find Donovan to be the nirvana you’ve been led to believe.”
“After Ashanti? We’ll take our chances.”
“Unfortunately,” she told him dryly, “you will.” A pause. “One last question. Is Derek Taglioni on your passenger manifest? Is he, perhaps, still alive?”
“He is, Supervisor. And I daresay, he’ll be as delighted as the rest of us to set foot on Cap III.”
The Supervisor’s smile had taken on a grim set. “Captain, please understand, this is a fragile colony. A dangerous world fraught with perils to life and limb. As the Corporate Supervisor, I will be enforcing all stipulations as set forth in Corporate contracts. We’ll give your people time to recover, but we’re barely hanging on here ourselves.”
“After Ashanti, anything would be an improvement.”
“Really?” Aguila chuckled. “We have a joke here, we share it with all newcomers: Welcome to Donovan.”
2
“What do you think, Shig?” Kalico Aguila asked as her A-7 shuttle dropped into Donovan’s gravity well. Through the cabin windows on the command deck she could see the reddish glow as atmospheric friction built.
In the pilot’s seat ahead of her, Ensign Juri Makarov monitored the descent.
Shig had been oddly quiet—and more unusual, he’d had a perturbed expression on his usually placid face as he reviewed the hand-held holo that displayed Ashanti’s logs. He sat in the seat beside hers on the command deck. Normally, in the shuttle, he reminded her of a schoolboy, fascinated and delighted by everything. As if the shuttle were a new and magical marvel.
He didn’t look up as he casually asked, “Who is Derek Taglioni? Why did you ask specifically about him?”
“Derek’s a first cousin to Boardmember Miko Taglioni.”
“Ah, I see. The Boardmember is your superior and benefactor, as I recall.”
“That’s a mild way of putting it.” To change the subject, she said, “The way you reacted to news about these Irredenta, that’s not like you. Seriously, what set you off?”
Shig looked up from the holo display. “You must understand. The human brain is more of an analog rather than a digital organ. It’s plastic, and by that, I mean it can be molded, shaped by events. When traumatized, it will struggle to make sense of the violation. Attempt to reconcile and explain the insult. If the trauma is too terrible, the brain will grasp for disparate facts, string together unrelated—even impossible—data to create understanding in the new conditions. Give meaning to everything it has endured.”
“Sure. I understand how brain chemistry works. The bizarre things human beings will allow themselves to believe in an effort to cope.”
“These were Corporate people,” Shig reminded. “Families for the most part. People who were, and I quote, ‘well integrated’ in the Corporate system. They were educated, affluent, and prosperous families who lived their lives in secure and very comfortable upper-status surroundings. Had nice dwellings. Played by the rules and never suffered deprivation—let alone confronted a serious threat to their wellbeing. Living as they did in the center of the Corporate cocoon, they were coddled and protected. Call them the middle of the bell-shaped curve when it came to living the Corporate dream.”
“I’m well aware of the demographic,” she replied. “The Board wanted well-balanced families, the kind whose profiles didn’t indicate potential trouble when they reached the colony. Families who’d immediately and seamlessly integrate into colonial society.”
“Right,” Shig agreed. “Kindly folk who’d just do their jobs and expect to be taken care of in return. If they had any overriding passion, it was for their family and raising their kids. Perfect young trade professionals.”
Kalico stared out at the curve of Donovan’s horizon as the shuttle’s pitch changed; g-force pushed her down into her seat. “And then they come out of inverted symmetry. They’ve just spent two and a half years of ship’s time living inside cramped quarters. Their nerves are already frayed when they’re told that if they survive the next few months, it might be another seven years before they reach their destination. The hydroponics, designed for a four-year life span, can’t support four hundred and fifty people for another seven.”
“Things begin to degenerate. They panic. Some try to seize the ship, and Galluzzi seals them into a single deck.” Shig rubbed his brow with a nervous hand. “Galluzzi’s people recorded the condition of the stripped human bones that came down the chutes for hydroponics reprocessing. My suggestion is that you don’t mistake these reports for cozy bedtime reading. At least not if you want a good night’s sleep.”