Earth, Too

By Alan Barney

The crew members of Centaur II return to Earth in the late twentieth-first century after completing over 30 years on an exploratory mission to the first extra-solar planet having life. Since their departure, terrorism and global warming have radically changed the people and environment of their home planet. This story, the conclusion of a trilogy, follows the paths of three of the crew as they strive to uncover what became of their family, friends, and careers, and to rebuild their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312428348

Book preview

Earth, Too

Earth, Too

By Alan Barney

Also by Alan Barney:

Gliese 4

New Nauru

Old Concrete New Blacktop (with Neil Cogbill)

Earth, Too

A Novel

By Alan Barney

Copyright © 2014 by Alan Barney

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2014

ISBN 978-1-312-42834-8

Published by Lulu.com

For Kai and Han

Chapter 1.

Roger Krebs felt like hell as he crammed himself into the lift with his fellow, rank crew members.  While no longer shy of his nakedness, he was bothered by the aftereffects of cryonics sleep.  No one said a word as the cab ascended to the forward levels of Centaur II.

He careened off the elevator, forgetting the near-zero gravity at the ship’s axis, and bounced into another crew member ahead of him.

Steady, mate, Andrei Popov said as he grabbed Roger by the shoulder, throwing himself off balance, too.  When they recovered their footing, both headed for the showers along the rim.  They became more sure-footed as gravity returned to near normal and the air handlers purged the atmosphere of most of the human stench.

Where’s Sarah?  Roger asked, then realized as soon as he did that his own spouse was not on the lift with them either.   How could I forget about Gracie?

Sarah’s at the helm, Andrei said.

Now Roger remembered that Andrei’s mate was part of the skeleton crew running the ship during its last year’s return to Earth, and was already awake when they reached orbit.

After the routine scrub-down, he headed with the others to medical.  He caught Karen Framer’s eye there and signaled her to come to him.  She looked harried, but complied.

Is Gracie OK? he asked the doctor.

Your memory’s screwed up, she said.  We decided to keep her frozen until I had things stabilized with the rest of the crew, right?

Guess so, Roger said.  He remembered that there was more than a chance his wife’s cancer might return without the presence of the nanobots they had encountered on the fourth planet orbiting Gliese 876.  Then, he recalled the ecological havoc they might unleash on Earth, should the nanobots’ help be needed.  Still, he was hazy regarding the details of her condition when they left.

How soon will you be able to get to her? he asked

It’ll take me the better part of the day to finish this up, that's if you’ll let me get back to work.  Karen gestured to the surrounding crowded quarters.  Meanwhile, Gracie’s safe where she is.  I’ll let you know when we start her resuscitation.

Roger knew that would not be soon enough for him, but said nothing.  He left for his work station to retrieve his compad.  The stark, metallic corridor along his route was nearly empty of other souls, confirming Framer's remark: she had a long way to go before the remainder of the 251 passengers was completely revived and before she could attend to Gracie.

On his compad he checked the notes he had left himself before departure from their exploration of the planet they called Gliese 4, now over fifteen years ago reckoned by Earth time.  According to those notes, the second thing to do, after reuniting with Gracie, was to look up his relatives on Earth.  As he could not do the first, he headed for the bridge to ask about communications with the ground.  He knew that his chances were slim at this early stage to actually contact his sister Teresa, Cousin Rita, or others.

We aren’t picking up much, Bill Edgerton, the communications officer, said after the two exchanged pleasantries.  Check out the surface and you’ll see why.

Roger looked in the monitor; it took him a minute to figure out that they were over the Caribbean, and to the north was southeastern North America.  Florida’s southern tip was completely gone, despite the work that had been done to shore it up before their departure in 2060; likewise, the coastlines were much less extensive heading both northward and westward.

Global warming’s toll has accelerated during our absence, he thought.  He should not have been surprised, given the dire words they had received from Earth, now over thirty years ago.  He could not see as far north as New York City, but guessed its probable fate, and prayed that Rita had escaped with her life.

Any lights? he asked.

You’ll have to ask Sarah or the Captain, Bill said.  I have yet to see night.

But neither the Captain nor Sarah, the head aeronautical engineer and Andrei's spouse, was present.  Roger and Bill were alone on the bridge, and Bill did not appear to be much further along in his revival than Roger.  Roger wondered if he looked as emaciated and scruffy as his friend after their frozen sleep.  He stroked his face, then his hair, confirming that they both needed shaves and haircuts.

Anything wrong with the ship? Roger asked.

I think they’re just doing a routine check and should be back in a few minutes.

Roger returned to surveying the globe as they headed eastward toward the African coast and the night line.

Mind if I watch? he asked.

The view’s free, Bill said.  But while you’re here, I could use another ear to listen.

Roger willingly volunteered to help the communications officer monitor the radio wavelengths.  He was not surprised that they did not pick up a strong signal at their present location, although thirty years ago there would have been at least a few.

How’s it possible there aren’t any big AM stations left? he asked.

Bill gave no answer.

I’m picking up English, Bill said a minute later, but it’s not the American variety, and the signal’s pretty weak.

He boosted the output, and at first Roger thought they had tuned in to the BBC News he remembered as a child.  But there was something odd about the accent, not that Roger regarded himself an expert in such matters.  Also, the content was of an educational variety, seemingly a lesson in religion.  Finally it struck him: the evangelic radicals are still at work, he told himself.

Watch that God’s wrath does not catch up with you, too, the female voice was saying.

Roger shook his head as Bill pushed the scan button.  They had heard enough of messages like this before beginning their mission from Earth.  Roger was not surprised that it still persisted, though he wished otherwise.

The next radio station Roger found was in a language he had never heard.  He amplified the voice and looked Bill’s way; Bill shook his head indicating he had no idea of its content either.

Don’t worry.  I’m recording everything so we can get someone or the computer to work on things later, he said, apparently anticipating Roger’s question.

They continued monitoring to no success until Captain Horace Driscoll returned alone half an hour later.  There had been nothing more in English, and Bill explained to the Captain the paucity of results so far.

Meanwhile, they were on the night side of Earth, and Roger could detect almost no lights to indicate cities below.

More communities have to be down there, he told himself, but there’s not enough technology to continue the past sins of overuse.  To Driscoll he asked: Did you hear anything important on our approach?

Mostly the same as you’ve heard, Horace said.  We did record something in Spanish that seems more intelligent than dribble.  Only problem is my Spanish isn’t very good.

We’ll get the translations worked out within a day, Bill said.  "In the meantime, English doesn’t seem to be the lingua franca anymore."

Roger speculated that the balkanization of Earth’s political bodies, already underway when they left in 2060, had progressed even further.

Bill’s assistant, Sinai Parham joined them, and relieved Roger of his monitoring duties.  Still, Roger remained for a few minutes, not sure what to do next.  Finally, feeling more like an intruder than helper, he left.

He found himself outside of medical to check the status of the ongoing revivals.  There was still a crowd, and he did not have the courage to trouble the doctor again.  He turned to go back to his lab and nearly crashed into Steven Weinberg.

Any problems with the hibernations this time? Roger asked the cryobiologist.

None.  Steven turned slightly red, but Roger did not detect the defensiveness such a question would have evoked before when some revivals had gone awry.

Things seem to have worked perfectly, Steven said.  And just about everyone’s awake.

A look of recall crossed his face and he added: Sorry.  I’ll be getting to Gracie in just a little while.

Roger was glad that it would be soon.  He confirmed his impression when he looked to the center shaft: only one lift was headed up, and with less than a full load.  The crowd in medical should begin to decline, he told himself.

Any chance I can join you? Roger asked aloud.  I’m not going to get anything done anyway until I’m sure she’s safe.

It’s really not advisable, Steven said.  Going in and out of gravity might make you sick in your current condition.

I’m feeling fine.  Roger checked his response against the truth and found it did not quite pass muster.

Have you eaten anything?

No. And I don’t have the stomach for it at this point, he said to himself.

Let’s see if you can handle that first before going with me to get Gracie, Steven said.

Sure, Roger said, still not owning up.

The corridors on their way to the caf were much busier than before.  When they arrived, the place was almost full.

I recommend going light, Steven said.

No problem, Roger said.  No problem at all as I’m not in the least bit hungry, he thought.

After soup and salad, he really did feel better, though.

Ready to go, he said.

Steven steered him to the lifts which would take them aft toward the cryonics chambers near the ship’s main storage areas.  When they arrived, Roger was impressed by the sterility of the environment.  All the chambers within sight were open and scrubbed clean as though awaiting a next experiment.  The smell was antiseptic, not entirely pleasant, yet a major improvement over earlier.

They retraced the steps toward Roger’s chamber; next to it Gracie’s was the only one he had seen still closed.  He looked through the window at her face, but could read nothing of her final feelings before undergoing the vitrification process.

Anything I can do to help? he asked.

Just don’t puke when you first smell your wife, Steven said.

He turned to begin the process, which would take almost an hour.  Roger found a chair nearby and drowsed off again.  The next thing he knew, Steven was helping Gracie out of her coffin.  Steven was right about the return of stomach sickness.

Fortunately he recovered before Gracie recognized him.  Still, he could not bring himself to kiss her; luckily she seemed too groggy to mind this lack of intimacy.

Do you guys mind if I get dressed? she asked with slurred speech.

Still a sense of humor, Roger thought.  He was happy about that, knowing she might well need it.  He hugged her finally.

Then the two men each took an elbow and steered Gracie to the lift.  Roger remained outside the showers while Steven excused himself to go ahead of them to medical.  When Gracie reappeared, dressed in the ubiquitous unisuit, she did not look much better than before; but at least she smelled better.  Now he gave her a kiss; she did not respond in kind.  Roger empathized, recalling his own feelings at this stage more than half a day ago.

There were just a couple of crew mates ahead of them as they entered medical and Karen hailed them.

How’re you feeling? she asked.

Want the truth? Gracie said.

No.  Karen laughed, patted Gracie on the shoulder, and turned.  We’ll fix that.

Roger wondered if the doctor could do something different for Gracie than he had received earlier.  He surely did not improve much after going through his inspection.

Karen lied, Gracie said, when he inquired afterward  Still, she gave a weak smile, and Roger was encouraged.

Everything looks OK, Karen reported, but I’d like to see you first thing in the morning to be sure.

I'll see to that, Roger said as he took his spouse's hand.

He led Gracie back to their tiny quarters, settled her down for a nap, and told her he would return in a few hours to make sure she did not get too much sleep.  His weak attempt at humor seemed to have no impact: she nodded off immediately.

He was at his desk for only a short time, when he realized how tired he was, too.  He returned to Gracie’s bedside and joined her.  When Roger awoke, she was not there and he panicked initially.  Then he looked at his watch: he had been out for almost twelve hours.

His next thought was: Is Gracie OK?

*     *     *

They know we’re here, Gracie was saying as Roger approached the bridge in search of her.

Who knows we’re here? he asked.

The others – Horace, Bill, and Sinai – turned his way in surprise.

Didn’t mean to interrupt anything, Roger said.

There were no smiles, and his first thought was that his comrades were angry at the intrusion.  But he soon realized they were more concerned about a transmission under discussion.  He then remembered his spouse’s second language: Spanish, not Chinese, despite her ancestry.

Who are they? Roger asked after an uncomfortable silence.

We’re not sure, Bill said.  The signal appears to originate from somewhere in Central America.

Can’t our equipment pin its location down? Roger asked.

Usually, Bill said.  But these folks must want to hide from us until they’re sure of our motives.

How’s that possible?

It’s being rerouted through an ancient communications satellite.  The only way we can guess the origination point is through its computer's analysis.

If we could get to it, Sinai added.

So what can you do? Roger asked.

Only retransmit our identity and intent continuously, Bill said.  Maybe our next pass over the suspected area will produce results.

Third time’s a charm, his assistant said.

Roger did the mental calculus: they were about two-thirds of the way from Earth to geostationary orbit, which meant they had been trying to speak with their Earthling friends for about two days.  He had missed a significant part of that time in his revival and sleep.

He caught Gracie’s eye and nodded for her to have a private conversation.

I just ate, she said, and I’m too busy now to leave.

What did the doctor say? Roger asked.

Oh, damn!

He knew immediately she had forgotten to go to medical as prescribed.

Why don’t you go get something to eat, she continued, and while you’re at it get yourself tidied up?

He looked around at his colleagues, now smiling.  They had taken care of personal grooming and hygiene since he saw them last, and he realized he must look awful in comparison.  About all he had done was to take another shower since his revival.

I’ll try not to take that as an insult, he said loudly, containing his temper.  When I return, you’ll go to medical!

Gracie did not look happy as she shooed him off the bridge.  When he returned, shaved and shorn, her demeanor had not changed.

No arguing, he said.  You’re going to medical.  Doctor’s orders.

The Captain added his agreement, and said he would save any exciting news for them when they returned.

Roger put his arm around his spouse, who felt too warm to his touch.  He dismissed it due to his own feelings of being chilled.

Karen Framer did not.  Let’s hope your temperature’s on account of your revival being a bit retarded.

That happens? Roger asked.

Not often, but, yes, sometimes.  The doctor looked worried, though, and said nothing while she hooked Gracie up to another monitoring device.

I’d like to do a complete work-up, she said, adding as she turned to Roger: It shouldn’t take more than an hour, so if you’ll return then, I should have her ready to take home.

Home as we knew it, Roger thought, is an impossibility. He did not express his negative sentiment, and decided instead that a kiss would make Gracie feel better.

She attempted a smile as he left.  While he really wanted to return to the bridge, he decided that would not be fair without his spouse.  So he headed back to his desk to see what was next on his compad's list.

The third thing – the first two items both still pending – was to tidy up his research from Gliese 4 for a report to the powers that be on Earth.  While the indications were not good that there was much left of those powers, Roger decided that completing this task was still a good thing: he wanted to bring some closure to his findings, and he had not had a chance to accomplish that since their hasty exit from the alien world.

The engineered world of Gliese 4 had yielded only a few clues, even after its creators arrived, and Roger knew his report – like their entire mission – would be only a partial success at best.  Still, he sat down and prepared an outline.  Its three main categories were: basic biology of the organisms on Gliese 4; the ecology/ecologies of the planet; and the roll of nanotechnology and/or incubation in preserving its denizens.

Next, he accessed his copious notes and decided to classify them more-or-less according to his preliminary outline, but adding a catch-all category he would deal with later.  Unfortunately, his first hour’s work placed more of his observations into the last category than he had anticipated.  He decided to give it a rest, remembering Karen’s earlier estimate of how long it would take her to diagnose Gracie’s condition.

His wife was not in the small waiting room as he entered, and Karen was not in her office.  Nor was an assistant present.  Roger knocked on the door to the examination area, but did not wait for a verbal response to enter.  He startled Gracie, who was in the process of putting on her unisuit.  Karen was there, too, and did not smile.

Sorry, he said.  But he did not feel too contrite.  After all, I have every right to be here, he told himself.

I’m not completely happy with what I see, the doctor said.  Still, I think we can treat Gracie for now without resulting to anything radical.

You mean like injection of the nanobots? Roger asked.

That’s nowhere near necessary yet.

To Roger, Karen’s response did not portend well.  She explained that Gracie’s low grade fever and current, slight malaise could be the result of her incomplete recovery from the cryogenics process and her picking up a touch of the flu at the same time.

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