THE HATCHERY

By JM Vella

In the not-so-distant future, a select few survivors are tasked with colonizing and repopulating a new planetary home for humanity. They have learned from the selfish mistakes of past generations that rendered Earth no longer capable of sustaining

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMV Publications
• Release date: May 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798990630833

Book preview

THE HATCHERY

JM Vella

JMV Publications

Copyright © 2024 by JM Vella

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Prologue

Part One: Sector B

1.Fallen Angels

2.Courtship

3.The Exotics

4.The Harvest

5.The Hatchery

6.The Rabbit Died

7.The New Rules

8.Franklin

9.Subterfuge

10.Plan A

11.Plan B

12.The Seduction

13.The Transfer

14.Baby Daddies

15.Cousin Phil

16.Deduction

17.Revelation

18.Memories

19.Masquerade

20.The Morning After

21.The Switch

22.Second Thoughts

23.Reconciliation

24.Twenty-four Months

25.Baby Girl

26.War Paint

27.Father’s Day

28.Reckoning

29.Manhunt

30.Sacrifice

Part Two: Sector A

31.The Border

32.Leap of Faith

33.Missing Persons

34.The Neighborhood

35.Homecoming

36.Happy Birthday

37.Kindergarten

38.Ultimatum

39.Uncle Gerald

40.Margaret

41.Precious Cargo

Prologue

The Great Migration was the only feasible solution to save humanity from extinction. Their Ancestors on Earth had ignored all the warning signs while holding stubbornly to their old habits. In less than two hundred years, they managed to deplete and/or poison what remained of the planet's natural resources. The warnings kept coming, the rising sea levels, the melting glaciers, the shrinking rainforests, dead carcasses of fish floating in with the tide, the severe storms that ravaged the coastlines, and finally, the pandemics that took out all the children and most people over forty. None of this got their attention; of course, until it was too late. There was no antidote to reverse the damage. Mother Earth lay dying, raped by her own offspring. Now that she could no longer sustain life, the only logical thing to do was to leave her behind, to adopt a new home and try to start over.

The solution required great sacrifice. Only twenty carefully selected individuals could board the craft for the long journey. The nearest star like Earth's Sun was Centauri Proxima, a red dwarf over four light years (288,000,000 miles) away that was discovered in 1917. Scientists believed a small rocky planet in its solar system had the best chance of sustaining human life. That planet was originally named Centauri Proxima b, but when it was selected by NASA as the best possible destination for a new settlement, it was renamed New Earth, in the same manner as the Ancestors had claimed and renamed new territories in honor of their former homelands.

It took just over fifty-eight years for the Pioneer, traveling at 17,000 mph, to reach New Earth. Only three of the original twenty passengers on the spacecraft would live to see humanity's new home, after having spent most of their lives confined to the narrow walls of the gray metal craft and countless days peering out at the black void of space through its portholes. Their children would be the first generation of humans to be conceived, born, and raised on board a spacecraft during the longest space journey in history.

They wobbled clumsily like toddlers as they first set foot on the virgin planet's uneven terrain, but it didn't take long for them to adjust to the pull of gravity and begin the hard work of taming this new land to conform to their needs. They had a lifetime of intense virtual education and survival training to guide them in settling on the new planet. As the Ancestors had done with Earth, this next generation followed their example, clearing away vegetation, carving out primitive paths, and erecting simple structures making use of New Earth’s natural resources. But, unlike the Ancestors, these new pioneers were more thoughtful; their parents and grandparents had taught them well about the necessity of personal sacrifice, cooperation, and conservation. There would be no tolerance for reckless individualism or selfish personal choice on New Earth. A thoughtfully constructed set of laws known as the New Rules was established by an elected group of Leaders to ensure the orderly, controlled behavior of its citizenry. They had to get it right this time. The fate of humanity depended on them.

The young technicians who worked in the Reproduction Center were members of the third generation born after the original pioneers; this generation knew little if anything about how life on Mother Earth. The Leaders decided that the less they knew about the Ancestors and the selfish choices of past generations, the better. Survival on the new planet depended upon complete conformity.

Part One: Sector B

Chapter one

Fallen Angels

Proxima Centauri was barely visible behind the yellow haze of sunset, and Julian found himself squinting hard to focus on the footpath to the RC. I hate the Sulphur Season. My eyes are so dry. It hurts like hell when I blink.

Then, don't blink. Sophie grinned, as she reached into her orange jumpsuit pocket to retrieve one of the wet towelettes she kept with her during this time of year. She pulled one out as Julian snatched it out of her hand to dab at the sticky crust that formed at the inner corners of his eyes. Better? she asked. She took back the soiled towelette and rolled it into a tight ball before tossing it over her shoulder into a hedge that lined the walking path.

He grimaced. You know they could send you to Realignment for that.

I like living dangerously. She paused and swatted Julian playfully on the arm. I remember when you used to be a little dangerous yourself. What happened to that guy?

He grew up. Julian deadpanned. He followed behind Sophie as she rushed ahead of him on the path. She was late for her shift. Again. He sighed loudly and picked up his pace to catch up to her until they were trudging through the yellow slush in unison. They went on this way for about a mile, not speaking, focusing on placing their boots in the center of the path where they were less likely to slip.

Julian pointed ahead. His gloved hand cut through the haze for a second, before it quickly closed the gap. There's the light. It's still blue. You'll make it if you hurry.

I see it. Sophie pulled her hood tighter around her face and gave Julian a quick squeeze around the shoulder before starting to run toward the blinking beacon. See you later. Thanks for walking with me!

He watched her move quickly away, shaking his head with an unsettling feeling of disapproval and admiration. Don't work too hard! he yelled, as her body grew smaller with distance.

Oh, you know I won't! she yelled back. When she reached the door of the RC, she just managed to shove her thumb into the scanner before the flashing blue light turned red. Phew! she exhaled as she listened for the deadbolt to slip open. The monitoring system at the Reproduction Center waited for no one.

***

Tiffany stared at the data on the screen that she had been working on during her shift as a Reproduction Tech. I think we ought to reconsider this pairing, Daniel.

There's no need., he replied without looking up from his task. Sophie said they are getting along very well.

Really?

Really. Let's move on. We need to complete this entire index by Tuesday. I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend the entire Sulphur Season in here.

You're right, I guess. Tiffany pulled two files out of the cabinet. How about this match? Georgia 76B and Franklin 72G.

The redhead? No way. She's an Exotic. We shouldn't waste her DNA on that dude. Let's find another ginger to pair her up with…

Tiffany's fingers typed furiously on the keyboard as she surveyed the data display. I can't locate any red-haired males in this cycle.

Then wait. I'm sure one will come up before too long.

Maybe. But, you know, the file says she's turning thirty-seven this February.

Daniel shrugged. She's a healthy egg donor. I'm sure she'll be productive for a while. He snatched the file labeled Georgia 76B from Tiffany's hand, and walked back to the open cabinet, scanning the vast collection of files labeled with various first names and alphanumeric codes. Eventually, his eyes settled on a file labeled Melissa 81Y, which he pulled out and placed in front of Tiffany beside Franklin 72G. Here you go. Franklin and Melissa. A match made in Heaven.

Lab Heaven, aka RC-Sector B.

I prefer Lab Heaven, he smirked. That means we're angels, you know -- Fallen angels.

I'm not so sure we're angels of any kind...though we are playing God here...so maybe, close enough. Tiffany opened the new file Daniel dropped on her desk and began to input the data into the system. She listened for the familiar beep that would confirm a favorable genetic pairing. Bingo! Pairing approved. That's the last one for the day.

Daniel placed the Franklin and Melissa files in the output tray, then walked back to the cabinet to re-file Georgia 76B for later consideration. As he stuffed the rejected file between Genevieve 76B and Greta 76B, he sighed with false sympathy for Tiffany's entertainment. Catch ya next cycle, Sis. Someday your prince will come.

Tiffany giggled, going along with the farce, And, he'll be a handsome ginger, and your red-headed genes will live on for generations!

Amen. Daniel slammed the cabinet shut. It's time. Let's head out. He tapped the button on his wristband, and the blue light by the door began to flash. The two Reproduction Techs rushed to pull on their jumpsuits, gloves, and boots. When the indicator light above the door flashed green, Daniel and Tiffany exited the RC single file. The door swung shut as soon as Tiffany's boot stepped over the threshold. Their twelve-hour shift at the RC had ended. They were both fatigued and hungry, but still had to hike the mile and a half to the nearest Nutrition Station, then another half mile back to their mutual dorms for some shuteye.

***

Sophie rushed to make it through the door of the RC as Tiffany was just stepping out at the end of her shift. Sophie shoved her out of the way and stepped firmly on the pressure-sensitive threshold to keep the door from slamming shut. If it had, she would be reported as late again, and she couldn't afford that. She breathed a sigh of relief when the flashing blue light changed to green, then paused to smile sheepishly at her coworker and raise her shoulders in faux repentance. I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Tiffany?

Cutting it a little close there, aren't ya? Tiffany shook her head at her in disapproval.

Are you hurt? Sophie reached her hand down to pull Tiffany back up to her feet, being careful not to lift her foot from the threshold.

I'll live. Have a good shift, Soph. I'll see you back at the dorm. Tiffany waved as she left Sophie behind to take over the shift. She made her way down the path toward the Nutrition Station to get something to eat. She was anxious to get to the RT’s dormitory, take her pill, crawl into her cot on Level 4, and melt into a deep restorative sleep.

Julian scowled as Sophie slid into her ergonomic chair and logged into her workstation with a practiced fluid grace. What the fuck, Sophie?

She shrugged as she tucked a section of her straight blonde hair behind her right ear. She made a concerted effort to look and sound nonchalant. I'm here, aren't I? Don't stress.

You barely made it through the door in time. Maybe you don't give a fuck, but I don't want any trouble.

Relax, Julian. I'm here. It's all good. Let's get going on these files.

Julian groaned, pushed back the sleeves of his shirt, and attacked his keyboard with the intensity of a concert pianist.

Sophie and Julian were opposites. She hated how inept he made her feel most of the time, but she couldn't help but admire his dedication to his work. The contrast between them was embarrassingly obvious. She had been sanctioned twice already this year for logging in late, and she knew that her shift partner was unfairly held accountable for her reckless behavior. Julian was anxious enough without this kind of pressure.

Heeey, Juls...

What now? He refused to look up from his work.

Heeey, I'm sorry I stressed you out. It won't happen again. Last time. Honest.

Julian wanted to stay annoyed, but Sophie had a way of distracting him. Truthfully, he had never gotten over the brief romance they had a year ago; she wasn't serious, and he pretended he wasn't either, but he continued to harbor a secret crush on her long after she'd moved on. To be honest, Julian had no game with women. In fact, he was a complete tech dork. He would fantasize about Sophie during his harvesting sessions. It made him feel kind of dirty, but thinking about her increased his yield, which earned him extra meal rations and other privileges. High-yielding males enjoyed an elevated status and perks. Game had nothing to do with it.

Julian refocused his energy on the keyboard to pull himself out of the embarrassing fantasy that had drifted into his thoughts. So, we need to find a redhead, he murmured while his fingers flew over the keyboard.

What?

We need to find a male donor with a genetic predisposition for red hair to partner with Georgia76B. She's getting close to the end of her peak fertility. If we don't find a suitable donor soon, we run the risk of wasting a unique DNA variant.

Sophie nodded. She had forgotten about Georgia 76B. The egg donor had turned thirty-six since they had last looked over her file. Tick-tock, goes her biological clock. I'm on it. Her long thin fingers hammered impatiently over the keyboard, exiting, and entering various databases with practiced muscle memory. I'm searching...still searching...still searching...Ah ha! Found one. Samuel 87Q. He's forty-two years old, has successfully fathered three children, one with red hair. His health assessment is still very good. What do you think, Julian? Is he too old? He hasn't paired in a few years.

Sounds like a good prospect if you ask me. I say we go for it. Julian made a show of strolling to the cabinet that contained the files of male donors. Finding the file labeled Samuel 87Q, he struggled a bit to pull it out from the overstuffed shelf. He placed it on Sophie's workstation. Voila! Let's make love!

Sophie laughed. Yes, let's. Did you bring protection?

Me? No.

She sighed. You're such a guy. Then I guess it's up to Georgia and Samuel to do it for us.

Can I watch? he grinned.

That depends. Are you working tomorrow?

Nope.

Then I guess not. She checked the schedule. Tiffany's on for tomorrow, so she'll be sure to tell you all about it. You know how she loves to talk.

Chapter two

Courtship

Georgia fidgeted nervously as she waited in the Courtship Lounge at the RC. The Reproductive Technicians had tried to make it look like one of those disco bars that she read about in her Ancient History studies. The Ancestors had used places like these for screening and seducing a sexual partner. The Lounge featured a sound system that blasted weird electronic music; it had a pulsating beat that caused her heart to race, making her feel even more anxious despite her efforts to relax. A lone female voice was wailing high-pitched gibberish over the beat, Ooooh, I love to love you, baby...ooooh...

The plexiglass coffee table offered some sort of exotic fruit she hadn't seen before; the red heart-shaped lumps glistened in the violet light. Next to the mystery fruit were two ridiculously impractical glasses, shaped shallow and wide at the top and tapering to narrow stems at the base, like they had been purposefully designed to spill over. Stem glasses? Yes, that's what she thought the Ancients used to call them. Each glass contained a clear beverage that seemed to have a life force of its own, churning and rolling and releasing a delicate mist that tickled her nostrils when she held the glass close to her face to take a cautious sip. This was not water, and it certainly wasn't the wretchedly sour fermented palm ale that was the only alcoholic beverage manufactured on New Earth. This stuff had a slightly sour taste, but a sweetness too; Georgia decided it was pleasant enough to drink.

When she looked up from her third sip of the drink, she noticed someone standing near the door. He was tall but hunched over in the manner of the very tall, looking down at the floor. Both of his hands were shoved deep into his pant pockets. His face looked boyish, in interesting contrast to the tinges of gray in his sideburns.

Hey there, he said cautiously. You must be Georgia.

And you must be Samuel.

He looked around for a place to sit, but there was only one other chair in the room, a plush purple club chair that was positioned right next to Georgia's. The chairs were a matched set. Mind if I sit?

Go right ahead.

He stared at her forehead to avoid making eye contact, then looked away as he struggled to think of something clever to say that would make this meeting anything less awkward than it already was. Although he had twenty years’ experience as a Donor, Samuel was feeling very out of place. It had been several years since he had been paired with anyone beside his wife. He was surprised to get the call to report to the Courtship Lounge so late in life. He and his wife were doing their part for society, raising three kids.

Georgia picked up the unused glass and handed it to him. Try this stuff, it's supposed to help us relax.

He carefully took the glass from her, with a look that betrayed his concern that the delicate stem might break in his meaty hand. She couldn't help smiling at this tall man with the curiosity of a teenager examining the fizzy beverage in the odd-shaped glass. He took a small sip, coughed, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. What is this?

She shrugged, I don't know, but it's kind of nice, don't you think?

Samuel took a second