We’ve been gone from Data Haven for a week by the time we reach the edge of Stepdaughters of Chiron territory. The jungle is behind us now, and we’ve been making our way through foothills toward the coast. The foliage isn’t as dense, and Cleve has not been gripping the steering wheel quite so tightly these past couple days. He parks the rover for a final recharge before the suns go down, and we all get out to stretch our legs a bit. Cleve makes his customary joke about parking in a wolf beetle nest. This isn’t one, but we hear a plaintive ghost-like howl somewhere down below.
I crouch down and put my hand to the soil, closing my eyes and trying to tune into the region to see how the land here is doing. I don’t pick up anything, no painful fungicide burns, no thumping drills. The air feels cleaner, too. Not that it lacks traces of miasma, but just that the smoke from Morgan factories hasn’t spread this far.
Marina scribbles away in her notebook. She was probably taking readings during that. She’s been working a lot on her paper, all written out in longhand, of course. There’s a laptop with a GPU in the trunk, but she hasn’t touched it this whole trip. She glances up from her notes and notices me looking at her. “We should be hitting the first outlying settlements about now,” she says. “I know there was a farm around here, though we didn’t stop there on my way out.”
I’m ready for civilization again. I’ve got on a dress shirt, vest, and slacks once more, with my resonance device affixed as a boutonniere. My poncho is packed away with the brace I’m no longer wearing on my left arm. The breaks caused by the siege worm are fully healed now, though a scar remains behind. To my eye, the light pink mark stands out starkly against my brown skin. There are times it tends more towards purple and I’ve noticed sparkles now and then. Without my blazer, I’d normally wear my sleeves casually rolled up to the elbow, but instead they are down and buttoned at the cuff to conceal the marred flesh.
I stand up and take a deep breath. The light breeze ruffles my loose curls. It’s been two months or so since they were cut, and right now their length is still manageable, but I’m going to have to figure out what to do soon. I’m certainly not just going to hack off all my hair like Cleve did. Maybe the Garden of Chiron has beauticians. I glance down at my left sleeve. Maybe it has tattoo artists.
“So do people in the Stepdaughters of Chiron maintain their natural circadian rhythms based on sunrise and sunset?” I ask her. Much has been made of how much safer it is at night when the chance of miasma is lower.
“People who live in the Garden of Chiron generally do, staying awake during the day and sleeping at night. But out here, it’s safer to farm at night. The people out here might have an inverted schedule, and if so, we’ll probably see their lights.” Cleve asks whether they use bioluminesce, perhaps thinking of when I’ve occasionally lit up our campsites by encouraging local flora to fluoresce. Marina knows it’s an area of research, but she hasn’t seen it bear fruit yet. For the most part, the farmers charge accumulators during the daylight hours when they’re sleeping and then use that power to light up their work at night.
“How many settlements are there?” Cleve asks.
“Most people live in the Garden of Chiron proper, but that itself is rather spread out. We’re not confined to a dome, so it’s easier for us to expand. Other people have chosen to set up outlying farms.” Next Cleve wants to know about how they manage miasma. Marina describes large wind turbines that can harvest the wind for energy or be reversed to blow miasma away. There’s also an alarm system that goes off so that people can get inside or underground. Some of the buildings in the Garden of Chiron are partially underground, and where possible, the Stepdaughters incorporate natural caverns. “We have a different risk profile than Morgan Industries,” she concludes. “We’re trying a lot of things.” She shoots a glance over at me and then looks back down at her notes. I suppose understanding my adaptations is one of those many things.
By rover, it’s probably just a few hours to the Garden of Chiron, but that’s not a journey we should be making at night. As the suns go down, we see lights coming on in the distance, in the direction we heard the wolf beetle. Marina tells us that some people keep wolf beetles as working pets. She’s not a wolf beetle person herself, since her lab spaces are not a good place for animals. “As far as you saw, was it common in the Morgan dome to have wolf beetle pets?” she asks. Her only exposure to them has been Mr. and Mrs. Fuzzy, not that she spent much time around those new arrivals to Data Haven.
“It was a rich person thing,” I tell her. “At least, that’s my impression.”
“Hmm… interesting.” She jots down some more notes and then recommends that we head to the lit area below. “We should check in with that farmer. Maybe get a meal that’s not rations.” We supplemented a little with foraging on this trip, but it’s true we’ve still been eating out of Data Haven’s stores. I’m quite interested to sample the local cuisine—and to hear the local news. As far as we know, no one knows Marina made it safely to Data Haven. Unfortunately, my comments to that effect elicit anxiety from her. “Oh my gosh, and we also have to let them know that there’s an army coming! And they should decide what they want to do.”
“Okay, wait, let’s not let the farmers know that there’s an army coming,” I caution her.
“Don’t they deserve to know, Mariah?”
“They deserve to find out through the proper channels and not start a panic,” I tell her. Cleve backs me up. We’re not going to stop at every farm and tell everybody ourselves. People need to find out in a controlled fashion so that the Stepdaughters can implement a coherent plan.
“Presumably they’ve elected leaders,” Cleve says. “That’s where we should start; that’s what they’re for.”
“We need to follow your own society’s proper protocols,” I tell Marina.
“Right…” she lets out a long breath. “But can you two maybe, I don’t know, just inspect this farm? See what its defensive situation is? In case these farmers need help with that? Without letting it slip that there’s an army on the way, of course.”
I shrug. That’s not really my area of expertise. “I’m sure Cleve has an eye toward defensive terrain,” I say, looking over at him for his response.
Cleve is blunt. “What are you asking?”
“See how well prepared they are to evacuate or to defend themselves, that sort of thing,” Marina says. The kinds of defenses for warding off wild creatures like briar beasts are not necessarily going to work here.
Cleve shakes his head. “A farm’s defenses—regardless of what they are—are not going to cut it. We’re talking about an army with tanks. The city needs to coordinate a response. We need to check the city’s capabilities and then spread the word out.”
“Right… right… Maybe just help them assess? And let them know to be ready for whatever might happen?” Marina tries again. “I just feel bad not letting them know as soon as I possibly can. I’m sure our allies are slowing down Morgan as much as they can. We might even get back to Data Haven before Morgan gets there.” She bows her face into her hands and lets out a long breath, then straightens back up with new resolve. “But you’re right. We don’t want to spread panic. But I don’t want to withhold information from my own people.” I frown to hear that.
“We’re going to tell them,” Cleve assures her. “We’re just not going to tell them without a plan.”
Marina looks over at me, noting my expression. “What?” she demands.
“Marina, you withhold information all the time when it’s convenient to you,” I say sourly. Her lack of transparency to Roze, and honestly, to me too, is what led to that whole factory debacle.
“Not from the Stepdaughters of Chiron, I don’t.” She waves her thick notebook at me. “Why do you think I’ve been compiling so much information? We will do whatever it takes to save this planet.”
“Okay, and right now, what it’s taking is not causing a panic on the edges of your territory,” I counter.
With a sigh, Marina relents. She’s still visibly conflicted, but she agrees that we can shelve the topic of invasion until we reach the proper authorities. “Their worknight will be starting,” she says of the farmers. “We should catch them before they get too far into it.”