A Planet Called Eden
Chapter 1: Countdown

Fifty-threeYears Later

The Earth Station space dock floated justa thousand meters from the main habitation ring of the L5 space station,humanity’s port city on the edge of the vast ocean of space. Mission Commander AngelaOkonkwo steered the lander Aldrinaway from the sprawling expanse of the space station. Once clear of thesuperstructure, she turned toward the orbital dry dock.

Inside the dock’s latticework — herflight engineer, Maazin Barlas, liked to call the great structure a giant flyingerector set — technicians, a small army of them, were putting the InternalSpace Agency Ship Michael Collinsthrough her final pre-launch tests.

Her ship. They were testing her ship.

Angela had personally inspected the Collins more times than she could count.She’d taken her first fly-by when only one module had been in place, the long,girder-laced tube that would become the Engineering module.

She’d taken her second when the first ofthe great main engines were added behind it.

She’dtaken her third when the remaining two mains were installed, along with themassive fuel cells.

She’d flown by when each of the sixsecondary engines were added, one by one.

She’d flown by when they’d added thestorage modules, the labs, and then the habitat module, with the crew bunks andgalley.

She’d flown by when they’d added theflight deck module, and again as they added layers of shielding, bulkymaneuvering thrusters, with their clusters of cones pointing in five differentdirections, and, last of all, when they began installing the communicationsantennae and scientific instruments.

She’d flown by again, because she’d comeup with a better way to configure the port and starboard docking arrays toprovide better protection for the twin landers during the months-long rigors ofdeep space flight. She’d submitted the redesigns, and flown by again to seethem implemented. That was necessary, but she’d done it anyway.

Strictly speaking, none of those flybys hadbeen necessary. Neither had any of the dozens of inspection tours.

The Collinswas the most advanced deep space craft ever constructed, but with the possibleexception of her flight engineer, Angela Okonkwo knew every nut and bolt betterthan anyone. She ought to. She’d designed much of it herself. That was the mainreason she’d been given this assignment. That, and the fact that despite heryouth — she was still in her forties, albeit barely — she was one of the mostexperienced astronauts in the corps. If she wanted to fly by, she’d damn wellfly the hell by.

Space was in her blood. Her grandmotherhad immigrated to the United States from her native Nigeria with a single goal— space. She’d never made it; she’d found her budding academic career at MITand Georgia Tech far too appealing. Her daughter, Angela’s mother, had been theone to achieve the space dream. She’d liked to joke that she’d been the firstAfrican American woman to command Jupiter Station. The truth was, she was thefirst person of any nationality, man or woman, to command anything at all inthe Jovian system, even if the “station” had only consisted of a single modulein those days. It was still there, that first module, and it still bore hermother’s name. Angela had taken the torch from her mother proudly, and she wasgoing to carry it farther than any human being had ever carried anything.

She was going to do it on the ISA Michael Collins. Her ship.

One of the twin landers, the Armstrong, was already docked andsecured in place for the long mission. As soon she docked the Aldrin, and the rest of her crewarrived, the Collins would be readyfor launch. Countdown was underway.

Maazin Barlas was already aboard; the pilotand the two mission specialists would arrive in a few hours.

There hadn’t really been a need to bringthe Aldrin back to the station forprovisions, and there hadn’t really been a need for Angela to pilot it herself.There certainly hadn’t been a need to keep it on manual all the way. But blastit, she was the Mission Commander, and she’d damn well wanted to. Besides, oncethey were underway, Mission Pilot O’Brien would take the controls. She’d haveother responsibilities. This might be her last chance to finger the controlsherself. That was the true burden of command; others got to do most of thetruly fun stuff.

The Aldrinwas large, large enough to carry mobile labs, bunks, and even a truck-sizedrover. Heck, the cockpit of the lander — the lander! — was larger than thewhole flippin’ flight deck on the old Hobbes-class explorer ships that hadtaken humanity as far as Saturn just a few decades before. But for all itssize, the Aldrin handled like adream. It had the most advanced autopilot system ever programmed. In anemergency, it could return itself to the Collinswith the touch of a single bright red button. She didn’t bother to turn theautopilot system on. She didn’t imagine O’Brien would, either.

The craft was too large, really, forlanding on a moon like Triton. The spider-like landers they’d taken to themoons of Jupiter and Saturn would have been more appropriate. Angela was gladthe public didn’t seem to have noticed that. She was even happier that her owncrew hadn’t questioned it.

She didn’t like to lie.

Especially not to her crew.

# # #

In an elementary school classroom inDecatur, Georgia, in the United States, third and fourth grade students watcheda news broadcast, eyes wide and mouths open. The immersive holographicprojection made it seem to the class as though the reporter and her subjectwere both right there, sitting in the room with them.

In Times Square, passers-by paused towatch the same broadcast on giant 3D monitors, three stories tall.

In a pub in New Bankside, London, men andwomen looked up from their plates and pints to watch.

In Tokyo, commuters watched on tinyscreens in their train cars.

In an office building in Kenya, workersgathered in a conference room, their eyes glued to the immersive monitor thatcovered the entirety of a long wall.

In every nation in every corner of theglobe, men, women, and children alike watched, together, united, with raptattention.

The reporter adjusted the tiny microphonepinned to the corner of her smart jacket and smiled. “We’re less thantwenty-four hours away from the launch of the International Space Agency Ship Michael Collins. The voyage will take acrew of five international astronauts to Neptune’s moon Triton, taking humansto the edge of our solar system for the very first time.”

The woman sitting next to her shifteduncomfortably in her seat and pushed a stray stand of black hair away from hereyes. She cleared her throat. “Actually, it’s not really the edge of the solarsystem.”

The reporter blinked. She speaker was aChinese woman, pretty and fit, in her late twenties. She wore her hair in theneat, practical ponytail, except for the one lock continued stubbornly toescape. She was dressed for her mission — a flight suit and jacket with amission patch on the left breast, an ISA logo on the left shoulder, and theChinese flag on the right shoulder. It was a practical and comfortable uniform,but with, the reporter had to admit to herself, more than a touch of romanticflair.

The reporter blinked again. This interruptionwasn’t on the teleprompter in her contact lens. She wasn’t sure what to say.

The Chinese woman fidgeted again, as ifembarrassed by her outburst. “It’s just, uh, that there’s a lot more to the solarsystem. It doesn’t end at Neptune.” She shifted again. “Uh, I mean, Pluto andthe dwarf planets, and the heliosphere … and … and you don’t really want toknow this, do you?”

The newscaster returned to her script. “Thisis Mission Specialist Kim Chang from the People’s Republic of China.” She turnedfrom the camera to look at Kim and smiled again. “This is your first deep spacemission, right?”

Kim looked away from the newscaster anddown at her hands, folded in her lap. She tried not to shift or twitch. She didboth anyway. “I was supposed to be on the last Jovian mission, but … you know.”She shrugged without taking her hands out of her lap. “Budget cuts.”

“But lots of people have been to Jupiter.No one’s been as far as Neptune.”

Kim looked up and smiled. “That’scertainly true.”

# # #

Inside the Michael Collins, the scene was precisely choreographed chaos. Asthe countdown clock ticked steadily closer to zero, Angela Okonkwo floated backand forth in the tight confines of the Engineering module, checking andrechecking her systems. She did so while trying to keep a surreptitious eye on FlightEngineer Maazin Barlas.

The support team loaded the last of theirheavy plastic supply crates onto the Collins and headed back to the spaceelevator capsule. Moments later, the tube-shaped platform was descending backtoward the landing platform in low earth orbit. Once it docked with itsplatform, it would start the journey down its taut cable back toward New KennedyStation, floating at the equator in the Atlantic Ocean on Earth.

Maazin used the handrails to pull himselfover to the crates.

Juststow it, Maazin. There’s no need to look at it too closely. No need—

The young Pakistani man tapped a band onhis wrist and projected a holographic display. Crap. The manifest

He frowned.

Awww,crap and crap again. Hewas looking.

Maazin checked the crates again, and thenlooked back at his display. His frown deepened and he shook his head. “Thisdoesn’t match the manifest. Angela, you need to see this. It must be more thantwice—”

Angela looked away, turning to a monitorthat was showing a news broadcast. “Just see it stowed, Flight Engineer.” Shedidn’t look back at him; she kept her attention focused on the monitor.

Maazin blinked twice. Angela could almostfeel his surprise. He’d never heard her use that tone before. “Yes, FlightCommander.”

Inside, Angela winced. It was the firsttime Maazin had called her by her title. She made sure he didn’t see. She heardhim working in the cargo module. She didn’t look back. She didn’t want to meethis gaze. Instead, she watched the news.

On the screen, she saw a small army ofreporters following Mission Specialist Dominic Vance and Mission Pilot JackO’Brien to the platform on Kennedy where the second space elevator was alreadywaiting to lift them up to the Collins.

Angela felt her jaw tighten. The Agencydidn’t like to put Jack and Dominic in front of the media when they could helpit — at least not when their responses weren’t carefully scripted. Both menwere handsome, older than Maazin but not by much. And charismatic, certainlythat. They were good at their jobs, damn good. In fact, both were among thevery best the ISA had to offer. But there had been … incidents. Incidents thatthe Agency liked to keep out of the media. That’s why the agency had kept themin mission briefing until the last possible second. If they had to run to theelevator, they wouldn’t have time for questions.

It had almost, almost worked.

But there were a lot of reporters, and they were pressing closer.

Dominic, the British scientist, wassmiling and waving off questions.

Okay,that’s not so bad. Maybe—

One of the reporters was a woman. Anespecially attractive woman.

Uhoh.

The camera followed her as she shovedthrough the crowd to get closer to the walkway. “I’m trying to get a word withPilot Jack O’Brien and Mission Specialist Dominic Vance.”

Don’tdo it, Jack. Don’t do it, Dominic. Come on. You’re just fifty stupid metersfrom the stupid platform—

Jack stopped and smiled at the prettyreporter. “Hi there,” he said. He offered her his hand to shake. “I’m Jack.”

Angela closed her eyes and rubbed hertemples. Uh oh.

The reporter smiled. “I know who you are.You men are legends. You hold the ISA’s record for commendations—”

Jack beamed. “Just doing our jobs, MissBrown.”

“—and reprimands.”

Angela sighed. At least they both had thedecency to try to look chagrined. Even if neither of them actually pulled itoff.

# # #

Jack O’Brien unzipped the vintage leatherbomber jacket he wore over his flight suit. He’d never be able to take the wornrelic into space, of course, but he liked to wear it to the space elevator,anyway. It had been in his family for generations. His great, great-somethinggrandfather — the storied World War I flying ace they’d called The AmericanEagle — had been its first owner. He’d been a legend, before and after the war.The gold pin on the right breast, an eagle carrying an American flag, had beena gift from President Woodrow Wilson. As far as Jack was concerned, that madethe jacket a good luck charm. Besides, the ladies seemed to like it. Ladies likethis pretty reporter with the big eyes and the toothy smile. If only herquestions weren’t getting all … awkward like.

The reporter smiled again. “Like your littlemaneuver over Mars?”

“Technically, that wasn’t against therules,” Dominic pointed out with his crisp, precise British accent.

Jack nodded. “Technically.”

The reporter lifted her eyebrows. “It isnow, though, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Jack admitted. “But itwasn’t then.”

“Technically,” Dominic repeated.

“And the Jupiter decent?”

Jack looked back at Dominic. “Yeah. Thatone was against the rules.”

The pretty reporter smiled that toothysmile again. Her teeth were very, very white. “I’m surprised they didn’t drumyou two out of the corps for that.”

Dominic sighed. “They did, actually.”

Jack nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, we kindahold the record for that, too.”

“And a couple of universities,” Dominicadded.

“More like four,” said Jack.

“I wasn’t counting the ones that let usback in,” said Dominic.

“Me, either,” said Jack.

# # #

Back on the Collins, Angela switched to a different channel. She sighed andshook her head. They were showing the same feed. She sighed again. Jack wasgoing into damage control mode, just like they’d been taught in media training.She shook her head again. Yeah, that wasn’t going to be pretty.

On the monitor, she saw Jack smile. “Butreally, the whole thing was kinda, uh, exaggerated.” He was still talking. Whydidn’t he stop talking?

Maazin looked over Angela’s shoulder. “Remember,you asked for them.”

Angela closed her eyes and shook herhead. “They’re the best.”

On the screen, Dominic, too, was indamage control mode. “Honestly, we never got a chance to tell our side of thestory—”

The reporter smiled again. “Would youlike to do that now?”

Both men answered quickly, together:“No!”

“At least they stopped talking,” Angelasaid. “That’s something, anyway,”

Maazin shrugged and floated away, back tohis work. “They’re your problem now. Mission Commander.”

Angela winced again and turned herattention back to the monitor. Two ISA officials were hurrying Jack and Dominicalong and shooing the reporters away. Okay,that wasn’t so bad. Angela allowed herself a sigh of relief.

But then, Jack stopped and turned back tothe pretty reporter. “Say, are you, uh, seein’ anybody?”

Dominic rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

Slowly, deliberately, Angela beganbeating her head against the monitor screen.

Jack ignored Dominic. “Seriously,” hesaid to the reporter. “You should give me a chance. I’m an astronaut. I’ve gota space ship and a ray gun. Seriously. You don’t get cooler than that.”

Dominic shook his head and rolled hiseyes again. “He doesn’t have a ray gun.”

Jack turned and gave him a glare. He wassmiling again when he turned back to the reporter. “I have a ray gun.”

“What are you thinking to shoot onTriton, then?” Dominic asked innocently. “I’m sure the frozen rocks are all tremblingin fear.”

The reporter smirked. “Let’s see the raygun.”

“It’s on the space ship,” said Jack. “ButI totally have one.”

Angela turned the monitor off. “This isgoing to be a long flight,” she muttered to herself.

# # #

Inside the space elevator platformcomplex, Kim Chang stood waiting for Jack and Dominic. When the two men managedto escape the reporters and the gate closed behind them, their expressionschanged instantly. The grins were gone, like somebody had thrown a switch.

Kim shook her head, and had to brush thestray lock away from her eyes again. Brrr,she thought. It’s gotten way, way chillyin here all the sudden.

She tapped her wristband impatiently.“Elevator to the Collins in less thantwo hours. Where have you two been?”

They walked past her without answering.Kim shook her head and hurried to catch up. She wasn’t sure what was happening.She wasn’t very good at reading people, even under the best of circumstances. Besides,these didn’t exactly feel like the best of circumstances.

Dominic took a deep breath. “Look, Jack,we should really—”

“No,” said Jack.

“You know,” said Dominic, “sooner orlater—”

“No,” said Jack.

Dominic stopped, but Jack kept goingwithout looking back. Kim stopped with Dominic, looking back and forth betweenthem blankly, wishing she could think of something witty or insightful to say,something to ease the tension a little, or at least to help her understand thestrange new dynamic. Nothing came to mind. “You guys okay?” she managed at last.

“No,” said Dominic.

Dominic started walking again. Kimfollowed, shaking her head. “This is going to be a long flight,” she mutteredto herself.

# # #

The space elevator car detached from theplatform at the end of the tether cable and its momentum carried them on to thefifth Lagrange Point. No one spoke. When the platform reached the space dock atlast, the airlock access tube extended out to the Collins. When it was secure and pressurized, Maazin opened thehatch and beamed. “Welcome aboard!”

Jack floated past him with barely a look.“I’ll be on the flight deck.”

Maazin scratched his head and watched himdrift by. “Nice to see you, too,” he said.

Dominic floated in next and offeredMaazin a hand to shake. “Hi there, mate. Need help? Uh, maybe somewhere faraway from the flight deck?”

Kim caught Maazin’s eye and shrugged.

Maazin frowned. “It’s not a very bigship….”

Kim pulled herself out of the airlock andthrough the hatch just as Angela floated in from the Engineering module.“Welcome to the Collins,” she said.“Where’s Jack?”

“Flight deck,” said Maazin.

Angela nodded. “Good. Maazin?”

Maazin tapped his wristband. “Countdownat t minus a hundred and twenty minutes. All systems are green. We’re go forlaunch.”

“Not quite,” said Angela. Just then, twotechnicians floated in from the airlock, pulling more plastic supply cratesafter them.

Maazin felt like his eyes were going topop out of his skull. “More! Angela—”

“Find a place to stow it, Mr. Barlas,”said Angela. She pushed herself away from the airlock, floating toward theflight deck.

“I don’t think there’s any more room,”Maazin protested. “The cargo module’s about to pop as it is.”

Angela knew how much gear was coming, andshe knew the cargo module down to the last micrometer. “It’ll fit,” she assuredhim.

Maazin grabbed the manifest from one ofthe technicians and scanned it. Then he followed Angela. “There’s an inflatableboat in here!”

“There’s two,” Angela said withoutlooking back. “They’ll fit on the landers. There’s a spot for them in front ofthe rovers. You’ll see it. They’ll fit perfectly.”

“Angela, we don’t need boats!”

Angela didn’t answer. Maazin pushedhimself along, following her toward the flight deck at the fore of the ship.Vaguely, he was aware of Kim and Dominic following. Behind them, the twotechnicians pushed the last of the crates aboard, returned to the elevator platform,and sealed the airlock docking ring.

“You know this Neptune and Triton thing …those are just names, right? There’s no actual water there….”

Angela didn’t look back. “We’re not goingto Triton.”

Notgoing to—! Maazin stopped.His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t make words come out. He shook his head. Heopened his mouth again, but no words came.

Behind him, he heard Dominic speak withhis crisp British accent. “Wait. Say again, please?”

Maazin turned back to Dominic and Kim. Hesaw Dominic turn to Kim and followed his gaze. Maazin realized then of thethree of them, only Kim didn’t look surprised. She looked mildly embarrassed, andshe wasn’t meeting anyone’s gaze, but she didn’t look surprised. She simplynodded once and shrugged, a slight motion that Maazin almost missed.

Angela called back from the galley. “Messtable. Everyone. Now.”