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There wasn’t a sufficient natural source of water in Brunning. The vast valley we lived in was a wasteland that saw rain twice a year if lucky. When the Fortitude Hibernarii faction conceived Brunning they could have sent us the tech to easily generate water and lots of it, but they didn’t. All part of the greater vision of the experiment. Instead they sent an advance team of humans to Erimia, the planet of sand and hate, to locate an acceptable site to start a new colony. That advance team put in the groundwork for us and the other eight families that followed my father to this dead planet.
My father said no planet was truly dead. That was the epitome of Absolom Floros—a determined optimism that found potential in every situation. His relentless and contagious attitude kept the whole damned colony running. Contagious but not universal.
Outside, I found myself scanning the fields and wasteland beyond. Scolding myself. Spiders are nocturnal, get back to work, Xander. The work kept my mind busy and I dove into it as hard as I could.
By midday we serviced most of the pumps that fed water through subterranean pipes into Brunning—cleaning the solar cells and mucking out any built-up sediment inside the pump housing. My father tried to send Jamus back home a few times. It didn’t work, Jamus refused to go and plodded on with the work. Silent. Despite everything, the morning passed quick. Jamus and I leaned against the shaded side of the Larkin’s barn, taking a water break while my father, with his head in the Larkin’s pump, made some final adjustments.
Unoccupied, curiosity itched at the back of my mind about the morning’s events. Jamus had been quiet—something not normal for my little brother, but understandable given the circumstances. My father, content to work in silence, had barely said anything, only the occasional greeting to the other colonists. I tended to passively seek my knowledge. With a little patience and a mixture of keeping my head down and my ears up, I easily stayed informed.
That is, if anything ever happened and I couldn’t remember anything even remotely interesting happening in the last few years.
But now, not only were the spiders back, but they’d already killed someone. And nobody was talking about it. People were working in their fields or homes like normal. Brunning was a fragile machine and we were its fuel. Despite tragedy, work had to go on for us to survive.
Survive. Ha.
“This is pointless.” I wiped at the salty residue left on my forehead from my evaporating sweat and winced as some fell in my eyes. I splashed water in my eyes, cleaning them.
Jamus wiped at his own eyes.
“Use the water. Rubbing makes it worse.”
“Huh?” He looked at me with red eyes.
“Here,” I said, tossing water all over his face, “let me help you.”
He sputtered and wiped at his face.
“Your face is clean isn’t it?” I laughed, happy for some form of levity, while he wiped at his face. “You know, you should be more grateful.”
Jamus glared at me, water dripping off his nose. “Jerk.” He picked up his water bladder and walked toward the Larkin’s house. “I need more water.”
“Get me some water too?” I tossed my water bladder. Jamus ignored it and kept walking. “Whatever,” I said.
The low whirring sound of a pump starting up told me my father had finished. I turned to him and got blasted in the face with warm, gritty water. I tried to yell, but choked until the water stopped a couple of seconds later. “What the hell?”
“Oh, sorry Xander.” My father chuckled. “I thought I heard you ask for water and I had to clear the line before I hooked it up to the barn again… and well, in the name of efficiency I thought I’d help you out.” He smiled and closed the access hatch to the pipes in the ground.
Scraping silt out of my hair, I scowled at him. “Right. So helpful. You done?
“Yep.” He looked at the sun’s position. “Your mother should have lunch ready.” He brushed some sticky mud off my shoulder. “You will have to clean up before she lets you in though.”
“Ha ha.”
“You know, you should be more grateful.” My father took a drink from his own water bladder. His smile shrunk, the weariness back. “Speaking of which, where’d Jamus go?”
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“Went moping off for some clean water.”
My father nodded to himself. “Well, let him be. Some wounds take time.” He clasped my shoulder. “You know that. He’ll need your help.”
“Lot of good that will do. Spiders are gonna kill us all anyway.”
My father tensed a bit. I hoped he would say something reassuring, counter my bleak outburst. He didn’t. He hefted his tool case onto his shoulder. “Your mother is waiting.”
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My father and I came in the back door into the kitchen, Jamus trudged along behind us. He’d not said a word since he’d skulked off earlier. Lunch was laid out on the table. Cassava, red beans, and grilled crelix. Not many things were naturally edible, let alone palatable, in our corner of Erimia. Still, the planet had its surprises, most were unpleasant, but the small, fat, gray lizards that made a croaking ‘crelix’ noise—hence the name—practically infested our valley and weren’t only good for the copious amount of eggs they laid. Grilled, the crelix meat was way more appetizing than synthesized proteins.
After the spiders killed the Suiza family, my parents couldn’t get me to eat without forcing me. Trauma and hunger didn’t mix. Once the spiders were gone, once my father said they’d never be back, life and my hunger improved.
But the spiders were back.
When my father mentioned lunch, my stomach clenched and closed. I don’t know if maturity played into it or if it was the morning’s work, but coming into the kitchen the smell dominated my senses and I dug into my food. My father went to find Mom. Jamus leaned against the wall, taking small drinks of water.
“C’mon,” I said around a mouthful and waved a grilled lizard at him, “it’s your favorite. Eat.”
Jamus smacked the crelix out of my hand and walked through the kitchen door into Mom’s sitting room. My father came through the door while it was still closing after Jamus.
“Everything all right?” My father took his seat at the table.
“Guess he’s not hungry. Where’s Mom?”
“In her sitting room. Cali, Tenley, and some of the other women are with her.”
“Oh.” Before coming to Erimia, on home planet of Tatmus Delta, my family lived a fairly isolated life. Not many visitors stopped by due to a mix of geography and class. In Brunning we never had a shortage of visitors. My father was our honorary fearless leader, and Mom was the resident wise woman. Our front door was always open to the other settlers.
“Xander.”
“Ya?”
“Take it easy on your brother. There’s not been a death in the settlement in years. Yes, Jamus is young, but his heart’s broken.”
The food in my mouth suddenly tasted like ash. I wanted to know more about what happened to Alana, wanted to know how we were going to stop it from happening again, but the idea of spiders… dark things needed to stay in dark places.
I pushed my plate away. “You’re sure they’re back?”
“I’m afraid so. We’ve never encountered anything else here on Erimia that would do…” My father paled a little and pushed his own plate away. He stood as if to leave, but paused. “Still, something about it…” My father scrunched his brow, his eyes distant. “The harsh conditions on Erimia breed efficiency. The spiders are no exception. They drink all of their prey’s blood—”
“Please. I know.” I clenched my eyes, pushing away old memories.
“—but Alana’s blood was everywhere. And the dog. They took Alana’s body—”
“Stop. Stop.” Black holes in the ground and anguished screams flooded my mind.
“—why not take the dog?”
“Enough!” I stood up, knocking my chair over. “Just stop! Heretic’s Hell, just stop!”
The crash snapped my father out of his concentration. He stepped around the table and put his hands on my trembling shoulders. “My apologies, son. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I stepped away from him and took in a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds to calm myself—a trick I learned to diminish the effects of recurring nightmares. I hoped the women in the next room hadn’t heard me. For Yuan’s sake, I was twenty-one years old.
My father let me have my space, but didn’t stop looking at me. “I didn’t mean to drudge up unfortunate memories. Do you want to talk about it?”
Unfortunate memories. Ha. “No. Brunning needs men, not scared children.”
Nodding his head slowly, he gathered our plates and put them in the sink.
Eager for a reason to leave, I made for the door. “I’ll go get Jamus.”
“Let him be. We’re done with pumps for the day. I’m going to clean up. I need to meet with Reese and the other men.”
The idea of a council meeting hadn’t crossed my mind, but it made sense. We needed to do something about the spiders. By now my clothes were dry, but coated with silt. “I’ll come too. Let me change first.”
“Actually, I need you to go to the Thurn place. They haven’t responded to com calls. They never do. They need to know about Alana.”
“But the meeting...”
“I imagine that was where you were heading this evening anyway. Better to go and be back before dark. Day light’s a burning.”
I knew better than to argue. Besides, my father had a point. I spent most of my evenings away, but not now. Night wasn’t safe anymore.
I rushed into the other room and stopped cold. Usually when the women gathered in Mom’s parlor the room carried a generally happiness. Not this time. Mom and the other mother’s all sat close to Tama Jans, who in turn sat by Jamus, both of them crying into each other’s shoulders. Nobody talked, soft weeping and the whirring of the house fan were the only sounds. The whole scene seemed surreal, and the oddity of it all brought clarity. I felt like an idiot. A selfish idiot.
My brother lost his girlfriend and I’d been too absorbed in my own fear. I’d been a jerk to him all day.
I should have offered my condolences to Tama. Alana was her only child. I should have tried to bring some comfort, mixed my tears with the others. My father entered behind me and sat next to Mom, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. The gravity of the situation hit me in the gut. I told myself I couldn’t disturb the reverence of the room. As good an excuse as any to leave.
I quietly slipped into my bedroom, shed my dirty work suit, and took a shower. A few minutes later I left the house and the mourners without a word. I should have stayed.
But I needed to see Marigold.