Hugh Howey: Half Way Home

He smiled at me, which made chill bumps explode across my skin, my entire body shivering. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to fake being cold, feeling anything but .

“Good thinking,” Stevens said. “What’s your name?”

“Porter,” I said, reaching out my hand. “Psychologist.”

He grasped it firmly and shook it. “That’s a science?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Human behavioral science, sir. I’m an engineer of people.”

It felt ridiculous as soon as I said it.

“Hmm. I’d like to speak to you privately in a minute.” He turned to the others. “Porter’s right. Let me tell you what we’re going to build, and you let me know how you can help. Be creative. If you can offer support in any area, please let me know.”

He paused. “We’re building a rocket. Well, the construction guys are building the rocket, what I need from you is the payload. Colony is generating most of the schematics, so this will primarily be a building challenge, not a design one. I need people who can solder, who can troubleshoot kinks, and who can double-check every joint and connection in the physical creation.”

“Why a rocket?” someone asked. “What’s the payload?”

“Information,” Stevens said. He immediately raised his hands. “No, I don’t know what the information is, and we will probably not be told. Whatever it is, Colony won’t even trust the communication satellites to transmit it back to Earth. It has to be a hard copy, so you know how sensitive it must be.”

“Are you kidding?” one of our group asked.

“I’m dead serious,” Stevens said. “Colony is, anyway. Whatever it is, it has the AI riled up. I’m lucky I convinced it to divide us up three ways, so one group can work on helping us survive long-term. All the computer cares about is getting this data off the ground and heading back to Earth, which means we need to make that our top priority, or we get no help from the Colony in making this our home. Everyone understand?”

We all nodded, looking to one another to search for signs of dissent.

“Karl, I want you to check with the group by the command module to see about those wiring schematics. The rest of you, today is about scavenging for supplies and setting up our work spaces. I want you to use the power module for your work, but make it so people still have room to sleep. The supply group will tend to your clothing and food, so ignore those grumbling stomachs for a few hours and concentrate on the task at hand. If any of you have chemical training, I want you to liaison with the construction crew—propellant is going to be a major task. Colony has the mining tractors at our disposal, but we’re going to need a place for refinement, probably the fuel depot.” Stevens smiled at us. “Okay, good luck today. I’ll check in with you before dinner.”

He nodded to everyone else and pulled me aside. “So, what’s your prognosis?” he asked. “For the colonists, I mean.”

We stepped away from the scientists and stood in the small clearing that had formed between the three groups. I watched Tarsi speak with two other colonists, her head nodding. I wondered if by the end of the day, she would feel more connected with them than she felt with me.

“I’m not sure,” I said. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the question. I looked Stevens in the eyes. “I’m not even sure how I’m doing, to be honest. I think you’re doing a great job of keeping things organized, of giving us a sense of purpose. That’s really important right now.”

“Yeah,” Stevens said, looking tired all of a sudden. He flapped back his poncho and pulled a knife out of a scabbard tied around his waist. He motioned for my tarp, and I relinquished it, trying to act comfortable with my nakedness.

“I figure people need to stay busy to keep their minds from wandering.” He inserted the blade in the middle of my tarp and made a quick gash. “Honestly, though, I wish the abort sequence went in the opposite order as the birth sequence.”

I nodded, having had the same morbid thought. The lowest-ranked colonists were wakened last, but that also meant we were the last to be aborted. That left the least qualified in charge of our half-wrecked colony.

Stevens held out the poncho he’d just made and I bowed slightly, letting him drape it over my head.

“I don’t think they ever planned on an abort sequence being terminated,” I said.

“Aborting the abortion?” he joked.

I smiled, more out of duty than any real sense of mirth. “Did Colony say what happened?” I asked.

Stevens shook his head but I saw something flash across his face. Something he was holding inside, a little twitch I had been trained to recognize.

“No,” he said, “but it must’ve happened fast. Colony changed its mind midstream.”

I looked toward the command module. “I didn’t think we’d really mastered the human brain like that.”

“I don’t know that we have,” Stevens said. “Maybe it made a discovery after the sequence had already begun, or a difficult calculation finally spat out some conflicting result. We may never know.”

He patted me on the shoulder, looking up and down my poncho. “I want you to keep me abreast of any problems you see. If you get any ideas on what to do about Hickson, I’d love to hear them.”

“You should find something for him to kill,” I said.

Stevens’s eyes widened. “Do what?”

“Some predators. Anything that threatens the group. The guy is programmed for security, and right now you’re the threat. You need to find something outside our group to unleash him on.”

Stevens nodded, his brow furrowing in thought.

“You’re right. Absolutely right. But I really hope we don’t find anything like that out there. Colony is being pretty mum on what we can expect. Very secretive.”

I clasped Stevens’s shoulder as he looked around at the other groups. “We’ll figure it out,” I told him. “On our own.”

“Yeah,” he said. He nodded, but the corners of his mouth went down instead of up. Another of those little signs I’d been schooled to note.

“All for the glory of the Colony,” he muttered.

I nodded, but felt no compulsion to answer.

Just a few hours after my talk with Stevens, I found myself back in the place of my birth: the charred remains of the vat module. I was working there when he died, pulling wire from the conduits below the decking. At first, I had no idea anything had happened. The base had been a blur of activity all morning—people shouting over the roar of the tractors, excited scavengers running to and fro with special finds. When the accident occurred, it must have been more of the same noise, blending in with the rest.

Terri, another of the quasi-scientists, was working down the line of vats with me. She pulled up panels of deck plating while I followed behind, cutting open conduit and removing the intact wire. We rolled it up into coils before one of the others took it outside and arranged the scraps.

Beyond us—further down the aisle of vats—members of the support crew performed the nasty job of dealing with the remains of the dead, which consisted mostly of bone and ash. They swept and shoveled the piles onto tarps, then carried them by the corners out through several new holes that had been cut in the sides of the module.

Those holes let in a little light and the barest movement of fresh air. They also let both groups work simultaneously, giving us multiple exit points for taking out items useful or dead.

We found out about Stevens from Tarsi. I heard her yelling my name outside the module, and I half expected her to come in with some sort of lunch. Instead, she ran down the loose decking we’d already picked through, her poncho flapping, her face red and chapped. She was out of breath when she reached me—she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit.