Gadolor

Life on Holder Alpha

Morning came with a chorus of animal song in the woods. Beside pools of water the triped frogs croaked their delight at the growing light. In the treetops, bats fluttered through the foliage, giving off their whistling calls as they prepared for a day of foraging. Refreshed by sleep, Sven climbed a tall rocky spire to look at the sun. It was just beginning to face the planet and warm it with glittering radiation. The grownups said it wasn’t a real sun, like the stars you could see at night. They were balls of flaming gas—this was just a crack in the power core that gave their planet warmth. Sven didn’t understand how that meant it couldn’t be a real sun. It seemed real enough to him. He spread his arms wide in its light, enjoying the last breath of sterile night air before the warmth of morning.

Before long he jumped down, excited for the day. Today he was going to the greyland to gather minerals. On his way home Sven passed the farms of several neighbors, where neat rows of crops were spread out in fields. Houses stood nearby, and Sven looked admiringly at them. The walls had grooves and the corners had notches where storms carved them over time. Most of the buildings in the colony were built of solid wood-rock, which the inhabitants had made with their own hands from the trees of the forest. It had taken a great many years to nurture this planet to the point of supporting such lush life. The colonists took pride in it and the rustic life they lived here.

As he reached home, Sven called out to his family happily. They were just waking up and getting ready for the day. After a hurried breakfast, he rushed to the stable where his horse Duster waited. They would have liked to let Duster roam free during the night, but he would eat all the elderberries, so they kept him penned up. When Sven grabbed his saddle, Duster frisked with delight. He laid the seat on the animal’s tall back and started on the straps and buckles. Duster belonged to a herbivorous plain-dwelling species. His coarse, greyish blue hair was as long as Sven’s fingers, and his dog-like smile showed sharp teeth used for grabbing tough plants.

When Duster was ready for riding, Sven ran inside to get his warm clothes on. The greyland lay at the edge of the sun’s reach. One side of the planet faced the power core throughout its orbit, leaving the other side perpetually dark. The lifeless surface was rich in minerals, but one had to be careful because it was cold and the air was thin. Fending off his mother’s worry with promises to be careful, Sven left the house and mounted his steed. He checked that his coat was well fastened and pulled a pair of goggles over his eyes. Taking a breath, he gave Duster a shout.

Duster was wonderfully fast. The terrain sped by them in a blur, and the houses were instantly behind them. Ahead lay a gravelly path that led to a range of mountains, which glowed in the sun’s light. Sven leaned down over Duster’s powerful shoulders, relishing the wind that pulled hard at him.

An hour’s run brought them to the mountaintops. As Duster slowed his pace Sven sat up, safe now from being torn off his back by the wind. They paused and looked back at the valley and the sun. It was a curious feeling standing there on the ridge. On one hand lay daylight, life, and people, on the other a grey wasteland with nothing but boulders and dust. There the only light came from the stars and the reflection of daylight through the atmosphere. After a moment Sven and his horse plunged down the path.

The cold was there to meet them. Even with his well-made warm clothes, Sven felt its prying fingers. Once on the valley floor, he pulled out a tricorder and began to scan the surrounding rocks. His main goal for today was to gather silver ore, which he planned to use in a homemade solar heater. There were other useful compounds to be found on the valley floor, and as hours passed lumps of rock piled up in Duster’s saddlebags. Sven ate lunch sitting under a big boulder, enjoying the warmth of a small chemical fire. Duster’s thick coat protected him from the sub-freezing cold, but he disliked the place for its lack of plants. “You’re a glutton, Duster,” Sven commented.

After lunch Sven climbed the boulder and looked toward the dark horizon, away from home. Something caught his eye. There was a dark shape rising into the sky. But there weren’t any mountains in that direction. His stomach churned as a suspicion came to him. Scrambling down, he dug in Duster’s saddlebags until he found his trusty dimensional telescope. He pointed it at the dark shape and peered into the glass. Sure enough—he could see black, swelling billows of cloud and the faintest hint of red lightning. It was a dust storm.

“But. . .but,” Sven stammered, his thoughts tripping over themselves. There was a sensor on a mountaintop that should have detected the dust storm yesterday. The colony always had a day’s warning to prepare. “Unless. . .Ohh,” he said, swinging his telescope to point the other way. He focused on the mountaintop where the sensor stood. The array gleamed in the sunlight, and even from that distance Sven could see it was damaged. Last week’s meteor shower must have broken something. Striving to keep calm, Sven looked back at the dust storm. Already he imagined it was closer.

He ripped open Duster’s saddlebags and dumped most of the ores he had collected. They needed to go fast. Mounting the animal’s back, he shouted again and began the race toward home. The freezing air ripped past them, and Sven nearly forgot to put on his goggles. Riding this fast wasn’t much fun in the cold valley. They climbed the mountain pass without a rest and only paused briefly at the top to look back. The dust storm was definitely closer now and the flickering lightning could be seen clearly. Sven continued down the mountain, squinting in the sun’s light as he descended into the living valley.

Duster was panting for breath and Sven was sore from holding on when they reached home. Wearily he shouted to some people working a nearby field. “Dust storm,” he called. “There’s a dust storm coming.”

“What are you yapping, Bradley?” someone answered, “The alarm hasn’t sounded.”

“The sensor’s been damaged,” Sven insisted impatiently, “And the storm is only a couple hours away. Now hurry up and sound the alarm!” The farmers looked at Sven’s irate face and at his panting horse, and nodded. In moments the peaceful colony was transformed. The siren wailed with its eerie, urgent voice, and men rushed around preparing their homes for the storm. The most delicate crops were covered by large tarps, the edges firmly anchored to the ground. Windows were boarded up and sealed. Some of the wiser animals recognized the alarm and retreated into their nests and holes. Sven brought Duster inside the house because his stable wasn’t airtight. The big animal barely fit through the doorway.

Sven’s father Bradley slapped him on the back heartily. “Well done, son. Because of you we won’t be blindsided by this. What do you think, Mother? First time alone in the greyland, and he saves the colony’s summer crop. That’s my boy.”

Bradley’s wife frowned anxiously. “I don’t know. An hour later and he could have been caught out there. But all’s well I suppose.”

A warm fire glowed on the hearth. Screaming wind wrapped its fingers around the house, seeking to pry inside, but the wood-rock stood strong. Here and there a puff of dust came through the windows. Sven sat with his family and all their animals, listening to the storm and talking quietly. He always enjoyed dust storms in a strange way. They had to turn off all their technology because the electric energy in the storm would damage it. The simplicity of life without tech was beautiful, though sometimes dangerous. It was, after all, why his grandfather had moved here. Grand things like starships and oscillator cores were wonderful, but Sven didn’t miss them. His family was here, and that was enough for him.