Eden Twelve

“There she is,” Bea said. The blue and green planet filled the vid screen. It was beautiful. The entire crew was gathered in the cockpit.
“Do we know where the colonist are?” Turkish asked.
“A simple scan,” Portia said, pressing buttons.
The only settlement was located in the northern hemisphere, near the eastern edge of a continental landmass.
“Twenty minutes to launch, people,” Turkish said. “Put on your negotiation hats.”
They took the Starmaster 5050, the only not lavishly painted to proclaim the Starship Fabulous. It was a small landing crew: Bea, Turkish, Brick, Franklin, and Portia.
“Do you really want to leave Big Julie alone in your ship?” Portia asked Turkish.
“My men will keep an eye on him. The Black Heart is safe.”
That’s right. Turkish supplied a small army of his “men,” pirates, to man the Black Heart.
“Ready for entry,” a voice said of the intercom. “I’d suggest strapping yourself in.”
The entry into the atmosphere was, for the most part, smooth with only occasional bone rattling shaking.
From the air, the Crosby colony seemed small, a network of tiny houses laid out in a neat grid around a green square. The ship skimmed above the surface of an orchard and passed what seemed to be fields with wheat and fields with animals. From the air it was a very tidy little pastoral paradise.
“Any recommendations for landing, Captain?” Bea asked.
“Wherever looks good,” Turkish said.
Bea set the ship down in the middle of the green square.
The minutes later, the crew was ready to disembarked. Turkish scanned the crew.
“No weapons,” Turkish said.
“Ah, come on. We don’t know what these people are going to do,” Brick protested.
“No weapons. We are not their enemy.”
“How about a little one?”
“No.”
“Hope they know we’re not the enemy.”
“Listen up, people,” Turkish said. “We don’t know what kind of reception we’re going to get when we open that door, but believe me, it’ll be a show. And we are going to keep cool. No acting hasty. And don’t say anything. And follow my instructions. Understand?”
The crew murmured an understanding.
The door lowered open slowly.
Turkish led the group blinking into the sunlight.
A considerable crowd had gathered. Visitors couldn’t be that common. Portia regretted Turkish’s command against weapons because the colonists did not have a problem bringing rifles to the negotiations.
“I told you,” Brick muttered.
Turkish raised his hands in a sign of peace.
A man, middle aged, a little paunchy but clearly the leader step forward. “Are you from the Corporation?”
“Hell, no,” Turkish said. “Can’t stand those crooks. I’m a pirate.”
“Derek Crosby,” the man said, extending a hand. “Welcome to Eden Twelve.”


It turned out the Black Star and the Crosby colony had many things with which to trade. The Black Star was teeming with brand-new technology, technologies the Crosby’s crew had not seen in forty years. In exchange for some schematics and diagrams, the Crosby would supply the Black Star with fresh produce, preserves, breads, game, and some home brewed alcohol. Despite being state of the art, the food processors really couldn’t quite produce anything edible that didn’t have an artificial taste about it. Real food was always prized and always worth the price.
The town was composed of disassembled units from the ship. Negations were held in a long hall, a structure whose original incarnation seemed to have been a cafeteria.
Turkish and Derek Crosby sat at the table. Turkish’s crew was given strict instructions to stand behind him and look imposing. Derek Crosby seemed to have given similar instructions to his men. The talk was tedious, units of fruit, bytes of data.
Portia spoke suddenly. “I want you to take me to the Hope Colony.”
Turkish turned around sharply and said, “What are you doing? I told you to keep quiet.”
“Please,” Portia said. “I came all this way to find the Hope.”
“They’re not there,” Derek Crosby said.
“I know, but I need to see the site.”
Derek Crosby shook his head slowly. “We do not go there.”
“Why?”
He looked at her with a penetrating hard gaze. “Would you? An abandoned town? Empty houses with personal possessions still inside? Orchards filled with fruit bearing trees going untended? It is not natural.”
Portia leaned forward. “Do you harvest the fruit?”
“Of course,” Crosby said. “It would be foolish to squander a resource.”
“So you do go there.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But only for the harvest.”
Portia withdrew her data pad. “I have something to show you and I think it will change your mind.”
She played the message from Ofelia Clovelly to Katherine Clovelly.
Crosby extended a finger and tried to touch the shaky hologram of Ofelia speaking. “Is it possible? They survive.”
Portia played the message one more time. “They do survive. Somewhere. On a new planet.”
“How is that possible? The Eden ships were not designed for relaunch; they’re a one way ticket. And most of the ship is disassembled in the town anyway.”
“Maybe they found a new ship,” Ofelia said weakly.
“A new ship? From where? Growing on the trees?”
She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to speak the words. “Um…maybe the aliens gave them a ship?”
Crosby laughed, a deep laugh from the bottom of his belly. “I’ll take you to the Hope Colony myself in the morning.”