Колонизация

Bill pulled out his battered laptop from his backpack to brief the Captain. Fifty light-years from Earth and he still couldn’t escape committee meetings. Listening to Skaggs posturing was worse than the anthropology department meetings at Appalachian State University. “Thanks, Beth. I hope Earl’s okay.”

Skaggs slurped the last of his coffee. “Waste of time, working with aliens.”

“Dr. Holt, can you tell us about your progress with the natives?” Beth asked.

Bill knew Beth was just being polite. The mission’s real point was to assess mineral deposits on the distant planet of Carnegie. He lapsed into the dry language of academia. “The natives are at least as intelligent as us. Carbon dating shows their civilization is half a million years older than ours. Yet, they are pretty much stuck in a hunting and gathering society. And we have a galactic empire with a star drive.”

Skaggs yawned.

“We heard all about these cavemen yesterday.”

“They don’t live in caves,” Bill snapped. “Earl picked up English in two weeks. He was learning the banjo.”

Skaggs smirked.

“You came all the way out here to teach cavemen country and western?”

Laughter erupted around the table.

“It’s bluegrass,” Bill muttered. He only agreed to come to Carnegie, because it bought him forgiveness of his student loans. Some academics went to prison for defaulting.

“Thank you, Bill.” Beth turned to Skaggs. “So, you think it will take another six or eight weeks to finish preliminary probing of the substrata?”

“Yep. My engineers tell me we can drill several more test shafts. This planet looks promising for satorium, cadmium, gold and a dozen other marketable metals. The company should be very happy.” Skaggs almost salivated. “There should be some nice bonuses for everybody. Especially if Galactic strip-mines the planet.” He pointed to Bill.

“Well, that is everybody who contributes in some way to resource development.”

“My job is to work with the natives,” Bill said. He studied Skaggs. They were both about the same age, but Skaggs was a high ranking executive with money and clout. Ten years after his Ph. D. Bill was still struggling to survive.

“And I’m sure you’ll get a nice bonus for that,” Skaggs said. “Maybe you can pay off your student loans someday, eh doctor?” He let out a harsh laugh.

“My perso

“I didn’t look at your file,” Skaggs said. “Every damned professor I’ve ever met has student loans. Just throwing money down the drain, pal.”

“Mr. Skaggs, I’m ru

Skaggs chuckled. “Sure, Captain, sure.”

Bill cringed. They had been here half a year, months longer than any previous expedition. Every time he thought they might go home Corporate extended the stay. “Is our departure date definitely in two months then?”

Beth shook her head. “No. Our departure date is contingent on data analysis.”

On what Galactic wanted, Bill thought.

“I should mention, Captain, that my engineers have concerns about some unusual electromagnetic readings. They’ve been persistent for months. Last night they were off the charts and spiked ten thousandfold for a few seconds,” Skaggs said.

“Is there any danger?” Beth asked.

Skaggs shrugged. “I doubt it.” He rose and poured himself another cup of coffee.

***

Bill walked down the gangway into the knee-high grass that surrounded the ship. Monstrous tendrils of what resembled ivy snaked halfway up the massive ship supports. He wondered how long it would take the plants to cover the ship.

He couldn’t see more than twenty or thirty feet ahead of him through the shroud of mist.

It was hot like every other day on Carnegie. This place was worse than North Carolina in August. It must be ninety degrees already and the day had barely started. He wiped sweat off his face and sludged towards the village to find Earl.

Bill stepped on the slick mossy trail to Jugtown. He didn’t know the real name of the settlement, if there even was one, because he couldn’t decipher the natives clucking and chirping

language. Bill named the village Jugtown after the largest building that housed hundreds of hollowed out gourds. He suspected the building might be some sort of church.

Giant hairy vines slithered from trees higher than the tallest skyscrapers on Earth. He heard thrashing from the jungle that smothered both sides of the path.

A figure gradually came into focus through the fog. An old Carnegian hobbled down the trail. She sang an ancient Earth folk song, one that Bill had played for Earl many times. “ My Uncle Mort is sawed off and short. He stands ‘bout four foot two. But he thinks he’s a giant if you give him a pint of that good old mountain dew.” She cackled. “ They call it that good old mountain dew. Them that refuse it are few …” She saw Bill and her cat-like ears perked up. She was happy to see him.

“How do you know that song?” Bill asked. The only native who ever seemed interested in learning English was Earl.

The old woman’s eyes opened wide. “Good morning, Bill. You taught me. I am Earl.”

Earl was a young man, little more than a teenager. “Is Earl hurt? Why didn’t he come to the ship?”

The woman clucked her tongue.

“You don’t believe me? Fine. I will show you what I once was.”

She winced several times on the trek through the woods. She seemed to be in a great deal of pain.

They came to the village. Jugtown wasn’t much of a settlement by Earth standards. It had a handful of simple communal buildings, constructed of rocks with dried vines for roofs. From what Bill had gathered over the months, the Carnegians had no sense of individual property. They shared everything. There was no family structure that he could detect.

Earl sat by himself near the church. Bill ran up to him and held out the banjo. “Are you okay, bossman?”

Earl just stared.

“He does not understand your words,” a voice behind Bill said.

Bill turned around to face the old woman. “Of course he can. I taught him.”

“You taught me,” the woman corrected. She pointed to Earl. “Someday I may be back in there. Perhaps never.” She touched her chest. “Now I am in here. I may die in here.”

“I don’t understand,” Bill said.