Upon returning from a quick excursion OTG, Terra Nova Commander Nathanial Taylor found Malcolm Wallace pacing outside his office. The chief Science Officer looked antsy and agitated.
As this was Malcolm's usual demeanor, Taylor continued into his office without pausing, removing his armor.
"How goes it, Malcolm? Do you have the inventory report from the Science Division for me yet?"
In the days following the Phoenix Group's exodus from Terra Nova, Taylor had re-assumed power over the colony and, in addition to major reconstruction efforts, had ordered an entire catalog of all equipment in stock, as there would be no more deliveries from the future. He hoped to carefully ration everything until new methods of production could be developed. He was under even more pressure for Terra Nova to succeed, and to be a visible and strong leader to the colonists.
"No, sir, but I would like to talk to you about an issue that is … equally pressing." The scientist scurried after the Commander towards the large, Carno skull-supported desk in the center of the spacious office.
Taylor rounded the desk and settled in his chair. Malcolm stood firmly in front of him, prepared to continue speaking. Taylor folded his hands in his lap and nodded, allowing Malcolm to proceed.
"Well, you see, in your speech to the colony when you returned, you mentioned how we were 'the human race's last hope',"
Taylor remembered that day. It was the morning after he had been stabbed by his own son and then sat helplessly and watched as he was shot twice in the chest. He had to appear strong for his people, and marched back to Terra Nova without assistance, stood on the platform of his building and delivered a passionate, inspiring speech about humanity, strength in the face of adversity and recovery. It was one of his proudest moments, observing the men, women and children who looked to him for guidance and hope. He would not fail them.
"I know you meant it in a more philosophical sense, but it made me think about how we really are the last chance for our species to continue to survive in this world."
Taylor looked up, his blue eyes flashing with interest now.
Malcolm continued. "Commander Taylor, as you know, to be completely blunt, there are one thousand people left here to re-start civilization."
"I am very well aware of the gravity of our situation, Malcolm. I don't need a scientist to tell me that."
"Yes, I understand. However, are you aware of how difficult it is for a population of our species to survive without becoming extinct?"
"I believe in the resilience of humanity, and the strength of my people, Dr. Wallace."
"I believe in science, sir. And science says there is only a 17% probability of our species surviving past three generations."
The cold blue eyes flashed so that the Commander was now staring directly at him, silently commanding Malcolm to explain his last assertion.
"Commander Taylor, over the past months, I have run many, many simulations in the Eye, testing whether the colony will survive without the addition of technology and new members from the future. In scenarios without major natural disaster or epidemic, with all current farming and agricultural outputs remaining the same as they currently are, and with entirely random breeding patterns, population extinction is certain 83% of the time."
Taylor stood up and slowly strode over to the window. He gazed out over the colony, watching the bustling activity of the rebuilt market, checking to make sure there were two soldiers in the guard tower, on the lookout for a return of the Phoenix Group.
After a minute, the Commander turned back around to face Malcolm.
"This is all theoretical, Malcolm. Your data and simulations can't tell you what I know: that Terra Nova will succeed. That humanity will survive. That my people will live."
"Commander, I cannot begin to teach you enough about probability theory, or stochastic processes, or demographic modeling, or human and environmental biology for you to fully understand the truth of my results. All I can say is, as the foremost expert in all of those fields in this world, Terra Nova is under threat. Not by the Pheonix Group, not by Carnotaurs or Nykoraptors or Slashers, not by the Ice Age, but by numbers, probability and time. Time is the most limiting factor of all. If we do not act soon, I'm afraid the likelihood of population extinction will continue to rise until it is a mathematical certainty."
Malcolm, although he was the same height as the Commander, still felt like he was looking up into the man's eyes, hoping he would understand the urgency of the speech that he had been rehearsing for days. The Commander seemed to process the information. He sat back down in his chair.
"If all of this is true, Malcolm, is there any way to prevent it? Is there a way to alter the probability?" Taylor asked calmly.
"Besides re-opening the portal, no, there is no ethical way to improve our chances of survival."
"Ethical? Do you mean to say that there is an unethical way of saving Terra Nova?" Taylor scoffed at the idea of ruining his utopia.
"Well… yes. There is." Malcolm pulled a clear disk out of his pocket and placed it on the Commander's desk.
"What is this, Malcolm?" Taylor asked, staring at the chip.
"That, Commander Taylor," Malcolm said, pointing to the object with both hands, "is Terra Nova's last hope of survival. That disk contains a computer program that, when run on the database of colonists, will analyze the genomic profile of each colonist, and return a list of male-female matches of reproductive age that will maximize the genetic fitness of all future offspring of those pairs, as well as the genetic diversity of the population as a whole."
Taylor sat back down at his desk, leaned forward on his elbows and stared at the disk for a long time. Finally, he spoke.
"We don't even know if we've been cut off from the future indefinitely. Hope Plaza may rebuild. We may not have to wait long for more colonists."
"It will take at least two decades for them to rebuild Hope Plaza, assuming the bomb didn't destroy the entire time fracture permanently. Even if they were able to rebuild it, the first people coming through it will be more Phoenix Group soldiers looking for their friends and your blood. In 20 years, you will need a new army of young, fit soldiers to fight them." Malcolm had prepared responses to all of Taylor's questions and arguments.
"You have the power to make this decision, sir. Terra Nova's bylaws clearly state that, should the future safety of the colony be jeopardized, the Commander may assume authority over all colonists until the threat has been neutralized." Malcolm's voice was getting stronger and surer as he made his argument.
"The colonists would never allow it. They would revolt!" Taylor threw up his arms dismissively in frustration.
"I don't believe they would," Malcolm insisted. "That first day back, when you gave that speech, I saw how much they all believed you. How they trusted you implicitly with their safety and future. There may be some resistance at first, but once you explain to them the absolute necessity, they will come around."
"Come around! Come around to… to forced breeding? This is the type of thing these people were trying to escape by coming here, except now it would be reversed!"
"Sir, we both know that you have more power over these people than any government or militia or coalition had back then. You have absolute power here. You have the power to save Terra Nova, to save the human race, from extinction." Malcolm pushed the data chip towards Commander Taylor.
The Commander stood up from his desk and walked back to the window, first checking the guard tower and then focused on the market. He watched the colonists strolling through, making purchases, bartering, talking, laughing, enjoying the return to normalcy after the upheaval caused by Lucas and the Phoenix Group. He saw Mark Reynolds and Maddy Shannon, walking through the food stalls together, stopping to talk to Jim and Elisabeth who were eating lunch together during one of the doctor's few breaks.
"What about families that are already together, Malcolm? Are we supposed to break them apart? How would we convince them to leave the ones they love for some vague idea or principle?"
"The program only works if it is given all possible combinations of colonist DNA. If we input only single colonists into the program, it would only increase our chance of survival from 17% to 22%. In order for the population to survive, we must give our children the best genetic combinations possible."
"Our children? Malcolm, I thought you said you didn't want to have children." Taylor eyed the scientist suspiciously.
"I said I didn't want to have children back when the world was dying. This would be for the greater good of this new world, this new world that I believe in. Your vision and your colony."
Taylor once again looked out his window and watched Jim Shannon kiss his wife goodbye as she headed back to work at the infirmary. He turned back towards Malcolm, his tone becoming threatening.
"Malcolm… if this is all a desperate attempt to win back Jim Shannon's wife, I may have to consider exercising other powers granted to me as Commander."
Malcolm backed away, raising his hands in the air slightly.
"Commander Taylor, if I confess to a slight breach of ethics in order to convince you of my sincerity, would you reconsider your threat of punishment?"
"That depends."
"Well, in order to test the program, I ran it on a smaller subset of the population, a subset that included only myself, Jim and Elisabeth. I understand that this constitutes an extreme abuse of my privileges as Chief Scientist, and a violation of the Shannons' privacy." Malcolm's voice rose an octave as Commander Taylor began to look furious.
"I am now confessing to this because my computer program matched Elisabeth with her husband. I ran through all of my code and double- and triple- checked for any mistake, but no calculation errors were made. Even genetically, I guess I am not her type. Even if she ended up matched with another colonist, it wouldn't be me."
The Commander thought for a minute about this, his face unreadable. He thought about everything the colony had been through, and everything humankind had been though. The weight he had been feeling on his shoulders for the past seven years was growing heavier by the minute. Malcolm was right. They were humanity's last hope. Terra Nova was built to succeed. But part of the reason it was built to succeed was because it relied on scientists and doctors to advise him. He trusted Malcolm's math, because that was how Terra Nova was designed to function.
Terra Nova was also designed to function, not as a democracy, but as a military installation. Hope Plaza had had lofty goals of an egalitarian society, but that was not until full security could be established. Commander Taylor had been granted authority. Not just by the people back in the future who had betrayed his loyalty, but by his own colonists. They trusted him with their lives and wellbeing. He dictated the schools, the jobs, the markets, the safety and health of the Terra Novans. The only defiance of his authority had been disparate mumbling complaints of "frontier justice," from mildly disgruntled colonists.
Taylor sat down, reached across his desk and picked up the computer chip. Malcolm tilted his head, wondering what the Commander was thinking about.
"Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention, Doctor Wallace. Please make sure to get me the science division's inventory report as soon as possible."
That's it? Malcolm wanted to yell at the Commander. He had no idea if his exhortations had had any effect on the leader of Terra Nova. However, the introspective-looking man had clearly dismissed him. He slowly turned around and walked out of the Commander's office.
After the scientist had left, Taylor remained at his desk for the rest of the day. Soldiers filtered in and out, asking him to sign off on various decisions. Mark Reynolds noticed that Taylor seemed distracted, which was unusual. However, he had to remind himself that the Commander was a man, who had good and bad days like the rest of them.
As the sun was setting over the colony, Jim Shannon entered the Commander's office. Taylor was once again standing at the window, watching his colonists return to their housing units.
"Excuse me, Commander?"
Taylor turned back around to face his deputy.
"Yes, Shannon?"
"I just need you to sign off on the work crews scheduled to go OTG tomorrow. There are three of them, doing maintenance and repairs."
Taylor absentmindedly looked over the lists on the plex Jim handed him.
"They look fine, except Group 2. Please remove Ms. Tate's name from that list. She is not authorized to leave the colony at this time."
A flash of consternation passed over Jim's face, but he did not raise any objections. "Yes, sir."
"Anything else to report, Shannon?"
"No, sir. All is well in the colony tonight."
"Thank you. You're dismissed."
The Sheriff of Terra Nova hesitated; wanting to ask the Commander what was on his mind. He decided against it, and dutifully left the office, returning to his family for the evening.
Taylor sat in his office as the sun went down. When the colony was dark, and the night shift of guards had settled down in their posts, he slipped out of his office and walked towards the building that housed the Eye, his hand clutching Malcolm's disk.