The Promise of Comfort

Cassie woke up from a short, restless sleep. What had happened again? Oh, right, she'd gotten lost on the way back, only finding the colony again after nightfall. She hoped the bird she'd shot hadn't gone bad already, but really, she was happy having found her way back, everything else didn't matter as much anymore. She hadn't dreamed of the girl in the longsleeper, but as soon as she was awake, she'd started thinking about her again. Her and the others, all the people ended in the destruction of their spaceship. In the end, their own survival had been decided by nothing more than a toss of the dice. If there were gods, they were pretty damn evil.

No, not evil. Uncaring. Utterly apathetic. At least evil gods would have given some meaning to the ended lives. This was just… random. Utterly wasteful. She decided to try and turn the utterly pointless and needless death she'd witnessed yesterday into a good thing. Or at least try and make some good come of it. She already cared about her fellow settlers, but she'd do so even more. Enjoy every minute of them together and every minute of being alone with her own thoughts and Noah's nuzzles.

She owed all the people who'd perished on the ship that much.

Procene had still been up, looking out for her arrival, the others either having turned in already or simply fallen over asleep at the campfire. She couldn't blame them, people were dead tired. But right now a pleasant small seemed to waft towards her in the barrack. The smell of grilled poultry.

Oh, no. No god damn way they were eating that bird and not saving her a piece. She threw on her synthread shirt and pants (her undies probably smelled like a nuclear disaster by now) and marched out. Before she could shout at the colonists to halt their nefarious deeds, Chef had already noticed her and held up a dripping drumstick.

"Cassie!" he called to her. "I made sure to save you a succulent buttock!"

Oh Hell yes. She was going to make that drumstick taste like the very first and last thing she'd ever eat. "Oh thanks, Chef. I was worried you might've eaten my catch without me."

"You wound us," Squires laughed, his mouth full of meat. "We'd never enjoy your spoils without saving you some."

Cass eagerly accepted the drumstick and tore a chunk off. "Oh man, this is delicious." It was. The meat was perfectly grilled, still moist enough that juice trickled down her throat. Hunger was the best sauce, true, but even disregarding that, this was some damn fine dining. "This is great, Chef," she said through a mouthful. "You made my day and it hasn't even started yet."

"Hey," he said, "you're the one who brought us the bird in the first place."

"True."

"Don't sell yourself short though," Odile told him. "I don't think any of us could've seasoned it so well. I mean, identifying plants is one thing, being able to use them right is another."

He smiled broadly. "And Squires got us a kitchen, and Larisa grew the thyme I used. Let's just say it was a collective effort from all of us, directly or indirectly."

"Cheers to that," Squires grinned, raising his water in a toast.

"Speaking of a collective effort," Procene said in her soft voice, "I may have some interesting things to share."

Everyone ate in silence and watched her.

"I've been browsing the survival booklet, and I think I might have a decent handle on some of the schematics. They're not laid out the way I'm used to, but I think I've got the hang of it."

"Cool," Squires said, smacking his lips as he helped himself to another piece of breast meat. "So what'd you find out?"

"Well," she said, "I think that the electronic components that are integrated in our longsleepers are actually more than just specialized, single-use pieces of technology. They're programmable to do all sorts of things. Makes sense, right, since they need to do all sorts of things, like recycle air, cool the pod, heat it, generate power, calculate the navigational charts and so on, and yet they all look the same."

"Oh yeah," Cass said. She'd heard rumours about those. "We supposedly had some on the ship. There were these tech guys that were specialized in something we weren't told anything about, but scuttlebutt was that they were testing a new sort of universal technology which could basically adapt to the programming it was given. That was probably what they used for the longsleepers and the entire ship."

"Imagine how much you could streamline production of electronics if you could just crank out loads of those things and program them however you liked," Squires mused. "Makes sense that they'd bank on that technology."

"Right," Procene said. "And I think that's what we're dealing with here. Which is actually… great news." She sounded like she was afraid of jinxing it by calling it that. "We might be able to use those components for all sorts of things. I need to be careful here, but we might have potential for all kinds of modern technology at our fingertips."

"Whoa," Chef breathed. "I don't, I don't even…" he sighed. "So in simple terms, for a cook from a backwards hellhole of a country like me, does that mean we can actually use electricity and stuff?"

"It might," Procene answered. "And even more than that. I think I already know which components to use for cooling, heating and power generating functions."

"Wait," Cass asked. "You're saying you can actually program them?"

She shook her head, her pigtails bouncing. "No, not yet. But I know whereabouts which components are in the longsleepers. I can't actually program them yet, but I can identify them and re-use them as they were intended."

Cass noticed Larisa scowling and wondered what that was about. Her eyes were venom.

"If someone," she went on, looking at Squires, "could construct usable shells around them, we could actually build all kinds of machines. In theory."

Squires held up his hands. "Whoa, hold on a sec. I'm a builder, not a mechanic. I build structures. Buildings. I don't think this is quite the same."

"It's not," she agreed gently, "but the booklet provides schematics for those as well. We can reuse the steel and composites in the longsleepers, it doesn't have to be pretty, just functional."

"Imagine," Cass heard herself say, "us in a month, watching television together while we whip up some iced margaritas and microwave some yakitori."

Procene chuckled gently. "I wouldn't get wild dreams just yet. Like I said, this is all guesswork on my part. Until we get something built, there's no telling if it actually works."

Squires cracked his knuckles. "Let's get to it then. Explain what I need to do and I'll uh, get it together."

She made an embarrassed, cautious face. "Before we do that, though…"

"Yees?"

"I'd work much more efficiently with a table and a chair. Would you, perhaps…?"

He nodded and rose, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Say no more, one table and chair coming right up."

Cass did have one more question. "Before you start, though… since we only have three longsleepers left, that means our supply of these uh…"

"Components?"

"Mm… is limited, right?"

"I… would expect so," Procene answered. "But since our longsleepers made their way to the planet, other parts of the ship might have done the same, and in that case, it's just a matter of finding them."

Squires snorted. "You say that like it's easy. A planet is big."

"So is an intergalactic spaceship," Procene reminded him. "I remember when we boarded, there was so much of the ship that we couldn't even see the sky."

"I uh… may know the location of another crashed piece," Cass said carefully. She didn't want to think about it too much, especially the fact that there was probably still a lower half of a human inside it, but they'd need everything they could get. "A… longsleeper came down not too far from here. You may have seen it or heard it passing overhead?"

"Oh," Chef said. "So that's what it was."

Odile immediately asked, "The occupant?"

"Dead on arrival." She shuddered at the memory. "But the longsleeper could still be stripped for parts. She… doesn't need it anymore."

"It's… sad," Procene agreed, "but we have to be practical. The more of these components we have, the better our chances of survival." Her gentle eyes narrowed as she smiled, "and our chances of one day having a television."

Larisa abruptly stood up, patted the dust off her bum and walked off. Cass didn't know what that was about, but perhaps she was simply frustrated that everyone was talking while she couldn't. Whatever the case, Procene's findings were promising.

"Alright," Squires said, his face also surprised at Larisa's sudden departure. "I'll make sure you get some basic necessities, Procene."

"Thank you."

"But first I'm going to see why Larisa stormed off just now."

Chef answered in Larisa's stead. "Some of us aren't that quick to welcome every change without some degree of caution."

Procene hugged her knees, her bandaged stump still red. "I understand. I didn't exactly make it easy for you guys to trust me."

"No," Chef said, rising and tossing away the bone of his turkey leg. "You didn't." He walked off.

Cass didn't see the problem, personally. Sure, the girl had made a horrible first impression, but if she'd wanted to pull funny business, she'd have done so already. After all, if Cass was out, she was the only one with a gun.

Odile seemed to agree. "I'm not sure what you'd have to gain by pulling the wool over our eyes. She's being paranoid, really."

Cass left the others to their own devices, confident that no one would turn out to be a homicidal maniac, and went to patrol the perimeter.

"So uh, what seems to be the problem?"

Squires sat next to her, his arms crossed over his knees as Larisa toyed with one of the pieces of bent metal they'd used as horseshoes. She scratched in the sand,

PROCENE

"What, you don't like her?"

She wrote

LIKE

in the sand, then crossed it out and wrote

TRUST

in its place.

"Really?" Squires asked. "You don't trust her?"

She shook her head. She couldn't imagine how the others could. Had they forgotten – or in Squires' case, not paid attention during the retelling – how this chick had fought them for their scraps? And didn't they realize that shooting people's hands off tended to make them resentful? Surely she and Chef weren't the only ones who realized that the woman's contrite demeanour might just be an act? Surely they weren't the only ones who noticed the woman always knew what to say, and when?

Squires sniffed slowly. "I haven't seen any reason to mistrust her, myself. After all, she's got the gun. Then again, you're right, it never hurts to be cautious. Maybe we're being a bit too grateful she's here and not careful enough that she might be dangerous."

Thank god he understood.

Convinced she was doing the stupidest thing in the world, she turned her head, leaned over and kissed him.

Chef watched Larisa and Squires sit together, her head on his shoulder, and smiled. Love bloomed even after the end of the world, it would seem. After a few minutes of musing, he returned to his task, stripping the longsleepers of any and all components they still held, along with Procene, who'd come to join him, saying she couldn't just sit idly by while others worked, and she'd had enough of schematics and booklets for a few hours.

She didn't talk much, although Chef figured that had more to do with her assumption that he wouldn't be open to conversation, rather than a personal dislike. He supposed the others had been right, though. The girl did have the gun, and if she wanted to kill them for what meagre loot they had, she'd have done so already. And besides, even if she wasn't on the up-and-up, there was no reason to treat her with suspicion, better to let her think their guard was down. Plus, it'd be a bit more pleasant to work with some conversation.

"So hey," he began, not sure what to ask and just settling on, "how did you win your ticket for the ship?"

Twisting a component out of its metal shell, Procene replied, "It's… not a very interesting story. Sure you want to hear it?"

"Please."

"Our tunnelworld village got ten seats. They had a vote. They wanted to make sure our community wouldn't make a fool of itself by sending lazy or um, less educated members. They also didn't want to lose their most valuable people, obviously. So they decided that the most useful, yet also dispensable members of the community could go. That meant, everything they had more than one of. I was one of the three illuminators, and uh," she cleared her throat, "the least accomplished of the lot. Made sense too, I'm twenty-four and they were over forty. I didn't take it personally."

"Huh." Chef said. "So either you were chosen because you'd represent your community well, or…?"

She smiled. "… or because I wouldn't be missed terribly."

"No special person you left behind?"

She shook her head. "I didn't bother with any of that, I was a bit single-minded in trying to become better at what I did. Maybe that was stupid, in hindsight, but it did bring me here."

"Miss home?"

She thought for a moment. "Yes and no. If you've grown up in tunnels and caves, you need some time adapting to the open sky above you. But I try not to waste my life on regrets or hindsight. I'm here, I'm with good people trying to make the best of all this, so I should too." The component twisted out of its housing with a pop. "The past is simply… irrelevant?"

"Aha."

"What about you?"

He explained, "When the Unified Terran Government formed, all slavery was abolished. My owners were fined so hard they only had their shirts left, and all former slaves were given a choice, either become free men with nothing to their name but the clothes on their back, or volunteer for the ship. I didn't have to think long."

"You were a slave?" She clicked her tongue. "That must have been hard."

He gave a lopsided shrug. "It was manageable. My owners were harsh, but they weren't sadistic or anything. Most of the guards were decent people too, as far as slaver guards go, just a small minority who wanted nothing more than to hurt people for trumped-up reasons. A large minority, really," he corrected himself with a humourless grin. "I was treated rather well because of my cooking skills. The basic labourers, well… let's say they were treated only slightly better than animals."

She shook her head. "Tragic, how people can do those horrible things to each other." She picked at the component with her fingertip, keeping it cradled in the crook of her elbow. "Slavery, war, oppression… Never understood it."

"Me neither. At least here, we're free of all that." Then he recalled the two men that had chased Odile. "Well, mostly."

"Mostly." Her eyes lit up. "Heyyyy."

"Mm?"

"I think I've found a way to access the programming on these things." She turned the business side of the component towards him. "See? There's an access slot in the back, but really, really tiny."

Chef leaned closer to look. She smelled of sweat, blood and fatigue, but also of woman. Looking at the component, he only saw unintelligible mosaics of plastic, metal, and other materials. "I'm sorry, I'm not… I have no idea what I'm looking at."

"That's alright," she smiled. "I don't either. Not yet. But I'll figure it out." Sliding the component in the pocket of her fur jacket, she said, "I need to go change my bandages, but I'll be back to help after that, will you still be here?"

"Yup."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

Occasionally sparing a glace at Larisa and Odile, tending the fields, and Squires, cutting wood to make a table and chair, Chef carried on removing components from his longsleeper, and when it took Procene a while to return, he began dismantling Cass' longsleeper as well.

It was only when evening fell that Procene returned, holding the survival booklet. "Sorry, got invested in this. I think we can use the already-programmed components for their original functions. Like heating, cooling and… generating power." She turned a few pages in the booklet. "I need to go talk to Squires about this, will you be alright on your own?"

He'd have appreciated the company, but Procene's research came first, so he simply said, "Yeah, go do what you need to do."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, looking forward to the results of your research."

Later in the evening, Cass returned with another bird, and Odile and Larisa had found some wild cabbage-like vegetables, which seemed edible, which was Chef's cue for starting dinner.

As he cooked, Cass kept him company, offering Noah the occasional scrap of meat.

"So hey," he asked her. "You uh, entirely sure about this Procene girl?"

She shifted on her stool. "Yeah. I noticed there seems to be some suspicion coming from you and Risa. There any reason? Something I missed?"

He half-shrugged as he washed the cabbages in a water bucket. "Mmmnot really. But she's… I don't know. Something's off about her. She's too likeable? Y'know?"

"Mm. I don't think that's a ruse or anything. I usually notice these things, as you can imagine. And I don't see any indications of dishonesty. I think that's just how she is."

There probably wouldn't be any convincing her, so Chef began filleting the bird and changed the subject. "I've got gossip by the way."

"Oooh! Tell! Tell!"

He turned toward her and grinned. "Larisa? And Squires?"

"Yeeees?"

He singsonged, "Sittin' in a tree…"

Cass' eyes lit up like bonfires. "Really? Holy crap, that is so awesome!" She rocked back and forth on her stool in excitement. "It's great to see the beautiful things in life can still happen, even here, even now."

He smiled along with her. "Sure is. At times like these, I think to myself, we're going to make it. I know it's silly, but I do."

She hopped off her stool. "We are going to make it, Chef. We're doing great."

Outside, a few loud bangs sounded.

Chef and Cass' eyes briefly crossed. "That was a gun. Procene's gun!"

Cass immediately rushed out, Noah disappearing out the door behind her. Chef forgot the stew and snatched up his plasteel knife, following Cass to wherever she was going.

Cass was running hell for leather towards the east side of the camp, and Chef followed as fast as he could, unable to keep up entirely but still staying close. Abruptly, Cass stopped and kneeled, aiming her rifle at two people in the darkness.

Immediately their hands went up. "Stop! Cass! Don't shoot! Don't shoot, it's us!" both voices shouted.

Cass lowered her rifle and asked, "What happened?"

It was Odile and Procene, the former half-prone, the latter standing over him. A shaggy mass lay on the ground.

"It was… this thing," Odile panted, his voice sounding pained. "It just… rushed at me. All of… a sudden. Like it… went berserk or something."

They approached and Chef saw it was some kind of large mammal. It lay panting on its side, sounding like it was dying.

"You get bit?" Cass asked quickly.

"N-no," Odile replied, checking his body. "But it was close. If Procene hadn't been there… it's… just a few scratches and bruises."

"You hurt, Procene?"

"No," she chuckled, kneeling over the fallen Odile to check on him. "My last hand remains attached for now." Larisa and Squires, too, arrived, one of them carrying a torch. "Ah, good. Shine some light?"

Squires did as she asked. "What happened?"

Procene quickly explained, checking the boy's injuries and declaring them harmless and in need of little more than a good clean and a kiss from mommy.

"I'm not… I'm not going to get rabies… am I?"

"Don't think so," she said. "This animal looked crazed, but not rabid. No foam at the mouth. Coordinated movements. Don't think it was any kind of illness, maybe a short-circuit in the brain, I don't know. At any rate, as long as there's no contact with bodily fluids, you're probably safe."

"Probably?"

"Sorry, I'm not a veterinarian or a doctor. I'm just… the person who is the least ignorant about medicine. And this planet… well, things might not work the same way. There might be diseases we don't know of."

Meanwhile, Squires slid his foot under the dead animal and rolled it over. "Never seen anything like this… any idea what it is?"

"Mmmno," Cassie said, looking more closely. "Looks like a goat, but… different. Probably this planet's version of one, I guess. Think the meat's safe to eat?"

Procene looked at the animal intently. "I think so, yes. But Chef, best you heat it well, all the way to the core, just to be sure."

"Sure," Chef replied. "Might be a bit chewy, but yeah, best be sure."

Cass kneeled down by the animal, prying its lips apart with the barrel of her rifle. "Strange. Looks like a herbivore. Why would it even attack people?"

"Like Procene said," Odile ventured. "Probably just went mad or something."

"Hmm."

"Think there might be more?" Chef asked.

"Don't think so," Cass said, scanning the horizon. "But we best stay cautious and sleep indoors, not go out during the night except for uh, hygienic breaks."

With a determined face, Larisa held up a note to Cass' eyes.

i want a separate bedroom

terry is ok with building it

assume you guys are too

"Uh…" Cass answered "I'm not the leader or anything here. But uh, sure, if Squires is okay with it, we can get you a separate bedroom, I suppose. It's not really what we should be spending time on at this p – "

"It's alright," Squires interrupted her. I'll put in extra hours in the evening if I have to."

"… Okay then. Any objections?"

None came.

"Fine, then."

"Squires," Procene asked, "Can I speak to you for a moment? It's about these components."

Larisa's eyes briefly flashed, but she instantly hid her suspicion again. Not before Cassie noticed, however. Her eyes remained hard as Squires walked with Procene to her new research table.

It was inevitable, Cass supposed, that when the first, primary needs were satisfied, the classic human pettiness had room to sneak in again. She could only hope that this little smouldering ember couldn't become a raging fire. They had much better things to spend their energy on.