Descending Road - NOW THERE WILL BE by Dana W. Paxson

NOW THERE WILL BE

0 NC, Day 6, Hour 14

The lander bucked, slammed again into the top of Opo Bira Lima‘s rebellious atmosphere, and dragged them upward once more for a final bounce. Someone whooped, feet drummed the metal floor. Crowded into the long, wide, windowless cabin, six hundred terrified, excited people sat in near-total darkness; rank sweat fumed the air.

Miriam, sitting next to Doug, gripped his left hand a little tighter each time the lander wobbled. In their free hands, they both clutched their remembrance wafers. Neither of them had looked back at Tompuso when the lander had drawn free and turned for their new planet. Now, no windows gave access to the pinpoint of light that had been their long iron home.

In the elevated command-cabin niche ahead of them, Barbara Arnell and Chandra Chatham sat side by side at the lander controls, scanning instruments and peering out through the thick forward window into an orange ion glow. The two women took the craft through a corrective thrust maneuver, and then relaxed for a moment, long enough to lean over and share a quick embrace, their eyes shut tight, hands stroking each other’s necks, Chatham‘s broad shoulder almost hiding Arnell‘s face. As they let go and returned to the tasks at hand, Doug nudged Miriam teasingly.

“No men for them, eh? How will they help grow our new country?”

“Not your way. Their way.” Miriam dug in a pocket, and pulled out a tiny golden-tinted vial. “I got a bunch of these just before I left that little ship. Sperm. And some red ones with eggs, just in case. I gave them each a few.”

“But what do you think is in those genes?” Doug asked.

“Do you know what’s in yours any more, guy?” She lowered her chin a little and looked up at him with round eyes.

“I intend to find out.” His return gaze caught her in its intensity and warmth.

Now there will be time, she thought, time to grieve, to feel hope, maybe to live. She closed her eyes and smiled.

Doug laughed. The lander shuddered, slewed, righted itself.

She closed her eyes, smiled, and murmured, “Hello, Opo,” sensing Doug‘s heat shining on her. In her belly a small heaviness glowed. She pulled her head upright with an effort and studied the big jury-rigged viewscreen flickering and shaking on its struts.

Her heart jolted. Under Pué‘s hot light, a mighty planet bloomed; its brilliant shades and hues of carpeted emerald and chartreuse and viridian, brown and sienna and beige, sapphire and cobalt and cerulean, embraced each other in vast chaotic swirls. Opo welcomed them.

The Sleep was done.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	NOW THERE WILL BE 0 NC, Day 6, Hour 14 The lander bucked, slammed again into the top of Opo Bira Lima‘s rebellious atmosphere, and dragged them upward once more for a final bounce. Someone whooped, feet drummed the metal floor. Crowded into the long, wide, windowless cabin, six hundred terrified, excited people sat in near-total darkness; rank sweat fumed the air. Miriam, sitting next to Doug, gripped his left hand a little tighter each time the lander wobbled. In their free hands, they both clutched their remembrance wafers. Neither of them had looked back at Tompuso when the lander had drawn free and turned for their new planet. Now, no windows gave access to the pinpoint of light that had been their long iron home. In the elevated command-cabin niche ahead of them, Barbara Arnell and Chandra Chatham sat side by side at the lander controls, scanning instruments and peering out through the thick forward window into an orange ion glow. The two women took the craft through a corrective thrust maneuver, and then relaxed for a moment, long enough to lean over and share a quick embrace, their eyes shut tight, hands stroking each other’s necks, Chatham‘s broad shoulder almost hiding Arnell‘s face. As they let go and returned to the tasks at hand, Doug nudged Miriam teasingly. “No men for them, eh? How will they help grow our new country?” “Not your way. Their way.” Miriam dug in a pocket, and pulled out a tiny golden-tinted vial. “I got a bunch of these just before I left that little ship. Sperm. And some red ones with eggs, just in case. I gave them each a few.” “But what do you think is in those genes?” Doug asked. “Do you know what’s in yours any more, guy?” She lowered her chin a little and looked up at him with round eyes. “I intend to find out.” His return gaze caught her in its intensity and warmth. Now there will be time, she thought, time to grieve, to feel hope, maybe to live. She closed her eyes and smiled. Doug laughed. The lander shuddered, slewed, righted itself. She closed her eyes, smiled, and murmured, “Hello, Opo,” sensing Doug‘s heat shining on her. In her belly a small heaviness glowed. She pulled her head upright with an effort and studied the big jury-rigged viewscreen flickering and shaking on its struts. Her heart jolted. Under Pué‘s hot light, a mighty planet bloomed; its brilliant shades and hues of carpeted emerald and chartreuse and viridian, brown and sienna and beige, sapphire and cobalt and cerulean, embraced each other in vast chaotic swirls. Opo welcomed them. The Sleep was done.