Set things right

Although they sat outside, to Captain Dlain it seemed like they had been swallowed by the planet, absorbed into its bowels. Down here, it was warm and stuffy, like being in bed with the blanket over your head, and everything in eyesight, from the soil to dead leaves and bark, was a shade of brown. She had to crane her neck to see the forest’s canopy, beyond which no sky was visible. Meandering aerial roots, solid as tree trunks, drooped from the boughs above. There was no beginning or end to the skyscraping trees which formed one boundless barken mass of wood, roots and branches that crowded out the light and stifled the air. It was also very quiet.

Captain Dlain liked the quiet. A rarity, ever since Idzabett had joined the ship with the two little monsters that were their children.

‘I know you’re going through a lot at work,’ she had declared. ‘Let us accompany you on your missions. They grow up so fast, and we always wanted a family.’

Dlain sighed. With family time, sleep had become an unfulfilled desire. Amidst the silent trees her eyelids grew heavy, desperate for a nap. But she wasn’t here on holiday and the handmade wicker chair she sat on was unbearably scratchy. 

‘We’ve prepared a bit of everything.’ Officer Motter, Head of Exploration Infinite Lands, steadied the trembling of his voice by adding volume. Members of his crew carried flat baskets to the rickety table, avoiding all eye contact and immediately scurrying back to a grove of wide, hollow trees in the shelter of which they seemed to have set up camp. The baskets they brought were filled with steamed leaves, purple roots with shrivelled skins, cooked grains and beans bursting from their hulls, accompanied by countless colourful fruits. The smell made Dlain’s stomach grumble. Her assistant Zmitt eyed the spread but waited for Dlain to take the first pick.

‘The pink ones we call quivers,’ said Motter, ‘the blue wedges with the green rind are velvetpepos, and there you have some sweetberries.’

‘Officer Motter, I don’t care.’ Dlain helped herself to a blue slice. It really was velvety. ‘Explain yourself.’

‘Of course. I mean, yes, of course, Captain Dlain.’ Motter straightened the collar of his uniform, or what was left of it. The once crisp and straight black trousers were reduced to muddy shorts, and his faded jacket was only half buttoned over his bare chest, its badges tarnished and the stripes he had once earned peeling off. His unkempt beard and long hair suggested Motter had stopped grooming a while ago. Still, he looked well. Remarkably so, actually, had it not been for his fidgeting. 

‘Cut the crap.’

‘Captain Dlain means,’ said Zmitt, ‘that we require full explanation for the lack of communication since your arrival.’ Dlain nodded, happy for Zmitt—still young and energetic enough to want a career—to take over the interaction. ‘Your mission was to survey the planets in this system to determine territory suitable for mineral excavation. You arrived with company property, on company funds, five years ago. What happened?’ 

‘It’s—it’s hard to explain.’

Dlain shifted in her seat, poked by lose ends of the handwoven furniture.

‘Do it. Do it and make it short.’

Motter trembled. Clearly, the man could no longer handle discipline. Tough luck, because that’s exactly what Dlain was here for. Vhromalov, managing director of the Exploration department, was unhappy. Their missions lost more money than they made, the loss exacerbated by crews and their expensive ships, like Motter’s, going missing. So Dlain was assigned recovery missions on top of her quality control workload to save the money for a new task force, even though this was not in her job description and required different skills than her crew had. She couldn’t say no though, because Vhromalov wanted results, threatening the bonus she was to receive for ten years of service, the bonus she and Idzabett needed to settle in one of the newly colonised planets, away from the endless grind of space travel. They were so close, had been for a long time, but Vhromalov’s ever-increasing demands and shifting financial targets always prevented them from reaching their goal. Lately, Idzabett had been making demands of her own, calling on Dlain to quit, knowing very well they couldn’t afford it, not yet.

‘You’re missing everything. The magical years. What if it takes until they’re ready to leave and we never had time to be a family?’

‘I can’t quit. I’ve been working for this so long, do you want me to give up?’

‘Think about what you’re giving up already.’

‘That’s not fair. I’ve been doing this for you, for us, and you know it.’

‘We can scale down. I can teach anywhere; we could settle in one of the urbanised colonies. You could finally get back to sculpting.’

‘Stop it.’ If only Idzabett would stop bringing up that old fancy of Dlain’s. She didn’t know if she could even go back to it, numb like she was these days. ‘I’m doing this. I’ll get the bonus and we’ll get a nice place. Those built-up hellholes are just like spaceships.’

They had the same discussion many times, Idzabett growing more silent and Dlain grimly resolved to find Motter’s lost expedition to iron out the dent in the department’s financial track record. They had traced the metallic remains of the ship but not the crew, as their equipment signalled such density of organic matter and life on this planet that it was impossible to make out individual life forms. Dlain and Zmitt had stumbled around the ship down on the surface for a while until they bumped into a person wearing nothing but uniform trousers cut above the knees and necklaces with wooden ornaments that clanged as they darted away upon seeing them. Shortly after, Motter had come running to greet them, panting. He still seemed short of breath, squirming under Dlain’s eyes.

‘How can I say it, we arrived here to take mineral samples and the planet was so… habitable. Perfect conditions. We set up camp to explore it.’

‘The planet is too far from any practical routes to be a living hub,’ said Zmitt. ‘Your mission was to explore it for resources. You acted in breach of your mission.’

Motter looked positively pale now, lifting Dlain’s mood by an inch. Hjuws, the Chief Science Officer, patted his arm. 

‘We tried,’ she said, ‘but the planet wouldn’t let us.’

‘Excuse me?’ Dlain suppressed the urge to hit them both over the head with her scratchy wicker chair. The little monsters she was raising with Idzabett could’ve come up with a better excuse.

Hjuws remained calm. ‘Any attempt at interference failed. We felled trees to clear space for surveying the composition of the soil. The area grew radioactive within weeks. We tried another area but lost a crew member because the water turned poisonous. Whenever we attempted to control the environment or take more than we needed, the planet withdrew its resources. Like it knew.’

‘Right.’ Dlain looked at Zmitt, hoping for a raised eyebrow, but her assistant showed no emotion, professional as always. Frustrated, Dlain grabbed a couple of sweetberries. Biting into their vermillion skin released such an explosion of sugared pleasure in her mouth, she let out a small moan. ‘Wow. If we produced these on a large scale for export, it’d be a goldmine.’

‘It doesn’t work. We tried, but whenever we interfered, planting crops, managing weeds, the fruit shrivelled and died or tasted horrible, making us sick. The planet is like one organism.’ Hjuws drew a circle from the ground up to the canopy. ‘I believe all the trees are interconnected. It’s something more than an ecosystem. It has consciousness.’ 

‘Are you’re saying the planet is unhappy about us wanting its resources?’ Lower your voice, listen. That’s what Idzabett would say. Stay calm, don’t let them get to you.

‘You could put it that way.’

‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ Staying calm—easier said than done. ‘Admit it already. None of this conscious planet nonsense. You found a nice place and thought you’d get away with hiding here, food flying into your mouth, until someone comes to retrieve you. Extended holiday, right?’ 

It happened. Out there, all by themselves, the crews of some missions got lost. They usually died or went mad; very few people enjoyed themselves. It was difficult — meaning expensive — to chase after them. The only reason more crews didn’t go missing to colonise a new place on their own was that most planets weren’t as hospitable as this one. Damn, if she’d ended up here, she might have done the same. Idzabett would like it here.

Guilt sprawled over Motter’s face. How had that man ever become an officer? It’d be better to leave them here. One less thing to worry about. 

A cry interrupted the gathering. A loud wail full of need and demand. It came from the crew’s camp amidst the bark rotundas of ancient hollow trees and roots. Dlain knew that sound, the force that wouldn’t stop until an urge had been satisfied. She sighed. This would mean so much more bureaucratic nonsense.

✹

‘You procreated?’

Motter blushed. Hjuws had gone to tend to the source of the noise. Zmitt was busy composing a to-do list: birth certificate, medical check, DNA test, vaccinations. The crying stopped and Hjuws returned, carrying a basket filled with what looked like dried lumps of mud or animal droppings.

‘Here,’ she said, offering the basket to Dlain and Zmitt. 

‘Dear, please.’ Motter’s face was ashen.

‘Is this a joke?’ Dlain itched to hurl the lumps at their faces and disappear into the jungle. Let someone else set things right. Idzabett wouldn’t stand for it, of course. Hell, she would find Dlain herself, if only to remind her how she was failing to do her part in achieving their dream. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have you all arrested for setting up and expanding an undocumented colony.’

‘Take one.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘We can discuss things after. First, let’s have dessert.’

Eyeing Motter’s petrified face, Dlain shook her head.

‘If you kill us, someone else will come.’

Zmitt shrieked and pulled out her transmitter, ready for an emergency call.

‘They’re not poisonous.’ Hjuws placed the basket on the table. ‘We call them wonderfruit. They taste different to everybody, but always good.’

The lumps in the basket didn’t look much like anything, more or less oval in shape, one side bigger than the other, their knobbly skin rough and uneven. 

‘You’ll need to cut it open. Watch.’ Hjuws cut into the skin, running her wooden knife from the thick to the thin end, cutting the shell into halves. She twisted both sides in opposite directions and pulled them apart, revealing blue flesh, too bright for such a dull shell, and a large oval core, black as space, shimmering with the moisture of the flesh. With a wooden spoon she began to eat, nodding at Dlain and Zmitt to follow suit.

The flesh scooped like pudding from a bowl. Dlain closed her eyes. Warm spices caressed her tongue, transporting her home, to long winter nights, not cold but dark and less unbearable than the summers. She and Idzabett had been giddily planning their future, never knowing how much they should cherish those moments, when it was just the two of them. Dlain scraped every bit of blue flesh from both halves of the shell, would have licked the core had she been alone. Wiping it, she closed her hand around the smooth black stone.

‘Marvellous.’ She turned to Zmitt who was gazing in the distance, her mouth slightly open. ‘Take note. Prepare for cultivation and export.’

‘That won’t work,’ said Hjuws, whose wonderfruit was still largely untouched. 

‘Why not?’ Dlain was suddenly very warm. Her uniform’s cooling function was failing.

‘We weren’t lying, you can’t force it. We tried growing the fruit ourselves. It was inedible. Putrid. It needs to be picked in the wild. It’s a gift from the planet, given freely. Because she loves us.’

Oh damn. Now she recognised the radiance of Hjuws as the intense aura of faith. A bloody cult! Formed under her nose. Vhromalov would have a field day. She’d never hear the end of it. What would Idzabett say? They had been so close and now Dlain would need to swallow more corporate venom to make amends, to put things right.

‘This is against regulations.’ Zmitt was slurring her words a little. ‘Captain Dlain, we need to order reinforcement.’

Realising she had been gaping into nothing, Dlain closed her mouth. What had she wanted to say? It didn’t matter. There was only this warm cloud of velvet spreading from her stomach. Hjuws winked at Motter. What had they done?

‘The fruit. Poison!’ Dlain reached for Zmitt’s arm, missed and toppled over. ‘Call help.’ Thoughts slipped through her mind without trace. Help. Why? How?

✹

It was dark. Dark and warm, clammy. The knots of a rough, uneven surface pressed into her back, massaging her limp body. She tried sitting up but was held down by stringy rough ropes coiling around her arms and legs, running over her uniform, weaving through her loosened hair. Roots. They were everywhere, she couldn’t flex a muscle without touching them. She was trapped. Her breath quickened, flattened. She’d suffocate. From somewhere outside came Hjuws’ voice, muffled. ‘Let go. Breathe.’

Writhing, Dlain screamed, ‘Let me out,’ but there was no reply. Had she screamed or thought the words? Idzabett. This couldn’t be it. They still had to have time together. Calm down, focus. Dlain closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths in the stuffy air. As her heart rate slowed, the velvet cloud in her stomach expanded until it engulfed her entire body, dissolving her gravity. Her movements grew soft, her muscles like butter and the roots kept sliding around her, tickling her feet, her neck, making her giggle and relax slowly into the sylvan embrace.

She awoke in a bed of mosses, sheltered by roots and caressed by bark. Dim light filtered into her den. Dlain yawned and stretched, surprised by the fluidity of her movement. When had she last woken refreshed, without stiffness in her joints? She raised her head above the roots, in no hurry to leave. To her left, Zmitt was rising from another nest of roots, uniform unzipped and hair tangled. 

They took care to avoid each other’s eyes. 

‘Good morning.’

Hjuws had exchanged her tired uniform for a green dress woven from thick twine. Her baby strapped to her back, she carried a basket with quivers and velvetpepos. Behind her, Motter’s face had regained colour, though his movements were still shaky. Hjuws smiled at her guests. ‘I hope you had a good night’s sleep.’

They gathered around the table. Dlain enjoyed the quiverberries vibrating on her tongue and laughed at velvelpepo juice running down Zmitt’s chin. The baby screeched and Dlain signalled Motter to bring it to her. Bobbing it on her lap, she hummed a song from Earth as tiny hands grabbed her fingers. Motter sat down beside her. For once, he was calm, even spoke without being prompted. 

‘This is our home,’ he said. ‘Everything here is right. We aren’t in charge. We have what we need, we don’t search for more. Life before this doesn’t make sense anymore. When you arrived, I was petrified to lose everything. We’d like to welcome others, but people, they throw things off balance. Dominate. It’d be a sin, destroying this world, like killing a family member, one of us. Maybe you understand,’ he said, nodding at the wonderfruit core Dlain was teasing the baby with, making it look up and down, and left and right. 

‘I think I do,’ she replied, keeping her eyes on the small face before her. She longed to scoop up her own monsters in her arms. See Idzabett, show her this world, let her taste the wonderfruit and all the other gifts, the connection. She sighed. It wasn’t meant to be. Vhromalov wouldn’t stop at a couple of wonderfruit, they’d want it all, just like people on Earth. If their home planet had such powers as this one, things might’ve turned out differently. But then, maybe it did, and humans had overpowered it, until all connection was lost.

And then, wasn’t it the same for her? Like Earth, or this world, she had been turning sour from the stress, the endless exploitation of her time. Always working, running in the wrong direction, her ecosystem had reacted. Fitful sleep, bad skin and short temper, being annoyed at everything and everyone, most of all Idzabett who deserved it least of all. Strange, how this realisation alone took an edge off the bitterness. The wicker chair no longer bothered her. There were things she could do. Get away from the ship with Idzabett, first of all. Spend time together, anywhere. There was a new sweetness to the future.

  ‘I’d like to take some wonderfruit back, plant them in the Earth’s soil, see what happens.’ 

‘What about us?’ Motter reached for his child. ‘Will you send for reinforcements to arrest us, take us back?’

‘Don’t worry. You’ll stay,’ said Dlain. She longed to stay herself, but then another search party would arrive soon. ‘We’ll retrieve the ship and mark this planet as unsuitable for monetisation. I’ll cover your tracks in the records, keep you safe.’ Fooling Vhromalov, she had to admit, sounded like fun.

She closed her hand around her black wonderfruit core. It grew warm, almost like a greeting, an encouragement that she was doing the right thing.