Every morning for more than ten years, before the colony stirred, Tomas Marrow spent a few quiet minutes hoping his son would pick one of the safe futures and stay.
He understood the pressure on kids, on Kes. Media glamorized frontier life, calling fresh graduates to help explore and settle new worlds. It had worked on Tomas. The allure of gaining levels and experience in the Integration sharpened the call. The corporate contract he'd signed muted that call quick enough. Some of Tomas's friends didn't survive the harsh introduction to reality. Thank god he'd met Inés.
She'd calmed him, focused him. Together, they'd faced the dangers of a new planet. They'd been lucky. They hadn't even been first-generation colonists. The planet had been partially tamed when they arrived.
No, he understood the vast array of choices offered new graduates. Too many choices to pick from, and all of them dangerous.
Picking, that was always Kes's problem. Soccer, then no soccer. Math focus, then history. At least since starting to date Nev almost a year ago, he had settled down some. Tomas always wanted the best for his son. Nev was good for him, he could admit.
The specialty-school slot was guaranteed, if he wanted it. Nev wanted him to join the cadet program if he couldn't decide on a career path. That was her plan. Either choice would keep him on-world, which was Tomas's and Inés's preference. Both of them knew the colony needed to grow. Keeping Kes and Nev close would keep them safe and help the planet.
He poured coffee and opened the overnight reports.
Perimeter Logs. Water draw allocations while the filter plant was being repaired. Deep Core Seven status.
The survey rig had logged an anomaly at 2,840 meters, well above the mass the scientists wanted to reach. Four times, it had tried to penetrate and classify it. Each time, it logged an error. The data with the error told the story. Unknown material, off-the-scale hardness. Unmeasurable shape and span. One error said it was barely bigger than the drill head. The next estimated it at two klicks wide.
Flux.
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