Everybody Knows This is Nowhere

Part 8 - In the Semi-Darkness, There is a Light

Deep within the Delphic Expanse, there was a region with an enormous number of spatial anomalies.

The existence of spatial distortions was nothing new. All of the versions of the NX-01 had encountered them. They pushed and pulled at the ship, its cargo, and even its crew if you were unlucky enough to come into intimate contact with one.

However, this particular anomaly field was different.

The anomalies existed due to the placement of gravimetric spheres within the Expanse. However, in this particular region, the creation of a sphere had somehow failed. Abandoned, the half-built sphere's very existence still created spatial distortions and pockets of space where a vessel as large as a starship could hide.

And, within one of these pockets of hidden space, there was a planet. As planets go, it shouldn't have been much. It was small, it did not have a moon, and it should not have had either water or an atmosphere. However, the presence of the nearby failed sphere kicked up excessive amounts of chi spectrum radiation. This radiation had the effect of adding enough heat, light and gravity so that the planet could possess gifts that were far more impressive that it should, by all rights, have had.

On its surface, there was water. And there was rocky land, too. Light on that world was dappled and mottled. There was neither a true day nor was there a true night. It remained in twilit limbo.

And on its surface, there was activity.

A cannibalized wreck was the most prominent feature on the landscape. It provided shelter for a curious detachment of souls.

The inhabitants – Ikaarans – were not native to the little world. And they did not intend to stay. But there was little they could do.

They had crashed perhaps an Earth year earlier, although they knew nothing about Earth. They had sent out a distress call, but it seemed obvious that the message had never reached its intended destination. Perhaps it had never reached any destination.

Their mission had been one of farming, so they were uniquely suited to having a go at finishing the unwitting terraforming work that the presence of the uncompleted sphere had started. Industrious, thrifty and hard-working, they did their level best to make the planet feel like home.

There were fewer than ten of them still living. Eight mounds silently attested to just how difficult the first winter had been.

Winter. It was an absurd name for a world that had no seasons. A better name would have been time before the harvest. But winter was a descriptive enough appellation.

They were all female, save one. He was older, and had been originally brought on board to be their captain and chaperone. To the women, he was ancient, yet he was scarcely forty-five. Notch-nosed and dark-haired like the rest of them, he spoke, "What is our status?" he inquired.

"Verinold," said a raven-haired woman, her tongue clicking and popping as she spoke their language, "We have enough food for thirty-seven days. The first of the olowa trees will not begin to fruit for at least forty-one days."

"We will consume three-quarter rations, then, Esilia," he said to her.

"Lemnestra, do you have a report?" Esilia asked a shorter woman nearby – the Science Officer.

"I do," she said, "our water supplies are holding steady, despite needing to water our crops. We have enough water to last us until long after the olowa trees have all fruited, and the tofflin begins to send out new shoots. The water recycling unit is operating at maximum efficiency. Dakiza has done well."