Interstellar Mission

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Wilder tied the final living vine in place, and then stood up, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She grabbed the handrail she’d constructed from intertwined vines and tested it, pushing and pulling on it. The rail seemed secure. It should be. The material it was made from was fibrous and so tough only a very sharp blade could cut it. The fact had put her off using the vines as construction material at first, imagining the hours she would have to spend just sawing the stuff off the trees where it clung like a sluglimpet to its prey.

But then she’d realized it made more sense to use the living vines. Not only would it save time, the plants would continue to grow and over time the walkways between the trees would become stronger and carry more weight.

Was using five vines per handrail overkill? Perhaps. But the handrails and the bridges—constructed from interwoven tree fronds and more vines—had to be entirely safe. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. And though a fall onto the soft, deep leaf mold on the forest floor probably wouldn’t be fatal, an accident would mean the end of her little hamlet among the trees.

That would be a disaster. All her work would be for nothing. The adults might even insist that she permanently return to the underground settlement.

Sidhe. That was what they’d called the place, after a vote. It was a name from ancient Earth, a dwelling place of mythological beings.

Wilder’s own name for the close, stinking, noisy passageways and tiny rooms of her former home was Shithole. Naturally, she never used the name out loud around anyone important, but she loved how the word encapsulated her hatred for the crowded habitation.

She understood why the colonists continued to live there, even though the Scythians appeared to be leaving them alone for the time being. It was the menace of the sluglimpets. The threat of the nocturnal creatures had plagued her too. If they sensed a living, edible thing above them while out on their nightly prowls, the horrible predators could actually climb up into the trees. Nothing seemed to be a barrier to their many legs and hook-like feet except for electricity, and the remaining fences and generators were all being used to protect the farming district.

It had been the problem of the Concordian native wildlife that had deterred Wilder from her plan to build a test treetop settlement at first, notwithstanding her eagerness to leave Shithole. Without an electric current as protection, she knew she would have quickly suffered a terrible death on her first night outdoors.

But she’d been determined. The sluglimpets were not intelligent organisms, she’d reasoned. All they had on their side was their deadly, sticky digestive secretions and a relentless drive to reach their prey. If humans could make their way across the galaxy to a new home, they should be able to think up a way to protect themselves from the predators.

She’d done it. She’d found a solution. Though the first time she’d tested her idea, all alone, illegally outside Shithole at night, had been terrifying.

She’d done it all. Everything she’d planned. Peeking out from the tree fronds around her were four sturdy platforms, linked by walkways. She stood on the fifth platform, which happened to be the first she’d constructed and the one she would keep as her own.

Below her, the undergrowth of the forest was green and lush and the decaying leaf mold was deep brown, moist, and fragrant. How much nicer it was to be above ground rather than with everyone else, skulking in dimly lit confinement.

In the end, the construction work had been easy compared to the difficulties she’d faced sneaking away to complete it. She’d made a few enemies along the way: door monitors, educators, her “parents”. But that was nothing new. For years, even prior to Arrival—ever since she’d decided to not attend any more useless, boring schooling, in fact—she’d rubbed up against authority figures in one way or another.

Never mind. When some of her friends joined her in the tree village, the people in charge would be forced to acknowledge the benefit of her work. They would understand that her time was better spent doing what she wanted to do, not following any stupid Manual. Those people who wrote that plan hadn’t taken into account the real difficulties the colony would face. How could they have? No one had ever attempted a deep space colonization before.

All she had to do was prove she’d created a second, sustainable living space. She didn’t think it would take much persuasion for other kids to come and live there with her. Who in their right mind would choose to remain in an overcrowded, stuffy slum filled with crying babies when they could live in fresh, clean air and silence above ground?

The tree village was ready for habitation. A few more facilities were required before the place would be entirely independent of the underground settlement, but it was fit for sleeping in overnight.

One more test remained. Wilder breathed in, gripped the handrail tightly, and stepped onto the walkway. The fibrous floor bent under her weight, but held firmly. She took a second step, entirely leaving the safety of the platform. The bridge swayed, and she grabbed the other handrail. The vines creaked. The farther platform, which had looked so close a moment ago, seemed to draw away from her.

Wilder remembered she needed to breath out. Exhaling between pursed lips, she carefully trod another few steps. The farther out she walked, the more the bridge swayed. Was that something she could fix? She wasn’t sure, but providing she held on tight she didn’t seem to be in any danger.

Alternating her hands to let go and grip the rail again as she moved along, Wilder quickly walked across the remainder of the walkway. As she stepped onto the second platform, she whooped with delight and punched the air. The surrounding vegetation absorbed the sound of her voice, deadening it and supplanting it with hushed rustling.

So far, so good. But Wilder knew she’d bent the rules as far as she could. If she wanted to move forward with the tree hamlet and turn it into the alternative dwelling space for colonists she desired, she needed official permission from the Leader. That might not be easy to get.