Seventh Sun
By: Josie Columbus
Tags: Fiction, Space Exploration, Science Fiction, Short Story

Originally published in Trouble Among the Stars

We sailed through space toward our Seventh Sun. Our Sixth, near used up, was cool and swollen red within its yoke. Though the main event was months away, the Exchange had begun.

I sat in my skipper, looking down through a clear dome on my world below. My planet moved in a gentle orbit around the Sixth Sun, the sun that I had known my entire life. It almost made me sad to see it. It would soon be gone, used up by the Chariot Drive that was spewing a stream of stardust as it propelled my world through the universe. I could see the gauzy net of satellites around it, the massive beams that supported the hardware to harness the star’s energy. Looking at it from such a distance was humbling.

Few ever got to see the Drive in all its glory. As I stared, it sputtered for a heart-stopping moment, and then released a cloud of amazing swirls and colors that sent a surge of awe and delight through me. These were the death throes of the Sixth Sun, its final displays of glory before the induced supernova that would send us hurtling toward the Seventh.

Thinking of the Exchange sent a whirlwind of emotions through me. To be alive for an Exchange was something that happened only every dozen or so generations. It was exhilarating to think that I would see the sun I was born under burn out, and a new one slip into the yoke of the Drive. And, even better, I would do more than just watch. I swelled with pride at my own role in the process.

Since the moment I realized that I would be alive for the Exchange, I wanted to be a Seeker, and not just because of the glorious legends of Seekers in past Exchanges had bolstered my childhood fantasies. Rather, it was the thought of exploring strange new worlds that fascinated me. I dreamt of learning novel secrets of chemistry or physics to bring home, of capturing beautiful images that would delight generations of viewers, of discovering a rich vein of some foreign mineral that could benefit the people of Chariot.

The Engineers, the legendary creators of the Chariot Drive, had founded the Seekers. Between Exchanges, Seekers were used to monitor the Chariot Drive for defects, weaknesses, or other causes for concern or repair. However, the ultimate goal of the Seekers was to preserve the honor of the Engineers and Chariot as a whole. The Seekers operated under a simple code: Chariot would steal no sun from a world that hosted its own life. We were sent ahead of our planet, of our mobile solar system, to confirm that the worlds which orbited our new suns were cold and dead.

“I don’t see what you’re so excited about,” said Kelo, my partner for the Exchange, who cared more for the technical aspects of the job than the glory of it.

“We’re doing a phenomenal service to the people of Chariot,” I said. “We’re preserving the honor and morals of an entire planet. How does that not excite you, Kelo?”

“There’s little point to it,” Kelo said. “The Engineers set our course long ago.”

“Exactly,” I said. “The Engineers knew themselves to be fallible. We’re proofreaders, if nothing else. We’re here to know for certain that this is our new star.”

Kelo was silent a moment. “And if it isn’t?”

“The Engineers planned for that,” I said.

“You know that for a fact?”

I laughed at Kelo’s gruff stubbornness. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they?”

Before Kelo could respond, there was a gentle tone and the lighting in the skipper changed. “Preparations complete,” Kelo said. “Are you ready to depart?”

“I’ve never been more ready,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

Kelo chuckled, then said, “Seeker team 7C deploying.”

Our ship gave a shudder. We floated away from the orbit station, and then a whir in the back of the vessel grew to a loud whine. I braced myself as the engines fired and we went careening toward the third planet from our Seventh Sun.

###

I knew from the moment I saw 7C that something was wrong.

It was a rocky blue planet with swirls of white and green on its surface. A pale halo of ozone cloaked it. There were no signs of radio transmissions or other communication signals, no movement or pollution to suggest a developed world. But that gentle blue color, those swirling clouds, that shimmering atmosphere — all of them awoke an unexpected anxiety in me.

I had never contended with the idea that the planet might actually be inhabited.

As my skipper detached from Kelo’s and we went our separate ways, I arced westward along the planet’s forty-fifth parallel. From my initial height, all I could see were swaying carpets of green, tinged grey by the haze of atmosphere and broken up by the occasional patches of black stone or yellow sand. As I got closer, though, the world resolved itself into finer detail.

Things were moving on 7C’s surface. And not just the gentle undulations of worms or the placid drift of free-swimming jellies. No, these were complicated organisms. Some were covered in fine coats of hair; others in pebbled scales; and still others clad in thick armor. They walked the land, swam the seas, and plied the winds. The world was diverse in a way that rivaled Chariot itself. I saw creatures that subsisted on the lush vegetation, those that killed to eat, and even ones that contented themselves with carrion and droppings. It was almost too much to bear, to watch life unfurl under the gaze of a sun that would soon be stolen from their sky.

My thoughts of glory evaporated like fine mist on a hot morning. I had come here expecting to find a cold world, dead and desolate, uninhabitable. I found instead the most marvelous display of life yet seen apart from my own world.

My despair faded quickly as I came to terms with the importance of my discovery. I found myself filled with the immensity of my purpose. I was a Seeker, and here was what I’d sought. Was this not our true responsibility? Why the Engineers had founded us, six millennia previous? They had checked their work again and again but, as I had told Kelo, they had known themselves to be fallible. Geniuses though they were, they knew they could be wrong.

The dread I’d felt seeing 7C’s glorious ecosystem was replaced by certainty and pride. Kelo and I would be the first Seeker team to report life on another world. We would divert the course of a star with our news, and be celebrated as the heroes that upheld the morals of our people. The headiness of that glory snuck back into my mind. I was a child again, dreaming of fame and prestige. I did not allow myself to feel guilt over it. My duty now bordered on holy in nature — I had to embrace it.

Kelo and I rendezvoused after five days of exploring 7C. In that time, I had filled my skipper’s memory banks with the sights and sounds of the world below, and collected samples for study by our scientists. With my skipper as laden as it was with evidence of the glory of 7C, I was shocked when I saw how sparse Kelo’s was.

“You didn’t take pictures?” I asked, taken aback. “Why?”

Kelo shrugged. “I didn’t see much point in it.”

The statement shocked me. “Not much point?” I said. “This is the discovery of the millennia, Kelo! We’ve found life on another world! Chariot has wandered the universe for thousands of years, and until now we’ve only found cold, lonely space!” I faltered for a moment as I tried to summarize my feelings. “We aren’t alone anymore, Kelo.”

Kelo wore an expression of consternation. “I told them you were too young for this.”

This new assertion was a slap in the face. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t been a Seeker long enough,” Kelo said with a sigh. “I never expected to see life like this, I thought we could ease you into it…”

“Kelo,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

Kelo sighed. “This isn’t the first time the Seekers have found life.”

I gaped at him in stunned silence for a moment before I managed a feeble, “What?”

“The Chariot Drive was designed to fit the First Sun,” Kelo said. “The Engineers didn’t have time to go to a foreign star and drag it back, not before the black hole arrived.”

“I know my history, Kelo,” I said.

“We had to use our own,” Kelo said. “The Engineers knew exactly how long the First Sun would last. They knew how far they could get on its power. And they needed to find stars enough like it to fit the yoke.”

“I know this, Kelo,” I said. “I don’t understand your point.”

“Think!” Kelo said in a voice edged with something nearing anger. “The Engineers needed to plot a course to stars like the First Sun. The exact size and temperature were essential. Because we used our own sun as the First, only stars ideal for supporting life would ever fit the yoke.”

“That’s why they created the Seekers,” I said, my voice weakening.

Kelo’s expression softened. “People were concerned with the morality of the decision. The Seekers were created as a veneer over the unfortunate truth that we were likely to find life in the systems that we visited to harvest our Suns.”

I shook my head. “Then why continue the ruse? Why lie?”

“Comfort,” Kelo said. “Morality. Control. I don’t know. I just know that they won’t care.”

I stared out the window of my skipper for a silent moment. 7C was receding from view, its details already lost.

“Where else?” I managed to say.

“What?”

“Where else have we found life?”

Kelo was silent a moment. Then, “The Fifth Sun. And the Second.”

I had no response to that for some time.

“Why does no one know?”

“The Seekers know,” Kelo said. “I was told in my fifth year. You were to be told after today. We should have told you sooner.”

“I don’t understand.”

Kelo sighed. “It’s us or them. That’s all there is to it.”

“It can’t be,” I argued weakly.

“It is,” Kelo said.

“So, what?” I said. “I purge the images from my skipper? Destroy the samples? Report nothing but a dead world?”

“No,” Kelo said. “Of course not. Give a full and honest report. Just… don’t expect anything to come of it.”

That final piece of advice silenced me.

###

“Atlan Qirus?” I said, rapping gently on the metal door.

“Enter,” came a voice as the door slid open. I stepped into the room, and the door closed behind me. The atlan was seated at a wide desk, tapping at a screen embedded in its surface.

“You wanted to see me?” I said.

Atlan Qirus looked up at me, confused for a brief moment. Then, “Ah, yes, of course. I noticed your report, Seeker. I wanted to speak to you about it.”

A strange mix of anxiety and hope rose up inside of me.

“What would you like to talk about?” I said.

Qirus tapped the screen. “You were quite thorough. I wanted to thank you for that. Many of the Seekers are disheartened by the task of assessment, especially when they must report back on the presence of life. Their reports are lackluster. But your report was a treasure trove of information. Our scientists will be able to subsist on studying all you brought us until we’re halfway to the Eighth Sun!”

My dread swelled a bit. “Did you read my recommendation?”

“Hm?” Qirus said. “Oh, that bit at the end?”

“Yes, atlan,” I said.

Qirus chuckled. “A fine jest. ‘It is the opinion of this Seeker that the creatures of 7C represent a morally reprehensible position for the people of Chariot, and that an alternative be found as soon as possible’.”

“Yes, atlan.”

Qirus regarded me for a moment. “It wasn’t a joke, was it?”

“No, atlan.”

Qirus’s expression changed to one of anger. “You truly believe what you wrote? That we are a morally reprehensible people?”

I flinched, suddenly regretting my choice to use inflammatory language.“No,” I said. “But we cannot take this star.”

Qirus leaned back and regarded me, then said, “What would you have us do?”

“Find another star,” I said. “Go someplace else.”

Qirus sighed. “There is no other star. The Engineers plotted this course thousands of years ago. We have been preparing for the Exchange for half a century now. The Sixth Sun is in its death throes — you’ve seen the colors it’s been spitting. We are out of time. We need a new star.”

“Then take the planet with us,” I said. “Our world survives in the tow of the Chariot Drive. Why couldn’t theirs?”

“Everything about the Chariot Drive is far more delicate than it appears,” Qirus said. “We cannot add weight to our engine. We cannot account for a new orbit. It would upset our trajectory, and burn the Seventh Sun too quickly. We would run dry before we were halfway to the next star!”

“So you’ve run the numbers, then?”

Qirus groaned. “What numbers are there to run? It’s not possible. Not at the expense of our own people. We would face extinction.”

“As do the creatures on 7C!”

“Are you more concerned with them than your own species?”

“No,” I said, an edge of defensiveness in my voice. “But we can’t ignore them, Qirus. These aren’t microbes, or even simple insects. The diversity is astounding — you’ve seen my reports. We cannot destroy them.”

“And yet,” Qirus said. “We must.”

“What if we joined them?” I said, the inspiration so sudden it was almost violent. “What if we moved our people to this new planet?”

Qirus laughed aloud at that. “You could never get the public to agree to such an egregious desire. Nor could you get the Council’s approval. Those few you convinced to go with you would die along with everything else on the planet. Furthermore,” Qirus said in a harsh tone. “An influx of 10 billion organisms would upset their ecosystem just as much as us taking their star from them. Few, if any, of the native species would survive in their current state.”

“But-”

“And what of our own ecosystem? Would our native creatures would be doomed to freeze on poor, dead Chariot? Do you expect they would be effortlessly moved to the new world in a matter of weeks?”

“Atlan Qirus-”

“We don’t even know if we can inhabit it!” Qirus exclaimed. “You explored the world from the safety of a skipper. We have not assessed the ability of our people to survive there, and doing so would burn through precious time.”

“I’ll go down,” I said. “I’ll walk naked on the surface, if that’s what it takes.”

“Gravity!” Qirus shouted. “Radiation! Disease! Nutrients! We know nothing of this world except that some creatures upon it can walk. You would need to be naked on that world for a decade or more for us to realize the true depth of how it could harm us. And we do not have a decade.”

The finality of Qirus’s statement brought the discussion to a sudden close. I bristled, anger and guilt roiling inside me.

“It’s not right,” I said.

“And dooming your own species to extinction is?”

“At least tell people,” I said. “At least be truthful about it. Stop with the lies.”

“No,” Qirus said. “You are dismissed, Seeker.”

###

It took me days to come to a decision about what I should do.

My planet, my people, my life — all of it careened toward a new star, toward our Seventh Sun. We would slip it into the yoke of the Chariot and tear it from the sky of a world of creatures not too different from us.

I heard nothing of my report. I did not know what the Council thought of the organisms we would put to death. Thinking of them sparked in me a depression so deep that I scarcely believed I could escape it. There was little for me on Chariot, knowing what I knew. I did not think I could go on.

Kelo informed me, after I had been absent from work for two days, that orders had come down that I was not to commit suicide. For a Seeker to do so after a visit to the system would raise too much suspicion. I was offered no words of comfort or signs of understanding. I was told simply that I had to live on with what I knew, at least until ordered otherwise.

It had not been on my mind before Kelo had sent word, but it started to feel inevitable. What other option did I have?

It was the shudder of the Chariot Drive inducing a supernova in the Sixth Sun that shook me from my despair. The world came into sharper focus in that moment. My entire planet lurched as we picked up speed. The Exchange was approaching. To think of it almost renewed my despair, but I resisted. Something had to be done.

I stood and looked about me. The Sixth Sun had gone supernova. Atlan Qirus had been right — we could not divert our course. If we ever could have, the moment for it was now past. We could only go forward.

If we abandoned the Exchange, we would all perish. That was the truth. But would the Exchange not be a crime of magnificent proportions, a stain on the very soul of our world? Did not the people of Chariot deserve to know the true cost of this endeavor?

The epiphany struck me so hard that I reeled where I stood. What right had I, to pass this judgement along? What right had Kelo, Qirus, or even the Council? None of them were the people of Chariot; none spoke in the voice of all.

I’d implored Qirus to tell the truth. I realized now the true crime was to pretend that we knew what the people wanted, to move forward with something so destructive without even a chance for a dissenting voice.

Would knowledge change anything? Somehow, even in my most optimistic mindset, I doubted it. We would walk the path we had chosen. What else was there to do?

I formulated the post in my skipper, where my pictures from 7C were still stored. Kelo and the others had been happy to see me at work again. Controlling the energy of the supernova required absolute focus. No one noticed when my skipper slipped away into the cold of space.

I did not know how long these images would stay public. I had no intentions of singling out Qirus, or Kelo, or even the Council. I made no mention of them in my report to the public. I did not even implore that they find a common consciousness and rise up against the Exchange. I thought some might, but I didn’t ask for it.

I posted the report just before landing on the surface of 7C. The Exchange would happen — I had no delusions about that. But I would not let this world die alone.

I didn’t know how long it would be before the world died. I didn’t know when Chariot would arrive, how close it needed to get before its gravity ripped asunder the planets around the Seventh Sun. I didn’t even know if I could breathe the air of 7C as I opened the door of my skipper. But none of that mattered. I’d told the world. I’d shared what I found. I’d fulfilled my purpose, my duty, as a Seeker.

As the door to my skipper hissed open to admit the air of an alien world, all I could do was hope that it had been enough.