Nathan wants a full confession, so let me tell you a proper story…
About a place called Serendipity. The place was a hab, a home, and a living ecosystem. It was a juryrigged paradise with skin of metal and veins of lightning. It breathed hope for atmo and thrived on a diet of indentures. Five kilometers of metallic glass and steel, dangling at the Earth-Luna L1 between jealousy and classism. It was where I met Nat, and where I learned to live for something other than a cause.
In many ways Serendipity was a company town, and TerraCorp the power behind the throne. The people there were a practical, oppressed bunch. They blew off steam in different ways. Some tried to sideline the law and make a quick cred through alternative means. Blue sector didn’t really care as long as the profit margin remained healthy. And sometimes Command was on the take to begin with. An ecosystem within an ecosystem, if you will. There were always more bodies to feed the hab, and She was a hungry, growing place. Red sector glittered in the night cycle like a constellation of our own making. The Park was a tribute to what might be, and a coercive carrot to pair with any stick. But Grey sector was Her beating heart. And that’s where it all went wrong.
We didn’t understand The Fall when it happened, but we looked it in the face. The Chief Engineer was among the detritus, a big fish in a vast ocean. A star in ascension about to burn its reaction mass. Wars broke out Earth-side and martial law was put in place. When the mesh went down, the screams started. People were paranoid, and that burgeoning community turned quickly. On Earth, there was at least the hope of retreat, away or offworld. For us, we lived among our dead, a skeleton of close halls and frayed nerves. People changed. Monsters roamed the eco sector and residential.
I lost Nat.
In the end, no heroes emerged to save us. We were alone, and everyone was under suspicion. Grey sector was compromised, so we made due living off Her corpse. Nonessential personnel were hurried, kicking and screaming, to the servers to wait out a troubled time while we dealt with horror. Only to have the data banks wiped or subverted. Then their fused fragments and forks overloaded the auxiliary systems and we had to rely on older tech. Ghosts watched every known frequency.
But in the end, corruption saved us as much as hard work. One enterprising individual’s dark mesh gave us the needed back door to purge the system, and most of the crew. At the same time, old Serendipity’s orbit was decaying. Since the power cells were sabotaged, the only course correction we had was to vent atmo. Power looks different in a crisis, and those with know-how wielded it like a cudgel. After all, your neighbor might be one of Them. The saboteurs and the Strange ones. You stayed in line, or else. 9 times out of 10, my caution saved us. We were a little fiefdom of scrounging habtechs, and we left salvage others took. Those less choosy or careful usually turned. When that happened, I got creative. Spacing someone was preferred, but the lost air and pressure couldn’t be replaced, and the air was thrust. We sealed rooms, overloaded terminals, and one time we had to spacewalk to another part of the station. I kept tabs on the other groups best I could. One group cut off contact during a critical retrofit, and I couldn’t risk them turning. I didn’t know if they were going rogue or had actually been infected, but I leaked their room with toxic exhaust all the same, disabled their vacc seals. God didn’t forgive me, but she helped me finish the job.
We made it a month, and only twice did the Strangers infiltrate our group. We might have numbered a thousand if I’d been more calculating, less compassionate. They preyed on our humanity, set ethical traps, attacked our morale. By the end of our stay, the Serendipitous numbered 96, and we never wanted to see each other ever again.
When the scum barge arrived, we had to communicate by visual light semaphore. They took us aboard and we threatened to kill any crew they sent back for scrap. They agreed with our half truths of tainted salvage, but really we just didn’t want anyone else to look upon what we’d done. What I’d done.
Before I even set foot on Mars, I’d heard about Qurain, but I had to see for myself. Corps had tried sending in teams but ended up nuking the place, multiple times during my private hellscape tenure. They quarantined it - like Earth - and a new order was being established. Apparently I made it into a TerraGenesis memo; they awarded me genetic rights, citizenship, and waived my contract for “valorous services rendered in the preservation of company assets.” I cut ties with Terra that day and headed for the dust.
Earthers talk about avian species called to magnetic north, like a beacon. I felt that beacon in my mind, drawing me to the TQZ. And something about my morph was off, too rigid or too limited somehow. The symmetries were all wrong. I wasn’t in my right mind but I wasn’t stupid. Survival rate for prepared folk going there was shy of 30% per trip. So I took my time and got to work. No contact from family, mine or Nat’s, in five years. One day, I hit a snag that required a two man job. Cyril knew his shit, and Roland thought and moved laterally. I was impressed, and we worked together for a time. A year or so later, we had a good gig going. Every now and then someone would approach us, but whether you’re scavver, smuggler, syndicate, or ranger- it doesn’t matter. Stranger danger on the sands hits a little harder. So we ran. Better safe than dead and worse.
I’d only used an ego bridge once before, back when my family indentured themselves. This time was different. The bushbot, a model I’d never seen, fused with Roland and Cyril, a kind of forcible upload. Our minds linked, and I watched him erase, felt him shrivel and die. The body remained behind, and the bushbot scanned me. It’s only looking back that I connected the Serendipity to this moment. For whatever reason, I read as friendly to this TITAN abomination, and it facilitated the transfer. It stayed long enough to be a bridge, and I knew the other body would feel right. Or at least close enough. We dissolved our partnership that day, and I maintained his legacy best I could. I still had a mission, and now I was better equipped.
I kept at it, scoping zones, quadruple checking salvage, shifting spoils to get closer home. Eventually, the wastewalkers moved in across my path and I had to learn a little patience. That’s when I took the offer with PlathCo and met you all.
And that’s the story you didn’t know, before you didn’t know me.