1. The Detour towards Nibuwe

They should have easily reached the Nibuwe system, but a broken engine and a pilot’s mistake forced the escape rocket into a peculiar route. What annoyed Casjara most was that she couldn’t get mad at anyone: the pilot wasn’t human, but a computer algorithm.

So, instead, she turned her anger at the person who had programmed the computer. Even though they had probably died a century ago.

Hera looked up from two books she read simultaneously. “Oh well, as they said in Amor: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

“And we’re still suffering from that!” Casjara struck the punching bag thrice in a second. Or maybe even five times. It went too fast for Hera, though it looked impressive.

“From Amor?”

“From people throwing stones.”

Casjara punched the bag with such ferocity that it folded back into the ceiling, where she kept it when unused, which practically meant it was never there. “What idiot thinks: if I’m not allowed to leave on that rocket, I’ll throw stones and sabotage their engine!”

Hera cringed at the next salvo of curse words that echoed through the hallway. “Well, Fourstone said it best. Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity. And I’m not certain about the universe.”

“The universe surely feels infinite.”

Two doors slid open. A woman poked her head through the opening and yelled. “And we feel you should turn down the noise!”

“Do you even know who you’re talking to,” Casjara mumbled.

She flung her boxing gloves at the wall. Sweat steamed from her skin. “I’m sick of these stuffy white spaces. We should have been there long ago!”

The woman poked her head out of her door again, a glowing blue device in her hand. “Honey, do you want me to call the Space Regulators to gag you?”

On the other side, a boy shuffled down the hall. His long black hair hung in front of his eyes and a hunched back made him seem much shorter. He was one of the few that still wore the mandatory uniform. But it was frayed, full of holes, and hung loose around his narrow shoulders.

The sleeves scraped the bright white walls, the blue doors with built-in cameras, and a thick gray pipe once every five meters.

Hera knew his name was Simmo, but not much else. He seemed smart and kind, but whenever she tried to talk, he ran away.

“We’ll get the answer soon,” said Hera as the boy was already halfway down the hall.

“Whether we’re in Nibuwe already?”

“Whether the universe is infinite.” She grabbed a book from her bag and held it up. “Trevran set out years ago on a journey to the edge of the universe.”

“Maybe he’s already arrived. You’d know if you checked your receptor for once.”

Casjara stomped over to Hera and waved her own blue-glowing device, turning the entire hallway into a disco. She tapped something on her receptor and shoved the resulting screen under Hera’s nose.

A new notification appeared about another planet being colonized. Below were two articles about space battles, the first against a meteor shower, the second against another human spaceship.

“Receptor,” Casjara emphasized. “You know, the thing with news from the whole universe. Everyone uses it. We can’t live without it. Does that ring any bells?”

A bell did ring.

It was Simmo, who looked up in fright and pulled his buzzing receptor from his pocket.

“Look! That guy over there! He also has a receptor.” Casjara’s furious gaze slid over Simmo and Hera already knew what was coming. “Yes! You, you! Prove to her the importance of checking your receptor.”

Wide-eyed, he turned around and powerwalked down the hall.

After his footsteps had faded, Hera and Casjara also received a bell. Casjara immediately looked at her screen. Hera frowned and dove into her bag to find the blasted device.

She didn’t get that far. Casjara’s strong hands yanked her up by the shoulders and dragged her from the comfortable reading chair.

“Finally! Finally! My dreams are coming true! We have to get there quickly, Hera.”

“To your dreams?”

“To that new planet.”

Hera struggled free from the iron grip. Now my neat shirt is all rumpled, she thought. And this is why you can’t touch my books, Casjara.

They ran through the corridors. An alarm went off: running through the corridors was forbidden. But everyone did it—even the Space Regulators themselves.

After a maze of narrow hallways, they arrived at the general area. Casjara pushed people aside, Hera repeatedly said sorry, until they stood at the front.

The captain—more a ceremonial title, since he only actually steered when accelerating or decelerating—smiled warmly.

“Finally we have reached the Nibuwe system. After years of bad luck, setbacks, creative routes, and tough periods without much electricity.”

“You never have that problem with books,” Hera whispered in Casjara’s ear.

“Of setbacks?” Casjara frowned.

“Of needing electricity to read.”

The captain clapped his hands and added more volume. “It’s a bit different, though, than we thought.”

The crowd collectively put a hand to their mouth. The captain held up his hands. “No, no, nothing serious. The planets are positioned slightly differently—and that’s actually good news! We expect to be able to set foot on the first planet within a day. Get ready. It might be a rough landing.”

It was indeed a rough landing.

Hera and Casjara were still packing when their floor tilted. Hera swung around helplessly until Casjara grabbed her and easily climbed out of the room. The rocket quickly righted itself, but two pipes in the hallway had burst and spew gases.

After the incident with the toxic heating on the second floor, and the resulting two-year “ice age”, no one trusted these gases anymore. Casjara held up her receptor, like a bright flag in the mist.

“Follow us!” Hera called to the people behind them. And follow they did.

They stumbled over a large piece that had fallen from the ceiling. Two automatic sliding doors had been disconnected from the system by the impact and now went open, closed, open, closed, open, closed, open—

Casjara had thrown her punching bag between the doors.

Not much later, they emerged from the mist and stood at the rocket exit. They knew the protocol. A group of Space Regulators went outside, checked for danger, created a breathable air, and only then would everyone be released.

“Oh, Hera, this is going to be so much fun. We can set up our own little cottage. And then I’ll build a sports room in it. And you can have a library. But we do need to claim a big garden, you hear me? Right away, we’ll have to create fences and mark our … our … what did you call that again?”

“Territory. Terra is Ancient Dovish for earth, orium something like home, or place where it happens. But I don’t know—”

The Space Regulators came back quickly. Too quickly.

Surprisingly, they smiled even wider than the captain, and the doors flew open.

The planet had a purple ground. Dark purple meant the earth was hard and rocky, light purple meant soft and muddy. Because of this, the air above them colored more pink than light blue.

As far as Hera could see, the planet was flat. No mountains, no trees, only rare and tiny plants. She couldn’t see very far, however, due to the mass of people flowing over the planet like a churning river.

Together with Casjara she found an inlet. Four high rocks had already built half of their house. The spot seemed perfect. That’s where they decided to build their future.

This planet rotated much slower, stretching the days and nights. The captain had sent them to the side where the sun was currently shining.

So when the day ended on this planet, and the sun finally set, three Earth days would’ve already passed.

Casjara had been gone for a while. Looking for food, but especially looking for a higher position in the colony.

Hera had found a plant that resembled grass and placed it on top of a rock. Sitting in this temporary chair, she read another book, until Simmo ran by in a panic.

“Hey! What’s going on?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“We have to get away from here!” he shouted, perhaps the first words she’d ever heard him say.

“Why?”

He had already fled himself. Before Hera had closed her book and stood up, she was alone again.

Until Casjara came to her. Her face was covered in blood. Hera thought her usual glare could be terrifying; she had underestimated how much worse it could get. Oh fud, this is not good.

“Hey. Dear. What happened?”

Casjara said nothing. She took a bottle of water and washed the blood from her hands. Hera looked over her shoulder.

Four men held up a stretcher with two deceased people. One of the victims was the woman who had earlier tried to silence Casjara.

Hera felt she should look away, but her eyes noticed symbols of blood scratched into their arms. We were so busy decorating our house, she thought, that we forgot the house might not be ours.

The symbols resembled the Ancient Dovish for “stay away”. Unconsciously, she stepped towards it.

Casjara grabbed her wrist.

“I’m building an army. You stay close to me.”