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  Horizon Alpha: Predators of Eden

  Future House Publishing

  Cover image copyright: Shutterstock.com. Used under license.

  Text © 2016 Wendy Vogel

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of Future House Publishing at [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-10: 1-944452-25-7 (paperbound)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944452-25-4 (paperbound)

  Developmental editing by Emma Hoggan

  Substantive editing by Mandi Diaz

  Copy editing by Jenna Parmley

  Interior design by Emma Hoggan

  To Chef Vogel

  Join Our Reader’s Club!

  Before Eden

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  After Eden

  Join Our Reader’s Club!

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Before Eden

  We never would have come to this planet if we’d known.

  If Earth’s scientists had had more time to study the skies, they might have realized. But there wasn’t any time. Their first report of Mercury’s wobble projected that Jupiter’s gravity would pull Earth’s neighbor out of orbit in only eighty years. Eighty years until Earth would be destroyed. They had less than a century to build the Horizon fleet, four city-sized Arks. Less than a century to choose four potentially habitable worlds and equip the Arks to be self-sufficient for generations. To figure out how to propel a ship the size of a small town across the galaxy to a brand new planet. To choose the lucky group of refugees who would carry the seeds of our doomed species.

  That was two hundred years ago.

  All four Horizon ships left Earth’s orbit, and because Tau Ceti e was the closest habitable planet, our distant ancestors on the Alpha ship had the shortest journey. Even then, when they boarded Horizon Alpha for the one-way voyage, they knew they would never set foot on solid ground again. Generations were born, lived, and died aboard the city-size ship, breathing the recycled air of a dead planet. They kept busy: they read and played games, they grew crops in the gardens, and they bred sheep, the only farm animal deemed useful enough to devote space to. They trained the next generation of scientists to spend years studying how two centuries in space would affect all the living things they brought from Earth. They fought the despair that must have plagued all those unfortunates who knew they wouldn’t live to see the new world, humanity’s last hope.

  Our ancestors were still luckier than most. Horizon Gamma never made it out of Earth’s solar system. Every year we take a moment of silence on Day 45 for Gamma’s five hundred souls and Day 138 for the billions more who never got to leave Earth at all. The Beta and Delta are still out there somewhere, speeding toward distant stars and other worlds.

  At least, we think they are.

  It’s been over a century since the distance between our ships ended communications, but neither of them was scheduled for planetfall for at least another 300 Earth years.

  Ceti’s orbit is faster than Earth’s, so we get just under three hundred days a year here. We’re a bit closer to our sun than Earth was, and a lot bigger. It’s hotter here day and night, and Ceti is younger than Earth. In the panic to get humans off our home world, nobody realized what those conditions might mean when they pointed us here.

  By the time Horizon entered orbit around Tau Ceti e, it was far too late to turn back. We had only enough fuel to get here and set up a preliminary city. The long-dead scientists of Earth expected us to figure out the natural resources here and sort out a new life for ourselves. They must have envisioned a preindustrial society, Earth’s descendants making campfires and living off a new land.

  We never blamed them. They meant well.

  After centuries of travel, Horizon Alpha arrived. We launched probes to test the atmosphere and found it oxygen-rich and clean. Our sensors sent back data that told us of a warm, damp planet teeming with plant and animal life. We had no way to know what the plants would be like, but we had crops and seeds on Horizon to sow this new world with familiar foods. We had dreams of domesticating the animals, whatever they might turn out to be. Surely this was a new Eden, a garden of plenty where humanity would thrive.

  I was born twelve years before we entered Ceti’s orbit. My brother, Josh, was four years old then, and my mom had just completed her medical training. And our dad was captain of the Horizon Alpha. We were the lucky ones. The first humans in generations to set foot on the natural soil of a living planet.

  Horizon herself was far too large to make planetfall, but we had plenty of shuttles to carry us and everything we’d need down to our new home. My father would be the last man to leave the ship. He would engage the solar-powered autopilot that would keep Horizon in geosynchronous orbit, our eternal eyes-in-the-sky above our proposed base.

  The plan was to deploy our communication satellites and scan the planet to determine the best place to land, but the satellites showed us images of dense jungles, wide rivers, and vast oceans. We couldn’t see past the thick canopy and had no idea what animals had evolved here, but we were thrilled to finally be so close to the end of our journey.

  We started loading a single shuttle to send to the planet’s surface. The team inside would scout out the planet while we waited for their report.

  Moments before the shuttle took off, an explosion rocked Horizon’s hull.

  The shock wave pulsed right through my shoes. Sirens blared and lights flashed.

  “Emergency evacuation. All personnel report to your transport shuttle for immediate departure.” The robotic voice repeated the message over and over.

  Mom told Josh and me to grab everything we could carry from our home unit and run for the shuttle. We were assigned to transport 36, halfway across the width of Horizon. People were running everywhere, babies screamed, and the air started to smell thick. Josh carried my little sister, Malia, and we pushed through the crowds toward our evacuation assignment.

  “Where’s Dad?” I yelled in the chaos, even though I knew he was probably in the control room, keeping the ship flying.

  When we got to bay 36, the shuttle was gone. One of Horizon’s officers herded us onto the next shuttle, and we crammed in as tightly as we would fit. We all got seats and belted ourselves in, but more people kept boarding and t
here wasn’t enough room. My ears popped when they closed the shuttle doors and the cabin changed pressure.

  And then we were falling.

  I looked out the window to see Horizon in the black sky above us, before the window was obscured by fire as we entered Ceti’s atmosphere. I thought the burn would last forever as the little ship bucked and shook. Finally the window cleared, the engines kicked on, and we were flying high above a green world.

  Ceti is larger than Earth, so its gravity is stronger. We were supposed to fly in formation to an orderly landing, all the shuttles together. But we were losing altitude too fast. The pilot kept us in the air as long as he could, searching for an open field to land in. Finally he saw a likely spot, and we raced for the ground.

  The final leg of our one-way trip was over, and as we bumped to a halt on the ground, Mom started to cry.

  “It’s okay, Mom, we landed. We’re all right.”

  She shook her head and clutched Malia so hard that she started to cry, too, huge tears on her little cheeks. I tried to comfort her, but I didn’t understand why she was crying.

  Somehow Mom knew when we landed that Dad wouldn’t leave his damaged ship. Our shuttle’s pilot told Mom that Dad had sent out a final message of hope to all the shuttles that had escaped Horizon, and that he loved us very much. In the three years since, Mom has never mentioned his name again.

  Seven of the launched ships landed in the riverside clearing that became Eden base. Three of them were huge transports like the one we were on, and four more were small shuttles intended to go back and forth to Horizon as we removed all its contents and set up our new home.

  We had brief satellite contact with a few of the other transports, but they were scattered across the planet, too far to join us here. I don’t know if any of them survived. There might be other settlements elsewhere on Ceti, but if they’re out there, we haven’t heard from them.

  In those first moments, though, I was mostly just relieved. I craned my neck to see out the window.

  It was all right. We had landed safely.

  We were here.

  I tried to stand up and fell back into my seat. Gravity was pulling on me just like it did the shuttles. I was heavier than I had ever been on the artificial gravity of Horizon. I hauled myself up, gripping the seat in front of me with leaden arms.

  The huge bay doors opened and I smelled fresh air for the first time in my life. It smelled green and wet and alive, and I wanted to run out and bury my hands in the dirt, to immerse myself in this solid new world.

  A roar echoed through the shuttle. Our pilot slammed the bay doors closed and everyone pressed toward the nearest window, straining to see through the thick glass.

  We felt the vibration of the footfalls and everyone went silent. I can still hear the voice of the first person who saw it and realized what it was.

  “Sweet shining stars, it’s a dinosaur!”

  Chapter 1

  Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down the back of my neck as I lined up with the rest of my unit. The youngest member of Eden’s pathetic army, I stood rigid under the blazing sun, trying to look more mature than my fifteen years. A giant bloodsucker mosquito buzzed past my ear and settled on my upper lip. I snorted, trying to blow it away with quick puffs of breath, not daring to break formation to swat it.

  “Count off,” General Carthage ordered.

  Down the line of boys, we called out our names.

  “Caleb Wilde, ready!” I barked when it was my turn.

  Behind me, the shuttle’s door gaped open and heat poured off the grungy metal wings.

  A distant roar echoed down the valley and every head jerked toward the sound. Across the river, a gargling shriek cut off mid-squeal.

  Inside the shuttle, Pilot Bronton ignited the thrusters, drowning out the General’s next words. The vibration rumbled across our small electrified haven within the towering jungle. The General waved us toward the shuttle’s rusty hatch and we trooped forward. I flicked the engorged bloodsucker off my lip with a wet snap of my finger.

  I stumbled as a small pair of arms wrapped around my leg from behind.

  “Malia, come here this instant!” Mom’s voice carried over the whine of the thrusters.

  I crouched low and my little sister threw herself around my neck. Her tears mingled with the sweat on my cheek. I picked her up, hugging her tight. The sun had bleached her pale hair to almost white and had darkened my skin to the brown color of tree bark. Together we made light and shadow; Malia was the starlight in my night sky.

  “It’s okay, Mali. I’ll be home in time for dinner,” I said.

  Her blue eyes searched mine faithlessly and my smile faded. Our brother, Josh, had told her that, too, when he left on a mission three months ago.

  “I promise.” I started to peel her sticky limbs off my skin. “Mali, what do we say? ‘However long the stars shine . . .’” I began the words our dad had always said, our family’s motto.

  She sniffled. “. . . that’s how long I love you.”

  Mom rushed up to take her, and Malia clung to her, sobbing. Mom’s dry eyes and dark face betrayed no emotion. Her gaze flickered past my shoulder, and a presence loomed behind me.

  “I’ll take care of him, Randa,” the General said.

  My mom nodded and my face burned. I was a full soldier now. Nobody needed to take care of me.

  My mother had been livid when the General told her he was taking me on this mission to retrieve the reactor core.

  “Absolutely not. I’ve already lost a husband and one son. You are not taking Caleb!” I’m sure the whole base heard her screaming at him. The General and my mom had argued for days about it, and the General won. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, and I don’t know how he convinced her, but he must have promised I’d be safe with him. It rankled me a little bit because this was probably the safest and easiest mission I could go on, and everyone was still treating me like a child. But I was happy for the General’s insistence because I was flying out on the shuttle. No amount of crying from my mom or baby sister would sway him.

  “I’ll be okay, Mom,” I added. “It’s just a few hours’ flight. Nothing can get us in the sky.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line and she nodded. She had already hugged me goodbye this morning, clutching me as if she were drowning.

  Now she clenched her jaw as she turned away from the idling shuttle. Malia didn’t look up from weeping, her face buried in mom’s hair.

  The General’s hand clapped my shoulder and I started, tearing my eyes away from the only family I had left.

  “It’s time to go, son,” he said.

  I’m not your son.

  I hated it when he talked like that. I looked up to the General, respected him, and was as intimidated by him as anyone else in Eden was. But my mom had never been afraid of him, and after Josh disappeared, he’d moved in with us. He said he wanted to take care of my mom until I was old enough to be the man of the house. I knew Mom wanted me to accept him as part of the family, and my little sister Malia had slipped and called him “daddy” a few times, but I had pretended not to hear.

  Back on Horizon or long ago on Earth, a fifteen-year-old would still be considered a child, but here in Eden we grew up fast. I hoped this mission would convince Mom that I was old enough for us not to need another dad around, and maybe she’d make him move out. It was selfish of me but I didn’t care. No one could ever replace my dad or brother. I didn’t want the General to try.

  The idling thrusters roared to life as I stepped onto the shuttle’s retracting metal stairs. The hinges creaked under my boots, and I pulled myself through the hatchway.

  I peeked over my shoulder as the General swung the heavy door shut behind me, but Mom was already out of sight. I thought she’d stay and wave at us as we lifted off, but I guess she couldn’t stand to watch.

  Never mind. Nothing was going to spoil the day I had dreamed about for three lon
g years. Today I became a real soldier. I lifted my chin and grinned as my eyes adjusted to the shuttle’s dim interior.

  “You’re next to me, rookie,” said Jack. At eighteen, he was a veteran of several missions outside the fences, and had been one of my brother’s closest friends. He patted the seat next to him, and I smiled a little wider. He’d let me have the window.

  I stumbled over his legs as the shuttle lurched off the ground. My butt smacked into the seat, and I scrambled to snap the pitted buckle of my harness. A faint smell of mold hit my nostrils as I pulled on the straps.

  The thrusters roared, making further conversation impossible as our little shuttle strained to overcome gravity. Outside the thick glass window, the high wire fences of Eden base fell away as we sputtered into the blue sky. The little clearing disappeared behind us, with the rusting hulks of our huge transports arranged in a wide circle with electrified wire strung between them. Our safe haven on the bank of the swollen brown river looked so small from above.

  The trees that looked so huge from below made an unbroken carpet of green beneath us as we flew. Our shuttle couldn’t get much higher than the top of the lush canopy, but we picked up speed and soared over the rolling hills.

  The engines quieted as we reached our cruising altitude.

  Jack punched me in the shoulder. “First time off base!”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t think we’ll get to see much. We’re only going to be out a few hours.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jack said.

  After three long years confined inside the cramped perimeter of the fences, my nerves jumped like a prisoner just released from jail. I took deep breaths of the mildew-scented air. It reminded me of the first twelve years of my life, breathing Horizon’s recycled atmosphere as we hurtled through space toward this dense green planet.

  Trees whizzed by underneath us, and I peered across the landscape, hoping for a glimpse of animal life from a safe distance. The shuttle cast a triangular shadow on the canopy below us, but only wind stirred the leaves.