Critical Path

Venrick was of the combative type, she appeared different to the others, almost as if she worked on a different level of sophistication.

Despite the croaotoans’ ancient life spans, their hierarchy purposely kept those beneath them in distinct castes and responsibilities. They all had a drone-like quality to them in that they only really ever seemed to exist for their jobs.

Layla had seen very few working on their own agency or have interests outside of their roles, but this Venrick had not only taken it upon herself to learn rudimentary English, but had the smarts to know when she faced certain death if she stayed in the battle.

Gregor and Denver would see that as a sign of weakness. She’d seen that when they looked at her, but for Layla, it told her that the aliens had more to them than even she first realized.

Other castes besides the council members had within them the ability to be individuals and work things out independently.

The way Venrick paced the small room while she waited for the others to prepare for their trek north told Layla that she was eager to help—perhaps a willingness to integrate. She’d obviously worked out that everyone, croatoan and human alike, would perhaps be better off if they helped each other.

Writing these notes down, Layla came to the conclusion she would keep this to herself for a while.

She knew she would meet resistance from the others, and with humanity starting to get organized and find a new way of living, she didn’t want to risk throwing a spanner in the works.

Least of all with Denver, who was desperate to find Charlie.

A tap on the door disturbed her from writing her final notes. She looked up as Maria opened the door and walked in.

“Hey, girl,” Layla said, pleased to see her friend.

“Hey,” Maria replied while casting an uneasy eye to Venrick. “Is she okay? She’s got a bit of an intense stare going on. Kind of creeps me out.”

“I think she’s fine. Adjusting to the situation and probably eager to get back out there. What’s up, the prep going okay?”

“Yeah, we’re nearly done. Denver’s doing a final ammo and comms check. Poor guy must be a mess of emotions after finding out his dad’s alive.”

“Pretty much. You look a bit nervous. Are you sure you want to come with us? You could stay back with Mike and the others.”

Maria came and sat down on the stool, her back to the alien, who had lost interest and returned to her pacing in the room.

“I want to come. I want to see more of the world, you know, see how it was before…” Maria shrugged. “Well, before I was born, or created by—them. Is it true the others and I are clones? That all the workers within the stasis units inside the harvesters were the same?”

Layla reached out for her, gripped her arm, and resisted the urge to pull her into a hug. Her face was so innocent and full of confusion. “It’s true, but that doesn’t change that you are you. Even if you are biologically similar to others, none of them are you; none of them are Maria.”

“I suppose so, but how much of me is really me? I mean, am I just a product of the croatoans’ biological experiments? Is my mind really mine or one they designed to be a good, unquestioning worker?”

Although Layla did suspect the alien biologists to have altered the minds of the clones in much the same way they did for their workers, she had learned enough about Maria and now Venrick to know that any cellular manipulation wasn’t finite.

It could be changed through free will.

“No, your mind is all yours,” Layla said despite not being completely sure just how much. Either way it didn’t matter. Layla and the heads of the other farms had agreed to not let any clones still within stasis mix with one another. It just wouldn’t be worth the confusion and fear it would generate.

So each farm now had a bizarre situation in that each one with a recovered harvester had their own Erika, Ben, Ethan, and Maria, amongst the others.

“Do you trust her?” Maria asked, nodding to Venrick. “What if she’s leading us into a trap? What if that video was faked like the ones they showed on the harvester to make us believe we were on a generation ship? What if Charlie really is dead?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Come on, we should get going. Denver’s already tense. I want to keep him focused and on the job.”

“That might be easier said than done,” Maria added with a sigh. “Gregor’s already throwing his weight around with Den and Khan about who should lead the expedition. I’d be more comfortable if he stayed behind.”

“We all would, but sometimes we need people like him.”

“Maybe,” Maria said, standing up and turning away. Her shoulders tensed.

“What is it?” Layla said, recognizing she had something to get off her chest. She joined Maria and placed her arm around her shoulders. “Has something happened?”

“Not yet,” Maria said, turning to face Layla. “But this morning, I woke with him in my bed. He said that back before the uprising that people like him were responsible for bringing adulthood to people like me.”