Three Grams

[frostian]

Title: Three Grams, Part I
Author's Name: frostian
Artist's Name: felixmackey
Genre: RPS, AU
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Main character death
Summary: Jared Padalecki’s closest friend is Jensen, a hybrid doll he rescued as a child. As they grow up, Jensen takes on the role of tutor and mentor, preparing Jared for the arduous task of entering a prestigious tech in order to continue his father’s tremendous legacy. But the greatest lesson is one that can only be learned, not taught, as Jared realizes that just because a creature isn't made of flesh and blood does not mean it can't have a soul.
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and a side of fiction.


Praides, Grayan I

Dr. Gerald Padalecki endured quite a few stares as he disembarked from the cruiser. He didn’t take but four steps from the final checkpoint when he was greeted by Grayan’s punishing sun. Suddenly blinded, Gerald scrambled to turn on his face shade. With the personal shield on, he examined the human tide washing him away from the port and onto the streets.

The first thing that Gerald noticed was the scent of unwashed bodies. People who lived in mining colonies with limited water supply usually took their single shower after work.

“Doctor!” a reedy voice cried out from behind him.

Gerald studied the crowd and spotted an old man briskly walking up to him. “Sir Peter Everhauer, thank you for meeting me”

“My pleasure, Dr. Padalecki, and call me Peter. I inherited my title, I didn’t earn it.” Peter firmly shook Gerald’s hand.

Gerald examined his host and soon realized Peter was a great deal younger than he'd first assumed as the man's face was prematurely wizened by sun and strong winds.

“This way,” Peter said, leading Gerald to a small hovercraft where a servant loaded Gerald’s belongings before flying the two men out of the city.

“How do you like our capital?” Peter asked. “Praides is overwhelming, no?”

Gerald cracked a smile. “Yes, that’s a good word. Is it always this busy?”

“Busier, usually,” Peter explained. “But it’s the cold season right now.”

Gerald burst out laughing. “I forgot, it’s winter here.”

“The confusion is understandable,” Peter graciously conceded. “Most Terrans aren’t used to winter being so warm.”

“So it’s during the cold season that your crops are grown and harvested?”

“Yes, the summers here, though short, are brutal.” Peter pointed towards his right. “There are some of our crop vendors.”

Gerald whipped his head to the right to see rows of flimsy sheds displaying mounds of colorful fruit. He recognized most of them but not all.

“After the inium was mined out, this became our most valuable source of income. We are blessed to have even this much. And, of course, Jim Beaver.”

Gerald paled at the name. He looked at Peter and asked, “He’s still here?”

“Oh yes, his factory is rumored to be located in the West Desert, somewhere.” Peter looked puzzled. “You didn’t know Beaver came from Grayan I?”

“No, I knew he was born in Praides, but I had no idea that he was still living here. I thought he’d move somewhere else after his … his … dolls became such a valuable commodity.”

“No, he’s out there somewhere.” Peter waved his hand breezily. “We rarely see him, of course. I don’t know how he builds his dolls, but they are one of our most popular exports.”

“I can’t believe people would buy such things for…” Gerald grimaced. “How could they?”

“Easily, I’m afraid. I don’t like it any more than you do, doctor, but I can hardly cripple Grayan’s economy because my moral outrage needs soothing.”

The hovercraft made a sharp left and up to a gate manned by three guards. Gerald frowned at all the security and the visible hostility on the men’s faces.

“Is all this necessary?” he asked. “I was under the impression that Grayan wasn’t an outpost anymore.”

“No, but it still has residual influences of its wilder days,” Peter explained. “You have to understand, Graians still equivocate the show of strength to power. And I must make an equal presentation lest I be considered somehow ‘lacking’ in the eyes of the people.”

“I'm sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologize, Dr. Padalecki,” Peter said in a sad voice. “One of the reasons why I am so thrilled to have you here is because you will show to all, and I mean all, that possessing weapons doesn’t mean one has power. My colleagues and I want you to demonstrate that intelligence has equal value to muscle and will, and that your inventions will make their lives easier, not softer.

“We Graians have suffered for so long that we are afraid to change, even for the better. In many ways, that’s the greatest tragedy; not even the horrors wrought by the Conflict could so damage the collective psyche as the mining industry has done.”

“So, the inium mining is finished?” Gerald asked.

“Yes, finally. The corporations have all packed up and left. There’s no more blood for them to drain from this stone.”

“I guess that means our work could begin without their interference.”

Peter grinned, making Gerald realize that the man might just be younger than him. “Yes, now the real work can begin.”

The hovercraft drifted underground and through a long, dark tunnel before entering a cavernous chamber carved into solid stone. Gerald was taken back by the sheer size and the raw beauty of the place. The carvings were intricate but primitive, almost as if done by the ancient Egyptians of Terra I.

“This is magnificent,” Gerald said. “Who built this?”

“My wife commissioned it, actually,” Peter explained. “She is a great fan of Terra I’s ancient art.”

“I thought some of the motifs were familiar,” Gerald admitted. “Egyptian?”

“Some, there are also figures from the Mayans. But her true love is Angkorian architecture.”

“Don’t make me sound like a daydreamer, Peter,” a woman said as she came through a small hidden entrance not ten steps from where they were standing. “Good afternoon, Dr. Padalecki, I’m Grace.”

“Nice to meet you and thank you for having me here.”

“My pleasure,” Grace said before giving her husband a hearty kiss. “You’re early.”

“I don’t pay Tibbet his ridiculous salary so I could be late.”

Grace’s entire face crinkled into a smile, much like her husband’s. She turned to Gerald and said, “Why don’t I show you to your quarters. Then you could join us for a drink before supper.”

“Sounds great,” Gerald replied, still gazing in awe at the cavern. “This really is amazing.”

“I was fortunate enough to visit Angkor Wat when my father was invited back to Terra I for a symposium,” Grace explained. “I never got over how beautiful the place was. So, I decided to recreate some of that beauty here.”

“I’ve never been there, but it must be something quite astonishing if this is any indication of what it looks like.”

Gerald followed Grace to a suite of rooms in the back of the house. Like most living quarters, the bedrooms were built underground in order to keep cool under brutal summer conditions. Though his room didn't have any real windows, fake ones complete with vid screens showing various scenes from Grayan landscape made up for the lack.

Gerald pointed to a corner where his belongings could be placed, and waited until the servants were gone before checking out the rest of the guest quarters. There was a small kitchen attached to a sumptuous living room that doubled also as a dining room since Graians ate while sitting on the floor. Gerald saved the bathroom for last. As he suspected, there was a water regulator, but it was a large one, which told him how wealthy the Everhauers were. The one in his bathroom alone could easily supply enough water for a family of four on the dry planet.

Aquatilium, he thought. Water … this planet needs water. But I have to be careful, so careful because I could destroy what I want to save if I do too much too fast for these people.

Much to Gerald’s relief, dinner involved only him and his hosts. They were obviously well aware of his shyness and decided that his first day on Grayan need not be too overwhelming.

“What do you think of the food?” Grace asked. “You seem to like our rice.”

“I know this is rice,” Gerald said, “but I’m having hard time reconciling the fact that it’s possible to grow rice in such an arid climate.”

“It’s genetically engineered, of course,” Grace admitted. “But the taste is very unique due to the soil content. I prefer it to any grown on any of the Terras.”

“The taste has a mineral trace, am I wrong?”

“No, you’re right. It’s borden,” Peter explained. "On Grayan I, inium mining also brings up borden and iron, of all things.”

“Iron? Really?” Gerald could barely contain his excitement. “Is borden used for anything else?”

“Actually yes, it’s very useful for crop growth,” Grace explained. “It helps keep moisture in the soil. It’s also very good for pest control.”

“Is it exported?” Gerald asked and was surprised to note there was slight hesitation from Grace before she answered.

“No, not really. Even though we find the material useful, we don't see much reason to export borden when its use is so limited outside of our planet. It’s just not worth the trouble.”

Gerald was able to understand what she wasn’t saying. They’re afraid that if the corporations find borden useful enough, they’ll come back and start mining again.

“Of course,” Gerald said and looked at the meat on his plate. “So, is this rabbit?”

Grace smiled. “Close, it’s hare. Not genetically modified, by the way.”

“I’d thought hare would taste gamier,” Gerald said after thoughtfully chewing a slice. “But this is very tender.”

“That’s my wife’s secret,” Peter said. “And don’t bother asking her for the recipe. She hasn’t given it out to anyone.”

“And I don’t plan to either,” Grace quipped.

“What are your plans for this week?” Peter asked.

Gerald gave a shy smile. “I'm going to look for a homestead.”

“Where?” Peter asked. “I know some people who can help you find a place.”

“North of Praides, actually,” Gerald answered.

“That’s still considered unsettled territory,” Grace cautioned. “It’s not wild country by any means, but you won’t get a lot of neighbors if you move north.”

“That’s what I need,” Gerald said. “I’ll be working out of my home and if something goes ‘boom’, I don’t want people to get hurt.”

“So, you’re going to continue your work on nano technology?” Peter asked. “Because I must say that is very exciting news for us. Even though mining is done, there’s still a lot to do if we are to rehabilitate the planet.”

“That, and something else,” Gerald said slowly. “I can’t get into it right now, but it does have to do with aquatilium and rehabilitating Grayan I.”

“Both?” Grace echoed. “That is very ambitious, Dr. Padalecki. How long do you think it’ll take?”

“I have no clue,” Gerald admitted. “But it’ll be interesting. And if I succeed, well, aquatilium won’t be such an impossible dream for the people of Grayan I. Or any other mining planet, for that matter.”

Peter raised his glass as a toast. “To impossible dreams then.”

“To impossible dreams,” echoed Gerald and Grace.

“So, what do you think of our guest?” Peter asked as he watched his wife brush her graying hair. He remembered when it was a coil of auburn, blazing defiantly in the sun. He still felt the old twitch to wrap it around his hand, to feel its warmth and marvel at its color.

“I think he’s either a madman or a genius,” Grace answered. “And if history is any indication, he’s probably both.”

“So you don’t believe he’ll succeed?”

“I never said that.” Grace turned to look at her husband. “But if he does succeed there will be tremendous changes, and not just on Grayan I. The High Council will be scrambling to find another way to hold onto their power if water is no longer the precious commodity it is now.”

“I’m going to hire bodyguards to look after him,” Peter said. “And I’ve already vetted out his servants and aides. Padalecki is already a threat to the status quo. I can’t see how they could let him live should he succeed.”

“So you think he’s in danger?”

“Yes,” Peter answered. “I think he’s one of those rare men who can both dream and achieve them. They are not the type to give up easily, either. So, you can be sure there’s going to be war on our hands very soon.”

“Do you think the corporations will come back? If only to deal with him?”

“That would be too obvious, though if they were desperate: they just might.” Peter sighed and sat next to his wife. “I don’t know what the future will hold for us, Grace. But I do know it will change, irrevocably.”

“Aquatilium, on command,” Grace whispered. “Imagine it, Peter. Water … free water, no trade negotiations, no bargaining, no bribes: just water, as it was thousands of years ago.”

Peter embraced his wife. “It will be the greatest legacy humankind has created since space travel.”

Grace wept quietly as Peter whispered their long-denied dreams of seeing the day when Grayan I would become as beautiful and verdant as their home planet, Nerum, until its demise by the orders of the High Council for its illegal exportation of water to the mining planets.

The rich and the powerful had little use for a society who favored the poor and the underserved, and they made Nerum an example to show to the rest of the Systems what would happen if anyone else dared to sell water under the market price.

Nerum was now a waste planet: made barren and dark as clouds permanently block any light from the sun. The beautiful cities that were declared by the Council to be of Heritage value existed no more. If anyone were to visit Nerum now, they would never believe it was once a thriving society with nearly three million inhabitants.

Gerald woke up and looked at the window. Then he realized the scenes peeking through the curtains were nothing but vids so he was forced to find a clock. Realizing he had slept right through breakfast, Gerald scrambled through his morning ablution while putting on his clothes.

“Good afternoon, doctor,” Grace said as Gerald appeared on the main floor. “Don’t worry, we expected you to sleep late. Space travel, no matter how comfortable, can be exhausting.”

“Thank you,” Gerald said as he took the proffered cup from Grace. He took a sip and blinked in surprise. The tea was ice cold but tasty, if also spicier than what he was used to. He wondered if there were artificial stimulants injected into the brew like so many Terrans preferred with their morning drinks.

“What is this made of?” Gerald asked. “Or is it another one of your secrets?”

“Hardly,” Grace answered. “It’s a brew made of tea and broth.”

“Broth?”

“Yes, broth from bone marrows to be precise. It’s tradition to add some spices but I tend to avoid them for mornings, at least.”

Gerald looked at his cup. “So, it’s soup?”

“No, tea,” Grace corrected politely with laughter in her eyes. “At least here it’s considered tea. The broth is for nutrition, doctor. We are very conscious of the amount of nutrients we’re suppose to have on a daily basis.”

“Of course,” Gerald said. “It’s that unforgiving living here?”

“Not so much if you live near a population center,” Grace explained. “But the further out you live, then yes, you have to be extremely careful of what you eat and what you’re exposed to. Radiation isn’t a problem on Grayan I, but the mining had stirred up all sorts of contaminants. The medical board has an exciting time trying to catalog all the illnesses that crop up on the borderlands.”

Gerald’s smile turned into a grimace. He’d read some of those medical reports and the nightmares that ensued woke him up at odd hours for a long time. There was a reason why most miners and settlers on borderlands were considered ineligible to have children. Their constitution just couldn’t support the pregnancy or guarantee a healthy child.

“So, what’s on the schedule for today?” Gerald asked. “I have complete faith in your ability to educate me on the ways of becoming a Graian.”

“Unless you were born here you will never be considered a Graian,” Grace said with a roll of her eyes. “Peter and I are still considered outsiders by most of the natives, but at least they trust us.”

“I guess that means I’ve got work cut out for me.”

“Yes, you’ve got quite a ways to go yet. So, shall we start?”

Gerald gave a graceful bow and followed Grace to the cavern where a chauffeured hovercraft waited for them. Gerald got a good tour of Praides, including its many markets. They attracted quite a bit of attention, and it took Gerald a while to realize it was partially due to his outfit. While most were dressed for Grayan’s sun, he still wore dark clothes from his travels which made him stand out. His height was also another shocker. While he was tall Gerald was never big enough to catch anyone’s attention. At least until he’d arrived on Grayan I. On his new home planet, Gerald was a good head taller than most anyone else. He’d only seen three others who could match him in height.

He made a mental note to shop for clothes and some flat-soled boots.

Grace was indeed correct when she told him that she was still considered an outsider even though she had been living on Grayan I for nearly a decade. The natives treated her with respect but Gerald sensed a slight distance. It wasn’t unfriendly by any means, but he suspected that any outsider would be considered suspect because of what the corporations had done after taking over the mining for inium on Grayan I.

Like most mining planets, it was the colonists who first discovered the valuable minerals, such as inium. After that, it was only a matter of time before a consortium made a large enough bid necessary to take control of the majority of the mining process, which usually drove out the independent mining companies that the natives had formed earlier. After that would come harsh bargaining agreement for mining rights, water rights, land leasing, and soon, it was the natives who were paying the corporations to live on the planet.

So, out of financial obligation, the settlers became miners, and sometimes their conditions were so horrific that they could also be classified as indentured servants.

Little wonder the Conflict erupted with such violence.

Gerald spotted Grace looking at a store window with genuine curiosity. He peeked in then recoiled in shock, bumping into Grace.

“I had no idea they sell these … things out in the open,” Gerald stammered out his excuse. “I thought they were done more discreetly.”

Grace shook her head. “Oh, they are. This is the only one of three repair shops on Grayan I for the dolls. I believe you have to contact a broker to purchase one.”

Gerald surveyed the innocuous window display. But his eyes kept drifting towards the store’s interior where there were two of Beaver’s creations sitting on armchairs, their wide eyes staring unfocused out into the street.

“I take it you don’t approve,” Grace said.

“No,” Gerald shook his head. “To … grow these dolls from childhood to maturity just to have sex with it. I find the entire process repulsive.”

“Do you know how much these things cost?” Grace asked. “A miner would have to save three years’ worth of pay to purchase a pleasure model.”

“That makes it only uglier,” Gerald said. “I can’t believe people would spend so much money to buy these toys.”

“But you have no objection if a miner purchased favors from courtesans?”

Gerald sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I find the entire sex industry a bit mystifying. But these dolls … don’t they disturb you, too?”

“They did, at first,” Grace admitted. “But I’ve gotten used to seeing them around, especially around Praides. Please be careful how you treat them, doctor. Their owners are quite fond of them and will take offense if anyone maltreated their dolls.”

“Something tells me these aren’t just toys around here.”

“They’re not,” Grace whispered. “You have to understand, after the Genetic Regulations were imposed, a lot of people on Grayan found themselves unable to have children. This made marriages almost impossible unless you happen to marry someone in equal footing or above on the mating scale.

“Beaver’s dolls fulfill a role, doctor. It may not be to your taste, but the need is there, and people from all levels of society find them comforting.”

“Surely the high caste doesn’t.”

“Maybe not,” Grace agreed reluctantly. “The rich can afford to buy these dolls as playthings, but the middle class and the poor? To them, the dolls are no different than any other family member.

“Tread carefully, doctor. Your every move will be watched and judged. And how you treat these dolls may just earn you the allies you need or enemies you don’t.”

“Thank you,” Gerald said earnestly. He knew his prejudices could be a liability, but on a planet like Grayan, it could very well get him killed.

“Would you like to see our school?” Grace offered with a winning smile.

“I thought the children were home schooled until they were accepted to a tech.”

“Yes, they are, mostly, but we have schools for them to interact with one another. It’s more like a community center, actually, but there are quite a few classes being taught by specialists.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Gerald said. “I would love to see it.”

The school was flat, one-storied, and painted in a lovely shade of pale green. There must be something in the paint, Gerald noted, because the air was thick with particulates but the building was spotless. The interior was clean and furbished with just the necessities - a harsh reminder to the latest citizen of Grayan that the people here could hardly afford to decorate a place to suit their aesthetic tastes when their money was mostly spent to meet their barest needs.

Grace led him to the back of the building where music drifted out. There was a large room jammed with children from age six to well into their teens. The assembly wasn’t a classical orchestra, but they definitely played harmoniously, and well.

The music sounded slightly reedy to Gerald but he was familiar enough with Grayan’s folk music to appreciate what the children were trying to do.

“It’s for the harvest festival,” Grace whispered.

“When is that?”

“In a month,” Grace answered. “They are going to perform at sunrise - to greet the sun and bid farewell to the moons.”

“There’s a legend about the two moons, aren’t there?” Gerald asked. “I remember reading something about it years ago.”

“Yes, we have a teacher who is something of an expert on Grayan’s folklore and myths, but she’s not working today.”

“I’d like to know more,” Gerald whispered. “I find it fascinating that people have already created myths and legends about a civilization that’s less than six hundred years old.”

“You’d be amazed,” Grace said. “Sharon’s been collecting them for at least four years now and she’s nowhere near finished. She says she would need to live two lifetimes if she wishes to do a thorough job of cataloging the stories.”

“Is she a native?”

“Yes, from the outlands north of Praides,” Grace said. “The desert people may not have much, but they certainly do not lack when it comes to oral traditions.”

Grace led him to a suite of rooms filled with old but well-cared-for furniture. Cushions were scattered about the floor, indicating the children sat on them and not on chairs. There was a small stack of folding tables piled into a corner.

Gerald couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a school, not a community center.”

“Yes,” Grace said, laughing softly. “I thought you might see it that way.”

“Is there a place called Land’s End?” Gerald asked. “A friend of mine told me but I didn’t believe him.”

“Yes, let me show you.” Grace turned on the holo-board, pulled up a map from its database and pointed to a small spot on the south.

“This is Land’s End. It’s the farthest population center before you hit desert. Because of the heat and the lack of well … anything, nobody lives in the South Desert.”

“And the western desert?”

“Because of the mining, there was limited colonization. People still manage make a living out there, but it’s under the harshest conditions possible.” Grace sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know how they do it, to tell the truth.”

“What about the high caste? Where are they clustered?” Gerald asked.

“Why do you ask?” Grace looked at him with a wicked glint in her eye. “You almost sound like you’re afraid of them.”

Gerald shook his head. “Back on Aban II, it was … well - quite frankly - terrifying. After I was publicly recognized for my work, I was flooded with invitations to conferences, private parties, and fundraisers. In fact, I barely had any time to work, but I couldn’t say no because I’d be an idiot to ignore them or worse, anger them.”

“I see,” Grace said. “Like Peter and myself, they live around Praides. The capital is the only place where we can purchase luxuries without hassles. And it’s the safest.”

“Safest?”

“There’s been a rash of kidnappings,” Grace explained somberly. “They used to kidnap spouses, but lately they’ve also taken children.”

“The Governor must be having fits,” Gerald said.

“Oh yes, the pressure is on for him to catch the kidnapping ring.”

“You think there’s just one outfit?”

“Yes, Grayan’s total population is less than five million,” Grace said. “And though the number for petty crime is high, dark crimes are rare.”

“Dark crimes?” Gerald echoed.

“Sorry, I’d forgotten,” Grace apologized. “Dark crimes are crimes that are considered so heinous, the guilty party is sent to an underground prison where there’s no sunlight.”

“And this is considered a punishment?”

“Oh yes, you must understand, Graians hate being locked into small spaces. It’s almost a genetic trait with them. And lock them in where there’s no natural light? That’s a horrific enough of a punishment that murders are very rare - even in the outposts.”

“How long?”

“For life, doctor,” Grace answered. “Once they’re underground, they’ll never see the sun again.”

“Sounds like they’re already buried,” Gerald whispered.

“It is almost like a live burial,” Grace shuddered a little. “I’ve witnessed a trial where the defendant was pronounced guilty of murder. He started screaming and didn’t let up. He was still screaming for mercy when they dragged him to his transport hours later.

“From what I understand the prisoners have to be sedated for the first two weeks, after that … they go into a fugue state and never recover.”

“And this is for murder?”

“Also, Kidnapping and piracy.”

“Piracy?”

Grace nodded. “Yes, during the Conflict, Grayan I and II were hard hit by pirates who stole great deal of our medical supplies, not to mention water and food. After the war ended, the judicial committee passed a law that made piracy a dark crime, and if anyone was caught in space, they could be executed by the authorities who caught them.”

Gerald was shocked by Grace’s explanation. “And the High Council allowed the law to stand?”

“As far as we know: yes.” Grace looked at Gerald with a steady gaze. “They can hardly strike the law down as barbaric after what they had done.”

Gerald didn’t trust himself to speak so he gave a single nod instead.

“Come, you should look at the school’s hydroponics.” Grace’s bright smile completely belied their serious conversation. “It’s something the children are very proud of.”

Gerald allowed her to lead him to a room of considerable size. But what took his breath away was the fact that the room was dominated by greenery. He spotted the water-combient at the end of the room. It was by far the biggest he’d ever seen. The water pellets were in a separate container that was attached to the main reactor.

“I’ve never seen this model before,” Gerald admitted.

“It was built by Beaver himself,” Grace replied as she lovingly stroked the machine. “He is a genius, Dr. Padalecki. Like you, the man was an engineer. He specialized in bio-mechanical organisms, but that was a long time ago.”

Gerald looked at her in shock. “Really? I had no idea. What happened?”

Grace elegantly raised an eyebrow in caution.

“I mean … engineers like him, they can practically work for whoever they want, live wherever they wish, and set their own salary.”

“He was working for Minsk Corporation when his family was killed in an accident involving a starcruiser. None of the six hundred some-odd passengers survived.”

“I never heard of that happening,” Gerald said.

“You wouldn’t,” Grace said dryly. “Corporations wouldn’t want the general public to know how dangerous it is to fly in one of their ships.”

Gerald barked out a harsh laugh. “They really are a thoughtful bunch, aren’t they?”

“Oh yes, very,” Grace said with equal candor.

“So, how does this work?”

“It’s on a timer,” Grace explained. “At set intervals, the water pellet is dropped into the this container where it’s unfurled. After going through the purification system, it’s fed into the sprinkler pool over the plants. Any runoffs are recycled back to another container which is fed into the second system for human usage.”

Gerald didn’t miss how human consumption came second to the plants, but he had to admit that what he saw was worth the sacrifice. He touched some of the leaves and sniffed few others.

“I have no idea what these are,” Gerald confessed after Grace took him down an entire row of spiky plants with even thornier leaves.

“This particular group is all berries,” Grace explained. “They are considered extremely valuable on Grayan. The children harvest them for the festival. I think half the students are enrolled just because they want to know what strawberries taste like.”

Gerald laughed loudly. “I don’t blame them. I love them, too.”

Without warning, Grace grabbed Gerald’s hands. “Is it true? What you’re offering? Free aquatilium for all citizens?”

Gerald managed not to jerk out of her hold. He was taken back by the sudden burst of emotion but he wasn’t surprised by the ferocious hope behind her eyes. After his interview with Sorum, he had been contacted by various dignitaries and notable citizens of Grayan I. His conversations with them were incredibly varied, but behind it all laid the desperate hope of water: life-giving, soul-affirming water.

“Yes,” Gerald said calmly. “That’s what I’m planning.”

“You realize the risks you are taking? What the corporations will do to stop you?”

“I know,” Gerald said. “But I have a plan. It’s devious, underhanded, and quite possibly illegal. But if I succeed, then aquatilium will be possible for not only Grayan, but any planets that require import of water.”

Grace tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just some dither-brained savant, are you?”

“Not even remotely,” Gerald replied. “My mother didn’t raise an idiot, Lady Everhauer. I plan to succeed, and I want to live to a ripe old age while watching my success be repeated over and over across the systems.”

“I guess I should tell you then,” Grace smiled at Gerald’s dimples. “My husband has hired three bodyguards to shadow your ever move. We’re afraid that the water corporations will harm you in order to secure their stranglehold over us.”

“That’s very neighborly of you,” Gerald said. “And I would definitely appreciate them doing their job. I don’t want anyone to know how well aware I am of the politics involved in what I'm trying to accomplish. Yet, at least. It’s better for me if my enemies think I’m some scatterbrained genius who has bitten off more than he can chew.”

“You want people to believe you’ll fail?” Grace was stunned by Gerald’s confession. “Do you realize what that could do to your reputation?”

“I know, but I have to risk it. That way, I’ll be left alone to my devices.”

“How do you plan to do all this?”

“Have several spectacularly public failures. That should keep the corporations and the Council off my back.”

“But there will be discouragement by the people, too,” Grace cautioned. “Can you afford that?”

“What I can’t afford is failure,” Gerald said, his good humor dying under the somber topic. “I know Graians want immediate success. And I can hardly blame them for their impatience, but the truth is I can’t afford to take a single misstep. If I do, there’s a good chance the Council will recall me back to Aban using some semi-plausible excuse.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re capable of manufacturing real danger so they can yank me back.”

Grace looked troubled as she asked, "Does your family know what’s happening? Are they protected?”

“Yes, they know,” Gerald answered. “And they’ve given me their blessing, which is all I need.”

“I see,” Grace whispered. “You come from brave stock, Dr. Padalecki.”

“And my father never lets me forget it,” Gerald quipped. He looked at a row of tall plants complete with jutting stalks tipped with what looked like yellow fluff. “What are those?”

“That is corn,” Grace explained. “One of the most versatile foods to ever have come out of Terra I. Did you know first humans managed to perform a crude form of genetic engineering on that particular plant?”

Gerald shook his head. “No, I had no idea. Could you tell me more?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The tour continued in this pleasant tone, and no other serious topics were discussed. Gerald knew Grace would inform her husband of their intimate conversation and he had no problem with it. In fact, Gerald needed Peter to know what his plans were: he was going to need all the allies he could muster for what he had in mind.

Gerald’s first success wasn’t going to take place in Grayan I but on a barren, nearly-abandoned planetoid that was so unsuccessful in colonization that it wasn’t even named.

The rocky planetoid held nineteen human beings whose sole reason for living on such a remote place was the fact that it was a layby for cruise ships whose beacons need a fixed point in order to continue on course towards Pickler System.

It had taken Gerald nearly an entire year to find it, and after careful study of the area, he decided it was the perfect testing ground for his first experiment. If it succeeded there, then there was no one, not even the High Council, who could stop the domino effect of governors from various planets, all demanding a test run. And he didn’t even need one hundred percent success rate, either. Gerald calculated that with a seventy-four percent success rate, his aquatilium would be desirable enough for water-starved planets like Grayan I.

Gerald studied Grace as she continued with the tour of the capital city. He knew she and Peter held great sway over the nobles and the governor of Grayan. He wondered if they would ever forgive him for his deception: for letting them believe that Grayan I would be the first to inherit his project. If not, it wouldn’t do him any good to run. People like the Everhauers had enough power to find him no matter where he fled: even back to Terra I.

The thought should have frightened him but all Gerald felt was sadness. He actually liked them, and the knowledge that they were going to be disappointed by his choices saddened him more than he wanted to admit.

By the end of the week, Grace’s friend, Naomi Makri, devoted her considerable resources in helping Gerald purchase a homestead. If his requirements were a bit specific, the woman didn’t complain. Naomi considered it a personal honor that Dr. Padalecki would even think of settling down on Grayan I while turning down the offer to move to Terra I and a plush job offer to teach in one of their prestigious techs.

Naomi found a semi-abandoned place northwest of Praides. Its owner was only too glad to sell her home as she was living by herself. Her children wanted her to move to the capital, but she resisted until her husband’s passing. Within the week, Gerald found himself the owner of a vast property, and more importantly, all the tunnels beneath his land.

Like most mining planets, the population centers grew out of first mining colonies. So, they were in all likelihood sitting on old veins that were emptied out by the miners. Gerald found this fascinating, and when he discovered how sturdy the tunnels were, he knew exactly where to place his laboratory.

Gerald had no delusions about the level of freedom he had on Grayan I. He was being watched by the High Council and the water barons, but thanks to Everhauers’ interference, he was able to work in relative peace. Besides, even though the High Council probably snooped through his belongings during his travel to Grayan I, it would take them a long time to make sense of what they found.

For nearly a year, Gerald sequestered himself to his lab, completely occupied with his goal of achieving free aquatilium.

There were couple of exceptions to his self-imposed exile: every Saturday and Sunday Gerald attended dinner parties thrown by Peter and Grace, or their close friends. He found their informal talks both charming and relaxing. While with Terrans Gerald felt like a performing pet, with Graians, he found himself asking questions instead of answering them.

It was a refreshing change of pace.

Peter had thrown such a party for Grace’s birthday, but instead of the usual intimate group, he decided to have an all-out fete with what looked like half the population of Praides invited to the bash. Quickly overwhelmed by the crowd, Gerald hid in a quiet corner in order to enjoy his food and drink in peace. He was watching a group of children preparing for a recital when their teacher joined them.

Like all women, she was dressed in a long gown that covered her from neck to toe. However, the dress did nothing to hide her generous curves. The woman, if sensing his focus, turned to him.

She was beautiful in the way that most Graians were: face prematurely tanned and leathered by the harsh weather condition, but the dark skin only seemed to emphasize her bright eyes and white teeth. Gerald wanted to respond with a friendly ‘hello’ or start a conversation that would at least give him an opportunity to learn her name.

Instead, all he could do was think about a childhood friend, Aaron.

Aaron Renfield was the only son of Patrick and Alice Renfield who lived right next door to Gerald’s family. The boy was born only minutes before Gerald, and it seemed like they were destined to grow up friends as their parents were close and shared almost everything between them. So, Aaron and Gerald played together, fought together, and griped about life as kids would and will do for as long as they were children.

However, when puberty hit, subtle changes came between them. Aaron didn't just shoot up in height like Gerald. His shoulders broadened while his voice deepened with nary a crack, and the cherubic face that earned him many coos from adults quickly matured into a handsome mask. Gerald, on the other hand, needed three medical procedures to correct his teeth, his eyesight, and a broken leg due to clumsiness as his height exploded. It was as if the heavens deemed Aaron as Prince while Gerald was relegated to the position of Jester.

Initially, their friendship withstood the test of puberty, until Gerald could stand it no longer. As long as he was with Aaron, nobody would notice him. It didn’t matter if he was smarter or blessed with more talent; when compared to his best friend, he became second-rate. He knew it wasn’t Aaron’s fault; he was still true and honest, a good a person that anyone could ever hope to call friend. But Gerald couldn’t contain the jealousy that bloomed whenever a pretty girl saw them. He’d see their eyes shine when they caught sight of him, but then they would inevitably focus on Aaron, and Gerald quickly faded away to nothing.

It was this more than anything else that drove Gerald away from Aban II, and into a tech college in the Siachen System. There, in Tulle School of Mass Engineering, Gerald gained fame and the recognition he craved ever since he realized what second place felt like. Even as a first-year cadet, Gerald’s ingenuity and his natural talent at engineering aquatiliums earned him accolade after accolade, and he wasn’t subtle about marketing his successes back home, either.

After fulfilling his studies in three years, Gerald went back home, feeling secure about himself for the first time in years. His elation lasted until he met up with Aaron who was now married and with a son.

Aaron, being the true friend he was, was openly proud of Gerald’s success and treated him like a champion. But all Gerald could feel was the same, dull ache that he bitterly nursed before he left for tech. True, Aaron’s success wasn’t great as Gerald’s, but his happiness seemed boundless, as he felt blessed to be married to a woman who loved him, and the healthy son they created.

And in that moment of looking at the baby’s plump features, blessed with Aaron’s indescribable blue eyes, did Gerald finally come to the conclusion that when it came to his childhood friend, he would always be the Jester.

Aaron and his wife, Mira, had submitted their genetic history and samples to the Population Board as soon as they were engaged, and were immediately given the go-ahead to have children since their combined rate was eighty-nine. Gerald didn’t know if he’d be given the same blessing. That no matter how great his achievements, the Population Board would deem his genetic material unsatisfactory and thus ‘negate’ him from having any offspring.

Gerald watched the woman’s smile turn into a puzzling frown before she looked away. Even though Aaron was light years away, even now Gerald felt his friend’s shadow.

She’s going to think I’m interesting, then she’s going to talk to me and find out I’m anything but.

Gerald quietly placed his glass on a table and walked out of the room. He could almost hear Aaron’s heavy but quick footsteps behind him.

She’s going to be nice and sweet, but when the chance comes, she’ll give a polite excuse as to why things won’t work out, and then she’ll find her Aaron - someone who’s not me. Someone who’ll give her beautiful and healthy babies.

Gerald wondered why he kept resisting submitting his genes for the test. Everyone was required to do so when they reached the majority age of seventeen, and yet he’d avoided the exam, bringing up one excuse after another.

“What’s wrong?”

Gerald spun to his right and spotted Peter. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about home.”

“Homesickness,” Peter said. “I know how that feels.”

“It’s a lovely party,” Gerald said, hoping to change the conversation. “Do you really know everyone that’s been invited?”

It was clumsy attempt at switching the conversation topic, and quite frankly embarrassing for Gerald, but Peter was a gracious host and a good friend. “Yes, I do, actually. It pays to know who are your friends, who’s not, and who are your enemies.”

“I see,” Gerald said.

“Sharon was worried about you,” Peter said, earning a frown from his guest.

“Sharon?”

“Yes, a linguistics expert who also happens to conduct the school band.”

Gerald suddenly remembered the stranger and felt his face heat up.

“She said you were looking at her but seeing someone else. Did she remind you of something unpleasant?”

Gerald shook his head. “No, I was homesick and … I was thinking about a lot of things, actually. Please apologize to her for my behavior. I hope she wasn’t insulted by my actions.”

“You could tell her yourself,” Peter said and pointed to a crowd. “Here she comes.”

Before Gerald could even spot her, Sharon was standing in front of them.

“Oh, good, you look better,” Sharon said. “I was worried you were taken ill.”

Gerald shook his head, not trusting his voice to answer properly.

Sharon looked at him, frowning. “Are you well? Do you need something to drink?”

“Why don’t I get some tea?” Peter said with laughter in his eyes. “Tea’s always good.”

With that, the host left Gerald with Sharon.

“So, you’re a teacher,” Gerald mentally winced as he lamely tried to start a conversation.

“Yes, I am,” Sharon answered.

“Um … were you born here?”

“If I say yes, are you going to run? Because, even though you are taller than me, I’m a trained sprinter.”

Gerald smiled. “I look that bad?”

“Bad? No. Terrified? Yes.” Sharon bit her bottom lip. “I was wondering if I offended you somehow, but before I could ask you ran off. I thought you might have gotten sick from the food so I found Peter.”

“I’m not very good with…” Gerald made a vague gesture towards the party, “this.”

“I believe you, completely.”

“So, were you born here?”

“Yes, my parents were medical personnel assigned to Grayan. They fell in love with the people and decided to stay after their tour was over.”

“It must have been hard growing up here.”

“I was born in the North Country,” Sharon explained. “The living conditions were very harsh then - still harsh now. But my parents were experts at making do with little. I had a wonderful childhood, actually.”

It was then Gerald realized who she was. “Grace told me about you,” he blurted out. “You collect myths and legends, right?”

“Yes, more folklore than anything else,” Sharon said. “Myths and legends sound so grand, and Grayan’s history is anything but.”

“Can you tell me about the moons? I remember reading about them, but I couldn’t find the story, and it’s been driving me crazy.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t read it,” Sharon said. “It’s part of a poem, one that’s told orally.”

“Like the ancient Greeks of Terra I?”

“Yes, much like that.”

“Could you tell me?” Gerald asked.

“It would be my pleasure, but I must warn you - the poem is of epic length.”

“I’m sure Peter will have enough tea for that.”

Sharon flashed another brilliant smile before she began.

The poem was indeed an epic, and Gerald still couldn’t remember how he came to know of it, but by dawn’s greeting, he knew he would never forget the story of the two brothers whose sacrifice earned them a glorious throne in the heavens, forever loved and admired by Graians.

Nashik City
Endicott Planet, Hardeol System

Sorum’s smile was broad and genuine. “I am genuinely delighted to have Dr. Padalecki back with us.”

The camera turned to a man who had only passing resemblance to the guest from years before. Gerald had filled out. His weight gain was all muscle, and the pallor was gone. There were creases on the corner of his eyes and his lips.

“You look healthy,” Sorum said. “I am led to believe Grayan I was good for you.”

“It most certainly was.”

“So, I was told you have a surprise for us,” Sorum looked eagerly at Gerald. “I know some of your successes and failures on your new home planet, but something tells me what we're about to see has never been done before.

"So, what do you have in store for us?”

“For that, I have to take you to a planetoid on the outskirts of Gavnor System.”

“Really?” Sorum was taken back by Gerald’s offer but he gamely said, “All right then, let’s go ahead.”

Gerald pulled out a small hand-vid and turned it on. “Hi, darling. Yes … we’re live.”

“Darling?” Sorum grinned. “Is that the new Mrs. Padalecki?”

“Professor Padalecki, actually,” Gerald corrected. “Do you want to link up?”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d offer that.”

Sorum took a glance at Gerald's handheld and typed in the codes in his terminal. The screen behind Sorum changed from pleasant non-descript scenery to one of a barren landscape.

“Where are we?”

“We’re on planetoid #312.45.9A.”

Sorum glanced at a screen not visible to the viewing audience. “It’s only an outpost.”

“Yes, it is. An occasional deep space cruiser needs it to properly segment its location. And there’s Sharon, my wife.”

Sorum looked at the screen, unable to prevent a gasp from escaping. “She’s pregnant?”

“Very,” Gerald said. “She’s almost due.”

“And you’re fine with her carrying out the experiment?”

Gerald grinned and nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, I trust her completely.”

“Then … by all means, let’s go ahead.”

“You hear that?”

“I surely did,” Sharon said. “So, shall we start the countdown?”

“Yes, let’s do this.”

Everyone was focused on the screen, so it didn’t take long for the audience to see that the dark horizon wasn’t because there was a lack of light, but because of an incredibly tall wall that stretched so high that all light source was completely blocked out.

“What is that made of?” Sorum asked.

“It’s completely made of nanytes.” Gerald answered.

“How?” Sorum leaned closer to the screen, his eyes widening considerably.

“Interweaving,” Gerald said. “Took some time to teach them to cluster properly and to hold their shape.”

Sharon looked at the horizon. “And on three - two - one!”

Sorum visibly flinched as ear-shattering booms thundered through the studio. However, that was all that signaled the presence of a change in the planetoid's climate, as lightening didn’t penetrate the nano wall.

“What is happening?” Sorum asked as another round of thunder heralded further changes.

“A storm, Mr. Sorum - Level Five hurricane, as it was described in the old days.” Gerald looked at his wife. “How are we doing?”

“It’s all on schedule,” she said. “The readings are within the predicted limits.”

“Wait a minute,” Sorum said, looking at Gerald. “Is this aquatilium?”

Gerald nodded. “Yes, it is. I’m sorry for the deception, but what you’re witnessing isn’t the beginning of my quest for aquatilium. It’s the end.”

“How is this possible?”

“There’s an old Terra saying: Tempest in a teapot.”

“It means to create fuss for nothing,” Sorum immediately said, his attention riveted to the screen.

“Well, this tempest is definitely worth a fuss.” Gerald’s smile turned hawkish. “Sharon, can you thin the wall so the viewers can see what’s happening?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Sorum’s awestruck look only deepened as the wall did indeed thin enough for him to see the maelstrom brewing inside.

“That is aquatilium, ladies and gentlemen,” Gerald said as he introduced his creation. “That is my tempest in a teapot.”

Lightening wove through the clouds, showing the audience something they had never seen. Climate control was achieved centuries ago, and natural storms were muted to gentler rain cycles in order to protect the human population.

“I can’t believe you created this,” Sorum whispered. “Wouldn’t this be too dangerous for a populated planet?”

“I completely agree with you. That’s why I’m testing it out here,” Gerald said.

“So, this storm will create what?”

“It will create a viable situation in which the second phase, which is the main part of the experiment, could occur.”

“And what’s the second?”

“Rain, Mr. Sorum. Rainstorms likes the which humankind hasn’t witnessed in centuries.”

“But that would be useless…”

“Because any moisture will be used up or dried up over time,” Gerald said. “But I have a plan for that, too: replenishable reservoirs.”

“Only reservoirs? How about the rest of the planet? Why not change all of Grayan?” Sorum asked.

“No.” Gerald shook his head. “Planet-wide ecological change would be devastating, Mr. Sorum. It would permanently alter the political and social landscape; that level of damage could create havoc, not to mention political unrest. And let’s not forget, most of society’s religion and its social calendar are based on their ecological surroundings.

"I have absolutely no desire to alter the fabric of Grayan's society to such a degree that its people will lose their hard-won heritage.”

“So, you’re thinking of different climate zones?”

“Yes, like Terra I.” Gerald looked at Sharon. “Are we ready for the second phase?”

“We are,” Sharon answered.

“Proceed, then.”

Sorum was now sitting on the tip of his armchair as Sharon talked to someone off screen. The thunderous noises suddenly died down and weak sunlight began peeking through.

“Wait for it,” Gerald whispered. “Wait for it…”

There was a curtain of gentle whispers as rain began falling. It was nothing like the previous storm: more like a hearty drizzle than anything else, but it did not let up, not for the few minutes that the audience watched water fall.

“We must first set up artificial lakes which can trap then contain the water,” Gerald explained, his voice as soft as the rain. “Then, it will be irrigated properly for growth of foodstuff. Graians are used to working with less when it comes to their personal needs, but that doesn’t mean they should do the same with their dreams, Mr. Sorum.

“What you’re witnessing here will change Grayan I, and any other planet that wants free aquatilium.”

“You realize that this will bring down the water syndicate?” Sorum sounded shocked by his own words.

“Yes, you, as most of the audience, must have read the recently-released report by the High Council of what’s been happening with the sales and marketing of water to the outer planets, especially the mining colonies. It’s probably the most scathing thing I’ve read in a long time, and yet there’s still no oversight by the Council to regulate what is basically a seller’s market.

“This is going to even the field, somewhat.”

“This won’t do anything of that sort,” Sorum looked sharply at his guest. “No one can compete with free.”

“That’s right,” Gerald said. “But I’m guessing the entrepreneurial sprit will live on.”

“So, when is this happening on Grayan I because I want to witness it myself.”

“In two months’ time. We just finished building the containment unit for the lake.”

“I have so many questions to ask but…” Sorum took a deep breath and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I want to save them for my visit to Grayan I. So, my next question is…”

“It’s a boy,” Gerald answered immediately.

Sorum threw back his head and laughed heartedly. “That’s fantastic, Dr. Padalecki. I’m guessing Sharon’s doing well?”

“I am,” Sharon replied. “I’ll gladly take any discomfort if it means the baby will do well.”

“Spoken like a true mother,” Sorum said. “So, focusing on Grayan I, Dr. Padalecki, what can you tell us about the planet? For those of us who are not familiar with the ex-mining planet?”

“Well, I can talk to you for days about Grayan I, but let’s start with some of its folklore…”

Grayan I

Peter and Grace looked at the lake, and its shores where waves of water gently lapped onto the man-made banks.

“It’s real,” Grace whispered as he stroked the waves with curious fingers.

“It’s not like Nerum, but this … this is even better,” Peter said, burying a kiss in his wife’s hair. “This preserves Grayan in a way.”

“Yes, we still have the desert but we’re also going to earn our freedom.”

“Will this bring back the mining?” Grace asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Peter said. “Gerald is using all the mined veins for underground rivers. They can’t disturb that, not without earning themselves a civil war.”

“That’s the idea,” Gerald said as he appeared around the corner. “I was looking for you.”

“Here we are,” Grace leaned over and gave a kiss on Gerald’s cheek. “What you’ve done is incredible.”

“We’ll see how incredible after summer,” Gerald pointed at the nano dome around the lake. “These things should hold and keep out…”

“Gerald, please, you’re going to dig yourself an early grave if you keep rehashing over this,” Peter cautioned his friend. “Besides, shouldn’t you be with your new family? Helping Sharon get some sleep while you corrupt Jeff and Jared with your megalomaniacal ideals?”

Gerald beamed a smile at Peter. “So that’s what they’re calling me now?”

“That’s one of more polite ones,” Peter said. “The corporations are having a conniption with your aquatiliums. They’re making claims that the water is poisonous, that it’s going to alter the human genetics.”

“I bet it’s altering their genetics,” Gerald said. “I’ve done the testing for both above and below. It’s clean, but that doesn’t mean it will stay clean.”

“Sabotage,” Grace spat out the word. “I’ve heard there was another attempt at Hull.”

“Did they catch the men?” Gerald asked. It was the fourth time the main reservoir for Praides was targeted.

“Yes, they claim they were innocent bystanders,” Peter said. “But the vids say otherwise.”

“Where are they?”

“Being interrogated,” Peter answered. “They confessed quickly enough when confronted with the evidence.”

“Which corporation?”

“Latis Dynamics,” Gerald answered. “What are you going to do?”

“Do what we did with the rest of them,” Peter shrugged and took Grace into his arms. He noticed Gerald’s troubled look and added, “They’re alive, Gerald. And as long as we keep them that way the corporation that hired them won’t make another move.”

“I can’t help but wonder when this will be over,” Gerald gave a heavy sigh.

“They made a fortune off of us,” Grace explained. “They just can’t let go of the fact that they are no longer able to build their mansions from our bones.”

“And they hate me for it,” Gerald added.

“Don’t worry, they’ll find something else to make a fortune on.” Grace's gaze returned to the lake. “But not this, no more.”

Gerald was suddenly tired of the conversation, not to mention the topic. “I’m going to go home.”

“Good idea,” Peter chimed in. “Take care.”

Gerald found his wife nursing Jared in their bed. “I swear, with the amount he’s eating he's going to be huge.”

“I know he’s going to be a big boy,” Sharon replied, yawning and smiling at the same time. “If this keeps up I’m going to need a bigger plate to eat off of.”

Gerald kissed Sharon before snuggling up to them. He didn’t need to say anything; Sharon could sense his unease. She draped an arm around him and pulled him closer.

“We’ll get through this,” Sharon said. “Whatever ‘this’ is.”

“Thank you,” Gerald replied. “Thank you.”

Prologue * Part II