One month later
Everywhere Alioth grows populated. Cities and villages are born on the whole inhabitable surface. The first guerillas were born, the first battles. The first madmen greedy for power and resources established their little empires, enslaved villages, attacked isolated communities with their ships to raid them for raw materials, energy and constructs. A resistance is organized, but it is weak. As for me, I already want to leave and explore other planets, other horizons. With the five loyal pioneers who have become my friends, we were finishing our ship when I went out alone to explore a swampy area outside the circle controlled by the Novark.
In the ship, I slept one last night, lying in my hibernacle, that I can’t stand anymore. And when the first sun rose, I activated the Novark’s lower airlock to take my first step on the planet. I took my light flightsuit, with the kadpak on my back. A technological marvel that uses Calabi-Yau manifolds, notably K3 spaces, to compress matter at ultra-high degrees of density. Once sucked inside, that matter can be taken out with whatever geometrical form one wishes. All with a mere kyrium tube somehow wrapped around my forearm, a mere canon, which can even serve as a rudimentary weapon in case of attack: the morpher.
A week after my first awakening, a crane removed me from my nest and set my hibernacle on the bare floor of the immense hibernatory. I don’t know how I got out of it. How long did it take? Just imagine a 10,000-year-old man getting out of his ice back and you’ll have a fairly faithful image of what I did. I’ve never learned how many pioneers had gotten out before me. Like my own hibernacle, theirs was put away in its nest, empty. I was the only one teetering on two ridiculously weak legs – alone with Aphelia’s rigid voice talking to me by bone conduction.
“Defrosting the ocular region…”
A sensation of warmth on my eyes, of melting eyelids… Opening one’s eyes is the easiest thing in the world to do, even tetraplegics do it. Still, I feel like I’m lifting a 280-kilo rusted mechanical shutter with each eyelash. I take in the shock of the light. It’s just the light from the Kœl helmet stuck to my eyes. Still wedged in my hibernacle, by way of the curved screen, I wander through the passageways, pass through an airlock, cross the empty lobby and enter the control room, whose bay opens onto an enormous planet, orange and blue, riddled with craters scrolling by at top speed. I’d like someone to stop spinning the globe, it’s making me nauseous.