Star Flower

Luana bent over the latest row, feeling the arid wind strip away the moisture from the protectant gel on her exposed skin. Sighing, she dug her hands into the gray soil, gently making a bowl large enough to transplant the newest star flower. As with previous plantings, the flower is just past the sprout stage with a fresh bud beginning to form - ready to grow strong roots into the dying soil. Once the remaining five flowers are planted carefully by hand, Luana heads over to the hover cart bobbing gently nearby, waiting to be pulled back to the empty dome in the distance.

She paused, bringing a pink-toned hand to her head, running it up and over the residual crest feathers that formed a stripe from the crown of her head down to the base of her neck. The normally soft feathers were stiff, like little serrated knives scraping at her calloused fingers. Yet another day gone, like so many others, and no progress to show for it. She glanced at the setting suns, noting that she stayed out later than intended, the second red sun already halfway past the horizon line. She grabbed the handle of the hover cart and trudged back to her domicile; the sound of her boots crunching on the dry dirt and the whistling wind her only company. Alone. Always alone. She thought about how it got to this point.

Three generations ago, the planet experienced a cataclysmic event. Nobody knows the origin. Some hypothesize over-farming, others say introduction of synthetic chemicals unbalanced the natural ecosystem, and yet another group point to the prophecy of the slumbering mother spirit. Regardless of the pebble that started it, the landslide of death and decline it triggered swept across the planet. The air stopped holding moisture and became anathema to the creatures and most living things on the planet. Then the soil lost nutrients and food scarcity began. Luana’s people, the Nutan, used their advanced technology to create artificial domiciles, or domes, for everyone while they found a solution. They expected it to be temporary. That was two hundred years ago.

The high pitch beeping of the proximity alarm jostled Luana out of her rumination, painfully pulling her back to reality. She tapped a coded sequence into her wrist unit, silencing the alarm, and began the airlock opening sequence for the dome. Time for the day to be over, the hammock was calling her name.

The next morning, Luana followed her same routine. She slid out of her hammock, dressed in a clean jumpsuit, and walked the short hallway to the kitchen and living area. The inside of her dome looked similar to the outside – gray, hard, and cold. She saw no point in personalizing or masking the nature of the domicile, she was here to complete a mission. To commit herself to the cause, even with its high personal cost. Sitting at the one chair tucked into a small metal table, she ate a bowl of what the Magi called “the mix”. A mush with nutrients needed to support her body, something created in the lab to sustain life while the Magi worked on a solution for the planet’s decline. That was when they still had hope.

Luana finished her breakfast and moved through the next airlock into the lab. The space was organized chaos: notebooks stacked in their own unique filing system, computer unit with multiple mounted screens, beakers and slides and containers of dirt lined on every available surface, and the star of the show, ten mature star flowers. The star flower was the core of her work and research. Fifty years ago, a top Magi scientist had a breakthrough. The star flower, a rare white five-petal flower with black bleeding from the center, was still growing in the soil, thriving even. Upon further research, when there was a high concentration of star flowers growing in a particular area, a small perimeter of air had the capability of holding adequate moisture levels. This was the research Luana continued, day after day, in isolation. She was determined to save the planet, even if she was too late to save it for her people.

Over the next several hours, she methodically began her next series of experiments, one hypothesis, one adjustment at a time. The current goal post was to achieve a gene splice that boosts the flower’s effects significantly enough to impact the general atmosphere. She took a moment to rub her tired eyes, body sore from bending over research notes and a microscope for hours on end. Her mental state wasn’t helping, she felt more brittle and hopeless as time marched on, the routine the only thing holding her together. She was reaching for her next sample when she heard a sharp squealing noise behind her. Before she could fully turn to investigate, a loud bang, pain, then darkness.

Seven Years Ago

The video transmission displayed on the wall as Luana stood rigidly by the lab door, distancing herself from the heartache to come. "Luana," her sister turned her face to the side for a moment, clicking softly on the hard roof of her mouth, before speaking directly to the camera, to Luana, again. “This is the last time I’ll speak to you. The last ship departs in two days, but I’m not going to bother trying to convince you to leave again.” She swiped a hand across her cheek, quickly clearing away any tears. Her crest feathers tucked tightly against her scalp, maintaining composure for the recording.

“The Magi’s current projected travel time is 10 years to the targeted planet best suited for the Nutan. I know you think we’re giving up, but it’s about making the best possible choice out of the worst possible situation. No progress has been made, and we’ve lost… so many. I respect your choice and your sacrifice to do everything you can for the planet. I just wish, for once in your life, you picked me, picked yourself, picked a life. Never forget that I love you.” The image on the wall went dark.

Luana finally stirred. “I am picking life, all life,” she whispered, but knew that nobody was listening. It was just a recording her sister sent in advance of the launch. The final good-bye to her last surviving family, family that chose to stay behind. “I’m so sorry Mirial.” The tears overflowed and she clutched at her chest, knowing this was the only choice she could make, even as she broke both of their hearts.

Present Day

Luana blinked her eyes open and groaned. The red emergency lights in the lab were unpleasantly pulsing in tandem with the ache in her head. Gently cradling her forehead where the worst of the pain was, she glanced around the lab, trying to get a sense of what happened. There was evidence of an explosion - general heat damage to equipment on the far wall and the jagged outward-facing edges of an overhead pipe indicated the probable source. She remembered the squealing noise before the larger bang, and guessed it was a faulty pressure valve, but would need to look through the diagnostics and recommended repairs. First things first though, Luana wanted to check on the star flowers. Losing any research was devastating. She could handle labor and repairs, she had enough materials tucked away to last her years, but it was mentally grueling to have setbacks with the science.

Stepping over metal debris and a sprinkling of broken glass, Luana reached the star flower samples she was working with, each spliced with a different variable. On a visual inspection, things appeared normal. She went ahead and slid the tray into the containment unit to go through the standard series of tests, analyzed by the lab’s computer program.

“This could take awhile,” she muttered to herself, heading towards the utility closet to start the cleanup, when a ding sounded from the computer and her wrist unit. Her eyes widened as she looked over at the screen, quickly scanning the results. Her heart stuttered as she came across the critical line item: Batch 3 Atmosphere Effect POSITIVE. The genetic modification was successful. Fifty years of research, and this is the moment it all comes together. She couldn’t believe it. Luana stood frozen, not sure whether to laugh, cry, or scream. Maybe all three. She gave herself a little shake and got back to work. So much more to do, but the hope that had dwindled down to a flicker reignited to a blaze. The Nutan would find their new home and flourish, and Luana would bring this planet back to life, piece by piece, to be a home for new life.