“Spacefront Property” • by Galen T. Pickett

The agent turned off the engine of the ostentatiously expensive vehicle. 

After checking a few dials, they broke the seals and exited. Gently rolling hills of golden summer grasses dotted with scrub oak and coyote bush greeted the visitors. The air was as clean and fresh as only the deep interior of this unspoiled Southern California grassland brush could make. Had they olfactory receptors, they would have detected the faint scent of sage and wildflowers. The sky was a deeply scrubbed blue. A light breeze sent waves rushing through the tall grass, making arcing patterns that chased each other across one hilltop, and down another. Clouds were sailing low in the sky, following the breeze. They were in full sunlight, but as they stretched their legs, and looked about, a line of cloud-shadow marched up and overtook them. This wasn’t darkness like they were used to; there was too much light coming from the rest of the sky and being reflected from the nearby hills.

“And, everyone lives like this, just open to space?” the tall woman asked.

“The atmosphere is gravitationally bound, so the inhabitants have no need for pressure suits, no domes, and we are well out of the cosmic ray red zone. There is a self-organized dynamo running in the iron core, so there is a magnetic field adequate to protect us from that,” the agent gestured to the dark cloud with a bright, shining silver lining temporarily obscuring the sun. “Of the seven hundred or so self-knowing species on the planet, only a couple of dozen are on the way to creating a true Hive. None of those is all that sophisticated, but one of the singleton species has achieved limited spaceflight. They have a tendency to clump their dwellings, but are content to mostly occupy the dry surface, in a single layer. But they are far from recreating a Hive.”

“Incredible! They just use the surface? No proper structures in the interior?” The agent indicated not. “And these things above us?”

“Can you believe it? Hydrogen-hydroxide crystals. They are literally everywhere on this ball. Right at this very spot, liquid drops spontaneously fall from the sky. See the organisms here?” he asked as he waved an arm toward the fields, “They extract energy from the local star, and store it, like your fuel cells, using the atmosphere and the liquid material. Extraordinary, but I guess if you have this much material lying about, life will figure out some way to use it.”

“And the inhabitants have no idea of the value of this? The wealth just ‘falling from the sky’?”

“Apparently not. You might have noticed on the way in… those large reflective areas? They have deposits of liquid material covering about three-quarters of this place. It is in the air, it is in the soil, the inhabitants are largely composed of it. If you can believe it.”

“Seriously? Walking sacks of wealth?”

“Arranged around a metallic core, but yes, essentially.”

A low whistle.

“Who else knows about this?” she asked reaching for her data-possessor, tapping a message, another hand absently brushing the eggs ripening across her torso.

“Not many. Remember, our main selling point is our advanced network of probes. We don’t operate in the usual places, and we don’t really advertise our successes… a tidy commission on our part, a position of unassailable wealth for you and your organization. But, this won’t stay secret long.”

She reached down and grasped a stalk of grass, and with alarm motioned the agent toward the bright red beetle that had alighted upon her. “Is this an inhabitant? Someone we can negotiate with?” she asked with interest. The jointed legs and carapace were ungainly, but not any more alien than she had come to expect. There was a lot of variation out there, everywhere there was life. “It is hard to believe this carries such wealth.”

“No, this one doesn’t process enough to be able to speak for the planet. Just one of the riders. Looks conventional enough, but there’s a day’s worth of material in there.”

Nodding, she inserted the ladybug into a compressor, and nodded slowly as she chewed. “Interesting flavor. I understand we are going to have no problems with the Court?”

“Precedent is pretty clear, here. About a half-dozen times in the dominant species’ history someone has come up with the correct formula, ‘the strong must protect the weak,’ and ‘the first shall be last,’ and ‘all you need is love’. But these seem to have been just slogans they seem to use while they defraud each other. And, they will do it for piles of common metals and ground-state crystals. I have zero doubts on this point. They are not proper Hive-bound, for sure, but they do believe in concentration of authority. There are just a few principals we need deal with. We have a pretty good idea of the price the locals will agree to. And, with the ‘reap what has been sown’ rule, they are just going to have to accept your presence here. If they can even reach the Court, you will not have any trouble enforcing those contracts.”

Flexing her thoracic stabilizers in thought, the Queen eventually tapped her data-possessor. “Payment has been deposited. Please record the claim. This, I assume, locks in our exclusive rights as far as our competition is concerned?” 

The agent nodded. 

“Then as soon as you have negotiated and concluded those contracts, you can leave my planet,” she said, as she began burrowing into the grassy hillside.

 

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Galen T. Pickett has been a member of the physics faculty at Cal State Long Beach since 1999. He lives in the greater LA area with his spouse, four grown children, and several canines. His writing is inspired by the grandeur of the physical world and the absurdity of the academic world, in nearly equal measure.

 

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