Higher Ground, Becky Black [best manga ereader .txt] 📗

really smart ones often were, in Adam’s experience. God, he hoped not. As he drove back toward town after the last of the visits—he had just enough time to run to the store to buy some things for tonight and still get the truck back by 17:00—he considered the last few days. Zach had become increasingly distracted by his quarterly reports and his mysterious personal project. But despite that, Adam liked him. Liked him more every day. He wanted to see where this relationship could go. It would be a terrible shame if Zach turned out to be crazy.

He shook his head at himself as he got out at the store. Zach wasn’t crazy. Not crazy crazy. A little odd, maybe. Obsessive. But academics got bees in their bonnets about some new result all the time. Adam’s own bonnet had housed enough bees to know this from firsthand experience. Zach might be rather high-maintenance, though, even if not crazy, something which had made Adam break up with too-demanding boyfriends in the past. But he might be worth the maintenance.

He came back out of the store a few minutes later and loaded the bag into the passenger seat.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gray.”

Adam started guiltily, wondering if Wilson was actively tracking the vehicle and had caught him in the middle of another personal errand. But when he turned, he saw only an old man on a bench by the store, leaning on a cane, chin resting on his hands.

“Dr. Johnson,” Adam said, with a respectful nod. “Nice day, sir.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Adam wondered for a second if the old man had misheard him, but maybe not. Dr. Johnson wasn’t just a founder, he was the founder. The head of mission for the first stage of the colony forty years ago. Dome dwellers, starting the terraforming and atmosphere processing. He’d raised a family here, and his daughter, Colleen Johnson, was currently head of the Colony Council. So he had every right to take credit for the nice day. Adam smiled and went over to sit on the bench beside him.

“Busy at the Institute, then, lad?”

“I’ve just been out gathering data from the test farms for the quarterly reports.”

“Those damn quarterly reports,” Johnson said, shaking his head. “They were the bane of my life for thirty years. I still wake up from nightmares about forgetting to send them.”

“Some things never change, eh?”

“Well, at least you’ve got the relays to transmit them straight back to Earth. We used to have to put ours into a communications pod and blast it off to Saira and hope it didn’t get swallowed by a black hole on the way.”

Adam chuckled at that. “Sounds like using carrier pigeons.”

“Only less reliable. At least one a year failed to make it. But somehow, we muddled through anyway.” He smiled around at the view, the town, and the distant countryside around it.

“You did better than muddle through,” Adam said in all sincerity. “Zahara is beautiful.”

“Yes, I think we made a pretty neat job of it.”

They sat in silence for a while, old colonist and new. If Adam could call himself a colonist. He was here on a fixed contract. He hadn’t come to settle. Had he?

“Sir, can I ask why you stayed after you retired?” Many of the founders had gone back to Earth after retiring. The Terraforming Authority encouraged that, at least in these relatively early days of a colony. Like children, the retirees consumed resources but didn’t work.

“I never even thought of going back. I’ve nobody to go back to Earth for. My daughter and my grandchildren are here. My wife is buried here, and I will be one day too. This is home now. Not Earth.” He looked at Adam. “Maybe you’ll feel the same way eventually.”

“So it’s people that keep you here? Your family and friends?”

Johnson shook his head slowly, looking thoughtful. “Not only them. There’s a tie to the land too. It’s like if you ever built a house with your own hands, it would mean more to you than one you just inherited, wouldn’t it? Something you made.”

“Yes, of course.” Adam looked around. Eventually, he’d face the choice—stay or go. But he did have people to go home to on Earth—his parents, his sisters, and their children. But by then, might he have someone here who he didn’t want to leave? Zach? He smiled. Getting well ahead of himself there. But looking closer into the immediate future, he had to do some preparation for Zach coming around, and time kept marching on.

“I’d better go. Nice talking to you, sir.”

“And you, Adam. Good luck with your reports. And…” He smiled. “Well, anything else you might need luck with.”

Was that a wink from the old man? Did everyone in town know about him and Zach? Almost certainly. Dr. Johnson might look like an old man sleepily watching the world hurry by, but he missed nothing, and people often did what Adam had just done—came to sit with him and tell him things. He knew everything that was going on around here.

Maybe Adam should ask him if he knew what the hell was going on with Zach.

* * * *

Adam arrived back in the lab fifteen minutes late to find Wilson was waiting there, fuming.

“I said seventeen hundred, Mr. Gray. I’m quite sure of that. I checked with Ms. Simpson here.” He gestured at Jan, head down at the grafting bench, working hard. “And she’s sure that’s what I said too.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Adam said. “I was talking to Dr. Johnson.”

“Oh right.” It took the wind out of Wilson’s sails. “He’s well?”

“Hale and hearty.” And with his finger right on the pulse as usual. “I’ll just collate the data from this afternoon,” he went on, hoping he’d distract Wilson from thinking about the fact that talking to Dr. Johnson meant Adam must have stopped in town, where he had no business being.

“Good. Have it on my desk before you leave.” Wilson walked out, a little deflated looking, having apparently worked up