They Dreamed of Poppies (a novelette) Read Online Free Page A

three feet deep in the dirt pile by now.
    I shake my head and sigh. “It’s just a dog. There are more important things to work on.”
    But she defies me and spends her spare time digging. I bite my tongue. If there’s anyone I should be pushing harder, it’s Bryson. He spends most of his spare time wandering about in the pod’s hold. Half the time he acts like he’s inebriated.
    Siobhan reports that she’s isolated another dozen or so teeth. “Though I haven’t had time to identify them yet.” Secretly, I wonder if any of them are human. I almost don’t want her to find out. I can imagine what it would do to morale if it turns out they belong to the colonists.
    A few days later, about a week after our arrival, one of the chickens becomes sick. First thing I ask is which one. I dread the answer, and my heart skips when Siobhan confirms that it’s the same one they took out the first day.
    “Any idea what’s wrong with it?”
    “How should I know?” she snaps, uncharacteristically. “I’m not an ornithologist! All I know is it just sits there with its eyes closed, like it’s in some sort of Zen-like state, its head lolling to the side.”
    “What have you guys been feeding it?”
    “Nothing,” she replies. “It stopped eating days ago. Stopped eating, stopped moving. I noticed some moss growing on its feet, and there are a few sores.”
    “An infection? Sure it’s not fungus?”
    “It’s moss.”
    “Corrosive? Parasitic?”
    “I said I don’t know!”
    I admittedly don’t know very much about chickens, so I intend to ask Bryson after I’m finished with Siobhan. He’s more of an animal person than either of us is. That’s assuming I can catch him sober.
    “And the samples?” I ask her. “The sequencing? How’s the testing going?”
    “Some of the samples appear to have been cross-contaminated. We’re rerunning them.”
    “Contaminated with what?”
    “The sequence I’ve isolated cross-references to honey bee. I’m having the computer reanalyze everything.”
    The information surprises me. I knew the colonists had reported that their attempts to introduce insect pollinators — ants and honey bees, in particular — appeared to be going well, but so far no one has reported sighting anything living that isn’t a plant. No insects at all. Not even in the soil. I would’ve expected worms at the very least, given how rich it is.”
    “We didn’t bring any bees with us, did we?” I ask. I already know the answer. I just need to hear it from her.
    “No.”
    Before letting her go, I ask how she’s feeling.
    “Fine, Joe,” she says, maybe a bit too quickly. She can’t hide the look on her face.”The others, too. We’re all fine. I already asked around. Some of us are a little happier than the rest,” she adds. I can’t tell if she means me or Bryson.
    I wonder if she’s now regretting giving up on the protective suit a few days ago. “Sure?” I ask.
    “Yes.
    The circles under her eyes tell me she’s lying. I don’t remember them ever being so pronounced.
    I tell her to get back to me ASAP with the results from the plant sequencing.
    After the monitor goes dark, I begin pacing again. A week alone a hundred miles above the surface and I’m getting restless. It’s taken a lot longer than I’d expected to determine if it’s safe for me to go back to the station with good news. And I want to go down to the surface so badly I can almost taste it.
    I’m almost tempted to say screw it.
    I ping Bryson, but before I can ask about the chickens he starts talking about Gavin, and the subject slips my mind. “I’m worried,” he says. “The boy sleeps sixteen hours a day. It might be natural for a teenager, but not a four-year-old. And when he’s awake, he complains that his body aches.”
    “Might be gravity sickness.”
    “There’s something else. He thrashes about and we can’t seem to wake him. In the morning, when we ask if he’s dreaming, he gets