The morning after the Captain’s funeral, HERO stood on the porch and looked down on the valley. A soft rain fell, a “grass” rain that would hopefully add some color to the yellow and brown landscape and allow the gardens to prosper. Bovines and a few equines, not concerned about the weather, grazed. A few large, black avians flew from tree to tree, calling to each other. This world went on, when his own had been irreconcilably changed. A mire 30 years, as this world turned about its yellow-green sun, had passed since the SHIP NAME had made an emergency landing on this, fortunately, habitable planet. Since then the Captain and his wife had made the wrecked ship and its original crew of 50 into a livable, viable colony of 203. Two hundred and two, he corrected himself. The Captain had gone into the great beyond, following his wife by a year. That left HERO and his sibling, NAME. Being son of the Captain had been one thing. Being son of the Captain and now in charge, HERO wasn’t quite sure what he should be doing. SIBLING would probably know. She always seemed to have a plan.
He stepped back inside of the shack that attached to the exterior portal of the command module of the ship. Bits and pieces of the craft had been stripped to repurpose for housing materials mainly. It had been a shock for the technologically dependent group to suddenly not have any AI or manual computer to work with. Luckily the Captain had some antique manuals made out of a fossil oil-based “plastic” stuff that contained information on how to live without technology. Being from a much earlier era in space exploration, the manuals took some things for granted that it had taken the reluctant colonists years to figure out.