The following is an excerpt from the novel Centauri Dawn, based on the game Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri. The novel takes place on Chiron, the lone habitable planet orbiting Alpha Centauri’s primary star.

In chapter one, Jahn Lal, the son of ship’s surgeon Pravin Lal, awakened from cryosleep to discover that the U.N. mission to Alpha Centauri has ended in near disaster. The crew of the starship Unity are scattered across the surface of Chiron in seven separate landing pods after a malfunction and the mutiny that followed almost destroyed the ship.

With the captain of the Unity dead, Jahn’s father, Pravin, now seeks to re-unite the leaders of the landing pods under the original charter for the mission.

Chapter Two

Six years after planetfall

Jahn Lal went into a crouch on the padded floor of the training room, keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent, a young Japanese man named Rankojin who had trained with some visiting Spartan citizens for over a year. The young man, who called himself Rank, had removed his shirt and now flexed muscles that were slick with sweat, keeping them warm and loose. Jahn still wore a loose-fitting gi with which he hoped to distract his opponent, and then use the tightly woven fabric edges for a choke.
Ever since we found the Spartans I’ve been on edge, thought Jahn. He hadn’t seen many Spartans, but when he did meet one he or she was invariably in top physical condition, and that spurred Jahn on to greater efforts in his own training.
He straightened up and circled again. Rank moved warily, keeping on his toes. He danced forward and Jahn lunged for his leg, but the Rank danced back. They circled again.
“Did you take dancing lessons or fighting lessons from the Spartans?” asked Jahn, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes.
“Either one would be enough to wear out a Peacekeeper,” said Rank with a feral grin. “And if this were a real fight I’d take that hair of yours and jerk you all over this ring.”
“Lucky for me you don’t think this is a real fight.” Jahn shifted his weight, feeling his connection to the floor. He had picked up a pattern in Rank’s movements: two jogs forward, one back, two forward, one back.
“Well?” Rank started to say, and at that moment Jahn lunged forward, ducking his head and grabbing his opponent’s forward leg. Rank grunted, startled. He was unable to pull away in time, so Jahn pushed forward, shoving his opponent down onto the mat. He felt a hard blow to one shoulder, as if he had been hit with a sharp stone, and he ducked his head again, pushing his face close to Rank’s body to minimize the leverage behind any more blows.
Rank breathed heavily and tried to squirm away, but Jahn quickly wrapped his arms and legs around his opponent, keeping close against his center of gravity. Every time his opponent moved an arm, Jahn moved with him, and every time he tried to shift away, Jahn hit him in the kidneys with short punches.
“You know some technique,” Rank breathed, trying to get a hand around Jahn’s throat, but Jahn knew better and kept his head low. Then he felt a tension in his opponent’s hips and knew that Rank was about to make a brute force attempt to stand and shake Jahn’s hold.
Jahn waited, melding himself as closely as possible to Rank’s center of gravity, feeling every shift in weight. When Rank shouted and lunged to his feet, Jahn quickly whipped around and grabbed the man’s foot in a submission hold. Rank fell with a grunt of pain and Jahn twisted his foot around, grinning with glee and waiting for his opponent to tap out, surrendering the match.
Rank tried to grab Jahn’s ankle, but Jahn kept close to his body, putting increasing pressure on his opponent’s foot at an angle no human bone was made to turn. He felt Rank thrashing around like a drowning fish, his phenomenal muscle strength nearly lifting Jahn off of the mat, but Jahn put every ounce of his weight into twisting the foot.
“Give up!” he said through clenched teeth, but his opponent didn’t answer. Jahn kept twisting, and even looked up to see if he was missing Rank’s taps of surrender on the mat. But Rank thrashed wildly, his face flushed with anger, and Jahn watched him, mesmerized.
He felt something start to give in the foot, and heard a series of light pops. Still Rank had not tapped out, and in fact now stared at him with a burning gaze that looked something like hatred.
He’s not tapping out. I’m going to break his ankle!
Jahn felt another pop, and suddenly he let go and rolled away. Rank hopped to his feet with a shout, and started running at Jahn with a pronounced limp.
“Stop!” Jahn shouted, jumping to his feet. Rank plowed into him and the two went down to the mat. “It’s over!” Jahn said.
Rank got up again, his face still flushed with exertion. “I didn’t tap out, Peacekeeper,” he said, jabbing his finger at Jahn.
Jahn stood up, feeling heat flush his own face. “I stopped so that you could still walk out of here,” he said angrily.
Rank stepped forward, flexing his arms. “Undecided, Jahn” he said. “You didn’t finish it.”
Jahn started to say something, but he felt a fury rising in him and knew it would not bode well for their friendship to express it. He turned away in disgust. “I’m heading for the showers.”
He walked toward the padded door to the workout room, and when he reached it he heard his friend grunting and shouting repeatedly. He turned back to see Rank shadowboxing in the middle of the room, making furious jabs at a phantom opponent.
Jahn left the room and closed the door.

He entered the closest shower room, which was empty at this hour except for a stocky young woman just finishing a tepid shower. He stripped off his gi and stepped under another shower nozzle, feeling the cool water wash over him. He rinsed off and dried himself with a thin towel, half hoping his friend would show up so they could talk about...whatever had happened in there.
A beeping sound came from his uniform, piled on a low bench. He picked it up, checking the small, flexible “quicklink” computer that was built into the sleeve and that linked him with other citizens around the base.
The council meeting was convening. He put on his uniform and was about to rush out the door, when he stopped at the small mirror and adjusted his hair, combing it as well as he could.

“I hear your father has done a little remodeling in the meeting room,” said Pierson as he came up next to Jahn in the Planet Walk outside the conference room. “I guess we’ve all learned to humor him about his little projects that don’t help humans survive on Chiron.”
“What kind of little projects do you mean, Pierson?” asked Jahn, annoyed, although he knew exactly what the man was talking about.
“This hallway for example,” said Pierson, gesturing to the glass walls around them “Do you know how many rooms went without windows in this base so that Pravin could build this hallway right after planetfall?”
“This is a monument to the beauty of Chiron, and it inspires our citizens.”
“But it does nothing to help us survive,” said Pierson, and Jahn could see the man puffing up, enjoying the verbal sparring.
“It lifts our spirits, and my father is most interested in connecting us with our humanity. If we’re all going to live in dark boxes and eat gruel, we may as well have reverted back to protoplasm,” said Jahn.
“Well stated,” came a voice that played down Jahn’s back like a musical scale. He turned to see Sophia, dressed in a clean blue uniform and walking with two other council members. “I love this place.”
“And I would love a nice thick steak for dinner and a hot tub in my quarters, but a clean place for the children to live is more important,” said Pierson, but the heat had gone out of his argument. “Anyway, let’s get inside.”
He turned and pushed his way through the doorway into the council room. Jahn swept his hand forward, indicating that he would follow Sophia, and then walked in after her.
The Peacekeeper base that Pravin had founded was named United Nations Headquarters, to remind people of the United Nations charter that set forth the goals of the Alpha Centauri mission. Like most of the other citizens living in the base, Jahn had taken to calling the base UNHQ for short. 
The council room of UNHQ occupied the bottom portion of the tall cylinder that used to be part of the fuel injector mechanism for the Unity and that now served as the heart of the base. The cylinder had several floors, created by welding sheets of thick metal into place at various heights, including an observation room on the top floor. Pravin had chosen to give the council room an unusually high ceiling--about 10 meters high, by Jahn’s estimation--to create a feeling of spaciousness. Another one of his “little projects.”
In the center of the floor rested a semicircular conference table made of black metal sheared cleanly from the outer shell of a landing pod. Around the table sat several chairs, also from Unity, stuffed and comfortable but many torn and scorched from the explosion that had rocked the Unity’s command center during the descent. 
Jahn and the other advisors took seats around the table. After a moment Pravin entered and walked briskly to the center seat.
“Greetings, everyone. I hope you’re having a good day here in the new world,” he said. There were murmurs of assent. 
“Let’s begin. Many of our citizens have been hard at work, in more ways than one, I see: I notice that our children’s quarters are almost full.” There were some appreciative chuckles. “It’s very heartening to see that life continues even around this new star. But we must continue to advance the ideals of the mission. How are the food supplies?”
“They’re holding up,” said Pierson. “We have surplus that we store away. It’s been good having some contact with Deirdre Skye’s citizens. They eat, breathe and shit plant life.”
Don’t we all, thought Jahn, momentarily craving a good piece of meat.
“Very good,” said Pravin. “It is unfortunate that our scout patrols must spend so much time exploring, and so little time establishing better contact with Deirdre Skye and her people.”
“I agree,” said Pierson, “but perhaps for different reasons. I’d like to know what Skye is up to, and Morgan and Santiago as well. They’re very far from central command.” Jahn noticed how everyone on the council of advisors assumed that UNHQ was the center command for all of the settlements. “I propose that we use our resources to build another fleet of rovers. I think our technicians are up to the challenge.”
“I have a counterproposal,” said Pravin. “I suggest that we start to assemble a group of people to colonize a new base. Our scouts have found a marvelous piece of land to the southwest. There is good rainfall there, and sunlight on the upper elevations, and our surveyors believe that good minerals exist in abundance. A colony there could double our overall production, and in turn help us expand our headquarters into something very special, an inspiration for all the citizens on Chiron.”
There was some stirring as people considered to this proposal.
“I don’t object in principle,” said Eldridge. “In fact, I think our citizens have earned the right to live in a habitat that inspires them. But I think we’re looking too far ahead. I share Pierson’s concern about the other pod leaders. Santiago worries me in particular. I find it psychologically telling that she has named her base Sparta Command, and I would like to send a team to investigate her.”
“We have the authority to investigate any of the settlements, of course,” said Pravin.
“Do we?” asked Pierson. “We take it for granted that Captain Garland passed control of the mission to us before the Unity blew up...”
To my father, not to you, Jahn corrected him mentally.
“...But Santiago or any of these people could make the case that command passed to Executive Officer Yang, who is nowhere to be found,” Pierson finished.
“Control passed to me, by word of Captain Garland himself,” Pravin said firmly.
“Father, I have one more consideration,” said Jahn. “Santiago may know that command of the Settlements lies with you, but what if she doesn’t care?”
No one spoke for a moment.
“What you are suggesting, Jahn, is mutiny,” said Pravin.
“We know it happened up there,” said Jahn, gesturing skyward. “And I hope to Chiron it never happens again. But there is no planetary police force that will go to Sparta for us and order Santiago to do our bidding.”
“Well said!” interjected Pierson. “In fact, if there is a planetary police force, it’s probably run by Santiago herself.”
“Which returns me to my proposal,” said Pravin. “Let’s send out a small group of colonists to lay the groundwork for a new base. There doesn’t need to be any major building for now. They will only explore and begin another set of farms. The location I have selected is closer to Santiago, so we can assist her with additional food supplies as well as keep a better eye on her. It will be good for all of us.”
“I would prefer that we build faster scouts and construct some sensors along our perimeter,” said Pierson. “You never know what could be out there.”
“No sensors,” said Pravin. “New rooms for the children and some solar collectors on the high ridge are more important. We still have our regular armed patrols to warn us of any attacks.”
 “I’d like a vote,” responded Pierson. Pravin nodded his agreement, and all ten advisors bowed their heads and typed a vote into the touchscreens by their seats.
“Six to four in favor of the sensors,” said Pravin. He lapsed into thought for a moment. “This is a narrow majority. I am exercising my veto power. We will build the sensors in due time, but not now. I am working on a plan that will increase our mineral production dramatically, after which we can address the sensor issue again.” He looked them all in the eye, reinforcing his authority. “Meeting adjourned.”

Jahn stood in the Planet Walk, talking quietly to Sophia about some of the issues raised during the Council meeting. As they talked his eyes kept drifting to rich orange light of the Centauri sunset, and then back to her face to watch how the light rested there.
“Your father is a good man,” said Sophia. “I hope the others can see that. He doesn’t seek power for power’s sake.”
“Yes, but his dreams of peace and prosperity tend to make them a little nervous. The trouble with idealists is they tend not to be realists.”
“Someone has to aim for the stars, though.” Sophia reached out and casually touched his arm. He felt that electric thrill go through him again, and he reflected how happy he was to be back in shape.
“I haven’t felt this good in years,” he said. “Decades, if you count the cryosleep.” He looked at her, hypnotized by her eyes, and then he started to lean in. She drew away slightly, and her face became apologetic.
“Your father is our leader,” she said. “And even after six years, I really don’t know you that well.”
“Does that matter?” Jahn’s mood crashed with disappointment. He reached out to touch her hand, hoping she wouldn’t pull away again.
“Jahn,” said a voice, quiet but edgy. Jahn looked up to see Rankojin standing in the hallway about ten meters away. His friend stood stiffly, his hands folded across his chest, but Jahn thought he could see vulnerability in Rank’s face.
Jahn looked back at Sophia, inwardly shaking his head as the moment slipped away. “Please excuse me,” he said. “I hope you understand.”
Sophia nodded with their regal tilt of her head, her face already composed into a perfect mask. “That’s all right.” She turned, nodded politely at Rankojin, then headed down the hallway.
As soon as Sophia was gone Rank dropped his guard, and his face seemed to collapse into an expression of deep regret. “I’m sorry for what happened in the training room,” he said. “There’s no excuse.”
“Accepted... But I can’t say I understand. You became a different person in there.”
“You know what I became,” said Rank. 
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I became a Spartan,” said Rank bluntly, looking at Jahn through dark eyes. “Their training has gotten under my skin.”
Jahn stared at his friend. “A Spartan would rather lose an ankle than lose a fight?”
“I didn’t lose either, Jahn. I didn’t yield; you stopped. The Spartans have incredible tolerance for pain, and they don’t surrender. If you had broken my foot and stood up to leave, I would have kept on fighting.”
Jahn shook his head, still trying to fathom this new side to his friend. “So because I refused to break your ankle you think you won the fight?”
“I know I didn’t lose the fight. And because of your concern for me, you don’t really know if you won.”
“You learned all this from training with them for a year?”
“What I learned is nothing. They’re starting to train their young at an early age. I hear these kids have to be chained to the floor sometimes, to stop them from fighting after they’ve lost a match. The best of them, their elite troops, won’t admit defeat.”
“Who are they fighting against?” asked Jahn, thinking of the council meeting that had just passed, and Pierson’s statement that Santiago might be the closest thing to a planetary police.
“Just each other, and the mindworms. But I hope it never goes beyond that.” He clapped Jahn on the shoulder and turned away.
“Would you like to go for a drink?” Jahn asked, mostly hoping his friend would turn him down so he could have time to absorb all of this.
Rank shook his head. “I’ve asked for fungus patrol tonight. Maybe later we’ll spar again.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Jahn, and smiled. Rank walked away, flashing the old Earth sign for peace as he left.
All Jahn could think about was the cracking sounds in his friend’s foot, and how little he understood the Spartan mind.

Santiago pushed open a narrow wooden door somewhere in the center of Sparta Command and entered a small viewing room with windows on three sides. She closed the door and stepped to the opposite window.
Below her she could see the Birthing Room. Spartan women, some citizens but many simple workers and noncombatants, lay in hard beds around a large square room, with almost no privacy. The food supplies were still low and so the birthrate was even  lower, but six of the beds were still occupied, each with a metal bucket of water at the foot. A nurse in a white tunic sat in a stool at the foot of one of the beds, where a brunette with a flushed and sweaty face gasped against the pain.
“Push now, Citizen,” said the nurse. “Once more and this should be over.”
The woman gave no indication that she had heard the nurse, but gasped in pain and contorted her body again. A bloody rag lay at the foot of the bed, under the nurse’s feet.
Santiago watched to see if the woman would demand drugs, but she did not, and Santiago nodded approvingly. Her offspring will be strong, she thought.
The door to the viewing room opened behind her and a man walked in, wearing the simple white tunic of a Spartan medic. She turned and accepted his salute.
“Colonel Santiago,” said the man.
“Captain Kimura,” Santiago said. The captain went directly to one of the other windows, and Santiago joined him.
Below them lay the children’s quarters. The long, wide room was scattered with all kinds of toys and equipment, from small stuffed fighting dummies to rings and ropes to hanging targets. Wooden swords, poles, and small shields lay in neat piles around the floor.
There were about fifty children in the room, ranging in age from two to seven, watched by five adults in brown tunics. Infants wore diapers and ran about the room in energetic play, while the other children, male and female, wore only loincloths and engaged in more structured play to develop their bodies.
“There are many good fighters down there,” said Captain Kimura. “See that black-haired one. He has a good hand with the sword.”
“Yes,” Santiago agreed. “And that girl with the blond hair. She attacks the heavy bags like a banshee.”
The captain nodded and took out a touchpanel. He looked at each child in turn, making notes about their development.
“The green-eyed boy. I think it is time,” said Kimura. Santiago looked down. In one corner, two older boys sat in a pile of straw, practicing a basic parry-and-riposte sword movement with agonizing slowness. One of them had soft features and green eyes, while the other sat in a slightly hunched position and had a perfectly shaved head.
As Santiago watched, one of the attendants came over and began to beat the green-eyed boy about the head and shoulders with her fist. He began sobbing almost immediately, which infuriated the attendant even more.
Captain Kimura watched for a few moments, then shouted down through the window. “That won’t be necessary. The lad’s time has come.”
Several of the children looked up, unusually quiet. Santiago watched as the attendant grabbed the boy and pulled him across the room and through a narrow wooden door. Santiago closed her eyes and imagined the scene behind the door…the drawing of the blade, then the quick cut across the throat.
A scream sounded from behind the door, high and afraid, like a baby’s cry. It ended quickly. Food supplies are short, Santiago reminded herself.
“Unfortunately, your son will now have to find another playmate,” said the captain calmly, and turned to walk out the door.

“Paula,” Jahn whispered. The sleeping form next to him grunted and stirred, but did not awaken.
He slipped out of the narrow bed and felt around in the pitch darkness for his clothes. He finally found his uniform and felt his way to the quicklink on the sleeve, which had a small light built in. He turned it on, and a soft white glow illuminated the tiny room.
He stood over Paula, looking at her pleasantly rounded form underneath the sheets. After sleeping in the common quarters for years, he had decided that using his father’s influence wasn’t such a bad idea, and put it for a small room built during the last base expansion. Since then Paula had approached him often, wanting companionship and relief from the crowded sleeping quarters.
That’s not completely fair, he told himself. She feels genuine affection for me.
He looked at her body again, and again he began to imagine the long, slender form of Sophia stretched out on his bed, and her lush black hair and this soft light on her face. He reached out and touched Paula on the shoulder, filled with a deep remorse that he could no longer look at her without thinking of another woman.
I have to forget about her, he thought, testing the thought, letting it sink into his mind.
His mind churned. Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep, he put on his uniform and slipped out into the dark hallway.

He found himself in the Planet Walk, and from there he went up the narrow metal staircase to the observation deck, where he found his father. Two other citizens slept curled together on a couch in the far corner of the room, but Pravin ignored them, staring out over the dark landscape. The two moons, Nessus and Pholus, floated in the sky. Alpha Centauri B was not currently visible in the night sky.
“Father,” said Jahn softly, and sat next to him. Neither seemed surprised to find the other there in the middle of the night. “What did you think of the council meeting today?”
“It seemed to go well,” said Pravin.
“There was some tension.”
“Indeed. I know you are not an official part of the council of advisors, Jahn, but I do value your input. You have managed to earn their respect.” He paused. “I am proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“You also seem to get along particularly well with one of them,” Pravin said, looking at him.
“Pierson? We get along all right.” Jahn couldn’t stop the smile from breaking across his face. Sophia.
“Marriage did go out of style of Earth, of course, but there are those of us who still shoot the moon,” Pravin said, referring to Pria, his wife. “The rewards are great if you choose the correct person. And on this new world, the tighter social structure of having a Chosen can benefit a child, as well as the society as a whole.”
“We’ll have to see. Right now she doesn’t really even know me.” Jahn felt a little stab of pain in his gut.
Pravin nodded. “And do you wonder if she is a Perfect?”
“She appears that way to me.” Jahn knew that his father would have full access to the records that detailed the genetic profiles of everyone on the crew. He thought a moment. “I really don’t care if she is or not.”
Pravin nodded as if in approval. “Jahn, I want you to know my intentions for the future, so you can understand and perhaps support me in council. I have been talking frequently to Deirdre Skye and Nwabudike Morgan. As you know, they have specialized heavily, Deirdre into plant genetics and Nwabudike in mining and production.”
“I hear he has beautiful living quarters, and that he seduces his citizens with luxuries,” said Jahn.
“Rumors have a tendency to grow away from the truth, but there is a basis to what you say. I feel that we can forge an alliance with these two and get food and raw materials to expand this base into something worth living in, something far beyond the survival facilities that characterize the settlements now.”
Jahn nodded, seeing the wisdom of his plan. Pravin continued, “If we focus our citizens too much on threats that haven’t materialized, we will antagonize the other leaders and hurt our ability to create a solid foundation for future prosperity.”
“Still, violence is always a possibility. In fact, I wanted to tell you about this Spartan training.”
Pravin nodded and touched Jahn’s arm to regain his attention. “I know the Spartans could be valuable as allies, Jahn, but right now Skye and Morgan are the most important. I want this base to be for all of us, as a symbol of hope for everyone on Chiron, all human citizens. I want to make it large and open, a real city with monuments and whatever culture our citizens can produce. Art and music and history. Can you see that?”
Jahn could see the fire of idealism shining in his father’s eyes, an idealism that inspired others to follow him and that assured him his position on the Unity. Jahn felt for a moment like a small child again, staring at his father, the orator for peace, and he nodded.
“We need this vision, Jahn. I want to make it happen. And I do not think the others can see yet how important it is. It will knit the settlements back together again.”
“It’s a good dream.”
“And when we build it, it will become a center for engineering and science as well. The science of healing, Jahn.” Pravin grabbed his son’s wrist and held it firmly. “We can save your mother. I know we can bring her back from the sleep.”
Jahn did not look at his father this time, but kept his eyes on the night sky outside, where two alien moons floated impassively.

This has been an excerpt from the novel Centauri Dawn from Pocket Books. The full novel is available at your local bookstore or online (try www.amazon.com or www.barnesandnoble.com).

© 2000 by Electronic Arts. For more information, see www.firaxis.com. You are free to distribute this document as long as no text, including this notice, is altered.