Apocalyptic and Dystopian Tales

by Matthew Novak

  In only minutes, two officers, one male and one female, entered the church, surprise written on their faces.

  “She’s young to have gotten away,” said the male officer.

  “And naked,” remarked the female. “Well, come along then. We’ll take you to the precinct to get your statement.”

  Calista followed the officers and dashed through the snow to their car parked just beyond the door.

  At the precinct, they gave Calista some clothes to wear. They were too big but much better than just a towel. Then she gave her statement in the usual way of the times. She was hooked up to several machines and video recorded as she gave her testimony. It took about half an hour to go over what she figured would be the important parts. The two officers and three technicians scrutinized the readings from the machines.

  “This is enough for a conviction,” pronounced one of the technicians, finally.

  “Good to hear. They’ll both get a six months sentence,” said the female officer. “Brad, can you message penitentiary to pick them up? It’s been a long day. I’m ready to head home.”

  “Sure. But what do we do with her?” Brad pointed to Calista. “If we just put her outside, she’ll be collected by slavers for sure.”

  Calista looked intently at the female officer. “I’ll be helpful. I can cook and clean. I won’t be a bother at all. I promise.”

  The woman pursed her lips and then spoke. “Frankly, that sounds great. My house cleaner charges way too much, and I hate cooking. My name’s Jessie.”

  “Jessie, I’ll make things very easy for you. I’m excellent at cleaning house,” Calista said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “Deal. I’m off shift. Follow me.” Jessie walked towards the door. “See you tomorrow, Brad,” she called over her shoulder. Then she turned back to Calista. “I’ll send you to school, of course. Have you ever been to school?”

  Calista looked down. “No.”

  “Well, don’t worry. Initiative and a good work ethic will get you far in life. You escaped slavery and scored yourself a place with me; I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  “Thank you.” Calista thought about what Jessie had said. My actions saved me. The thought gave her back a sense of control over her life. I’ll have to make sure that nothing bad happens ever again.

  Jessie pushed open the door and walked away from the brightly lit building into the parking lot. Calista followed her into the darkness.

  ***

  When Calista grew up, she joined the military and found success there. In her tenth year of service, Captain Calista Zarah was appointed to lead the mission to make first contact.

  Read her story in WAY TO PARADISE.

  Thanks so much for reading!

  If you liked APOCALYPTIC AND DYSTOPIAN TALES, please leave a review.

  Note from Author Celesta Thiessen

  I live in Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada with my husband and two young daughters. We’re homeschoolers and entrepreneurs. My husband and I make iOS apps and I write stories. Being a writer is magical - spinning nothing into stories - stories that can light the way to a different world.

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  Also by Celesta Thiessen

  WAY TO PARADISE

  Earth, Ninety Years From Now

  The director of the military space program, Donald Wicksen, had dropped by unannounced and was now standing in the large shop belonging to the James Beckett Corporation. “We need you.”

  “What? For what?” James Beckett was counting on having some time off now, after finally completing the project. The ship was finished after seven long years. Beckett was the chief engineer. The government had contracted his company to do the work. What do they want now? The ship was perfect. Beckett had seen to that. He really didn’t like the sound of this. And his apprehension was totally justified.

  “We need you to go with the crew on this mission.”

  “I’m not trained for that.” At 6’4”, James was a little taller than the balding, white-haired director, so he found himself looking down at him.

  “You built the ship. We need you there with them. What if something goes wrong?”

  “Don, I’ve worked the sims backwards and forwards.” He ran a hand through his brown curly hair as he tried to hold back his frustration. “On a trip to Mars, the chance of something going wrong is so small it’s not even worth mentioning. The trip will take less than a day. The back-ups for the back-up systems have back-ups. There is multiple redundancy built into every single component.”

  The director looked down at his shiny black shoes and took a deep breath. “They’re not going to Mars.”

  “What? Where are they going?” Beckett asked incredulously.

  “To a planet orbiting a star in the constellation Lyra, 1200 light years from Earth.”

  “The ship hasn’t been designed for that! It might not be able to survive such a trip!”

  “You knew this was just a test flight and the ship would ultimately go a lot farther.”

  “Yes, but 1200 light years?! On her maiden voyage?”

  “That’s why we need you to go, to hold her together.”

  “Even storage and recycling for water and air would be a significant problem. The ship will need modifications.”

  “You’ll have to make the changes in short order.”

  “Even if the ship could make it that far, I’m not at all convinced that we’d be able to get back. 1200 light years…” Beckett mused. “That’s far. Too far. Mars is only 54.6 million km from Earth when we’re at the closest point. That’s way less than one light year away. I don’t think this new plan is feasible. We won’t even have communication with Earth because the star drive uses the fastest transportation technology that we’ve ever developed. Our faster-than-light text file transfer is only the same speed. It would take months to get a message back to you. And, besides the communication issue, it’ll take approximately seven months for the ship to get to that planet! That’s just too long in space.”

  “It’s a risk we have to take. We’ve found life. Alien life.”

  This revelation stopped Beckett cold. He stared into the director’s eyes. He wasn’t joking around and he wasn’t lying. “Are you sure? What kind of life?”

  “Yes, we’re sure. They’ve sent us a message.”

  “Really? Intelligent life? A message?”

  “Audio.” Wicksen pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. The audio started playing. It sounded like a man’s voice.

  “Greetings to the people of Earth. We have known of your kind for some time. We would like to meet. We believe The One Who Is will bless this meeting. We could come to you or you could come to us. Which would you prefer? We have sent you a star chart with our location. Please reply at your earliest convenience.”

  “The aliens sure seem to know English pretty well. Is this legit?”

  “The message came from the stars, from the Lyra constellation,” Wicksen replied. “Our Satellite Kepler picked up the signal. The message did come from deep space. There’s no way that signal could have originated from Earth.”

  “Did you reply?”

  “Yes. We sent a text file in a faster-than-light beam. But our scientists tell me that it will take months for the message to get there.”

  “So you told them that we’d come to them?” Beckett asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it be easer and safer to let them come to us?”

  “It would be much too dangerous to let them come here. What if they brought an invasion force?”

  Beckett snorted. “I don’t think they’d ask permission if they were planning an invasion. Perhaps you’ve been watching too many science fiction movies?”

  Wicksen frowned. “Nevertheless, we will go to them to assess their danger to the human race. Can I count on you to be part of the team?”

  “The ship was not designed for such a jo
urney,” Beckett repeated. “And if I don’t go…I don’t think the ship can make it. The crew will die.”

  “I will send them - with or without your participation. The future of the human race is at stake.”

  Beckett sighed and rubbed his palm across his eyes. He was tired. He’d put so much into this project. So much for my time off. He couldn’t let the crew endure such risk. He couldn’t let them die when he was in a position to help. They needed him. “How soon?”

  “The Crave will be lifting off next week. I’ll need you to come with me now for a briefing.”

  “Now? Wait…you called the ship ‘Crave’?”

  “It wasn’t my decision. Yes. Now.”

  “What about Explorer or something?”

  “There’s already been a ship with that name. Let’s go.” Relief welled up inside Wicksen, though he gave no outward sign of it. He hadn’t needed to tell Beckett everything. It would be better this way.

  “No time like the present,” Beckett muttered and followed the director through the building, out into the parking lot.

  ***

  The two men strode down the white corridor towards the briefing room.

  “And what do you suppose they meant by ‘The One Who Is’?” the director asked him.

  “God, I guess,” Beckett suggested.

  “Hmm…Maybe. You’re the religious sort, aren’t you?” Wicksen asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “Yes, I suppose you’d say that.”

  “Glad to have you on the team. Maybe you’ll be able to decipher any superstitious mumbo-jumbo from the aliens.”

  Beckett would have objected to that remark but they had reached the meeting room and everyone else was already there. He looked over the people in the room.

  “These are the three crewmembers who will be going on this mission with you,” explained Wicksen. They all wore navy blue military uniforms. Wicksen made the introductions. “This is Second Pilot Willard Chase.” He indicated a shorter Caucasian man with a receding hairline, brown eyes and hair. The men shook hands. Chase’s grip was a little too firm, as if the man had something to prove.

  “Hello, nice to meet you,” said Beckett.

  “Hello,” said Chase. His eyes shifted away after the one word.

  Beckett got an uneasy feeling about the man. He was someone Beckett would not have hired to work for him. He sensed that the man had secrets.

  “Officer Keron Jones.” Beckett had to look up at the next man. Jones was a well-muscled giant, of mixed ethnicity, with a darker skin tone.

  “Hello,” said Beckett. They shook hands. The taller man just gave one nod of his head. But he didn’t have a painful vice-grip like Chase had. Jones would be all right to work with. Beckett noticed a small metal crucifix hanging from a short chain around the man’s thick neck. It was surprising the military tolerated it. Most outward symbols of religion were now prohibited in offices of public service. Jones saw him looking and, when Wicksen turned away to introduce the next person, Jones tucked the crucifix under his shirt and patted his chest once before dropping his hand to his side.

  “This is Captain Calista Zarah, the pilot and commanding officer for this mission.” Beckett turned and saw one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. Auburn hair and almond-shaped, sea green eyes set in a lovely face of a slightly darker skin tone than his own. He studied her. She was, perhaps, partially of Asian descent.

  Zarah noticed him staring. So this was James Beckett, the brilliant engineer and entrepreneur. He had soft-looking, curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. And he was grinning. Despite his genius, he would be controllable, she concluded. Though he would be part of the crew, he wasn’t military. But she’d be able to handle the situation – make sure he didn’t find out before it was time. Maybe he’d never need to know, hopefully. He seemed nice, if a little spacy.

  Despite the captain’s serious demeanor, Beckett continued to smile as she walked towards him. She held out her hand. Her grip was firm but her hand was much smaller than his.

  “Calista,” he said, smiling dreamily.

  “Captain Zarah,” she corrected.

  “Yes, of course. Captain Zarah. I’m James Beckett,” he replied. She was almost a foot shorter than he was. He liked looking down at her. Grinning, he realized that he had held onto her hand for a fraction too long.

  “Down to business,” said the director, brushing past him. “The ship has been designed to hold a crew of four. Beckett, you will be taking the place of the scientist for this trip, so you will be required to conduct any necessary experiments as well as the repairs.”

  ***

  The morning air was cool as Beckett looked out over the city from the launch-base grounds. It was fall. What few trees there were had lost their leaves and the grass had all turned brown. In the valley below, skyscrapers made of metal and glass rose into the sky, along with black smoke from factories and ongoing riots. The city of Valor – a new name for an old place. It didn’t matter how many times they changed the name. This poor old city was suffering – and her people too. But this place, this little corner of the world, was in his heart. It was where he had grown up, where he had chosen to live even though he could afford to move somewhere nicer.

  Advanced technology had done a lot of good but also a lot of harm. Valor and, indeed, most places in the world, looked like cities in the dystopian movies from a hundred years ago. But he wouldn’t lose hope. There was still beauty here, if one cared to look for it. Surely there would also be beauty on the alien planet, which was to be their destination. God, the creator of all, must have made that planet too.

  But Beckett needed to protect the crew. He needed to concentrate on that. It was his responsibility now. “God, please help me,” he whispered into the cool wind.

  Beckett knew that this might be the last time he would see Valor - the last time he’d see Earth. He tried to tell his heart that he might be saying goodbye forever. He had to be ready to not come back, if that’s what it took to protect the others. But deep down, he felt that he would see it again. This mission wasn’t all God wanted from him. There would be something more.

  Leaves crunched behind him. It was Jones. Beckett looked up at the taller man as he came to stand beside him. Then they surveyed the city together in silence.

  Jones knew, with certainty, that this was the last time he would see his home. He finally spoke, still looking out over Valor. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said as he pulled the crucifix out from under his shirt to rest on top of the blue fabric of his uniform. “Do you believe?” He held the metal pendant again for a moment.

  “Yes.”

  “I do too. But not Chase or Zarah.” He touched the crucifix absently as he looked out over the city. “I don’t think you heard the full audio. There’s something Wicksen didn’t tell you.”

  “What didn’t he tell me?”

  Jones let go of the pendant as he turned to face Beckett. “The aliens. They asked to see a Bible. That’s how I got chosen for this mission. I’m religious. ” Their eyes met.

  “Why would Wicksen keep that from me?”

  “Don’t know. There’s something else too but I can’t tell you now. Just a heads up. Stay alert. Bring your Bible. And pray. I think this is going to get interesting.” With that, Jones turned away and walked slowly back towards the compound.

  ***

  The four of them were strapped into the control module of the ship. Zarah and Chase were in the front with Jones and Beckett in the two seats behind them. Ten seconds to launch. The countdown blared through the speakers. Beckett had never been in space before. Some wealthy folk went up into space as a hobby but, personally, he had never seen the point. As the countdown approached liftoff, he squeezed the armrests of his chair and tried to calm himself with positive self-talk. Over the past week, he had participated in dozens of takeoff, weightlessness and touchdown sims and exercises. His body would be accustomed to the pull of the extra Gs during takeoff. In al
l the crazy, spinning rides they had put him through, he had not thrown up. I don’t get seasick. I’ll be fine. And he didn’t have to worry about safety. I built this ship. She’s in perfect condition. Everything will go according to plan and even if not… God holds everything in His hands so…I have nothing to worry about. The cockpit was silent as hundreds of tons of fuel ignited. The rockets fired, propelling the ship slowly upwards. Once they were free of Earth’s atmosphere, they would engage the star engines. The crewmembers were pushed down firmly in their seats. Beckett felt like he had difficultly breathing but he knew the feeling wouldn’t last long. He took shallow breaths. With a final upward thrust, the ship cleared the atmosphere. They were weightless, held down only by their shoulder harnesses.

  The artificial gravity had to be manually engaged after takeoff. Manual controls kept things simple. And simpler meant safer. Beckett slipped out of the shoulder restraints and moved towards the hatch at the back of the control module.

  “I’m going to engage the gravity.”

  Zarah didn’t say anything. Beckett floated down the narrow hall, shimmying from handhold to handhold. He found the correct panel and opened it.

  Captain Zarah floated out into the hall behind him. “The course is set. Ship’s on autopilot. We should be reaching our destination in seven months time,” said Zarah. Chase floated out into the hall behind her.

  “Great.” Beckett smiled. “Do you want to help me get this artificial gravity going?” he asked, as the captain observed him.

  “Now, why would I want to do that? Not my job description.”

  “To be friendly?” Beckett suggested.

  “If you think we’re going to be friends, you’d better think again. I’m your boss, not your friend. I don’t have friends.” Zarah brushed past him in the narrow corridor. In truth, Zarah did want to linger in the hall and watch him or even help. She was drawn to the lanky brainiac. He was nice and he seemed genuine. But that was the worst kind of all. She had to keep her head – needed to be in control.