New World Rising: A story of hope born out of tragedy

by Sloane, Lynette

Still overwhelmed by the feeling of acute loss, and a little bemused by the afternoon’s events, I walked over to a large rectangular porthole and starred for a long while at the passing stars twinkling on their black velvet background.

  After making a hot drink, I walked over to the table and picked up the tablet. As soon as I touched it, it turned on and booted up. I inserted Olan’s porta-disk into the ‘G’ drive port. My small workstation was networked to the ship’s mainframe computer, and automatically projected the contents of the viewing screen onto the much larger wall-mounted screen in front of me. The tablet’s research capability was limited. Even so, it made very interesting reading:

  The fourth planet in the Theta Dayton System is larger than earth and is positioned nearer to its sun, so it is generally much warmer and drier. Its three moons have no water and very little gravity. Although humans were first aware of the planet’s existence over seventy years ago, first contact with the primary life form, the Ad-Astra-Per-Aspera (Aapa’s), only occurred during the last five years. This life form is humanoid and physiologically similar to humans, but their young are not born live, rather they hatch from eggs.

  I knew this much from first hand experience. I read on:

  Not originally native to this sector of space, Aapa’s arrived on Theta Dayton Four many thousands of years ago, having travelled an unimaginable distance from their homeworld. (The exact location of said planet has been lodged in the Annals of Antiquity, and is only available for those with high level security clearance.)

  For many thousands of years Aapa’s lived out their lives developing an advanced civilisation similar to those on Earth with cities, education, medicine, and scientific achievements, but over the last twenty or so generations unexplained mutations have occurred in their genetic structure. Like most other humanoids, their natural life span was roughly one hundred and twenty years, but since the genetic degeneration each successive generation has been ageing and dying at younger and still younger ages.

  This is a civilisation in crisis, the average life span now being reduced to a few months, or in a few more recent cases, weeks, many now dying without reaching maturity, and so being unable to propagate their species. Once this over-populated planet was home to billions but to date there are only a few hundred Aapa’s left planet-wide.

  I noted that the entry was dated three years ago. At the end of the script was a small picture of an Aapa with Horatio Wineburger, one of the eminent explorers of the United Coalition of Planets. Horatio’s familiar face was no surprise of course; I had seen pictures of him often enough in textbooks at school, but the Aapa was a revelation. He didn’t resemble Olan one bit. Although at first Olan had been covered with olive green scales, by the first evening of his life these had peeled off and he appeared human. The Aapa standing with Horatio was obviously mature and still had his scales and no hair. He was also exceptionally tall, unless Horatio was very short. I thought the latter very unlikely.

  I hadn’t majored in biology but knew enough to deduce that Olan was half human and almost certainly the result of an experiment.

  I accessed the DNA database and initiated a search for the DNA signature of the human DNA donor. For the last one hundred and seventy five years all humans have had a unique tag number, as many people can have the same name. Within a few seconds a tag number and name appeared on screen:

  Tag No: E76-5721- 7196 - 254310 – How C892 Howard Cagney

  What? I fought to get my head around the revelation. My brother was Olan’s genetic father! Bringing two alien eggs back home was no mistake, no stupid whim. He was an experiment: a bonding of two species to produce a hybrid.

  I placed the tablet on the table and sat back in my chair. I was in shock, and felt a confusion of emotions: anger, (because Howard got me into all this without giving me a choice in the matter), excitement (about the discovery), and happy (because we could help Olan’s race) … But was it ethical to change a species so radically? Should we interfere, or should we simply let nature take its course?

  While I sat there, my mind a perplexity of thoughts and emotions, the ship unexpectedly lurched to one side and decelerated to a standstill. Usually one didn’t feel speed changes as the Omicron Flyer was fitted with automatic buffers, so I was very concerned at what might be happening. Using my auto navigation devise to guide me, I made my way towards the bridge where I knew Howard would be stationed.

  People rushed past me along the white, sterile corridors, their determination adding to my concern. I stood out from the crew as they all wore navy blue or black jumpsuits with silver braiding across the chest and on the outside of the legs. I had been given a simple light grey jumpsuit with a small removable tracker devise fitted on the right hip. This showed that I was a visitor and held no rank with the United Coalition of Planets. The tracker devise was there to make sure that visitors didn’t get lost or venture into restricted areas, such as engineering, and to help them find their way around the ship. It also kept track of the visitors’ whereabouts, which was invaluable in cases of emergencies.

  I found the bridge but was denied access. Instead, Keni, the crewmember I had met earlier, showed me into a small but comfortable side room before hurrying off back to her station, leaving me alone. I sat on a fitted sofa, which ran the length of the room, and looked around. In front of me was a desk, behind which was a glass case displaying models of older, less advanced space ships.

  The door opened and Chrissy entered assuring me that everything was going to be all right. As she was speaking I sensed the ship picking up speed again. I looked through a circular porthole and saw the white stars whizzing passed us, increasing their speed, or so it seemed. The Omicron Flyer was gathering momentum. Suddenly the stars melded into long straight lines all emanating from a central point … then suddenly disappeared.

  “Where’ve the stars gone?” I asked, anxiously.

  “They’re still there. You can’t see them ’cause we’ve gone into fold drive,” Chrissy explained. “They’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking this so calmly,” I said.

  She smiled reassuringly, “I’ve done this before. I spent two years on a research vessel in the Beta Quadrant after I finished Uni.” The ship lurched again, like a car hitting the curb. “Look, the stars are coming back,” she said cheerfully, looking out of the porthole once more. I joined her expecting to see the lines to appear again, but instead I noticed tiny pin pricks of light that steadily grew back to resemble those familiar stars.

  Starting to feel quite ill, I said, “I feel space sick.”

  “Thought you might; I brought this for you,” she replied, handing me a small green sticking plaster. I took the plaster from her, looking at it apprehensively for a moment then rolled up my sleeve and stuck the plaster on my left forearm. Immediately I started feeling better.

  The rest of the trip was quite uneventful. Howard was either busy or purposely kept out of my way. He knew I was still mad at him. After two days and nights in my quarters I was bored, so I wandered out and spent time getting to know a few of the crewmembers. I met a pair of identical twins, Bai and Kiew, in the recreation lounge. As we chatted I learned they were junior science officers, it was their first deep-space assignment, and they were both very excited about it. I was quite envious of the lovely long, dark hair, which both ladies wore back in French plaits reaching to their waists. They were taller than me and looked very slender in their uniforms, lucky things. They were also very popular with the young male crewmembers and amused themselves playing tricks on the ones who didn’t realise there were two of them.

  One evening Keni took me for a drink in the recreation lounge. At the end of the room was a bar with high stools where you could order alcohol-substitute drinks. No alcoholic beverage was allowed on board, not that this bothered me, I knew from experience that as far as taste went one couldn’t tell the difference between these drinks and the more potent and now totally unfashionable alcohol beverages of long ago. Anot
her evening (although in space evening, day, and night, all look the same to me), David Holmes met me in the ship’s restaurant for a meal. I liked him at once; he was fascinating and treated me like a lady.

  He seemed a little interested in me too, and often appeared somewhere nearby when he was off duty.

  Chapter 5. Theta Dayton Four:

  A few days and several space-folds later we arrived at our destination exactly on schedule. Unlike other ships in its class, the Omicron Flyer was able to land directly on the surface and launch again whenever necessary. Most other vessels had to remain in orbit and transfer the crewmembers down a few at a time.

  I made my way to the transfer pad where several crates of equipment were waiting to be sent to the surface. Five of us were to transfer together as our destination wasn’t within walking distance. I recognised Keni and David but not the other two. One was a rather large woman in her early forties with cropped hair and a fixed scowl, and the other a short stocky man with greying hair and rounded spectacles that matched his round cheerful face. I learned that these two were part of the medical team. I secretly nicknamed them Smiley and Scowly.

  We were told to await instructions, and transferred to an open area near some hills. The first thing that hit me was the dry heat. It was uncomfortably hot, at least twenty degrees hotter that the air-conditioned ship.

  Mr. Smiley spoke to his miserable colleague, “At least they brought us here in the evening, and not in the heat of the day.”

  I hoped he was joking. If this was a cool evening I dreaded the thought of the midday heat.

  “How hot does it get in the daytime?” I asked him.

  David leant towards me and answered, “Much hotter this time of year, but you won’t be expected to walk outside without protective clothing.”

  I looked out at the deserted, arid landscape. The dusty, reddish, brown earth spread out to a vast open plain, extending to the northern horizon. The land was very flat except for the low lying hills a couple of kilometres away. There was very little vegetation, just a few huge, gnarled trees dotted here and there, and the odd tumbleweed. One startled me as it rolled by my feet blown by a sudden gust of wind which felt like it had come out of an enormous electric hair drier. There appeared to be no evidence of any civilisation. I turned to look behind me, immediately surprised at the view. Almost within reach was a strikingly high cliff, the rocks of which were the same reddish brown colour as the dusty ground around us. Its face was very flat and extended in both directions as far as I could see. I thought it would be virtually impossible to climb.

  “How high do you think that is?” I asked, gesturing towards the top of the cliff.

  Mr. Smiley answered this time, “Seven hundred and twenty six metres. Give or take the odd millimetre.” I was distracted from any further comments by a gentle whirring sound eminating from the base of the rock-face. A small opening appeared and Howard stepped out.

  “Well aren’t you full of surprises,” I said indignantly, the knowledge of Olan’s parentage suddenly at the forefront of my mind.

  “Enough pleasantries,” he answered. “We have a great deal to do. Everyone assume your stations. Belinda follow me.” Howard turned and walked back the way he had come. I stepped into the opening, and as my eyes became accustomed to the lower light saw a long tunnel reaching out in front of me. The others turned down a side passageway to the right whilst I followed my irritating brother straight ahead into the wider passage. The circular scarring on the sides and roof suggested to me that it had been cut by artificial means. Overhead lighting illuminated our way over the same loose, dry, reddish brown dirt that had welcomed us outside.

  Still annoyed at the way The Brat had treated me, I could hold back my frustration no longer.

  “What’s all this about?” I demanded. “Why bring me here? And why didn’t you tell me Olan was your son? He was half human wasn’t he!”

  A little surprised at my outburst, Howard replied, “It was Olan’s wish that you came here.”

  “What about my wishes? You never seem to take them into consideration.”

  “I recall you came willingly.”

  “You still tricked me into hatching that egg. You didn’t poach it, you had paternal rights.”

  Howard looked surprised that I would complain about such a thing.

  “Have you never wanted to do something so important that it would affect people for generations to come?” he asked, smiling. “Stick around … you’ll be glad you did.” Looking more serious, he added, “You may even thank me one day.”

  Before I could come back with a suitably sarcastic answer I heard the whirring sound again.

  “That’s just a beta-seven force-field,” he explained. “The opening’s still there, but you can’t see it, and no unauthorised person or other creature can pass through it. That’s how we keep the rats out. They’re quite big.”

  “Oh lovely,” I said, “You brought me I don’t know how far across space to a dried out platent with rats.”

  “At least the spiders are comparatively small,” Howard said, knowing my fear of those horrible creepy things. “I could have taken you to Zoton Eight where the smallest ones are the size of hover-busses.”

  “I should be grateful for small mercies then,” I replied, beginning to warm to him a little. I always found it annoying that I couldn’t stay angry with The Brat for long.

  “I’ll authorise your DNA signature with the computer to enable you to pass through the force-field whenever you want to. I won’t have to unlock it for you then,” he explained.

  We continued down the straight tunnel for several minutes until we rounded a corner. Suddenly I heard a rumbling like distant thunder followed by a roar that echoed all around me. Fine dust fell through cracks overhead followed by a blanket of rock particles so dense it obstructed my view of the tunnel. The dust particles found their way into my mouth, eyes, and up my nose. I coughed and jumped backwards as the roar and crash of rock hitting rock became almost deafening. I feared I was going to be caught up in the rockfall and death was imminent.

  As the dust cleared, I was horrified to see a great number of rocks—rocks of all sizes—completely blocking our way. I looked for Howard, hoping he hadn’t been crushed under the rockfall. My brother was infuriating, but I didn’t want to loose him. I was relieved to see him standing a few feet away from me covered in fine reddish brown dust. I threw my arms around him, unable to speak.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, putting a reasuring arm around me.

  I wanted to say ‘What? Safe? We nearly got crushed my a million tonnes of rock’, but my throat was dry and the words wouldn’t come out.

  I loosed my grip on him and stiffled another cough in case the noise brought the rest of the roof down.

  “What now?” I asked quietly. I shook my head, creating a much smaller dust cloud, then picked up one of the small rocks that had come to rest next to my foot. The jagged rock was only the size of a cricket ball, but it felt much heavier.

  “Better start digging our way through,” Howard answered.

  “We’re not going to get trapped in here are we? If the roof’s this unstable it can’t be safe.” I didn’t want to die underground light years away from home.

  The Brat was stifling a laugh. “You’re so gullible,” he chuckled.

  I remembered all the times Howard had played tricks on me and teased me, and was about to slap him when he said, “Computer cut force-field.”

  All the rocks, large and small—including the small rock in my hand—dissipated like the early morning mist revealing a room about four metres square, its floor, top and sides covered in large white tiles.

  I swore.

  “Follow me,” Howard said, stepping onto the tiles.

  “I’ve followed you enough,” I retorted. I should be submitting my paintings to the art exibition right now. Not standing in a tunnel so you can have a laugh at my expense.”

  “Well you can stay there if you w
ish, but you’ll get bored.”

  I think Howard realised he had pushed me too far. He stepped back towards me, placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke softly. “Bally, it’s all right. The hard-light force-field is a precaution to stop invaders getting into the cave system. The work we are doing here is of immense importance to Olan’s people. I needed to check that the rockfall was lifelife and would fool any intruders. I think I can assume it passed the test. Such persons might try to clear it, but it would appear that miles of corridor had collasped and they would soon give up.”

  I had been through too much receintly and was in shock after believing I had only just escaped with my life. The roackfall had seemed very real. My anger gave way to tears. Howard felt a little awkward. He never knew how to react to women’s tears.

  “Come on Soggy,” he said, using a nickname our father had given me when I was a toddler.

  “That’s was unforgivable,” I said, spitting out my words in frustration as I followed him onto the tiles. “Why do you treat me this way? Why are you putting me through all this?”

  “You’ll thank me one day.”

  “No. No, I won’t.”

  “Take a deep breath,” he warned me. “The vacuum cleaner is going to draw out any remaining particles from us and the air.”

  I did as he said and several large, wide pipes descended from the roof and out of the side walls. I jumped as the opening behind me closed trapping us both in the small room. A loud whirring noise sounded just above me and the pipes started sucking air and rock dust from our clothing, hair and faces.

  Great, now we’re in a carwash I thought.

  Just when I could hold my breath no longer, the vacuum stopped its cleaning and an opening appeared at the far end of the room. This led to a cave lined with computer interfaces and rows of data disks stacked in small, transparent trays.

  “This is our data library,” Howard explained, leading me into the large cave. “I know you have many questions, so you can spend the afternoon searching our data files and using the porta-disc Olan gave you. I’ll see you for dinner. Ask anyone if you get thirsty and they’ll show you the food and drinks simulator, oh, and you can’t get lost because I’ve pre-programmed your tracker devise to work here as it did on the Flyer.”