EXTINCTION
A Novella
by
Phillip Tomasso
This one is for my daughter Raeleigh.
The story was all her idea.
I just put it into words.
And yes, my Princess, if I make millions you will get your piece of the pie.
Chapter 1
Braddox Founding piloted Liberation. Once out of Clandestine’s bay, he engaged thrusters. The bridge was soundproof, only slightly larger than the cockpit of a fighter ship, and prevented him from hearing the rockets flare. He knew well enough what thrusters sounded like having worked on ships back home. There was a burst of flame from back engines and incredible heat. The whoosh alone could pierce eardrums if protective gear wasn’t worn.
The vessel shot forward. G-forces sent small waves of nausea through his stomach. He needed both hands on the controls for the moment; otherwise he might coddle the mild sickness with arms across his gut. Regulators kicked in and balanced the speed with the inside cabin pressure. Soon, it wasn’t like they were hurtling through space at all, but standing still. He closed his mouth, swallowed hard, and after shutting his eyes for a moment, the uneasiness settled.
With his eyes once again open, he concentrated on the view from the captain’s chair. Beyond the glass was a vastness of black nothing. The universe looked empty except for the few planets and moons visible. And their sun. The star was larger than the one at home. Heavily tinted windows prevented Founding from losing his sight. He didn’t stare directly at the fiery ball, but avoiding it took effort. He found his eyes were simply drawn toward it.
Founding never grew tired of missions. Flying through space was an unexplainable high. The Milky Way was four-hundred and ninety light years away from home. He and the crew spent ten years in deep sleep chambers. For a decade Clandestine flew on autopilot. Scientists charted the course. Mathematicians made the journey possible. He understood only bare basics. The brains behind the program ensured unobstructed flight paths. Somehow they could calculate and take into consideration comets and known asteroid fields, as well as where planets will be during their orbit around their sun. There were still risks. Assignments like this always came with risks.
The excitement of a new mission is what Founding loved. The risks just made everything much more intense. The thought alone made his blood flow faster. It surged through his veins and arteries at breakneck speed. Blood pressure meds could never manage that kind of stimulant.
In a few hours he’d wake the other three crew members. For the moment, the universe was his. Little steering was required, thanks to top notch engineering, but his being awake first was necessary to provide cursory assistance with having Clandestine hold for their return, and preparing Liberation for the short journey. This included moving the three sleep pods from the mother ship to this one.
As much as he valued the time alone, the peace, the quiet, the view, what he missed right now was driving tunes. He switched on the preloaded playlist and bellowed like an animal in heat. Uninhibited because there was not a soul awake to complain.
Captain Founding didn’t have family at home. None of his crew had families. It was a ten year mission. No one left loved ones that long. Some might, depending on circumstances, but most wouldn’t. On a mission that could easily last a quarter of a century, only those with no ties were even considered.
The pool of candidates was picked through with extreme scrutiny. Teams were trained for the exercise and just over ten years ago launched toward planets similar to their own. Overpopulation became an issue. It wasn’t surprising. Medical advances prevented unnecessary deaths from disturbing illnesses that plagued the planet since the beginning of time. Their time, anyway. Climate control took away risk of tsunamis and hurricanes, tornadoes and volcanic eruptions. Forest fires during dry seasons extinguished as fast as they began and long before they spread. Droughts and famine were wiped out long ago. The positive aspect of fixing broken things is wonderful. The warned about negative points were realized after it was too late.
The plan in place seemed impossible, but necessary. Scoping out other planets with similar life support properties might be the only way to cure over population. There were other signs of destruction on the horizon as well. Those in charge were tight-lipped about the impending hazards. Founding didn’t need a degree in science to predict what was coming. For all of the combined intelligence working toward making the planet perfect, they stifled natural growth and change. No. They barred it from existence. The things done to make everything wonderful were cosmetic, topical. The planet’s core was in turmoil. It reminded Founding of when his step-father used to cover his nose and mouth with his big hands. At first it seemed funny. Soon, Founding panicked. His eyes bulged, his lungs burned, and his body reacted to the suffocation. He’d swing his arms and kick and pull away. Eventually, he fought his step-father for survival.
Their home planet was going to self-destruct if it wasn’t allowed to breathe.
You can’t change what something is. It is that simple. You can’t restructure the way something is wired and expect it to work forever. One guarantee that ensured things go from bad to worse was the nearly complete depletion of natural resources. Mining every mineral and fuel source from below every continent and body of water was never a good idea. It became essential to supply the wants and needs, and everyone just figured they’d deal with consequences later. Unfortunately, but expected, it didn’t take later all that long to catch up.
How did politicians remedy the problem they’d campaigned to create?
There was no winning way to tell everyone you were now going to once again allow natural disasters to resume and cured diseases to return. It wasn’t even just about election victories at that point. Turning tables back to the way things once were lacked any compassion. So rather than fix the entire world, they’d let it implode in silence, wearing phony smiles, convincing themselves nothing was wrong.
If nothing was wrong, then Founding wouldn’t be strapped into Liberation rocketing toward a blue planet similar to home with expectations of saving his race. It wasn’t a secret mission as much as shied away truths about why teams were being sent to investigate nearby galaxies.
Observe. Collect samples. Submit data home.
They were not to interfere.
Twenty-five years on a single mission could mean the difference between having a home worth returning to, or complete extinction.
Chapter 2
Aria Light opened her eyes. Through steamed glass she saw a man smiling down at her. He wiped sweat off the encasement between them, and his smile only grew. His dark skin and white teeth seemed familiar. She knew she was lying down, but still felt dizzy, like she might pass out.
The lid over her opened with a hiss-thump. She shook her head as memories filled her brain.
“Wakey, wakey,” Captain Braddox Founding said. He held his hands up. “Take a moment before getting up. The system is filling your body with fluids and nutrients right now. You might have a little headache. That’s normal. Breathe slowly. Deep breaths. Okay?”
Light nodded. She understood the commands. They’d learned this during training. At first she worried she’d panic. She didn’t. She listened to the captain’s calming voice. It soothed her.
He continued talking, instructing her to relax, and let the pod wake her insides a little at a time.
Ten years.
She couldn’t believe it was possible so much time had lapsed, that she’d slept so long. Most nights she’d been happy to grab four or five hours.
Ten years, though?
It was kind of exciting. “We’re on course?”
Founding nodded “Everything looks good. We’re on Liberation, and the planet is just over an hour away.
We’ll be landing soon. When you’re ready, fix yourself something to eat, clean up, and meet me on the bridge.”
He reached in a hand and helped her sit up. Her head was spinning. She didn’t think she’d pass out, though. In a moment her mind and body would settle down. She just hoped she felt rested, because right now she thought she might have to suppress a yawn. “The others?”
“Wanted to see your pretty face before poking Martin awake.” He laughed. The deep sound echoed inside the hull of the ship, bouncing off walls. “Doppler should be almost ready.”
She couldn’t help but smile watching him walk away as he sang some song so obviously out of tune she could not recognize the artist. She rolled her fingers into a fist, and breathed in a deeply through her nostrils, before exhaling in a long, loud sigh. She flexed her shoulder blades, and rotated her head up and down, and from side to side. Bones cracked. It felt wonderfully relieving.
More than food, she wanted a shower. There wasn’t water for bathing on Liberation. It was more of a chemical spray, a delousing effect. She didn’t care. Her body itched, and getting cleaned off after a decade-long snooze was the only thing she considered a priority at the moment.
Stepping out of the pod, she held onto the side for balance. Her legs wobbled. She let them adjust to holding her weight and studied the surroundings. An array of tubes ran overhead, housing wires and air. Circuit boards were lit with red, green, and yellow lights. Some flickered on and off. Others stayed on. Some remained off. The beeps and chirps meant things were up and running. Always a good thing. The temperature was a little crisp. Dressed only in underclothing, goosebumps were raised on exposed thighs, belly, and arms.
Walking took a little practice. Her toes curled up, and the balls of her feet felt suddenly ticklish with each step she took. The sensation didn’t make her want to laugh. She cringed instead and tried setting her feet flat on the cold flooring. Thankful to remove the little clothing worn, Aria stepped under the shower head, pulled the release, and while the thick cloud of chems sprayed her body, she lowered her head and pressed a palm against the tiled wall.
It was over in minutes, and not satisfying at all. Hot water would have been better. She toweled off the residue, ran a brush through her hair, pulled it tight, and tied it off in a ponytail.
Her uniform hung in a locker. She dressed in the tight, black and purple leather jumper, zipped closed from inner thigh to under her chin, and laced and tied up black boots. The belt held a blaster, binocs, and a zip bag of nutrition packets. She checked the look out in the full length mirror. She’d lost not just weight but muscle mass. When there was time, she’d hit the gym. Toning up was important and provided stamina. There was no telling what waited for them on the planet surface. Feeling weak and tired could get her killed and would likely endanger the safety of the other crew members.
With the chem shower out of the way, and fresh clothing on, she was more attuned to grumble and rumble in her belly. The fluids the sleep pod provided might sustain life, but she craved a giant burger, fries, and a milkshake. The four inch energy bar in with her other supplies would have to suffice. The tree bark flavor and cardboard texture left plenty to be desired.
The ship shook. Aria looked up as if she thought pipes had dislodged, or an answer for the turbulent shake came from above. She left the small compartment that was her bedchamber and headed toward the bridge.
Liberation was a fraction of Clandestine’s size, but large enough for personal space when she or any of the other three crew members needed time away, alone for reflection, or to preserve one’s sanity. She walked the halls toward the front of the ship. They were only as wide as outstretched arms, and the ceiling just high enough she did not need to duck her head. The floors were rubber padded for comfort, but everything else was a depressing gunmetal grey.
The door to the bridge swooshed open.
Captain Braddox was not alone.
“Caldera,” Aria said. Martin must have skipped the chem shower. His hair was matted down on one side and flared like ruffled feathers on the other. He was dressed in the black and purple jumper though. She hoped he showered and his hair just looked bad because it was sucky hair that he didn’t waste time brushing.
“Light. How was your nap?” Martin grinned. He wasn’t a bad guy. Just suffered from a bit of obsessive compulsive disorder. Nothing wrong with that type of personality on this type of mission. You needed people who suffered from tunnel vision. Things only became issues when he couldn’t concede to opinions that might actually prove better than his.
“Restless,” she said, noticing the contrasting differences between Braddox and Martin. Founding was almost a head taller and more muscular. Martin was thin, thinner than she was. He also had long, bony fingers, and wore black glasses with thick lenses that magnified his eyeballs. “I felt the ship shake. How are we doing?”
“Fine,” Martin said. “It was me. Meant to switch off the music, but. . .well, hit a wrong button.”
That smile again. She wasn’t sure she believed him. It wasn’t so much she considered his explanation a lie, as a way of protecting everyone from the truth. Regardless, the captain always seemed happy. She mostly respected such demeanor if it didn’t annoy her first thing in the morning when she was at her grouchiest. “Look at that view.”
“Third planet from the sun,” Caldera said. “The blue one.”
She bit back the sarcastic response. “It looks a lot like home. So blue. You know what a good name for it would be? Azure. That’s what I would name it. What are there, nine planets going around their star?”
“Eight.”
Aria counted them, pointing at them as best she could. “I think I’m seeing nine.”
Caldera shook his head. “See that one at the end. Furthest from the center star? That’s not a planet.”
“Looks like one, to me.”
“It’s a rock. A big, big rock,” he said matter-of-factly. “Definitely not a planet.”
“Well. You would know. It looks like it’s in an orbit though,” she said.
“It’s just large enough that it is included in the orbit, but trust me. That is not a planet. I am getting pretty excited about landing on—Azure? I like that. Good name,” Caldera said. “I can’t even imagine what we’re going to find. I mean, the place looks like mostly water. Not a bad thing. The clusters of land are huge. If our probes reported correctly, the air is essentially the same. There are trees, and mountains, lakes and rivers. It’s an uninhabited paradise.”
“Those probes were launched over a century ago,” Founding said. “They sent back sketchy images from space and was only able to make calculated guesses around air quality and such. Nothing wrong with feeling excited and getting your hopes up, but we need to be realistic. The chances of the planets being perfect matches is a million to one. A million to one.”
Aria heard everything Captain Founding said but shared Caldera’s enthusiasm. They were venturing to an unknown planet that allegedly mirrored home. Only the planet wasn’t depleted of resources, and as best everyone could tell, there was not one soul.
Aria’s heart dropped when the red light on the ceiling in the center of the bridge started spinning three seconds before the alarms shrieked. For a fraction of a second longer, no one moved at all. It was as if the light had hypnotised them.
Paralysed them.
“Braddox?” Caldera said. His tone of voice shot up a few octaves as he bent forward, his legs frozen in place, and reached onto the back headrest of a chair.
Captain Braddox flipped switches. His brow furrowed as he stared at instrument panel after instrument panel. Either he wasn’t liking what he saw, or he couldn’t find the issue to dislike.
Either way, Aria knew nothing about flying.
“Small asteroid field. Straight ahead. Wasn’t plotted by the guru’s home,” the captain said.
Light didn’t see anything. “Can we avoid it?”
“I’m going to maneuver manually. We should be fine
. Nothing terribly large on radar. Not that congested. Going around could add days to the trip. We don’t have that kind of time or the resources to spare,” Braddox said.
“I’m going to check on Doppler!” Aria knew she’d feel better if the co-pilot was in her seat for the asteroid field. It wasn’t like they could make an emergency landing and radio home for a tow. Didn’t work that way in space.
“Good idea,” Founding said. He kept a hand on the control shift between his thighs. “Martin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why don’t you sit down, and strap yourself in,” Captain Founding said.
Chapter 3
The ship’s narrow halls flashed red. The high pitched scream from the alarm shot down every corridor. Aria ran toward Candice Doppler’s room. She thumbed the comm link on the shoulder of her suit. “Captain?”
There was a silence.
“Captain?” She tried again.
“Ahh, Aria?” It was Martin. “Ahh, yeah. Captain’s pretty busy right now.”
She shook her head as she stopped in front of the door to Candice’s chamber. “We all know there’s an issue. Is there any way to silence the alarm?”
“I think alarms are important,” Martin said.
The alarm went off, but not the red lights. Some areas within the hull contained red spinning gumballs like the kind Peacekeepers used on top of cruisers. In other areas, the lights stayed red.
She figured the captain shut the audible. If the blaring whoop whoop annoyed her, it must have gotten under everyone’s skin, as well. Maybe not Martin’s. That was Martin, though. He needed the alarms; couldn’t be an emergency without them.
As Candice’s door swooshed open, the ship shook. Aria braced her arms, hands inside the doorjamb. Her legs wobbled. She didn’t like this. They were too close to their destination.
Candice was curled up into a ball on the bed.
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