by E. M. Peters
He held out his hand but Alexa stood without grasping it. “My name is Anivashak,” he explained without a hint of injury in his voice. “But most people call me Bob.”
She regarded him as if to gauge if he was telling a joke. He returned her gaze with a genuine smile and she noticed that he did not have the indents of a filter around his lips and nose. For many, the marks were permanent due to long term use. She quietly wondered where this man came from if she was not, in fact, dreaming.
“Alexa,” She finally responded. He looked pleased and bowed slightly before wandering off.
“You don’t see that every day,” She heard from beside her. She turned to see a dark haired man with olive skin. He motioned with his chin at the retreating monk, and then fixed her with an eager smile. “The name’s Luca. Looks like we’re going to be shipmates.” He held out his right hand and used his left to wave his purple lanyard.
This time, she reciprocated with a handshake. “So you saw him, too?”
Luca laughed, “You thought you were seeing things?”
“Yes,” she answered plainly. “Thank you for saving me from my imagination.”
“Anytime,” he winked and Alexa thought if the man had a tail, it would be wagging. He let his lanyard drop back to his chest and she squinted at it, finally giving it her full attention.
“Luca, huh?” She asked with some incredulity. “That’s not what your name tag says.”
The man glanced down, then back up with a sheepish grin, “I never much liked the name Niko. Luca’s my middle name.”
She looked him up and down, then assessed aloud, “You’re the explorer-adventurer type, aren’t you?”
Luca shook his head. “It’s a new beginning,” he said simply, turning from her to gaze at Colony One with his wide, bright blue eyes. Alexa watched his expression and let his words sink in as she took a deep, shaky breath.
A new beginning is exactly what I’m looking for, she thought.
As passengers began to board, last minute cargo was being rushed aboard by non-passenger workers. Near the side of the loading ramp, a voice rose up, “I have the mandate right here!” A man held up his OMNI device and shook it insistently in the view of a man in military dress.
The soldier maintained a cool exterior of apathy as he responded to the incessant passenger. “We have weight restrictions. No passenger may load personal cargo over 85 kilos,” the man repeated for the third time.
Ndale, a medium sized but lean man with smooth, dark black skin took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “I am no ordinary passenger. I am a voluntary merchant providing valuable services during this little expedition.” He explained with a look of practiced sincerity in his eyes.
The officer broke his cool exterior for a moment, replacing it with a wry smirk - “Merchant? Is that what they call slum lords in South Africa these days?”
Ndale took another deep, calming breath with his hand still extended, “Will you please just read the mandate.”
“The one you probably forged?” The soldier didn’t look at the hand-held, or Ndale – he kept his eyes outward, supervising the cargo load.
“Fine,” Ndale pocketed the thin slice of glass. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement in another way. This is my last day on Earth, after all.”
The soldier arched an eyebrow and pulled his lips tight into a half smile, finally turning his head just enough so his eyes could meet Ndale’s.
The crowd slowly thinned out as more passenger groups boarded. Eventually, the mass thinned entirely, leaving only purple group standing at the base of the large ramp. Alexa and Luca looked around and then to each other with the same understanding in their expressions – their group was significantly smaller than the others.
At the top of the ramp, the intern that spoke over the microphone earlier – now considerably more exhausted in appearance – held a glass OMNI tablet down at his side and turned to look at the group below. Luca beamed and began bounding up the ramp, though he was stopped short when the intern held up his hand.
“Not yet,” he advised and pointed away from the ship. The group shifted where they stood to follow the man’s direction. A small cluster of people were approaching with their ever-present camera drones. “Everyone smile and wave,” he advised.
Luca happily obliged, along with the rest of the group with the exception of Alexa and another woman standing at the edge of the assembly. The young woman had long black silky hair and a look of complete discomfort. Her Asian features, Ndale’s African complexion and Bob’s striking orange robes and bronze skin stood out in the group of otherwise Caucasian 30-somethings. The other groups had been diverse in a lot of ways – young and old, brown and black – though by the look of them, mostly poor.
Richardson was leading the approach, flanked by news men and women.
“Here we have some of the lucky passengers of Colony One. Let’s hear what some of them have to say!” One of the flanking newsmen spoke excitedly into a drone that was floating ahead of him as he walked. The drone swiveled in midair to focus in on purple group.
“No one said anything about a press conference.” Alexa muttered to Luca, who was too excited to respond.
The newsman held a glass OMNI tablet up, tapped the interface twice and searched the faces of the last group to board. He honed in immediately on Alexa. Turning his attention to one of the drones, he explained, “What an honor – this is Lieutenant Alexa Dilyn, a former medic in the United Confederation Army.”
Alexa instinctively pulled her arms behind her back, grasping her forearms tightly as she tried to push down the instant irritation of having her bio-stamp wirelessly scanned without her permission. While she had the privilege of having many things redacted from her bio-stamp, it still had the normal historical information that everyone else’s had– name, occupations, medical history – the list was long. She was reminded of how grateful she was at the promise that bio-stamps would be deactivated once they were underway.
“Lieutenant Dilyn, can you share with us your thoughts on this historic voyage?”
The cameras focused on her as she pulled her shoulders back to stand taller, “With respect, I am not a lieutenant anymore. I’m here for a new beginning.” She explained with a tight smile and as diplomatically as she could muster; then cast a glance at Luca.
He read her plea and wouldn’t have required much prompting to jump in anyway, “Me too!” He exclaimed, causing the cameras to pan away from Alexa. “I’m here to make all my family and friends proud. What we’re doing is important and necessary for humankind.”
Off camera, Richardson beamed. He had wanted to script responses from the last passengers from Colony One, but instead the EMP had settled on simply hand picking the last group to board. The majority of the Partnership thought it would be better if the answers seemed sincere and unique. He was grateful Niko had jumped in for Dilyn, who was not living up to his expectations of being an enthusiastic nationalist.
The reporter commended him on his statement and moved down the row of passengers, each expressing excitement and varying levels of patriotism to follow Luca’s cue.
Ndale spoke of doing his part to keep the merchant tradition alive on the Colony Alpha. Anivashak explained that he refrained from making expectations about the journey, instead deciding to keep his mind open to all possibilities.
Just as they were reaching the woman with the dark silk hair, Richardson cut in – “Look here, the Captain has chosen to make an appearance.” He gestured to the loading ramp to a spry, curly haired woman striding down towards them. Her chestnut hair was pulled back, but defiant curls wisped with the breeze. She smiled broadly and waved as Richardson acknowledged her. Her flight suit was brand new, zippered all the way to the neck. She portrayed the image of professionalism and young exuberance all at once.
The newsman tapped his glass tablet and nodded, “Ah yes, Captain Skylar Fairfield.” He remarked and caught the attention of a camera. “Captain Fairfiel
d was chosen from a long list of applicants who competed to pilot this one of a kind ship, Colony One. Congratulations, Captain,” He greeted her as she arrived and the passengers contributed with an enthusiastic round of applause. When it quieted down, he asked, “What is going through your head as you’re just hours away from breaking orbit?”
“I am just happy to see the stars for myself!” Skylar smiled widely. “I, like many of my passengers, grew up in a place where stars were something we only knew about from watching the viewer. I’ve dreamed of this my whole life, worked for this my whole life and I could not be more proud, or happier, to be the person who helps to write the next chapter of the human narrative.”
“Well said.” Richardson praised and more applause followed.
“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a schedule to keep and I cannot let you hold my passengers hostage any longer!” Skylar clapped her hand onto the shoulder of a nearby passenger.
Richardson nodded in agreement, “Then allow me these parting words. I know that I speak for all of us when I say that we wish you a safe journey and boundless prosperity.”
Journalists and passengers alike cheered his words while Alexa studied Richardson – not because he was handsome or charismatic – but because there was something about him that made her uneasy. Or perhaps the reality of the situation had just hit her and she was beginning to feel the grip of anxiety she had been pushing down since she got the acceptance notice. She shook her head in an attempt to chase off the feeling.
For better or worse, this was the last day of her old life as she knew it.
03
Earth: Present Day
EMP Headquarters, Task Force Mission Briefing
Five people sat staggered in stadium style seating of a small room with dim lighting. They faced a large viewer that was darkened on standby mode. In front it, a man in full gray dress uniform addressed the room.
“Good morning, team, and welcome. Each one of you has been selected to comprise the task force responsible for locating and gathering the status of Earth’s Colony Alpha. This a joint initiative on the part of the Confederation and the newly formed coalition of Citizen’s United. As you can gather by your presence here today, the Confederation has chosen to recognize Citizen’s United as a legitimate body and are working diplomatically with the group.” He paused, and then added with some displeasure in his tone, “Despite some violence that has resulted from their organized gatherings.”
The man straightened his uniform as he returned to a more neutral tone, “Allow me to first thank you all for agreeing to take on this assignment and for your commitment to this mission. My name is Lieutenant Commander David Whitmore. Before we begin the formal briefing, let us have some introductions.”
The Lieutenant Commander extended his hand to the woman sitting in the front row, “Margret Avery, Confederation contractor, will be the Mission Leader. She has been given the commission rank of Captain for this initiative.” Avery clasped her hands together on the small glass desk attached to the chair and acknowledged Whitmore’s words with a slight nod. Her straightened raven black hair just touched her shoulders and since she didn’t turn to face the others, her silhouette was all they had to go on for the initial introduction.
Whitmore pivoted slightly to gesture to the man sitting a row up and over from Avery, “Charles Foster, commercial freight pilot for the Mars Mining Corporation. He’ll make sure you stay on your flight path.” Charles lifted his chin and raised a stylus for his glass OMNI tablet in way of saying hello. His skin was remarkably tan for his line of work – he could have easily been taken for an outdoor laborer with his good ol’ boy smile and light brown hair.
“Niko Andris,” Whitmore moved on. “Astronomer and navigational specialist. He’ll make sure you know what your flight path is.” As his name would suggest, Niko’s features were distinctly Greek – his black hair, when left to its own devices, would curl into ringlets and his nose had the distinct profile that his people carried since ancient times. Niko let a flicker of a smile pull at his lips as the others turned and nodded to him. He nodded back. Niko had pulled a lot of strings to land himself in that room. As he saw the faces that turned to regard him, he vaguely wondered how they had been chosen. His bank account had been drained from the volume of bribes and hush money necessary to land him there.
Whitmore moved across the room, gesturing to a woman with short cropped hair and a rigid posture. “Makenna Krasnov joins us from Old Russia as one of their top engineers. She’ll make sure the ship stays in top condition.
“Last, but not least, Doctor Winston Waltham, who will ensure your physical and mental health needs are accounted for on the long journey to Colony Alpha and back.”
“A pleasure to be here,” Winston took a small, seated bow that easily matched his English brogue. Niko noticed the man seemed to be perspiring – made even more evident by his receding hair line. Waltham was older than the rest – mid to late forties by the look of him – had a slight gut, but was otherwise fit.
“You will also be joined by a photographer and documentary specialist Finn Connolly who is flying in from the Nepal region today and will be joining the team shortly before launch.” Whitmore explained and turned towards the viewer. He tapped the bottom right corner and the screen came to life.
“The Confederation has agreed to assign the scout ship Hyperion to this mission.” A schematic of the ship rotated on the screen, “Ms. Krasnov has already been given specifications and access to the ship to ensure her familiarity with it. Any initial assessments, Ms. Krasnov?”
“It will do,” the woman responded curtly and without hesitation.
Whitmore’s eyebrows rose, “Well, I’ll take that as high praise from Old Russia.”
Makenna shrugged as if to say, sure – if that helps you sleep at night.
The briefing continued and the five used the glass writing desks to make notes. Since all glass technology was designed to interface with bio-stamps, the notes automatically transferred to the user’s personal OMNI device. It was a seamless kind of technology that divided many – some thinking it a blessing, others a curse.
Whitmore finished his presentation, deactivated the viewer and turned his attention back to the group. “Any questions?”
“Yea,” Foster spoke up, drawing out the word in a way only someone from the South could. “What do we need her for if you’ve got me to fly the ship?” He pointed to Avery, who had still not turned to face the group.
The Lieutenant Commander stiffened slightly, “As you may or may not know, Citizen’s United has insisted this not be a purely military mission. Assigning Captain Avery was a compromise that both sides could accept. She has the final say in mission decisions.”
“I’m sure you’re used to being in charge on your little barge, Charlie Foxtrot,” Avery finally spoke up, turning to face him with an amused smirk. Her eyes were hawkish in contrast to her other features, which were deceptively soft and inviting, “but this is a different boat altogether.”
“First off, it’s Foster, but my friends do call me Charlie.” He winked at her, unfazed. “Second, it’s not a barge, Sir, it’s a freighter. And yea, I run it just fine.”
“If you can’t handle the chain of command, Foster, say so now so we can let the second choice candidate prep for tomorrow’s jump.” Whitmore’s public-relations friendly exterior crumbled slightly as his patience thinned.
Charlie shook his head, “Nah. I’m good.”
Niko tapped his desk off and looked up to regard the room, “I have a question.” Whitmore nodded, conceding the floor. “What do we do if a colonist wants to return to Earth?”
Whitmore blinked – visibly stumped for a long moment, “These people know what they signed up for - a one-way trip.”
“We wouldn’t have enough fuel to transport additional weight back to Earth, anyway.” Avery cut in.
“It’s a logical question.” Niko reasoned.
Whitmore sighed, “Indeed it is
. It is one of the reasons it was decided early on that there would not be regular transports between the colonies. The cost alone would be astronomical and would jeopardize the success of the colony.”
“It’s just one of the many reasons you need me,” Avery flashed a smile at Charles before turning to face forward again as she finished, “to make the hard decisions and be the bad guy if necessary.” Whitmore nodded in agreement.
“Excuse me,” The Doctor held up a finger. “All this time we’ve been talking about Colony Alpha. What about Colony Beta?” He asked and looked around to gauge the interest of the rest of the room. Colonies One and Three had been charted to go to Colony Alpha. Colonies Two and Four were to be sent to Colony Beta, a nearby planet that was also found to be habitable. The idea was that since Earth’s population had grown so enormously, colonizing both planets would be easy. It also supported the idea of a possible interplanetary trade network.
Preparations for the launch of Colonies Two and Three had been undertaken simultaneously, just three months after Colony One. The Fourth mission was set to begin three months after that, but with public approval ratings of the mission being so dismal, the date had been missed – potentially postponed indefinitely unless the Confederation could quell the fears and questions regarding the earlier missions.
“One expedition at a time, Mr. Waltham.” Whitmore answered, effectively dodging the question. “Now, if there is nothing else, everyone is dismissed.” He announced abruptly to the group, and then turned his attention to Avery, “Except for you.”
A few moments passed without objection so the room emptied – save for the Captain and Lieutenant Commander. When she was sure the heavy briefing room door was completely closed, Avery let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “Great, you’ve assigned a simpleton as our pilot.”