by E. M. Peters
“Big picture, Captain Avery.” Whitmore assured and started in on the Mission Leader brief.
04
One Year Ago
Colony One Take Off
The sound of Colony One’s massive engines engulfed the launch site for kilometers around the coastal area. Onlookers wore ear and eye protection as they watched the lumbering giant vibrate with the effort of initiating the thrusters that lined its underbelly. It raised above the ground enough to propel itself forward, into the Atlantic Ocean.
The crowd held its breath and a collective nervousness was palatable. Many ships had been constructed and launched into space – but none the size, scale and specifications of Colony One. The reality of the situation was that no one was certain it would work.
Water sprayed up and boiled as the thrusters hit it. The massive ship hovered just above the water line for a moment before the blue light of the thrusters increased one-hundred fold and the ship elevated so quickly that it appeared to be lighter than air. Involuntary gasps sounded at the rapid ascent. After it gained enough altitude, aft thrusters burned bright and the ship engaged in a gradual lateral climb that would take it through the stratosphere and into space. The cheering lasted long after Colony One was out of sight – a mixture of joy and jubilant disbelief that it could be done.
“Confirmed, mission control – we have successfully broken orbit, and our first heading has been entered. Colony One, setting sail.” Skylar spoke and her voice transmitted cleanly back to Earth for the whole world to hear. In the background of the connection, more cheers rose up.
“Copy that, Colony One. Happy sailing.” A disembodied voice spoke over the merriment.
Skylar’s finger hovered over a symbol on the interface. She hesitated so that she could soak in the joyous sound of their success and the happy send-off. Finally, she tapped the symbol and all was silent.
“Well done, Captain.” Skylar’s copilot and First Officer, Patrick Reid, congratulated. He beamed as he looked out the view screen at the incredible view of space. His dark brown eyes reflected the stars back out and he ran a hand through short, curly russet locks as he drank it in. He had a soft face and softer hands – having grown up in privilege. Tired of living in his father’s shadow and intent to make a name for himself, he’d pursued flight training as soon as heard about the Colony missions.
The Captain joined him in gazing at the unbelievable view from the cockpit – stars marked the way forward, bright and vibrant and more than she could have possibly expected. Her hands were shaking from the excitement of the launch and the sight of space unencumbered by pollution or the limitations of a viewer made her eyes glassy as she soaked in the sight.
Finally, she responded; “Don’t break out the bubbly just yet.” Despite her words, Skylar could not hide her smile or her excitement. She blinked hard and refocused on her role, “We’ve got a long way to go! Take over for me, will you? I want to check in with the passengers.”
“If you insist,” Patrick rubbed his hands together and regarded the console in front of him. He tapped the surface in multiple spots and agreeable tones sounded from the audio system.
Skylar unbuckled herself, clapped him on the shoulder and made the short walk to the cockpit hatch that had been closed for the launch. While opening it had been difficult on Earth, she found it all too easy to do so now. The artificial gravity was enough to keep her and her passengers with their feet firmly on the decking, though it made everything a lot lighter in general. Artificial gravity could only do so much.
She stepped down the ladder and touched the communications panel at the base of the steps. She routed her message ship wide, “Passengers of Colony One, this is your Captain. We have successfully broken orbit and will be engaging our long range engines. Congratulations, everyone – we did it!” She exclaimed in a discernibly non-Captain manner. “You are now free to make yourselves at home.” She finished and tapped the panel to stop communication before she began navigating her way through the nose section to the passenger hold.
From the amazing girth of the vessel as seen from the exterior, one might imagine the interior to be large and expansive. Instead, Colony One was sectioned off into a several decks connected by ladders and hatches that made walking the length of the ship seem more like navigating a maze. The only large expanse that could be found was in the cargo hold where the passengers had entered at the rear loading ramp. Each deck was designated by color with similar accommodations for each group. The layered approach eased the boarding process and brought some organization to the chaos that was twelve-thousand people on a ship.
Skylar knew the ship like she knew her childhood home – every nook, every passageway, and every compartment. Her goal was to find the nearest passenger deck and begin the process of getting to know the passengers for whom she was responsible. She, like the others, had only been acquainted with the others for the first time that day with the exception of some crew members, like Patrick and a few other designated ground pilots for when they arrived on Colony Alpha. She had the pleasure of knowing them for the past week. As she traversed a catwalk, she unzipped her flight suit enough so it wasn’t up to her neck. She smiled to herself, feeling both proud and humbled.
Skylar had intended for the walk to be a leisurely stroll to enjoy the euphoria of the moment, but the euphoric moment was cut short as she found her steps quickened by the sound of voices rising up in the distance. They did not sound joyous.
She rounded the entrance to the large room of the first set of living quarters. The ceiling opened up because of the requirements of the function of the room – there were rectangular compartments cut out of the bulkhead with mattresses inserted into them. There were three platforms and each platform held two bunks vertically. The platforms were accessible by a ladder that extended from floor to ceiling every ten meters. They lined the entire expanse of the compartment – twenty along the length of the walls and ten across the back wall that was perpendicular to the entrance. It had a distinct honeycomb look to it. Skylar noticed many bunks already had bags or clothing placed on them. The whole compartment was a mess of strewn bags and people – the noise they made collectively intensified by the echo of the room.
In the middle of the compartment, long steel dining hall tables and benches were bolted to the floor. A group of people were circled along one side of them with some commotion coming from the middle of the mass.
“I was here first!” Skylar heard a man’s voice insist.
“I don’t see no name tags on these bunks!” A woman’s voice countered.
“Please, let’s be reasonable…” a third voice tried to mediate, but it wasn’t working. A collective motion took over the circle of people, as some stepped back and others moved forward. Sounds of a scuffle rose up and Skylar acted on instinct, rushing into the fray.
“Hey!” She shouted, pulling people out of the way. “HEY!” She tried again when she made it to the center to see a woman gripping a tuft of shortly cropped hair of a man who had picked her up. A third man was trying to separate them.
At the Captain’s appearance, the woman released the grip on his hair and the man promptly dropped her. She might have fallen, but the third man stabilized her.
“What’s going on here?” Skylar asked as the two offenders stared at her wide-eyed. They recognized her immediately from the orientation content as the Captain.
The man was quick to speak up, “This –” he spoke a word in Spanish that did not sound friendly, “moved my things and tried to take the bunk I had chosen.” His chest rose and fell with fervor – the woman’s decision to challenge the man was risky considering his stature – easily 6’4” with strong forearms and large hands that were balled up in frustration. He clenched his jaw, which was already pronounced with day old stubble showing.
“Your bag was on the ground!” The woman insisted, pointing to the spot beside the bunk. “And then he shoved me!” She exclaimed, the offense renewed in her mind. She took an angry ste
p towards the man but was restrained by the impromptu mediator. Her long, curly hair was a mess with the scuffle and her high, round cheekbones were pink even through her caramel skin tone. She craned her neck to look up at the man and glared without reservation.
The man’s anger flared, too, “I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t started screaming in my face!”
Skylar held out her hands, “Alright, let’s stop for a minute. First – sir, what is your name?” She asked.
The man looked stunned for a moment – clearly unsure why she cared. “Demetri,” he finally offered.
“Miss – your name?”
“Lucinda,” she answered timidly after a pause.
“And you sir,” Skylar pointed to the man who seemed to be the referee. “What is your name?”
“Javier,” he answered without hesitation. He was a man in his late 30s with strong shoulders, white hair streaking just over his ears and an assertive look in his eyes.
“Thank you, Javier, for trying to keep the peace.” She nodded to him. “Now, we are all friends here. We should all be getting to know each other and working together because this is not a short trip.”
Lucinda looked like she might say something, but Skylar stopped her with a look. It was not an unpleasant look – quite the contrary. It was a friendly kind of reproach.
Skylar looked up and gestured, “I see there are still many unclaimed bunks. What is the objection to choosing one of those?”
Lucinda’s demeanor shifted dramatically and she hesitated to answer. Demetri watched her expectantly. After a lengthy silence and after it was clear she could not go without an answer, she finally admitted begrudgingly, “I have a fear of heights, alright.” She blushed and looked away, trying to maintain her tough exterior.
“And you voluntarily boarded a space ship?” Demetri’s first response was knee-jerk and he immediately regretted it as Lucinda’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. His dubious look softened as he observed the woman’s shame and the others looked on disapprovingly. “Sorry,” he apologized in a short, abrupt burst. “It’s fine,” he conceded and bent down to pick up his bag. “The bunk is yours.”
“I don’t want pity,” Lucinda reacted with narrowed eyes and crossed arms.
Demetri shook his head, “Let’s call it a peace offering.” He paused, and then continued, “Lucinda.”
The woman wet her lips and finally nodded after a pause, “Lucy. You can call me Lucy. Thanks. And sorry about the…” she gestured to her head, indicating the scuff of hair on his that had been disturbed by the scuffle.
“Okay, Lucy. I’ll be right up there if you need me.” Demetri pointed to a vacant bunk on the opposite side’s second level and made his way through one of the gaps in the center table to begin climbing the ladder. The spectators moved out of his way and began to disperse with the détente.
Skylar nodded her approval of the resolution. She watched the other passengers – their looks reticent in response to the rocky beginning to their journey. “This is all just temporary, folks.” She assured, “Remember that.”
ɸ ɸ ɸ
Across the ship, Alexa and her group hadn’t bothered with bunk assignments. Instead, they sat at the common table at the center of their compartment – Luca leading the conversation with enthusiasm.
“It all still feels like a dream!” Another passenger admitted. “From getting the acceptance notification to the fact we’re in space this very moment.”
Alexa only half listened. In her semi-focused state, she noticed the woman with the silk hair was sitting apart from the main group. She recalled that she had not seen this woman speak, or interact with anyone, really. She seemed like a ghost of herself – only able to observe what was happening. “Hey,” she interrupted whoever had been speaking by calling out to the woman. “What’s your name?”
She looked up from her trance-like state of staring at the metal table. Everyone turned their attention to her. She blinked at Alexa for a moment before speaking her name – “Jia.”
“Hi, Jia. You okay?” Alexa asked, feeling her field training bubble to the surface. The look on Jia’s face reminded her very strongly of post-traumatic stress disorder. Jia looked at the faces watching her and nodded meekly.
Luca, trying to help, added – “So why’d you sign up for this trip, Jia?”
The look on the woman’s face could only be described as trapped. She glanced down, and then back up, “Please excuse me,” was all she said as she stood. The group watched as she made a quick exit.
“Maybe she’s space sick?” Someone guessed.
“Is that even a thing?” Another asked.
“Well, I know when I first heard…” Someone else took up the question and Alexa felt her focus drift again to her own memory of when she’d first heard of the colonization effort.
ɸ ɸ ɸ
She had woken abruptly to loud banging on the door of her loft apartment. The sound ripped her from a deep, whiskey-induced sleep. ‘Loft’ was a fancy term that the complex owners had used to describe her small studio. Despite having been honorably discharged from the military, there was not enough money to go around for everyone – especially to support out-of-work veterans. That was what she and many others were told, at least.
Her eyes scanned the room instinctively before zeroing in on the door as the banging started up again. In a flash, she was on her feet – much quicker than someone who had just woken should have been. Since she had already identified the distinctive knocking, she simply cracked the door open without checking her viewer to see who it was, and then turned to walk to the kitchen unit for some much needed coffee. The floor crunched as she stepped on a wayward take out box and she pushed another off the counter and into the waste bin.
Her old military buddy, James Hunter, pushed through the door, “You’re alive!” he observed and closed the door before asking, “Why on earth have you not been answering the OMNI?”
Alexa shrugged and pointed to her glass device that lay broken on the floor, “It seems to have lost a fight with the wall.” She said in way of answer. The device had a habit of telling her that her blood-alcohol levels were too high, and she didn’t appreciate it.
He shook his head at her and removed his filter mask, revealing his surprised, but amused expression. “Most impressive. Those things are supposed to be pretty difficult to break.”
Alexa shrugged and changed the subject; “Don’t tell me you’ve joined the filter bandwagon?” She gestured to the apparatus hanging around his neck as she started a pot of coffee. She was grateful he had not worn his uniform to see her – the large overcoat he now wore, while grey like the military uniforms she knew so well – was a civilian cut.
“What can I say?” It was his turn to shrug, “Air quality just keeps getting worse, and my lungs haven’t been the same since our last tour. Not to mention, World Corp is handing them out for free to just about anyone who wants one. Creative problem-solving for the world’s pollution concerns.” He added with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Though she tried to hide it, Alexa visibly flinched at the mention of the war. She took a deep breath before she could turn back towards him and retrieve coffee mugs from an upper storage compartment. “Yea, the masks are free, but the filter refills aren’t. Funny how that works.” She offered stiffly.
“You’d get one, too, if you ever left this high-rise.” James pointed out. It was true most high rises had everything you’d need – filtered air, hospitals, grocery stores, schools and more – but the human condition begged to go outside eventually. Alexa was a stubborn hold out, and it made James worried for her.
As soon as she saw his face, she knew that he knew her thoughts. Giving in, she finally asked, “What do you want, Hunter?”
James set his filter on the counter and leaned in. His cobalt blue eyes were sincere as he explained, “I want to help you get past this. We all miss you back at barracks. We know you’re not going to re-enlist. But at least keep in touch. Come out and s
ee us.” He paused and glanced away for a moment before returning his gaze to her and adding, “Or at least meet me out somewhere.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“We’re a unit, Dilyn.” His tone was earnest. “A family,” he reminded her. “That doesn’t change because you’re no longer fighting the war with us.”
The concern in his voice was almost too much for Alexa – she couldn’t handle being treated so delicately. “Save it…” she warned, her tone becoming venomous.
His jaw set and he paused for a moment, as if to evaluate if he should say what he was thinking. In the end, emotion ran over, “Is this how you want to live the rest of your life?” James gestured to the scattered mess around the small apartment. Empty and half full alcohol bottles lined the back counter and spilled over to the floor near the trash receptacle. Take-out containers were stacked on end tables. “Drunk and living in this hole of an apartment until you get kicked out because you can’t pay rent? You’re better than that, Dilyn. You could be helping people like you coming back from the war.”
His words made something in her bubble over. Her fists slammed down on the counter with speed and power. After a pause, she explained; “I don’t want to help them.” She spoke slowly, voice on the verge of seething. Her head began to ache and she instinctively put her fingers to her temple and circled them counter-clockwise. The urge to find and finish a bottle of whiskey became overwhelming, “Don’t you get it?” She opened her eyes and fixed him with a pleading gaze, “I just want to forget! I want…” she paused and gestured towards the window and began to pace as she tried to put words to how she felt, “I want to be able to walk the streets without getting panicked when I have to cross a gap. I want to sleep through the night without waking up in a sweat. I don’t want to relive it every damn day of my life. I want to… I need to forget.”