November 10, 2587 was my five-hundred-and-forty-ninth birthday. Or my thirty-fifth, depending on how you looked at it. The party in the Dome’s square and the generous allocation of alcohol made for a great night. But it wasn’t the revelry or the occasion that made my thirty-fifth special. No, what will be with me for life was the memory of kissing Talia’s soft lips for the first time. Over the months that followed, we started dating. Taking it slowly, it took time to work out the whole personal-professional boundary thing. Things weren’t at all like the 2070s with all its political correctness and workplace conservatism—most people just accepted it as a natural human behavior. Thoughts of Juliet had ebbed and flowed over the past three years, the flows becoming weaker the ebbs becoming longer. Now they were few and far between, lacking the awesome emotional power they’d once wielded. It all seemed a long way off in the rear-view mirror now. Perhaps it was just the honeymoon period, but Talia brought a whole new dimension to my life. I felt happier than I could remember.
The honeymoon stage came and went and we both discovered we could argue plenty with no permanent damage. In every relationship I learned something new. Talia taught me plenty. Like being humble when I should be. Like letting things slide and not holding grudged or bitterness. Over the next two years, we cemented our relationship. I got to know her family too—mostly her mom and dad and younger brother, Connor. Good, salt-of-the-Earth people, proud of their girl. All three of them would be coming with us on the Juno as their daughter joined me on the bridge as First Officer.
Despite being more recent, the last two years went past in a blur. Project Phoenix left little time spare and social visits to the Forever World were scaled back for me and everyone else. There was no choice—even with the expanded seats in the Hive, the additional VR gear was needed for training of us Juno voyagers. No doubt, this did not please the Stayers one bit. But without a leader, the complaints were just complaints. They’d get their Hive to themselves once we all left. Then there’d be more time slots than ever. The training regime was relentless. Talia, myself and the rest of the crew spent our time in three worlds: the Forever World, the Dome City and low-Earth orbit on board the Juno. As the final years became the final months, it became increasingly the latter. Final colonist numbers were confirmed too at just over three-thousand. Studies were done by guys with large foreheads in the Forever World. Amongst them, studies on the minimum viable population. There was a reason for the twelve thousand on the Juno’s maiden voyage. Catastrophes and diseases from lack of genetic diversity could take their toll over the decades. The Juno Ark, then the Janus Ark and a third Ark—that never made it off the drawing board—were supposed to ensure Aura was sustainably populated. One statement in the final report stuck out.
When thousands of people are all in one starship, there's a potential for a giant catastrophe to wipe out almost everyone onboard.
I was walking proof of that. I was the almost.
But there were solutions to lesser disasters over the longer term. Disaster that may come to threaten us from time to time on Aura. It was mainly a case of having larger families to grow the population. On the genetic diversity front, we—or the Forever World, anyway—had the medical technology to screen for, and in some cases cure, genetically-related conditions. It was an ethical can of worms. I mean, we weren’t trying to breed a master race or anything sinister like that. On the other hand, every colonist would need to contribute—especially in the early decades. Like most things, it became a balancing act. I’d always believed in strength through diversity and nature seemed to agree. And for me that diversity came in all shapes and forms.
Eighteen months before launch, Talia moved from her family home to my apartment. Nobody seemed to mind that we weren’t married. For a small community, they were pretty liberal. Besides, it wasn’t like we’d just met.
As Project Phoenix progressed, Module 2 was removed. Years of planning for days of activity. Some skillful shuttle towing followed by hundreds more spacewalks—many of them by Laetitia—and Modules 1 and 3 were connected physically. After that came services hook-up, welding structural members and deck and hull plating. The deuterium produced on Hawaii from seawater was shipped to the Juno enabling testing and commissioning of fusion reactors. The vital fuel would be preserved for the mission-proper, the solar panels remaining extended until later. Our reserves weren’t what they were on the maiden voyage. This was a frugal operation with little room for error. Over the course of early-2589, millions of minds went via the uplink to the Juno’s network and Forever World Two. Once complete, the ninety-eight percent who choose to be copied would live on as dual instances of themselves. The uplink was scaled down and the two Forever World instances separated for good. The months before departure saw Talia and I spending virtually all of our time on the ship, testing systems and training with the crew. We gave up our apartment in April of that year and took up quarters on the ship.
In late May, we set final departure for July 4th. A fitting date, I thought. The send-off in the main city square was a roller-coaster of emotion. Excitement among the Leavers tinged with sadness and loss amongst all. Nuclear families had generally opted to stay together, either on Earth or as colonists. But there were still many ties that would be permanently broken. If someone had asked me what the worst thing about the mission was, it was this. At least when I’d said my original goodbyes to Mom and Nikki there’d been the hope of seeing them again after they followed me on the Janus Ark. This time there’d be no second ship from Earth. Not for hundreds or thousands of years, anyway. By then we might be two very different populations. Earthlings and Aurans. To be honest, I was glad when the speeches and mingling and photo sessions were over.
No one knew if it was connected, but the same day departure was announced, Patton and his merry band of Stayers returned. We were on the ship when the news came, but by all accounts they were a bedraggled-looking bunch ready to make their peace. They had apparently underestimated how difficult it’d be to start a rival city on twenty-sixth century Hawaii. I liked to see the best in people, but something about his return didn’t feel right. Probably the suspicious cop in me. The leading theory was that Patton was coming back to rejoin the council now us Leavers were nearly gone. I was too busy to get involved in the politics of it all. With just weeks until departure, it seemed that every waking second was occupied.
16
Ready for Departure On Board the Juno Ark
It was July 4th, 2589—five hundred and nineteen years since we first left Earth. I knew it was Independence Day and so did the contemporary Hawaiians on board. We all knew the history—the Thirteen Colonies’ declaration and the rest, but for me it was also a day of memories. Family reunions, patriotism, and fireworks all surfaced in my mind. For the Hawaiians, other events had since eclipsed it; nevertheless, there was something poetic about leaving Earth today. The Juno Ark orbited the decimated home world in low-Earth orbit, all shuttles landed and launch tubes secured. The half-mile-long solar panels—for so long the only source of power—finally rested. Just hours ago their long, slow routine of folding and retracting finally brought them back into the ship. The deuterium plant on Hawaii had exceeded all expectations, refueling the fusion reactors with more than enough to reach Aura.
The great ship now measured three hundred feet shorter than on its maiden voyage. The damaged Module 2—the Military nerve center—was no more. It sure produced a spectacular display when it had burned up on reentry. That had been the culmination of two years of planning and six months of work. Laetitia had completed a respectable portion of all space walks. As long as she was within power grid range, she’d just keep on working—no air supply, no need for food or water, no fatigue. Humans—including yours truly—also spent many hours in spacesuits. No one died on the job—a miracle given how makeshift some of it was.
After reconnecting Modules 1 and 3, the Juno’s network was reconnected and Tiro became one instance again. The AI entity had been invaluable in getti
ng the Forever World copied onto the ship. Nearly all inhabitants had opted to be copied—something like ninety-eight percent of those in Forever World One. It put a whole new complexion on the voyage knowing mom and Nikki would be coming with me. So who were the mom and Nikki still in Forever World One, back on Earth? I couldn’t quite get my head around it, but I made sense of it in my own way. Both pairs were mom and Nikki, but the new copies had effectively entered a different timeline the moment they became conscious. For them, it must’ve been like alternative universes—the multiverse theory, as Aulani described it. Who knew? Maybe they were a simulation in a simulation and what I called real life was someone else’s Forever World, someone who’d never bothered telling us. Seemed farfetched, but as Aulani also told me, impossible to disprove. Or maybe that was God. Who was I to say?
The vote on Hawaii had gone ahead several months after quashing Patton’s motion to can Project Phoenix. Confirming we could copy the Forever World to the Juno’s network had been all important. It wasn’t just that most people wanted to live on after death, but they wanted to keep their links with friends and family—many of them distant ancestors. They also had a deep connection to the places in the simulated world. This had swung the vote in favor of devoting resources to Project Phoenix and allowing free choice on joining the voyage. I don’t think Patton and his group—which became known as the Stayers—were at all happy. However, the majority had spoken and signs of dissent soon disappeared. Baas, Laetitia and I were the three most prominent Leavers, as we were called. Aulani decided to stay, to take care of her elderly mother who’d never survive the stresses of stasis. In all, we Leavers numbered three thousand and fifty-two people—sufficient for a self-sustaining population on Aura-c.
With the extra power the Juno’s computers wielded gargantuan files containing all the details to recreate several other cities were decompressed. Integration under the watchful eye of Tiro was still ongoing. Once complete, we’d have a virtual Boston, London, Paris and Vancouver to explore. In the centuries to come, millions more minds could be uploaded without Forever World Two grinding to a halt. The virtual world would be live as we remained in stasis for a hundred and twenty years.
Juliet had been one who’d decided to remain uncopied. Part of me had hoped she’d come along for the ride and being a copy, I could have her while Adam carried on being her husband in Forever World One. A weird thought, really. But as in life, affairs of the heart didn’t work like that. As Juliet said, five hundred years is a long time to wait around for someone you think is dead. The maiden voyage hadn’t killed me, but it had killed our relationship without either of us even knowing one was a possibility. And I could hardly expect her to wait another hundred and twenty years while I underwent stasis again.
Talk about an extreme case of incompatible lifestyles, I thought.
A new age had not just dawned on the Juno mission. Two years ago, when I’d started dating Talia Zoska she’d changed my world. Now, she stood beside me as First Officer of the Juno Ark. Smart and beautiful, with green eyes and auburn hair, she was selected from over two hundred applicants—a lot considering Hawaii’s population. I’d never worked alongside someone I loved before, so this command would be interesting.
“Captain Luker,” Talia said, smiling warmly. “Engineering reports systems have passed all pre-launch checks.”
“Thank you, Commander Zoska,” I said, returning the smile. “That completes manual confirmation of Tiro’s report.”
“We do trust you, Tiro, but protocol is protocol,” she said, faking seriousness.
“Commander, I know you are just doing your job,” said the intelligent, but emotionally inept AI.
I smiled as I surveyed the bridge, complete with its new complement of crew. Situated at the nose of the ship, the bridge had an irregular shape with a curved front bulkhead. In the center of it was a fifteen-foot cupola looking out on Earth and the blackness of space above. Sunlight streamed into the dome, illuminating the floor all the way to the three command chairs up front. Uniformed crewmembers stood by large wall displays, working away. In the center of the bridge, a holographic navigation table stood. Above it glowed a 3D star map with details of every anomaly the Juno had encountered on its maiden voyage. Contrary to popular belief, space was not an empty void but replete with many features like stellar winds and comet clouds. A number of crew surrounded the table, discussing the route to Aura. This was the culmination of five years of hard work. Soon it’d be time.
“You’re welcome to take a seat,” called Lieutenant Sirtis, a spritely little guy who sat in his chair to the left of mine.
Talia rolled her eyes and checked her watch.
“It’s time—they’re waiting on us now,” she said, strutting over to take the right-most command chair.
Damn, she looked good, I thought, smiling.
It was time to focus now. After the chemical rocket burn took us to a higher orbit, we’d engage the main engines and accelerate for the next sixty years. Almost everyone else on board was already in stasis and had been for the last week. We didn’t have the luxury of keeping people awake for training and familiarization like last time. Even with four times fewer people, a lot of the original food had rotted—only long life foods remained. Awake people eat, suspended people do not. We supplemented it with supplies from Earth, but it still wasn’t enough.
I joined Talia and Sirtis, taking the middle chair reserved for the captain. I had an unfair advantage at selection as the only original colonist still alive. I knew paying attention during all those training sessions would pay off some day. Captain Luker— I thought it had a nice ring to it. Laetitia probably would’ve done a better job, but she was in such demand for her technical know-how that she’d be wasted sitting where I was. Besides, it wouldn’t have been right to have the first voyage to another star system captained by an android.
I turned to Sirtis, smiled and shook his hand.
“Ready, lieutenant?” I said.
“As I’ll ever be.”
I turned the other way.
“Ready Commander Zoska?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, still smiling.
“Please… do the honors,” I said to her.
“Thank you, captain,” she said, tapping her command display in front of her. “Tiro?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Execute flight plan Epsilon-5 using chemical rockets to take us to launch orbit.”
“Executing flight plan Epsilon-5 using chemical rockets… confirmed,” said Tiro. “Estimated time to higher orbit is forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you—”
I felt the ship shake, the seismic vibrations accompanied by a dull, powerful rumble. Then, as quick as it came, it stopped. Not the engines.
“Report, Tiro?” I asked urgently.
“Please standby. I am integrating information from sensors.”
“Well integrate fast, Tiro.”
Moments later, he came with the devastating answer.
“Captain, an explosion was detected in the lower link tunnel between Modules 1 and 3,” said the detached voice of Tiro.
“Casualties? Damage?” I said.
“No casualties reported. Internal damage to the tunnel and surrounding service lines. No structural damage, no hull breaches.”
I exhaled at the small mercies, but my mind raced trying to think of what was even capable of exploding in the tunnel.
I tapped the intercom badge on my chest.
“Tiro, connect me to Laetitia.”
I turned to Talia. “She was on her way back from Engineering—I want her to go assess the damage.”
“Captain,” said Tiro, “Laetitia’s node is offline. I will try the PA system.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Laetitia, please contact Captain Luker on the bridge immediately,” said Tiro over the PA system. “Repeat, Laetitia, please contact Captain Luker on the bridge immediately.”
“Tiro, what was her last known locatio
n?”
There was no response. I turned to Talia, locking eyes as I waited for Tiro.
“Tiro, are you there?”
Talia forked her fingers through her auburn hair, frown lines furrowing her forehead.
I turned to Sirtis.
“Lieutenant, you have the bridge,” I said, getting up and indicating for Talia to join me.
“Commander Zoska and I will take a team and see what the hell’s going on.”
I selected three crewmen and one woman from the bridge and the nav room behind it, then set off for the scene. As we left the navigation room, I tried to hail Tiro, but once more found only silence. No Laetitia, no Tiro. Something was very wrong.
17
“Should we arm ourselves?” asked Crewman Zhu.
I shook my head. “No, this is a probable rescue and recovery job,” I said. “Grab a medical kit each.”
They each retrieved a medical kit the size of a small holdall from the first aid bay. They moved fast. Time was of the essence.
“Let’s go,” I said, leading the four crew plus Talia out of the Nav room.
We ran down the clean, bright corridor to the elevator half way along the module. The car was there waiting and we piled in, catching our breath as it descended ten levels in half a minute.
I watched the digital readout impatiently.
“Tiro, please respond.”
No reply.
“Intercom, initiate direct badge-to-badge comms with node AD-001,” I said, trying to hail Laetitia.
“Node AD-001 is offline,” said the synthesized female voice.
Home Planet: Arcadia (Part 3) Page 14