First Colony: Books 1 - 3

by Ken Lozito

  Once he’d exhausted all his options, Mitch sought out Dr. Elizabeth Stone again, wanting to learn more about her far-fetched plan. He’d mistakenly believed that perhaps she had a way to actually help them survive. She didn’t. What Dr. Stone had in mind was for the survival of those aboard the Ark—to update its mission and send it even farther away than they’d originally planned while gathering up whatever resources and people they could and heading out to the fringes of the solar system. It was a death sentence and also one of the biggest leaps of faith Mitch had taken in his entire life.

  Dr. Stone had the appearance of a sweet little old lady who had somehow managed to survive, but Mitch had learned that she was one of the smartest and shrewdest people he’d ever met. He and Elizabeth had become mother and father to the survivors they’d taken with them.

  Elizabeth had given him a timetable to work with. Updating the Ark mission wasn’t simply a matter of sending a transmission; they had to enhance their communications array to handle a sustained data burst beyond anything they’d ever done before. And doing so would alert the Vemus to their presence.

  Mitch’s job was to gather the supplies they needed for the mission. They scavenged anything they could from decimated space stations and unmanned satellites that were the last vestiges of an age now gone. Even though he’d agreed to help Dr. Stone, he hadn’t become a true believer in their mission until years later when, on a scavenging mission, they’d found an intact satellite uplink and seen an image of Earth. The bright blue planet was still there but with a cloud cover that could only come from a holocaust the likes of which had only been hinted at during a much earlier nuclear age. Communications from the last space stations had gone dark, but there were plenty of ships still in the system—ships that were patched together and would attack without provocation. Those ships and the people serving aboard them had been absorbed into the Vemus Fleet. Mitch had tried to avoid the Vemus, but they’d become aware of the Indianapolis and hunted it. The Vemus had grown in intelligence and complexity in the years since Mitch had first seen their existence appear on mission reports. Some were vaguely humanlike, but there were others that were beyond anything he could have imagined.

  Their final mission was such a mundanely obvious thing that Mitch couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before, but Elizabeth had known. Mitch suspected she’d always known. It was the last piece to the puzzle and it was the thing that would bring the Vemus down on them in full force.

  Sean walked the length of the bridge and stood in front of Mitch.

  “Credentials to override the Ark’s mission parameters have been uploaded, Admiral,” Sean said.

  “Good. What about my other request of you?” Mitch asked.

  Sean scowled. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. I hardly remember him at all.”

  Mitch arched an eyebrow. “But you do remember him at least a little bit.”

  Sean looked away for a moment. “My father left when I was three years old. Then you smuggled him aboard the Ark. I have nothing to say to the man.”

  Mitch regarded the young man. He was beyond his years in so many ways and yet managed to be so young in others. “I doubt that. Your father had no choice. I’ve told you he had decided to go back to you, to be your father.”

  “Yeah? Well, he didn’t!” Sean snapped, then grimaced. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You’ve been more of a father to me than he ever was.”

  “Circumstances made it this way. You don’t have to say much. Just tell him who you are. That’s all he’ll want to know,” Mitch said.

  There was a quiet buzz on the bridge as the various teams made their final preparations. Mitch watched as Sean glanced at the PRADIS output on the main holoscreen. The Vemus fleet had almost caught up to them.

  “Why are you pushing for this? None of it will matter in a few hours,” Sean said.

  Mitch’s gaze hardened. “It matters. Your father didn’t deserve what happened to him, just like you don’t deserve what’s happening to you. We’re all in the same boat, but you have a chance to send one final message to someone who cares about you. The rest of us here don’t have any family left. We only have each other, and not for much longer.”

  Sean clenched his teeth. Doing what they’d set out to do wasn’t easy for them, knowing that their last efforts would ultimately be for someone else’s benefit. Mitch chose to look at it as an investment in a dark future, but there was a lot of bitterness among the survivors on the Indianapolis because they knew there would be no escape from the Vemus. They’d exhausted all their resources and this would be their final stand.

  Mitch looked at Sean, who returned his gaze. Stubbornness was a Gates’ family stock-in-trade. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, the young man finally walked over to one of the consoles and sat down.

  “Tactical, put the countdown on the main screen,” Mitch said.

  He glanced over at the command couch. He was tired of sitting and planning, but most of all he was tired of failing. He wished he could have come up with a way to stop the Vemus, and he supposed that if they’d had more time perhaps they could have found a way together. But that wasn’t the case. He was going to die today. They all were. Since these were going to be his last moments alive, he chose to meet his end on his feet.

  Elizabeth’s hand grasped his. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Mitch gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You were right.”

  “I know, but it’s good to hear you say it,” Elizabeth said.

  Mitch watched the countdown timer drain away. The main reactor was charging the power relays at the communications array in preparation for the broadcast signal. The signal would reach the nearest deep space buoy and then continue until it reached the Ark. Once the colony ship received the data burst, the onboard computers would set upon the task of changing the ship’s trajectory and hopefully that of the last humans in the galaxy.

  A klaxon alarm sounded, and Mitch glanced over to the woman serving as his tactical officer.

  She silenced the alarm. “Vemus forces are aboard the ship, sir.”

  Mitch swallowed hard. He’d been prepared for this, but when it came down to it, all men fear death when it’s their time to go. “Understood,” he said and used his implants to begin the powerful broadcast.

  The Vemus would be able to follow the broadcast. There had already been evidence that they were amassing ships together for a long journey, and the race for humanity’s survival was about to begin.

  As the signal went out, the survivors aboard the Indianapolis fought a foe that dead scientists back on Earth had determined was of their own making. Those scientists had failed to stop a sickness they hadn’t fully comprehended, but the survivors valiantly fought them once more to the last man, woman, and child until they closed upon the bridge. Some of the people there had chosen to take their own lives. Their bodies wouldn’t be contaminated by the Vemus, but there were others who fought with weapons in hand until the bitter end—an end for the crew of the Indianapolis but the promise of a new beginning for the rest of mankind.

  (Sierra – New Earth Colony)

  Connor stood in his quarters, his gaze lingering on a video file he’d selected from the long list on his screen. He wasn’t sure whether he could watch it again, but something deep inside him urged him to do it one more time. He pressed his lips together in determination and then pressed play.

  “You don’t know me at all. In fact, I can hardly remember you. The admiral believes I should record this stupid thing and send it along. Said I should tell you who I am. So who am I? I’m the guy it sucks to be. Hell, I’d have settled for the short end of the stick. Any of us would have settled for any part of the stick, but we don’t get that. I’ve fought in a long war with little hope of survival, let alone a victory. Yet you get to live. You’re the lucky one. By the time you see this message, you’ll be alive on some colony world, living your life. Maybe you’ll even have a family and be someone else’s father—”<
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  Connor stopped the video, his throat thick with emotion at the bitter catch in his son’s voice, which came across perfectly preserved. Connor leaned on the small shelf before the holoscreen, momentarily overcome by the weight of regret, but then he reached out and restarted the video so it could disgorge its ancient message into the darkened room.

  “I don’t know what to say to you. Even though I know what happened, I’m mad at you for leaving. I’m still mad. I’m mad because you left in the first place and I’ll never know why. Not really.” His son looked away from the camera for a moment. “If my mother knew, she never told me. She died, you know. She was among the first to become ill with what became the Vemus infection. The funny thing is that Vemus isn’t . . .” His son’s voice trailed off. “The admiral tried to help me find her. We didn’t know at the time that it was the beginning of the end for us. Yet it’s upon our blood and sacrifice that you get to live. You, who left . . . left us all behind.”

  Connor knew what he meant. You left me behind. He imagined his son saying it, and it stung like a slap across the face.

  “I don’t have anything nice to say. I’m not going to say something that will make you feel better about leaving. I don’t think you deserve it. If you were here, I might be screaming at you. Maybe we’d even fight,” Sean said, glaring at the screen. “I’m good at fighting. Maybe I get that from you. Heh. I can’t even imagine you sitting there getting this message. What you must be thinking. Do you even feel anything? The admiral said I should tell you who I am. I’m a soldier, and it sucks. I didn’t choose to be a soldier. It chose me. I hate it almost as much as I hate you. That’s who I am. I don’t think any of this is going to make you feel better. I know I don’t feel . . . and I’m long past caring about . . . anything." Sean glanced away from the camera at something off-screen. "They’re almost here. I’m surrounded by dead bodies, along with those of us who won’t take our own lives. This is all that’s left. This is our legacy. We are to make sure that the broadcast signal stays on as long as possible. For you. So you get to live. Who am I? Science says you’re my biological father, but I have no father. I’m a soldier fighting on the losing side. It sucks being me. I have nothing left but fury and hate.”

  The video message from Connor’s son had been part of the data cache Reisman had stolen before he died, and the message was over two hundred years old. Connor hadn’t known what to expect when he first watched it, but every time he watched his throat became thick with sorrow and regret. He must have watched this video hundreds of times. The bitter man his son had become left Connor smothered with guilt. He should have been there. He’d give anything to change the past, to stay behind and raise his son. Protect him, even knowing what he knew about the Vemus. At least he could have been there to fight at his son’s side. Then Sean would have known how much Connor loved him.

  He’d thought long and hard about what must have been going through his son’s mind in those final moments. The crushing pain he felt at finally seeing Sean and knowing what had become of him struck him like a blow every time he watched the video, but he had to keep watching it. He owed his son that much at least.

  With the pain came a sense of pride that his son had fought to the very end. It was a measure of who he’d been. Connor couldn’t imagine what Sean had had to endure, the kind of life he’d led. Connor would never forgive himself for not being there. He’d hated Wilkinson for putting him aboard the Ark, but those feelings had long since faded away. Connor’s choices many years before that event were what had made him leave his family, which had nothing to do with Admiral Mitch Wilkinson. The old admiral knew that, and even Connor’s son knew it.

  He powered off the holoscreen and rubbed his face. His eyes were puffy and tired. He made himself watch the video of his son as a kind of penance, as if subjecting himself to all the pain would somehow ease Connor’s most profound regret. He clenched his teeth and slammed his fist down on the shelf. He hated that video and hated himself for what it represented—a life of regret and a reminder of what he’d left behind.

  2

  Noah was surrounded by holoscreens. Each had data feeds being piped into them that fed several regression-analysis queries he had running. The work he was doing could only be done at CDF headquarters in Sierra. It had been two months since the Vemus attack, and Noah was tasked with data mining everything the late Colonel Wil Reisman had been able to steal from the Vemus warship. More than a few times Noah wished he had Reisman’s help. The colonel had been extremely clever and could glean useable intelligence from anything he set his attention on. Noah missed Reisman and had thrown himself at his current project to ensure that Reisman’s last action hadn’t been for naught.

  He was in a large work area where his team was carrying out smaller projects serving the same goal: find anything they could use against the Vemus forces coming for them. Working with scientists for so long had taught Noah that often the best results of a large project came from collaboration with others, so when Connor asked him what he needed to get the job done, Noah had told him he needed a team, a large room, and priority access to one of the CDF’s supercomputers. He’d been given all of that, and Noah and his team worked tirelessly. As a result of those efforts, they’d made quite a few discoveries that were being closely examined by subject-matter experts.

  As the days passed, Noah kept looking at the clock. They all did. He felt like they were working on borrowed time and at any moment the rest of the Vemus attack force would show up to finish what they’d started.

  Someone cleared their throat behind him.

  “So this is where they’ve been keeping you.”

  Noah turned around and swiped the holoscreen to the side. “Allison, it’s so good to see you. Or should I call you Dr. Blake now?” he asked with a smile. The former medic for Search and Rescue had recently become a medical doctor.

  Allison gave him a quick hug. She was tall, with long auburn hair and cupid’s-bow lips. She peered at him. “You’re not getting enough sleep.”

  Noah snorted. “No one is.”

  Allison glanced around. “I’ve heard a lot about what you’ve been doing. You’re an official hero, but I’d love to meet your wife.”

  Noah felt the skin tighten around his eyes. He and Kara had decided to get married shortly after they returned to New Earth. It had been a quiet ceremony, which was what they’d wanted. “I’d love for her to meet you, but she’s at Lunar Base working on . . . I’m sure you can guess.”

  Allison’s eyes drew down in empathy. “I’m sorry. It must be hard being apart like that.”

  Noah nodded. “I’m sure you’re not here to reminisce about our old Search and Rescue days.”

  “No, I’m not,” Allison said.

  “What can I do for you?” Noah asked.

  “You remember my specialization?” Allison asked.

  “Of course. Field biology.”

  “I’ve branched out into—” Allison began to say.

  One of Noah’s analyses finished running and flashed on the holoscreen next to him. He glanced at it, noting the returns.

  “What’s that?” Allison asked.

  “The data cache we got from the Vemus ship. It’s over two hundred years old and I’m trying a new regression analysis on the video files. It seems that video logs were the preferred method of recording one’s experiences, which makes it difficult to glean useful information,” Noah said.

  Allison frowned as she read the screen. “What are you trying to find out?”

  Noah blew out a breath. “How much time do you have?” he asked with a half-smile. “We needed a quicker way to analyze the information people were recording that didn’t require us to watch every video. If we tried to do that, it would take years to get through them all.”

  “Why wouldn’t you focus on the research information and such?” Allison asked.

  “That’s what we did initially, and I’ve given that to Connor, but I think there’s more to be found,” Noah answere
d.

  “Like what?”

  Noah pressed his lips together in thought. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘missing the forest because of the trees’?”

  Allison nodded.

  “I think we’re so focused on the facts about the Vemus and what happened to Earth that we’re missing key insights from the people who were actually there,” Noah said.

  “Now you’ve lost me.”

  “They fought the Vemus for years, but there was a time before the Vemus became as we know them now. I think that’s how we can find something in the records we can use against them. Despite everything we’ve done for the past seven years, we’ve only really had one encounter with the Vemus, and that was about two months ago. The people back on Earth had years to contend with them. So I’m after those people who had a thought or theory they recorded but didn’t have time to fully explore,” Noah said.

  “I understand. You’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “That about sums it up, but I know you didn’t come all this way to hear about what I was doing,” Noah said.

  “I’m doing something similar—” Allison began.

  A comlink came to prominence on one of the holoscreens, drawing their attention. It was a priority message with CDF General Connor Gates’ identification on it. Noah opened the channel and Connor’s face came on screen.