Prodigal Seed: Indigo 03

Prologue

Hello, out there. I don’t know if this message will reach you, but if you can hear me, it means I’m already long dead. The planet once known as Earth, along with the remainder of her nine billion inhabitants, has come to an end. This transmission will likely be the last account of our civilization. My own little taste of immortality, I guess you could say. If nothing else, let it be a final record of what we did with the time we had left.

To be fair, the apocalypse loses some of its edge when you’ve had a while to get used to the idea.  For decades, everyone was so sure that if anything was going to destroy the world, it’d be us.  We definitely gave it our best shot.  With more time, we probably would have.  Some thought it’d be climate change or nuclear war.  Others, man-made disease or overpopulation. It seems nature showed us yet again just how arrogant and powerless we really are. The god of death was coming and there was nothing we could do to stop it. 

Over the last few months, our data started leaking to the press, warning of impending doom, but the public at large refused to believe. Many stumbled across the truth only to reject it out of fear or denial.  Why wouldn't they?  The surrender of hope should never come easily.  Those of us that knew tried to bury it in the back of our minds, struggling to find purpose while the ignorant continued with their frivolous lives. It wasn’t until a crimson glow appeared in the sky that reality finally caught up with them, opening their eyes to oblivion.   

As the heavens darkened above, the panicked masses hurried to raise hell from below. I pleaded with my neighbors to join me at the university.  The food and supplies in the science wing would’ve been more than enough to peacefully wait out the end, but they were too scared. All the streets were choked in gridlock, forcing us to brave the riots and looting on foot. I doubt it took them long to regret having chosen to stay.

Fires erupted across the suburbs, swallowing entire houses with their people still trapped inside. Smoke blotted out the sun, plunging the city into a blizzard of ash. So many families were left stranded in their cars, no way to defend themselves from the monsters pillaging about. They were pulled out through smashed windows, beaten and torn to shreds for what little they had. And the screams. Such hair-raising screams. I would’ve met the same fate if not for my military training. By some miracle, I made it to the campus in one piece, locking myself in the lab.

Even now, I can hear the faint pounding against the barricade I piled in front of the doors.  It’ll be quiet again soon enough…until the next group of marauders come to try their hand. Is this really how people want to spend their final moments? When there’s nothing left to lose but our own souls, should we just throw those away too? I refuse. Life means more than simply hiding from death. It means making every minute we're breathing sweeter and more cherished than the last. If anyone’s listening, I want you to remember why this planet was a place worth loving. It was always more than we deserved. Wherever you find yourselves out there, I pray you’re worthy of a home as beautiful as this once was.  

Jonny, if you’re receiving this, I love you more than you could ever know. Take care of our baby. This transmission is the last gift I have to give. As long as you have my voice, I’ll always be more than just a memory. I’ll be right there with you. A reminder that there’s still hope. That's what you are now, drifting amongst the stars. Proof that we existed. God willing, we never stop. Farewell...and good luck.

-signal terminated

6-24-2090

22:36

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Ron Flint

               In my first twinge of consciousness, I found myself embraced by the dark. Only the faint whisper of my own heartbeat reminded me I was still alive. Its gentle throb flicked against my temples, waking me from a dreamless slumber. I wanted to move, to breathe, but every last inch of me was paralyzed in a frozen cocoon. Then came the light. Its warmth pierced my eyelids, the sound of crackling frost joining the cadence in my chest. Voices from the outside drew closer, seeping into me with a muffled chatter. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to roll.” The tone was so familiar, but my thoughts were a jumble. “It’s a little late, but happy four-hundred and forty-eighth birthday, you filthy geezer.”

            Shadowy faces eclipsed the light, peering in at me through the foggy glass window. My vision was too blurry to make out their features, but I could feel their eyes studying me intently. With a hiss and a pop, the panels of the cryo-pod swung open, blasting me with a wave of smoldering heat. The ice over my body instantly melted into a gelatinous goo, replacing the numbness in my skin with a thousand pins and needles.

“He looks like a giant loogie,” came the voice again. “Should we get a towel or something?”

            I tried gasping for air, but to my absolute horror, my lungs were filled to the brim with slime. Panic washed over me as I coughed and gagged, spewing cryoprotectant fluid from my nose and mouth. I staggered out of the pod, beginning to fall forward when a pair of hands reached out to catch me.

“Geez, Doc! Is he OK? I don’t remember spilling my guts like that.”

“Calm down. It’s perfectly normal,” replied an older man’s voice. “That fluid is what kept the water in our cells from crystallizing. Everyone has to expel it one way or another.”  

            I took a second to catch my breath, marshalling what little strength I had to rebuke the rascal that held me. “Happy…birthday?” I panted. “Where’s the cake? You didn't even bring a keg, you moron.” I forced my lips into a smile, squinting through the brightness of the room until Renji's face finally came into focus. 

He stepped backward in his navy-blue jumpsuit, running a hand through his spiky black hair. “A cake?!” Renji laughed. “You gotta be kidding me. That sucker would need so many candles, we might as well start a bonfire!”         

“Well, it's good to see your vocals and cognition have remained intact,” said the older man beside Renji. “My name is Dr. Emry. How are you feeling? Any soreness?” He adjusted his frameless glasses, the medical scanner in his hand chirping excitedly as he swiped it across my face. After a loud beep, he glanced at its display with an approving nod. 

“Oh, hey, Doc,” I said, bracing myself against the pod. “My eyes are still burning and I'm not sure I can walk.” I looked down to realize I wasn’t wearing any shoes…or anything else for that matter.

“It's to be expected,” Emry said, tucking the scanner into the pocket of his lab coat. He reached out to squeeze my arms and legs, tickling me with his gloved fingers. “Fortunately, cryo-stasis more or less preserves your muscle and bone density, so you shouldn’t have suffered much atrophy. Once the nerve endings reacclimate, you’ll be right as rain. In the meantime, let’s get you something to wear.”

“I brought him the G-string and water wings like you asked for, Doc,” Renji said with a grin.

"Ha. Ha," I muttered, glancing around at the examination room. Its pure white interior was decorated with an assortment of mirrors and health advisories, the only splash of color coming from a padded table standing against the far wall. Folded neatly on top was a blue jumpsuit identical to Renji’s, a corresponding pair of steel-toed boots placed on the floor underneath.

I tried inching forward to retrieve them, surprised to find my legs heavy as lead. Renji and the doctor swiftly lunged to my side, acting as human crutches to ferry me across the room. With some effort, I managed to plop myself down onto the table, putting on my clothes one limb at a time. As I leaned over to slip on my boots, the cryo-pod retracted into its adjoining wall, revealing an enormous vault through the opening. There were countless other pods hanging in rows upon rows, their occupants still waiting for a wake-up call.

“I'm afraid you only have about ten minutes or so to collect yourself,” Dr. Emry said, rocking impatiently on his heels. “After that, it’ll be time for reorientation. I understand this isn’t much of a welcome party, but I’ve got nine more pods to crack open before my shift is over.”

“Understood,” I said, wobbling to my feet. Curious to know what the centuries had done to me, I turned to the nearest mirror, relieved to see I hadn’t aged a day. The same pearly gray eyes stared back at me, albeit nestled above dark bags of fatigue.  My short auburn hair was a tangled mess, still wet and dripping as it hung down over my face.

“Come on, stud, you can preen yourself later!” Renji gave me a teasing slap on the back, almost sending me face-first into the mirror. “We’ve got places to go! So many things to do!” 

He quickly grabbed my arm, dragging me through the automated sliding door of the exit into a brightly lit hallway. I only managed another step or two before the windows along the corridor caught my eye. On the other side of the aluminum glass, the vastness of space twinkled in all its grandeur, the view as breathtaking as when we’d first boarded the ship.  Even while traveling at a fraction of the speed of light, the stars seemed to hold constant against the infinite blackness.  Unfortunately, Renji had already grown immune to the sight of it, anxiously tugging me onward as though I was staring at a rock.

We soon reached the end of the narrow passage, stumbling into the cavernous chamber of the medical bay. It was practically a city unto itself, hundreds of doctors and nurses bustling about, tending to the many patients scattered across the deck. Overhead, the air was filled with robotic drones flitting between the upper levels, their skinny metal arms laden with supplies. Each was roughly the size of a dog, insectoid in appearance, wings beating faster than the eye could see. They ducked into various rooms to deliver their cargo, taking off again like bees to a honeycomb. As Renji and I moved through the crowd, a woman’s voice began to ring out over the PA system, reverberating in a velvety British accent. 

“Welcome aboard the Sojourn-class super dreadnought, UNS Tenacity. For all newly reawakened passengers, please report to auditorium gamma for reorientation and mission status updates. On behalf of the High Council, we thank you and appreciate your compliance.”

“I guess that’s our cue,” Renji said, pointing across the chamber. At the opposite end, I spotted a large foyer with droves of people heading inside. Many bore the same blue jumpsuits as Renji and me, others wearing outfits of red, white or gold. The two of us hurried over as fast as my shaky legs could carry me, falling in line with the procession.    

            As we entered the auditorium, I couldn’t help but feel as if we were back in school again.  The room was laid out like a lecture hall with bleachers sloping downward in a semi-circle.  Instead of a podium or desk, the stage at the bottom had a glass dome projector embedded in the center, almost resembling a pitcher’s mound. Renji and I took our seats at the top of the amphitheater just before the lights began to dim. The audience fell silent as the projector flickered to life, casting the hologram of a man sporting a gold officer’s uniform and a crew cut of sandy gray hair.                        

            “Greetings, people of Earth!” His voice thundered through the auditorium, his arms open wide. “I am Admiral Jonathan Rhoads, and as commander of this magnificent ark ship, I welcome you to a new era of human history!”

            The hall erupted into a chorus of cheers and applause. Rhoads pumped his hands in the air, soaking up the ovation with a smug grin. Renji rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the spectacle. After a few seconds, the admiral raised his fist, reining in the crowd before continuing. 

             “The current year is 2510 A.D. That makes four hundred and twenty years since we embarked on our journey into the stars. That's four centuries since our world was destroyed by the red comet, Thanatos. The ten million of us remaining have slept and awaited the day when we would see the sun rise over Virinova, the future home of humanity. A planet chosen for its similarities to Earth in temperature, gravity and breathable air. A paradise of abundant water and plant life. Brothers and sisters…you needn’t wait any longer. I’m here to tell you that day has finally come!”

The audience burst into celebration once again, Renji mocking the admiral’s bravado with an exaggerated flailing of his arms. I laughed out loud at the gesture, clamming up as I noticed the dirty looks coming from the people around us. Renji simply smiled and waved, turning them back to the stage with a shake of their heads.

“Virinova will be the perfect foundation upon which to rebuild society,” the hologram went on. “And as with any society, its members are required to contribute to the greater good. For this reason, each of us has been chosen for a specific purpose based on our individual skills and capabilities. Some of you may have noticed the different colors of uniform.  That’s to help distinguish a person’s duties from the rest of the crew.”

I cringed at the admiral’s scripted explanation. Distinguish a person’s duties? Please. Everyone knew exactly what the colors were for. It was merely a caste system with a not-so-clever disguise. A way to separate the elites from the rest of the hired help. 

“Those of us wearing gold are among the esteemed leadership,” Rhoads boomed.“It’s our burden to guarantee your survival and the establishment of our new civilization.  Crew members in white embody our science, medical and administrative staff while those in blue comprise our military and technical personnel. As for red, they represent our civilian population which will provide a variety of domestic skills and support to our other vocations." 

Down in the front row, a group of scarlet-clad frat boys began chuckling amongst themselves, amused by the sound of their own job description. Why wouldn’t they be? They didn’t have any skills to offer. They weren’t anybody’s support. Red was for royalty. It was a prime minister’s wife or a billionaire’s son—family of those that bankrolled construction of the dreadnoughts. That was their sole purpose, their golden ticket to salvation while the rest of us were lucky to have the skills necessary to sustain them. As I smoldered over the nepotism, Rhoads lifted his voice to recapture our attention.

“Inside the ship's network database, you’ll find your schedules and list of responsibilities,” he said matter-of-factly. “A map can also be accessed to guide you to your quarters and other points of interest. With only weeks until we arrive at our destination, all passengers and crew are expected to help in whatever way possible to smooth our transition onto the planet and ensure a safe conclusion to our journey. May we continue striving to make this new world better than the one we left behind. Thank you and welcome aboard the Tenacity.”

            With that, the hologram flickered off, returning the rest of the room to its original brightness. A soft din swept the audience as they rose from their seats, chatting excitedly with one another. 

“Well, that was informative, wasn’t it?” I said, turning to Renji. He’d somehow managed to fall asleep sitting straight up, a strand of drool trickling from his open mouth. Suspecting it was an act, I gave him a sharp jab to the ribs with my elbow.

“I didn’t do it!” Renji cried, jerking awake with genuine surprise. He rubbed his side, narrowing his eyes at me. “Hey, is that any way to treat your fantastical tour guide? Let’s see how you like it.” Renji poked me in the gut with his finger, wrinkling his forehead as I doubled over in pain. “Crap, did I hit you too hard?” He leaned forward, about to whisper an apology when my stomach roared louder than I’d ever heard in my life. It echoed over the bleachers, people stopping mid-conversation to stare up at us in astonishment. “Yeeeeaaah, I think it’s time to get you some grub,” Renji said, sheepishly patting my tummy. “After a few centuries, you’re probably well overdue.”



               I didn't quite realize how hungry I was until we finally made it to the mess hall.  The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering meat lingered heavily in the air, pulling me by the nostrils into a heavenly trance. There was everything from pork chops to cinnamon rolls, breakfast burritos to shrimp tempura. The only obstacle seemed to be fighting off the crowd. Hundreds of people had already flocked to the ration buffets and distribution lines, the one for steak and potatoes wrapping nearly all the way around the deck. I decided to split the difference between patience and desire, heading for a less populated buffet when I felt Renji’s hand on my shoulder.     

“Hey, Bro, where do you think you're going?" he asked. I pointed a thumb at the seafood line, twisting to break free of his grip. He closed his eyes, shaking his head mournfully. “Take a good look and tell me what you see.”

            I turned around and scanned the people in line, my heart sinking into my feet as I noticed there wasn’t a stitch of blue clothing anywhere to be found. “No,” I gasped. “No, this can’t be right.”

“’Fraid so,” Renji shrugged. “The good stuff is reserved for the Reds and Golds. Our feast is waiting over there.” He nodded to a meager line of blue jumpsuits off to one side, their trays loaded with nothing more than a few granola bars and a mysterious green slop.

I curled my lips in disgust, opening my mouth to protest, but the pangs in my stomach convinced me to settle for the path of least resistance. After a depressingly short wait for our food, I led the way to the farthest edge of the dining area, grabbing a vacant table with my back to the room. It was bad enough being forced to smell what I couldn’t have. Why torture myself by staring at it as well? 

            I leaned over my plate of gruel, too starved to care any longer, vigorously stuffing my face as Renji slid into the seat across from me. “You know, there’s a lot more where that came from,” he quipped. 

            “I’m counting on it,” I replied between mouthfuls. “Thanks for showing me the ropes, by the way. Have you been out of cryo-sleep for very long?”

            Renji glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “Hmmm, I guess it’s been a few days now. It’s hard to gauge time when you’re crammed into this big tin can.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” I said with a mischievous grin. “The way you showed up for my awakening? You’ve got a stalker’s punctuality, my friend.”

“I may have slipped Dr. Emry a couple extra granola bars for a heads-up,” Renji said, returning the smile. “I know first-hand how scary and disorienting it can be to wake up alone.  It’s a lot to take in. Figured I’d do you a favor and make the transition easy.”

“Dragging me around the ship certainly took the edge off,” I chuckled. “But how did you wake up so early? I thought there was some kind of priority to which pods would get cracked open first.”

Renji glanced down at his plate, avoiding my gaze. “Oh, you know how it is,” he mumbled. “Somebody had to keep the ladies entertained, so they let me out early.” He abruptly snapped up in his seat, his expression brightening as he changed the subject. “Hey, did you get a kick out of the old man’s dog and pony show?” Renji puffed out his chest, giving his best impression of Admiral Rhoads. “Brothers and sisters! Thank you for not dying and welcome to indentured servitude!”  

“Honestly, it was weird hearing him be so cordial,” I said, choking down another lump of green slime. “It definitely wasn’t the same guy we worked under during the Sentinel Project.”

“The Sentinel Project.” Renji echoed me with a fit of nostalgia washing over his face. “Those were the days. Developing all that cutting-edge tech. All the pranks and nonsense we’d get into. My parents couldn’t believe half the stuff I wrote home about.”     

I looked up from my plate, a barrage of epic memories on the tip of my tongue, but Renji was already a million miles away. His eyes wandered among the various passengers, settling on a family of Reds a few tables over. They sat quietly prodding their food, a mother and her two daughters. The elder one was a teenager, complete with her own supply of angst and a permanent scowl.

“This garbage tastes like feet,” she grumbled, pushing aside her tray of briskets in disgust. 

“Mommy, when can we go home?” the younger daughter asked. She couldn't have been older than three, her head barely able to see over the tabletop. “I miss having my own room.  And where are all my friends?”

The stress of their new environment had left her mom looking gaunt and frazzled.  She glanced down at the little one, wrinkling her brow. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. We can’t go back to where we were before,” she replied. “We’re going to build a new home where you can be safe.”

Renji nodded at the teenager, his eyes welling with sorrow. “Kimiko would’ve been about her age,” he said softly. 

            I crossed my arms over the table, whispering to him in a gentle yet commanding tone. “Renji…don’t go there. It’s not what your sister would’ve wanted.”

            “What made us so fragging special?” he asked, still fixated on the family of Reds. “Why should people like us be worth the sacrifice of a thousand others? All we did was engineer a bunch of armored suits.”

            “Can’t that be enough?” I hissed. “The whole point of the Sentinel Project was to revolutionize vicarious warfare. That’s what we did with the Omega exoframe. We gave the world an alternative to human conflict—a remotely piloted machine to do the fighting in their place. No more bloodstained battlefields. No more parents having to bury their sons and daughters. Our work has saved countless lives.”

            “Tell that to our enemies,” Renji shot back. “You never had to test one of those things in the field like I did. You never saw how a single Omega could mow down an entire platoon of insurgents. The UN Science Division made sure to keep that far from the news cameras.”

            “So what if they did?” I countered. “That doesn’t change all the good we accomplished, stamping out terrorism and tyranny.”

            “We only succeeded in making war more convenient. More detached. It didn’t erase old rivalries and political tensions, even amongst the UN coalition.”

            I furrowed my brow, clenching my jaw in frustration. “Renji, I get it. Our planet is gone. Everything we ever knew is gone. It’ll take a lot longer than a few days for all of us to process that, but there’s no point arguing the fact that we’re still here. Omegas have become the primary tool of military defense, and as long as they’re aboard the dreadnoughts, someone’s going to have to service and pilot them. That’s our purpose, menial as it may seem. Don’t you see? We’re the lucky ones.”

            “Lucky?” Renji spat the word, recoiling bitterly at the taste. “Our choice was to stay and die with the ones we love or run away like cowards. Most of our team had to leave their spouses behind. Their children. I had to look my family in the eye and tell them it would be for the last time. You only think you’re lucky because you had nobody left to lose. Your parents were gone long before Thanatos.”

            A spark of rage flashed inside me, but I quickly snuffed it, slouching backward with a sigh. “You’re right,” I said calmly. “My parents were already dead, but at least you got to say goodbye. You got to live on knowing that this is what they—what Kimiko—wanted for you. Both of us may be orphans now, but that doesn’t mean we’re alone. We’ve still got each other.”

            Renji slumped over his plate, the intensity on his face melting away. “I…I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s true. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. I shouldn’t have bashed you like that. This pond scum we’re eating really seems to bring out my inner douchebag.”

            “Don’t worry, mine will be coming up any second now,” I said, pretending to dry heave.

            Renji snickered, holding his fist over the table. “So…we cool?”

            “Extra frosty,” I said, pounding my knuckles against his. “The key to this whole thing is to stay positive. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? People used to joke that if anything could survive the apocalypse, it’d be the cockroaches. Well, guess what, pal? We’ve out-survived even them!” I threw my arms up in the air, beaming triumphantly.

Renji perked up in his seat, my pep talk apparently having done the trick. “Hey, Ron, speaking of survivors, wasn’t there one in particular you wanted to ask me about?” He tilted his head, batting his eyes flirtatiously.   

“Karina?!” I slapped my hands down on the table in excitement. “Have you seen her yet?  Is she doing OK?” He answered with a coy smile, my body going rigid as I noticed his eyes flick over my shoulder.   

“I’m doing great! How sweet of you to ask!” 

I winced with embarrassment, cursing Renji in my mind before casually twisting around to greet the voice behind me. “Karina! What a surprise! Just when did you get here?”

Her gold officer's uniform caught me a bit off guard, but it couldn't disguise those piercing green eyes or that long mane of russet brown hair. I gave her a subtle once-over, admiring the way her curves turned a common dress suit into a work of art, her jacket lending a certain degree of sturdiness to her otherwise slender frame. Despite centuries of being cooped up inside a spaceship, her skin had miraculously retained its shade of sun-kissed honey. 

“I came in around the part where you were gloating about the cockroaches,” she said, sliding into the seat beside me. “An excellent topic for meal time, wouldn’t you say? So, how long have you been awake?”

“I think I might still be dreaming,” I said under my breath. It must’ve slipped out slightly louder than I thought, my cheeks burning as Renji flashed me a cringe. Before Karina could react, I swooped in with the recovery. “Uh—that is—I’ve only been up for a few hours, so everything’s still a bit hazy.” It was a weak attempt, but she seemed to buy it. “Anyways, what’s your take on settling a new planet? Kinda crazy, am I right?”

Karina tossed her hair over her shoulder. “We have so many variables to consider,” she replied. “Will the air be safe from any pathogens? What if our crops and livestock aren’t compatible with the ecosystem? And don’t even get me started on shuttling everyone down to the surface.”

“Definitely sounds like a challenge,” I said, sweeping my empty plate to the side. “The logistics behind this whole operation must be insane.” 

Karina’s eyes widened as though remembering some sort of traumatic experience. “A total nightmare is more like it,” she groaned. “If you think sustaining ten million people in space is a chore, imagine the weight of trying to govern them all. You wouldn’t believe how many High Council meetings I’ve had to sit through. For the time being, mutual survival seems to be the only thing everyone can agree on.” 

Renji peeled the wrapper from one of his granola bars, glancing up with annoyance. “I take it the duties they assigned you are mostly political?” 

Karina reached over and broke off a chunk of Renji’s dessert. “Pretty much,” she said, popping it into her mouth. His eyes darted between her and the granola bar in disbelief.  “Officially, I’m stationed as the tactical officer on the bridge, reporting straight to my dad— er, the admiral. Though, unless one of the other dreadnoughts decides to pick a fight or something, I’m otherwise stuck as an interpreter for the higher-ups.”

“Makes sense when you speak seven languages, huh?” Renji added. He watched Karina’s hand creep across the table for another morsel, shielding the granola with his arm. “Someone must’ve been impressed by the work you did for the Sentinel Project. I’ll admit, it was nice having a second translator after the robotics team and I arrived from Japan.” He reached for his glass of milk, squinting warily at the prowling hand.

            “What are you talking about?” I chimed in. “I spoke plenty of Japanese when we first met.” 

            Renji almost spit out his drink. “S-s-seriously?” he sputtered. “All you knew how to say were a bunch of curse words and obscure anime references!” Karina cupped a hand over her mouth, muffling a snicker.

            “Heh. Of course,” I said, folding my arms proudly. “Always gotta nail down the essentials first, right? Ganbarou, ero sensei!

            Karina gave me a playful nudge as her giggling burst into all out laughter. “It’s so great to finally have you awake, Ron. I can’t remember the last time the three of us were able to hang out like this.”

            “Now that you mention it, how long have you been awake?” I asked.

            “Let’s see...” She bit her lip and thought for a second. “They started the reviving process nearly a week ago. My dad and I came right after the initial wave of medical staff. Those first few days were really lonely. Dad isn’t exactly the best travel companion, if you catch my drift.  Did you guys enjoy his spiel at re-orientation?”

            “It was mildly entertaining,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Could’ve used a laser show and some pyrotechnics though.”          

“Don’t tempt him,” Renji scoffed. “The guy’s ego is massive enough as it is. I couldn’t fathom working directly under him again.”

            Karina rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s not so bad…if you love constant judgment and scrutiny.” She paused for a moment, her expression turning somber. “At least things have been too busy for us to lock horns very much. The leadership is scrambling to decide the best way to move society down to the plant. I'm not allowed to go into any details, but despite how unified we’ve been thus far, I doubt we'll see that solidarity once we land.” 

            “What do you mean?” Renji asked.

            Karina glanced over her shoulders, leaning in close to be sure no one else could hear. “The surviving nations have been playing nice because we're trapped together on these arks, but all that chauvinism and pettiness from before hasn't gone away just because we're homeless. The United States and Russia. France and Germany. China and Japan. All the borders that once divided our map are dead and gone, yet people are still looking to segregate leadership wherever possible. I suppose it makes sense given our language and cultural barriers, though it wouldn't surprise me if they start divvying up Virinova under the banners of ‘New Europe’ or ‘New Asia’ and whatnot.”

            “So it’s a race to keep the status quo? Didn't see that one coming,” Renji groaned.

            “Seems like you've got your work cut out for you,” I said. “Either way, congrats on your promotion to tactical officer. You could've done a lot worse.”

            Karina blushed, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck when another gold uniform walked up behind her. The man was stone-faced with an almost mechanical swagger, his cold eyes studying Renji and me as he leaned over to whisper something in Karina’s ear. She abruptly pulled away, scowling at him in vexation. “Right now?” He nodded, prompting an irritated sigh. “Well, boys, duty calls. It was so great to see you two. We should catch up again soon.” Karina offered us a warm smile, waving goodbye as she got up to follow the officer out of the mess hall. 

            “Don’t forget us when you reach the top!” I yelled after her. 

            Renji hunched forward, a cocky grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched me sink wistfully back into my seat. “Dude, if you think she has a cool job, wait until you see the hangar.”

 

 



Chapter 2

Karina Rhoads

               I trailed along the corridor behind Daniels, grinding my teeth in frustration. Why would the High Council be calling to reconvene so soon? Was five hours not enough squabbling for one day? I couldn't even get five minutes to talk with my friends before getting pulled into what was likely another absurd political dispute. Daniels remained silent as we came to the elevator doors, punching the button for the command deck.

            “Are you going to tell me what this about, Lieutenant?” I asked, folding my arms. 

The former marine stared ahead as the elevator opened in front us, his expression stoic as ever. “Sorry, Ma’am, but whatever the issue is, it’s been deemed above top secret. Suffice to say, all of the top brass have been summoned as well.”

I followed Daniels into the lift, gazing out the window as we lurched upward. “Must be something big if even the admiral doesn’t know,” I mused. “Could a schism in the factions already be taking shape?”

The sub-levels of the ship flashed outside the glass, a burst of artificial sunlight flooding the carriage as we ascended into the agricultural sector. Its sprawling fields of green grass and trees raced downward as though we’d launched from a rocket, giving us a bird’s-eye view of its domed habitat. In the paddocks below, animals of every kind wandered blissfully unaware of their true surroundings, horses and cattle grazing freely beneath a blue holographic sky.

No matter how many times I’d ridden to and from the command deck, the sight of it never failed to make my heart skip a beat. It was a fleeting portal into the distant past, allowing me to escape the confines of our synthetic bubble and forget, if only for a moment, the pain of what we’d lost. I pressed against the handrail, imagining the crunch of Earth’s gravel under my feet one more time, but like any dream, it ended far too soon, the windows plunging into darkness as we neared our destination.

The elevator slowed to a stop, Daniels straightening up as I pivoted to face the doors. A part of me clung to the hope that my usual assignment wouldn’t be lurking in the lobby outside. There was a chance he could’ve lost his patience and went ahead without me. Perhaps, by some miracle, he’d caught dysentery or something and was too bedridden to grace us with his presence. No such luck. The double doors slid open, revealing the object of my exasperation waiting on just the other side.

An overly plump lemon standing on its point. That’s what he looked like, anyway. It was certainly the kind of taste his bright yellow suit always left in my mouth. The man grinned up at me from beneath his ghastly thin tufts of orange hair, his pale, pudgy face wrinkling with glee. “Miss Rhoads! You kept my poor heart pounding in suspense!” he said in his native French. “The meeting is going to start any minute!

Forgive me, Councilman Belmont,” I replied in the same dialect.  “I came as soon as I could.  And I’ll remind you to address me as ‘Major’.” 

He apologized with a flurry of derisive bows, ushering me out of the elevator. “Ah yes, but of course,” Belmont snorted. “Come now, we haven't a moment to lose.

            I stormed past him, leading the group to the security checkpoint outside the High Council chamber. The guards stood ready with their metal detectors, eyeing us suspiciously as Belmont and I went back and forth in a language they didn’t understand. “If it's any more convenient for you, Councilman, we could always equip you with an automated translator device,” I said. That way, you wouldn't have to wait for me before every meeting. They come programmed with a variety of attractive voices.

Belmont flashed his crooked, wine-stained teeth. “Trying to escape me now, Major?” he teased. “Those toys may work reasonably well, but they lack a sort of…personal touch, don't you think? Besides, how would I ever stay awake through these dreadful gatherings without you?

            I turned to the guards with arms raised, their scanners sweeping up and down my torso as I tried to ignore the question. Of all the creepy, stuff-shirted bureaucrats to translate for, why did I have to get saddled with this one? Just the feel of his gaze on my back was enough to make my stomach churn. At least there was consolation in knowing I didn’t have to sit with him. Not when all he needed was my voice.

            A shrill buzz from one of the scanners had me reaching into the breast pocket of my jacket, the guards tensing slightly as I withdrew a small plastic case. “Calm down, people. It’s just a couple of earpieces.” They inched closer, watching intently as I presented my evidence. After winning a nod of approval, I popped one of the buds in my ear, handing its counterpart to Belmont without even bothering to look.

Shall we, my dear?” he said, offering me the crook of his arm.

            I stared at it in horror for a moment, finally gesturing to the chamber’s entrance. “After you, Councilman,” I replied. Belmont frowned at my counterfeit smile and went on inside while I marked time for Daniels to catch up. It never bothered me that he was always last to get through security. It was the perfect excuse to gain some distance between me and the giant lemon. 

            As we stepped into the auditorium, the air was already ablaze with rumors and speculation, delegates clamoring for a hint as to why any of us were there. Daniels and I glanced around at the tiered benches, straining to find us a claim. Most were loaded with politicians. The seats that weren’t began to flicker and glow with the arrival of holographic people. It was customary for the other dreadnoughts to manifest their leadership this way, tele-conferencing from the comfort of their own ships. I just wished their ethereal butts didn’t take up so much blasted space.

            Belmont certainly wasn’t having as much trouble as we were finding a seat. He simply waddled down the central staircase, crossing the circular clearing at the bottom to reach the bar of the High Council. Its black marble table glistened in the spotlights, firm and unyielding, the majority of its occupants shimmering in holographic form. A ghostly reminder of the authority that the UNS Benevolence possessed. It didn’t make sense to me why one ship would have the lion’s share of Council members, but nobody else seemed to argue. How could they? The threat of extinction had given our leadership more than enough license to throw democracy to the wind. Our only choice was to trust in their judgment.  

            After meandering up into the nosebleed section, Daniels finally tugged me by the sleeve, pointing to an open bench between a pair of stocky holograms. We hurried over and shimmied into our seats, the ambient lights dimming as an elderly man at the center of the High Council’s table arose to call the room to order. Even from a distance, I was able to recognize his narrow face and shock of snowy white hair. He slowly scanned the audience, eyes sharp and hooded, his deep voice echoing powerfully as I muttered the translation into my earpiece.

Greetings, noble friends and esteemed colleagues! I, Councilman Adam Syre, will conduct this emergency session of the High Council. At this time, we hereby call upon Major Eric Walton—intelligence officer and strategic analyst—to describe the situation for which you have all been summoned here today.

            Councilman Syre outstretched his hand in presentation, relinquishing the spotlight to a cylindrical podium extending from the floor nearby. Dead silence fell over the room, the shuffling of footsteps the only sound as a lone figure approached from out of the darkness. A tall, gangly young man wearing a blue officer’s uniform and a look of perpetual boredom. His hair was pasted to one side, black and shiny to match his thick-rimmed glasses. He climbed up behind the podium, pausing a moment to assess the crowd before raising a remote control in his hand.

The floor in front of him promptly opened up to reveal a jumbo-sized holographic projector. Its lens erupted in a burst of light, filling the air with a rainbow of colors that coalesced into the shape of a planet. The audience gasped in unison, marveling at the sphere’s geography as it hovered above us in gritty detail. Vast oceans covered most of the surface, their waters a deep, almost purple shade of blue. The central continents were dense with green forests and snow-capped mountains, clouds billowing over the hills and valleys with all the magnificence that Earth once possessed. An untouched world of wonder, ripe for discovery and exploration. 

“What you see, ladies and gentlemen, is an image of Virinova as recorded by our space telescopes over four hundred years ago.” Walton’s voice thundered over the din, his tone flat and emotionless as though he were rolling through a slide show. “Here, we have a shot of the planet from its dark side, or its ‘nighttime’ view.” He clicked the remote and the projection flickered, shrouding Virinova in darkness. The greens and blues of its terrain were barely visible now against the twinkling backdrop of space. “And this is an image of the planet’s dark side as recorded thirteen hours ago." 

            The holographic orb shimmered to reveal an exact copy of the previous view, except this time the stars had somehow plastered themselves across its face. Clusters of white and yellow dots peppered the shadowy landscape, connecting to one another through a mesh of lambent veins. It took me a few seconds to grasp what I was seeing, thinking at first it was an archival video of modern Earth.

“Lastly, I give you the surface of Virinova as it appears this very day…” 

Major Walton clicked his remote and the sun rose over a planet I could hardly recognize. Where once had been wide expanses of virgin wilderness, there stood instead a network of glistening gray cities. The sandy ocean coastlines were now choked by harbors and artificial peninsulas made of metal and stone. The tint of the atmosphere had changed as well, imprisoned under the gleam of satellites hanging in orbit. Everyone in the audience sat utterly dumbstruck, eyes glued to the image. After what felt like an eternity, Walton's voice finally broke the silence with a cold and factual detachment. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the governing body…humanity’s new Garden of Eden is, as of now, currently occupied.”

A ripple of panic immediately swept over the crowd, dozens of voices clamoring for an explanation. “How could this have happened?!” someone shouted over the chaos.

“What does this mean?!” cried another.

SILENCE!” Councilman Syre bellowed. His yell was loud enough to make my teeth chatter. “I ask that the chamber withhold any questions or commentary until after Major Walton has finished his briefing.” He turned to Walton, shifting seamlessly from a stern glare into an encouraging nod. “Major, please give us the rest of your findings.

Walton blinked at the councilman, still rattled by the outburst. “R-right away, Sir,” he said, turning back to the hologram. “When we surveyed the planet four hundred years ago, our telescopes lacked the resolution to see any signs of intelligent life. It’s possible that a sentient race was already present on or beneath the surface but was too primitive to be detected before we left Earth. Their civilization would’ve evolved dramatically while we slept in cryo-statis. Another theory would suggest they’re from a different world entirely. Like us, they could’ve migrated to Virinova in search of a habitable environment.”

            Murmurs rumbled through the audience as they gauged the High Council's reaction. Syre leaned forward on his elbows, intrigued by the assessment. “Major, what can you tell us about these...natives?”     

            Walton raised his remote, causing the metal flecks over the planet’s atmosphere to highlight in bright green. “At this point, the only information we have about them comes from observing their technology. Here, we see artificial satellites of various sizes. This confirms their potential for space travel, but the extent of which is unknown.” 

            He clicked the remote again to magnify the planet’s image, suspending our view several miles above one of the alien cities. I squinted at the sparkling sea of gray, barely able to make out the swarm of tiny objects soaring between the buildings.

            “You’ll notice the indigenous seem to use some kind of airborne vehicles,” Walton continued. “Based on their external design, they don’t seem to require standard aerodynamics to fly. Spectral analysis shows that the planet generates a powerful geomagnetic field which likely assists them with their anti-gravity technology. From these two examples alone, it’s safe to assume their level of scientific advancement is comparable to our own. As for their approximate population, our extrapolated data estimates their numbers to be somewhere over five billion.” 

            A jolt of surprise flashed across Syre’s face, prompting a rise out of the crowd. He swiftly regained his composure, narrowing his eyes at Virinova. “What are our options?” he demanded.

            Walton pursed his lips. “Well, Sir, even if we were aware of another habitable planet, we don’t have the fuel or supplies to travel there. Frankly, our trip from Earth was never intended to be anything but one-way. This leaves us with only two choices. The most feasible would be to attempt communication with the indigenous species and negotiate the sharing of land and resources.”

            “And the other?” Syre pressed.

            “Should they refuse to negotiate or otherwise deny us safe harbor on Virinova, our only hope would be…” Walton hesitated for a second, measuring the weight of what he was about to say next. “…We would have to take the planet by force.” The chamber exploded into chaos once again. I couldn’t even finish translating the words before being drowned out by the commotion. Syre shot to his feet, opening his mouth to blast the crowd into submission when a new voice roared out from among them. 

“That’s enough!” A spotlight beamed down from the ceiling over my dad. He stood on top of his seat, hands raised to quell the people around him. “Both options have their risks,” he said. “We can’t make a rational decision until we have all the facts. Major Walton, would you kindly remind the chamber of our assets?”   

Walton glanced up at the admiral, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, Sir, of course,” he replied. 

Another click of his remote changed the room’s hologram to a view of our fleet. The five titanic dreadnoughts were instantly recognizable as they floated through the air like a pod of silvery whales. Their darkened hulls glittered from bow to stern with thousands of tiny lights, dwarfing the cruise-liner-sized ships clustered between them.

“In the event of a direct conflict, we have twelve spacecraft at our disposal,” Walton explained. The different vessels lit up and enlarged to illustrate his lecture. “First and foremost, we have the five Sojourn-class super dreadnoughts—Benevolence, Tenacity, Sojourn, Cenotaph and Shen Raoshu. Each was already equipped with hard light shielding and a battery of particle cannons to protect against asteroids and other spaceborne debris.” The hologram shifted its focus away from the arks, zooming in on one of the smaller craft. “Our seven Antares-class starships were originally intended for the exchange of resources and personnel between the dreadnoughts. Though lacking in defenses, we have the means of weaponizing them into moderately agile battleships.”

Dad glared up at the display, his brows still furrowed with speculation. “What about the Omegas?” he asked.

             Walton folded his arms. “The dreadnoughts share a combined army of three hundred and fifty SF-124 Omega-class exoframes,” he replied. “They’re fully outfitted for combat, but given our numerical disadvantage, I’d advise against any kind of ground-based assault. We should remain in space and use orbital bombardment as necessary to pacify the natives. If nothing else, we could resort to our small arsenal of tactical warheads and high-yield neutron bombs.”

My eyes snapped open wide. “Are they serious?” I whispered to Daniels. “We’d destroy the very planet we’re trying to colonize! Why the hell would we bring along weapons like that in the first place?!” Daniels held a finger to his lips, eager to hear the Council’s response.

Despite the mention of nuclear war, Syre had done well to keep a blank expression. He knew better than to let his emotions sway the crowd. “And what of negotiations?” he asked.

Walton squeezed the remote anxiously in his hand. “While diplomacy would be the ideal solution, Admiral Rhoads is correct that it would also pose a risk. Everything would depend on establishing some form of mutual communication. There's no telling how long it could take to decipher each other’s languages, if that’s even possible. And what if these creatures turn out to be hostile regardless? Revealing ourselves would forfeit any element of surprise we could’ve used for a preemptive strike.”

            Syre closed his eyes, stroking his pointed chin in consideration. “What would be our chances of success should we deem a preemptive strike necessary?

            Again, my dad’s voice carried over the audience. “I’m sorry, Councilman, but as an admiral of the United Nations fleet, I strongly advise against such action. It would be nothing short of suicide to attack a foreign power with virtually zero intel on their military strength.” 

            “But Admiral—” Walton tried to interrupt him, but it was no use.

            “You honestly think we can commandeer a planet with five billion hostiles? Even if we end up proving superior in space, what can we do to cull their numbers on the surface? We certainly can’t settle an irradiated planet. And how do we know they don’t have nukes of their own?!”

            “There are other methods we could employ,” Walton countered.

            “And what would those be?” Dad demanded. “Infect them with a disease of some sort? We don’t know anything about their physiology. And what if it were to mutate against us? Anything outside conventional warfare would be too dangerous. Then again, how do we even know if the element of surprise is still on the table? If they’re as advanced as we are, what’s the likelihood they’ve already seen us coming? We simply aren’t equipped for full-scale war. This isn’t even an option.”

            As he finished his rant, a figure stepped out from behind the bar of the High Council, instantly pulling away the spotlight. In the bright glare stood the holographic form of a man bearing the exact same uniform as my dad. For such a decorated officer, he was surprisingly youthful, his soft features and feathery brown hair painting him as more of a sheltered politician than a seasoned warrior. He glanced up at my dad with his icy-blue eyes, a dimpled smile creeping its way across his face.

Let’s not be so hasty to dismiss all our options,” he said, strolling to the center of the room. The audience hung on his every word, his voice permeating the air with an almost hypnotic sweetness. “As much as I appreciate a word of caution, I don’t believe it wise to sacrifice reason for the sake of fear. While I do agree that aggression should be our last resort, leaving ourselves at the mercy of an unknown landlord doesn't sound like a very enticing plan either.

Dad narrowed his eyes at the dashing new contender. “Admiral Gareth,” he grumbled. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Gareth made his way over to Major Walton, taking his place behind the elevated podium. “What I'm proposing, esteemed colleagues, is that we simply hedge our bets. While we explore the idea of peaceful negotiations, we should also be doing everything we can to prepare for a worst-case scenario. If all else fails, we have to be ready. Besides, even if our goal is to communicate with these creatures, who among us would be qualified to try?

The question immediately plunged the audience into a deafening silence, not a soul daring to speak or volunteer. It was terrifying enough to imagine representing our entire species, but to be the first to meet an unknown alien race? What could we possibly say to them? How would we even say it? Any situation outside the ideal could easily prove deadly. Still, the prospect of meeting someone from another world fascinated me. The very act would be history in the making. It would mean the discovery of a whole new form of communication. Just the thought of what we could learn from them somehow managed to dull my fears.

I’m not exactly sure what drove me to do it. Call it hope, craziness or aspiration, but the next thing I knew, my hand was quivering up in the air. The entire chamber slowly turned to look, their eyes burning with a mixture of doubt and curiosity. Even Daniels sat staring beside me, the color completely drained from his face. I quickly yanked my arm down, trembling at the realization that my failure could mean the extinction of humanity. 

Admiral Gareth blinked at me for a moment, shaking off his astonishment with an impressed grin. “Major Rhoads…I admire your courage, but this task would require someone with a little more insight into the will of the Council.” 

Never in my life had a rejection left me feeling so relieved. I let out a deep sigh, stiffening up again as Syre decided to fan my flames.

Hold on now, Gareth,” said the councilman. “As you so aptly put it, ‘Let’s not be so hasty to dismiss all our options.’ A linguistics specialist is precisely what we need for establishing communications, and unless these tired eyes deceive me, I’m not seeing an overabundance of volunteers.” A nervous chuckle rumbled through the audience. “Now then, with the information that’s been provided, the Council will deliberate on this issue and reconvene in twenty-four hours. In the meantime, I think I speak for us all when I say that defensive preparations should get underway as quickly and covertly as possible. We don’t want to start a panic. Admiral Rhoads, we leave this task to you. Council adjourned.”     

            With that, the holographic figures throughout the room flickered and vanished from their respective seats. The lights brightened around us, releasing the assembly to its usual din of rumors and cynicism.

“We should report to the admiral,” Daniels said, beckoning for me to follow. The two of us descended from the stands, nearly reaching the bottom when I noticed my dad already waiting to greet us. He wore his typically disgruntled pout, arms crossed and foot tapping.

“What the hell was that all about?” he demanded, pointing up to where I’d been sitting.

“I…uh…” My mind went totally blank. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t seem to find the answer. 

“And you!” Dad poked an accusing finger into Daniels’ chest. “The whole point of your assignment was to keep her out of this kind of insanity!”

Daniels glared straight ahead, rigidly standing his ground. “Sir, I received no such order,” he said brusquely.

“It was implied!” Dad growled. He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. “Couldn’t you have held her arms down or something?”

I furrowed my brow, fists clenched at my side as his frustrations began to rub off on me. Concern was a predictable response for a father, but I was done with his pathetic scolding. His condescension. I wasn’t some frightened little girl that needed to be coddled. This was my chance to make a real difference. To show him—to show everyone—why I deserved to be here.

“With respect, Admiral, our survival is going to depend on someone with a high level of expertise,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Personal preferences aside, there aren’t many candidates more qualified in linguistics than I am.”

He pursed his lips, studying me with those critical eyes of which I’d grown so accustomed. The old codger loathed to admit it, but he knew I was right. “Well then…Major…it would seem the fate of humankind rests in our capable hands,” he shrugged. “I’ll be heading down to pay the mechanized infantry a visit if you’d like to tag along. Those defenses aren’t going to prep themselves.”

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of sharing an elevator, but I gave the invitation a silent nod. If it meant getting to see Ron and Renji again so soon, I was willing to brave the journey. Of all the things I needed right now, it was to surround myself with some friendlier faces.  



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