Colony One (2 page)

02

One Year Ago

Kennedy Space Center, East Central Quadrant, New America

A platform was erected among a clutch of carefully selected onlookers, with the stage draped in patriotic red, yellow and blue. Corporate logos lined the frame of the stage – a compendium of similarly fashioned symbols as most of the companies were owned by the same conglomerate. The onlookers were all sharply dressed media, owned by the same sponsors.

On stage was the charismatic, sandy haired Lance Richardson behind a bouquet of thin stemmed microphones.

Nearby industrial air filters hummed laboriously – as they had for weeks leading up to the launch, ensuring that personal filters would not be needed by the audience.

“As you can see,” Richardson raised his arms and swiveled to indicate the looming mass of Colony One and then swept them back towards the crowd to signify the far-off warehouse like buildings behind them that looked newly constructed. “The costly renovations of the – until recently, abandoned – Kennedy Space Center were necessary to shepherd in this truly historic moment in human history. Upon this ground, man set on a journey to the moon – just
one
generation after man-made flight was developed.”

The onlookers cheered and Richardson smiled graciously.

“Today, we remember all the achievements of men – the greatest of which we are about to witness. Through the power of collaboration and…”

Richardson went on, his audience splitting their attention between him and gaping at the massiveness of Colony One.

Drones swooped over the stage and crowd, and several could be seen attempting to traverse the circumference of the giant grey blimp-like ship. The prow of the spacecraft faced the stage –reminiscent of the hydrogen zeppelins found in the history archives. The cockpit jutted out from the round nose, the windows so thick they obscured the view of the interior. The length of the vessel was lined with rivets that outlined hatches installed with explosive hinges for emergency escape. A docking ring on the starboard side could be seen as the only deviation from the otherwise smooth brushed metal exterior. The streamlining continued aft, where a giant loading ramp had been opened and lowered to the ground.

When the drones were midway to the loading dock, they turned back with a jolt. Unknown to the viewers, their warning sensors had indicated a pulse field that would deactivate them. With the passenger loading process off limits, they swooped back towards Richardson and his scripted speech.

Out of view from the cameras, the passengers of Colony One gathered excitedly near the giant loading ramp. The vast majority of the group had a dusty appearance and gulped the clean air like water, their filters hanging around their necks or discarded entirely. Filter bins to recycle their discards were distributed throughout the staging area – many of the colonists taking the orientation at face value that they would not be needed on the ship or Colony Alpha once they arrived.

A five hour orientation had been delivered through their personal viewer so each colonist could learn about the journey they would take. Launch day was the first day any of the passengers would meet one another, or even set eyes on the ship they would call home until arriving at Colony Alpha. For many, the journey had not been real until the moment they stepped off the rail transporter, where the girth of Colony One could be seen over the science buildings of the Space Center.

The energy was thick among the throng – a mixture of excitement and anxiety as the whole concept became an inescapable reality.

A young man – an intern by the look of him – wore a black vest over this white button-down shirt, in which he rolled up the sleeves to ‘get down to business.’  A lanyard hung around his neck, identifying him as a non-passenger.  He stood at the top of the loading ramp and, after much arm waving, finally had the full attention of the crowd. “Remember,” the microphone strapped to his cheek picked up his voice and distributed it through speakers spread throughout the crowd. “Small groups of specialized teams have already been sent to Colony Alpha to prepare for your arrival. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.” He smiled. The crowd smiled back.

The passengers’ energy calmed – though the information was not new. Orientation had been comprehensive, with a star chart to explain where they would be going, how long it would take, what life would be like on the ship for the several months the voyage took, what the effects of low gravity were, and more. Still, the collective nerves of the group were palatable.

“Wide scans of bio-stamps have confirmed all passengers are present,” the Intern continued, his hand subconsciously brushing his forearm where his own bio-stamp had been inserted, like all citizens, at the age of eight. “Boarding will begin shortly. Please arrange yourselves by lanyard color,” he held up the laminated card from around his neck. His was black with a white NP – Non-Passenger – printed on it. He then pointed at another intern, who was holding up a blue banner that was visible above the crowd. Up to a half dozen different colors were represented by similar banners. “Your color will indicate where your quarters will be assigned. Blue boards first.”

Alexa Dilyn looked down at her lanyard and unburdened herself by dropping her bag at her feet. She had read the itinerary – she knew that purple would be last to board and that she would be waiting for a while. Each color had somewhere between two thousand people assigned – making this 12,000 person voyage just as cramped as home. Well, her former home. The only difference here was the promise of elbow space in the not too distant future.

Her green eyes went from her bag to the newly landscaped sod. She ran the toe of her boot over the neatly trimmed grass and knelt to run her fingers through it. She was struck with the fact it had been a very long time since she had seen grass on Earth – and it was suddenly very apparent to her that there was no way to tell how long it would be before she would see it again.

A draped orange cloth came into her view, the edges of it brushing along the healthy green turf – a stark contrast that made Alexa take notice. Her gaze followed the cloth up and was greeted with the vision of a traditionally dressed Buddhist monk with bronze skin, bald head and a kind, if not lopsided, smile. Alexa had to take a moment to assess if she was truly awake and not simply dreaming of this pivotal day.

“Funny, is it not?” He asked as he looked down to regard her, the pronunciation of his words heavily influenced by the fact English was not his first language.

Alexa was fixed in place – his question did not make her doubts about her waking state any better. “I’m sorry?”

“That on our last day on Earth, we see its beauty. And for many, it is the first time in their lives.”

Alexa’s brow furrowed. “Why is that funny?”

“We must see the humor in life’s contradictions.”

She nodded slowly – not in agreement, but because humoring this vision was all she could think to do. Her eyes found his lanyard – it obscured the view of beads slung around his neck. It was purple – the same as hers. Great, she thought to herself, she was going to be bunking with the world’s most optimistic person.

He held out his hand but Alexa stood without grasping it. “My name is Anivashak,” he explained without a hint of injury in his voice. “But most people call me Bob.”

She regarded him as if to gauge if he was telling a joke. He returned her gaze with a genuine smile and she noticed that he did not have the indents of a filter around his lips and nose. For many, the marks were permanent due to long term use. She quietly wondered where this man came from if she was not, in fact, dreaming.

“Alexa,” She finally responded. He looked pleased and bowed slightly before wandering off.

“You don’t see that every day,” She heard from beside her. She turned to see a dark haired man with olive skin. He motioned with his chin at the retreating monk, and then fixed her with an eager smile. “The name’s Luca. Looks like we’re going to be shipmates.” He held out his right hand and used his left to wave his purple lanyard.

This time, she reciprocated with a handshake. “So you saw him, too?”

Luca laughed, “You thought you were seeing things?”

“Yes,” she answered plainly. “Thank you for saving me from my imagination.”

“Anytime,” he winked and Alexa thought if the man had a tail, it would be wagging. He let his lanyard drop back to his chest and she squinted at it, finally giving it her full attention.

“Luca, huh?” She asked with some incredulity. “That’s not what your name tag says.”

The man glanced down, then back up with a sheepish grin, “I never much liked the name Niko. Luca’s my middle name.”

She looked him up and down, then assessed aloud, “You’re the explorer-adventurer type, aren’t you?”

Luca shook his head. “It’s a new beginning,” he said simply, turning from her to gaze at Colony One with his wide, bright blue eyes. Alexa watched his expression and let his words sink in as she took a deep, shaky breath.

A new beginning is exactly what I’m looking for
, she thought.

As passengers began to board, last minute cargo was being rushed aboard by non-passenger workers. Near the side of the loading ramp, a voice rose up, “I have the mandate right here!” A man held up his OMNI device and shook it insistently in the view of a man in military dress.

The soldier maintained a cool exterior of apathy as he responded to the incessant passenger. “We have weight restrictions. No passenger may load personal cargo over 85 kilos,” the man repeated for the third time.

Ndale, a medium sized but lean man with smooth, dark black skin took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “I am no ordinary passenger. I am a voluntary merchant providing valuable services during this little expedition.” He explained with a look of practiced sincerity in his eyes.

The officer broke his cool exterior for a moment, replacing it with a wry smirk - “Merchant? Is that what they call slum lords in South Africa these days?”

Ndale took another deep, calming breath with his hand still extended, “Will you please just read the mandate.”

“The one you probably forged?” The soldier didn’t look at the hand-held, or Ndale – he kept his eyes outward, supervising the cargo load.

“Fine,” Ndale pocketed the thin slice of glass. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement in another way. This is my last day on Earth, after all.”

The soldier arched an eyebrow and pulled his lips tight into a half smile, finally turning his head just enough so his eyes could meet Ndale’s.

The crowd slowly thinned out as more passenger groups boarded. Eventually, the mass thinned entirely, leaving only purple group standing at the base of the large ramp. Alexa and Luca looked around and then to each other with the same understanding in their expressions – their group was significantly smaller than the others.

At the top of the ramp, the intern that spoke over the microphone earlier – now considerably more exhausted in appearance – held a glass OMNI tablet down at his side and turned to look at the group below. Luca beamed and began bounding up the ramp, though he was stopped short when the intern held up his hand.

“Not yet,” he advised and pointed away from the ship. The group shifted where they stood to follow the man’s direction. A small cluster of people were approaching with their ever-present camera drones. “Everyone smile and wave,” he advised.

Luca happily obliged, along with the rest of the group with the exception of Alexa and another woman standing at the edge of the assembly. The young woman had long black silky hair and a look of complete discomfort. Her Asian features, Ndale’s African complexion and Bob’s striking orange robes and bronze skin stood out in the group of otherwise Caucasian 30-somethings. The other groups had been diverse in a lot of ways – young and old, brown and black – though by the look of them, mostly poor.

Richardson was leading the approach, flanked by news men and women.

“Here we have some of the lucky passengers of Colony One. Let’s hear what some of them have to say!” One of the flanking newsmen spoke excitedly into a drone that was floating ahead of him as he walked. The drone swiveled in midair to focus in on purple group.

“No one said anything about a press conference.” Alexa muttered to Luca, who was too excited to respond.

The newsman held a glass OMNI tablet up, tapped the interface twice and searched the faces of the last group to board. He honed in immediately on Alexa. Turning his attention to one of the drones, he explained, “What an honor – this is Lieutenant Alexa Dilyn, a former medic in the United Confederation Army.”

Alexa instinctively pulled her arms behind her back, grasping her forearms tightly as she tried to push down the instant irritation of having her bio-stamp wirelessly scanned without her permission. While she had the privilege of having many things redacted from her bio-stamp, it still had the normal historical information that everyone else’s had– name, occupations, medical history – the list was long. She was reminded of how grateful she was at the promise that bio-stamps would be deactivated once they were underway.