by CJ Birch
The room explodes again. Politicians, engineers, doctors, even the chef and botanist have opinions. I lean back and observe as each screams louder. Each hoping their voice will be the one to rise above the din, even though they refuse to listen. I watch as Ash’s great hope disintegrates into ego and rhetoric. Our first chance to prove we can govern better than the Commons and here we are, no better. Each section thinks they know best. Each representative bullies for their opinion to matter. It makes me sick to think how right Vasa is.
When we began the planning stages of this journey, we also created a new way to govern. We formed committees with one representative from each of the sixteen departments. No one is in charge, everyone has equal say. Each section votes on their representative.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point of this whole mission to find a suitable planet to colonize? So what if our starting position has changed, why does the mission? Why can’t we continue from here?” It isn’t very loud. I say it more to myself than anyone else, perhaps that’s why it gets noticed. Everyone stops and turns to me. Captain Harrios’s nostrils flare as he shoots me a venomous look. There is a clear warning in his eyes: keep quiet.
Harrios stands. His six foot four inches tower over the table. He runs his hands down the front of his uniform, emphasizing the medals displayed at his breast. What an ass. “I suggest that while the engine is being repaired we use this time to assess how we got here. Figure out how, if possible, we make it back. If we have no idea where we are, there’s no possible way we can find Kepler 980f from here.” His build and stature remind me of my father when he was a young lieutenant. From the pictures I’ve seen, they both have that same cocky attitude pouring out of every orifice. Only Harrios isn’t so young and it’s beginning to show. His cheeks are drooping off his face like pudding sliding down a wall and it’s getting harder for his uniform to hold in his paunch. It protrudes out the bottom when he forgets to keep it sucked in.
Captain Harrios is the epitome of career officer. He was born into a family of generals leading back to several world wars. He’s made a name for himself by stepping on anyone willing to bend over enough for him to get a foothold. While I don’t deny my own similar ambitions, I doubt I’ve left the same wake as Harrios. There are several rumors flying around that he bribed his way onto the mission. It’s the only way to explain why someone ten years older than the age cap made it onto the mission roster. Only a select few in extraordinary circumstances have been able to bypass the age cap. I almost didn’t make the cut myself. At thirty-four I slipped in with one year in my favor.
“I’m not suggesting we do. I’m suggesting we find a different planet, one that’s closer. I’ve been studying the information sent back by the probes. It’s clear there are planets in the sweet spot within a hundred light years of us. And while we’re waiting, instead of sitting on our as—sitting around, why not send out the fleet ships? We can mine from some of the surrounding asteroids.” I’m not about to sit around for six months waiting for other people to decide my future. I’d rather be in charge of that myself.
I didn’t choose the best career path if I wanted to be in charge of my own life. Maybe that’s why I’ve spent the last fifteen years doing everything I could to get where I am today. Granted, lost in an unknown galaxy fighting over who’s in charge is not the end goal. But I’m captain of my own ship. I at least have command over my own officers. With the Union fleet commanders a distant speck, I can steer myself and my ship with more say. Harrios may be our representative, but he doesn’t command me. We’re the same rank. I’m not going to let him take charge and decide what the Persephone does for the next six months.
There are nods around the table as my idea takes hold. We started this mission with the knowledge that none of us would make it to our final destination. Our estimate is that it would take us over a hundred years to make it to Kepler 980f, the planet we’ve chosen for colonization. But any number of things can set us back. There’s even the possibility we’ll get there and it won’t be suitable after all. This mission is a big risk. The asteroid belt can’t sustain our species forever. It was only a temporary solution until we could find something more permanent.
The exodus from Earth to the Belt wasn’t something that happened overnight. It took decades. Over fifty years of planning. Fifty years of knowing there was nothing to do but watch a planet die around you. The ecosystem that humans once fit so perfectly in was disintegrating around them. I can’t imagine what it would be like to know your children wouldn’t grow up in the same world you did. Millions of others before you destroyed that for them because of ignorance and laziness and greed. Those fifty years were the worst.
There was poverty and death like nothing the world had ever seen. The wars were over, leaving nations devoid of resources and money. The only way to survive was to pool together and start fresh. That’s how the Commons started. The dregs of the world’s nations banded together and created the rudimentary council that became the Belt’s government.
They constructed ships and made plans. They built modules to transport up to the asteroids in the Belt and constructed the first cities. They started on Ceres, which was the largest of the asteroids, a dwarf planet which became Alpha. They established the first colonies and the Commons to oversee the rest of the settlements. There were five. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. A stray asteroid destroyed Gamma over fifteen years ago. Few survived.
But before all that, before even the last wars, humans had pipe dreams of terraforming Mars. They spent almost a quintillion on the project. The last three countries with space programs sent up five ships with a different purpose. The Frontier missions. Robots manned the first four and established the settlement. Each dropped off a set of supplies for the fifth and final mission. The last one, manned by five astronauts.
But the ship never made it to Mars and no one knows what happened. The ship didn’t explode. It didn’t crash. It disappeared into the unknown. The program bottomed out after that. And then the resource wars started and all thoughts of building settlements on distant planets vanished.
After Gamma’s destruction, the Commons proposed our current mission. We needed to think bigger, think long-term. They designed and built the Posterus over the next twenty years. A generational ship carrying over 45,000 people to begin a new life on a new planet. Only now, those 45,000 people are stranded in an unknown galaxy with no clue how we got here.
“How long would it take to send a ship to one of these asteroids?” The captain of the Posterus is a squat woman with short, stylish white hair. I’d only met Captain Wells one time before, but she struck me as someone you didn’t want to cross or piss off. I get the impression that Harrios is coming close to doing both.
“A couple of weeks—”
“Depends on the asteroids’ orbitational position—”
Harrios and I both speak at the same time. Before Harrios can commandeer the discussion, I stand and launch into my proposal. “There are two asteroids within easy reach. I propose we send each of our ships out, the Persephone and the Brimley and investigate. It would only take a few weeks, a month at most, to get to each, mine resources, and get back. We could be there and back in under six months, easy.”
Sixteen people focus on me. I’m leaning forward, my palms pressed into the hard metal surface of the table, my heart thumping hard. Before anyone can reject the idea, I push forward. “It’s the reason they included our ships in the mission. We’re faster and more maneuverable than the Posterus. It’s better we spend our time on something productive.”
“You’d want the ships to investigate together?” Someone at the far end asks.
“No.” Both Harrios and I speak at the same time. He looks at me. It’s a brief glimpse, but I see his disdain. He hides it as he turns to Captain Wells. “No. It will be faster if we travel separately.”
“The asteroids are in opposite directions. It’s better if we split,” I say. Even if they were close together
, I’d find another asteroid. I don’t need Harrios micromanaging my day to day.
Amit snorts from his seat. “And of course you’ll want to take Hartley with you?”
“Of course. He’s my head of engineering. I’m not going to leave him behind.”
“We need him for the repairs to the engine. It’s his engine.”
This is true, but I suspect Amit wants Hartley to make the work easier for himself. There’s no reason they can’t rebuild the engine without him. “You don’t need Hartley. He may have designed the Posterus’s engine, but he didn’t build it. He’ll be more use to me on my ship.”
“Is this true?” Captain Wells asks.
I nod. “We’re still making repairs.”
“What if he’d rather stay here? Hartley’s a scientist, not an adventurer.” Amit raises his eyebrows at me.
I don’t know if that’s true or not. It’s Ash, my first officer, who knows Hartley best. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going on this mission with Hartley or not at all. I have to find the diplomatic way to make this clear. “If you need help with the engine rebuild I have no problem transferring crew from my ship. Fukui has been working under Hartley for the past month, he would be as good…” I trail off, remembering Fukui’s blank stare. The weight of it crushes me. We knew starting out there would be casualties. Space travel, even in this century, is dangerous. But we’ve barely begun, and already our death toll is at sixteen, eight of whom are from the Persephone. I try to think of Fukui as a number, one among many, but it isn’t possible. I can see all eight faces as if they’re standing in front of me.
I look up to see everyone staring at me. “Um, Fukui was one of our casualties.” I take a deep breath, I need to be strong about this. “But you can have your pick. Not Hartley. I need someone who knows my ship. And it’s not a good time to introduce a new head of engineering to my crew. Not with everything else that’s happened.” I let that thought sink in. Everyone knows we’ve had the greatest loss. I’m sure many see it as a failing on my part, but that’s not something in my control, so I let it wash away. I have too many other things to worry about.
“That’s a reasonable request,” Captain Wells says, pulling everyone back to the situation at hand. “If no one else has any other questions why don’t we take a vote?” There will be seventeen votes. Because this is a Union fleet matter, Harrios’s will count as two. I have a feeling he’s going to shoot down the idea, knowing him, he’d rather play it safe. And sure enough, when it comes his turn, he votes no, so does Amit for obvious reasons. But Captain Wells, the man from the wellness division and eight others vote yes. That means in a couple of days, once we finish repairs, the Persephone is going exploring.
Chapter Three
The meeting breaks up shortly after the vote. I elbow my way through the crowd formed at the door, searching out Captain Wells. I keep at least three people between Harrios and me at all times. The scowl on his face has hardened and I don’t want to get in front of that.
I catch up with Captain Wells near the lifts. It amazes me, still, the sheer size of the Posterus stretching before us. We stand on an upper deck overlooking the main concourse two kilometers in length. I can hardly make out the details at the other end. Above us, the ceiling towers. It’s covered by metallic glass, projecting a constant night sky.
I found a book once, among my father’s things, called Jonathan Livingston Seagull. And it always struck me, that he never once thought of the sky, only the ocean below and the way it felt to dive toward it. The air through his feathers, land rushing to meet him. I remember wondering how something so much a part of the sky could take it for granted. I felt let down that he didn’t spend more time describing the sky. If I had the chance, I would never take the shades of blue and the clouds and the lightness of it for granted.
“Captain Wells, may I have a word?” She turns, her head at breast level, and stares up at me with dark, expectant eyes. “As you know, we have Davis Sarka in our brig. I don’t want to take him with us on our exploration. When can we arrange transfer to the Posterus’s brig?”
Of course he survived. The man is indestructible. When my crew found him wedged under a bulkhead, there wasn’t a scratch on him. Both members of his crew weren’t so lucky. We still haven’t found them.
She blinks a couple of times, her eyes, if possible, going darker, then says, “Our brig?” She shakes her head. Her white hair moves with it like it’s sculpted. She takes my arm and pulls me aside and, from her expression, I know what she’s about to say will not make me happy. “I know it will be an inconvenience, but it’s best if you keep Sarka with you. Union fleet has training to deal with the Burrs that we don’t.” She gestures to a man standing a few feet away. He’s so thin, his stomach is concave. His pale face searches the crowd, watching, but it’s only cursory. Behind those eyes, no one’s home. His mind is miles away.
“That’s Brian. He’s our security on board the Posterus. He won’t be much use if we have to deal with Sarka.”
“That’s your security?” I’m stunned. I look out again at the vastness of the station.
“He’s not our only security, but he’s a good representation. We’re a small community, Captain Kellow. Yes, the ship is big, but the settlement itself is small, especially if this were the Belt. Both the Persephone and the Brimley have brigs and ample security. We don’t foresee the need to have more than that.” Someone beside me snorts.
Harrios, who has maneuvered his way through the crowd, says, “We’ll see how long that lasts.” For once we actually agree, but I keep my mouth shut.
“But what am I supposed to do with him? I can’t keep him in my brig forever. It’s tempting, believe me, but inhumane.”
Captain Wells shrugs. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The jurisdiction is clear. He’s Union fleet’s problem.” My mouth falls open and I close it. Harrios raises his hands like it’s not his problem either. Great. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Her attitude is understandable. Sarka has a reputation for being brutal and dangerous. If I were in her position, I would do the same. He’s a problem no one wants. Most of all me. A large part of me wishes he’d died in the explosion. It would serve him right after he tried to blow us all up.
Captain Wells steps into the lift, and I move to follow, but Harrios taps my arm. I suppress a sigh, hold back, and watch as all hope of offloading Sarka disappears behind two metal doors.
I turn toward the stairs instead of sticking around to hear what Harrios has to say in front of a dozen or so strangers. The meeting has dispersed, but there’re still a lot of people milling about. Every few seconds I have to squeeze between one person or another. Behind me the captain huffs and snorts, like he’s walking up the stairs instead of down.
He catches up to me at the bottom, matching my stride. It’s getting on my last nerve the way he stomps after me. I stop and turn and he almost rams into me.
“What?” I put my hands on my hips. “Is there a reason you’re following me?”
I don’t like his expression. His face is so pinched the skin between his brows has almost swallowed his eyes.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Kellow. If you want my position on the council, you’re going to have one hell of a fight ahead of you.” Again, his hands slide down the front of his tunic. His fingers caress the medals like they’re announcing he’s better. My uniform is bare compared to his, especially today. The only pin above my breast is my captain’s insignia.
With everything that’s happened, I’ve had no time to think let alone worry about my appearance. Harrios plays the career officer well. If he hadn’t joined this mission, he would’ve done well in the Commons. I was surprised when I heard his was the other fleet ship selected because we all assumed he’d go into politics.
I huff and turn to leave. I don’t need any of his posturing bullshit. Not today. But I know he’ll stalk me all the way to the med center. So instead I say, “The idea of laying up
for half a year when we have one of the greatest opportunities human exploration has ever known, is shortsighted. But if that’s your thing, by all means, have at it. But I’ll be damned if I give up this chance to see what’s out there.” You can keep your fucking council position. I don’t say the last part. Letting it loose in my mind makes me feel better.
“You expect me to believe that show was so that you didn’t have to sit around for the next couple months?” He smirks, as if I couldn’t be telling the truth. His tone and that look gets my back up like nothing else. I can actually feel my nostrils expanding like a bull ready to charge.
But I hold it in. I tuck the anger deep, like always. “To be honest, I don’t care what you think.” I stomp off and leave him standing in the middle of the hallway, dwarfed by the soaring concourse.
It’s a good hike from the command center to the med center, and as always, the exercise helps calm my mind. It feels almost like walking through one of the major avenues on Alpha. Only this is more—I don’t want to say rustic, because it’s not. But there’s a pioneer vibe to the whole thing, as if they’ve channeled Earth’s early settlers.
Some of the stores are still boarded up, having sustained damage during the explosion. But others, like the food stalls and cafes, are packed with customers. There’s a party vibe floating around. And why not? We all survived our first test. Space is a dangerous place. If you don’t have the balls to hack it, you shouldn’t be out here.
Most of the Posterus, the ones who will make up the majority of our population, are looking for a better life. They’re from places like Epsilon and Delta. I don’t blame them. Who would want to stick around for a job mining or farming? I sure as hell didn’t. Others are adventurers. They’re looking to explore without having to join Union fleet or become an asteroid miner. And others still are looking to get around the one child law. Out here, it’s encouraged to procreate. Back on the Belt, pregnant women are viewed with equal parts envy and wariness. Resources are scarce.
