The Island of Hope

by Andrei Livadny

  These were courageous people who launched themselves into the unknown, hoping to escape the insanity and find a new planet for their priceless cargo.

  The crew had a vast experience in deep space settlement. They fashioned their station after the old colonists' transports, putting the whole experience of the happy colonies of the past to good use.

  Citadel had disappeared without a trace. A few space crews claimed they'd seen it, but little by little it had become a legend. The governments of some planets occasionally tried to find the vagabond station, but without success.

  The puzzle had a simple but tragic answer, and the place to look for it was in the archives of the now-destroyed Earth Alliance.

  * * *

  The pilot room of Genesis was unlit.

  A thirty-foot frontal monitor created the impression of a window facing an abyss.

  Holding her breath, Yanna watched an impossible object zooming in on the 3-D display.

  From a distance it looked like a planetoid encircled with several dark, ominous rings. But the closer they approached, the more chilling details came into view.

  In the center of the surreal structure lay the twenty-five-mile long sphere of Citadel. The dark rings proved to be masses of misshapen spaceships: forty miles of metal debris circling the station.

  "This is the Fifth fleet of the Earth Alliance, conspicuous by its disappearance," Andor said, pointing at the spine-chilling circle of the dead spacecraft.

  "They tried to capture Citadel, didn't they?" Yanna asked, starting the ships' scanners. The floodlights of Genesis were not powerful enough to illuminate the entire grotesque structure, so it was only their computer's processor that could create a precise image of the object.

  Andor scrutinized the appearing images. "The admiral of the Fifth fleet was not only ambitious, but also greedy. He knew that the Supreme Command would disapprove of his raid, but… victors can't be judged. The taking of the legendary Starborne Citadel could have become his hour of glory, not to mention the station's cost and the uniqueness of its onboard equipment. So, having received the information about its location, he decided to act at his own risk."

  The scanning process completed, replacing the vague outline on the screen with a clear image.

  "We should call Simeon!" Yanna exhaled. She'd seen her fair share of similar images while living on the Island, and now her imagination was reliving the past events. "That's just what we've been looking for for the last five years!"

  Andor nodded and pressed the intercom key. "Simeon, we've come across an interesting object. You might want to have a look."

  "Roger that. The raider is almost ready."

  Yanna lay her hands on the keyboard. "Commence scanning," she entered the command.

  The image of Citadel, captured by the on-board computer's memory, filled the screens.

  "You see the basic model of an interstellar station," the computer's voice could be heard. "It's thirty-two miles long and twenty-eight miles wide. Its hull is made of a cermet alloy. The station has three internal launch pads, one hundred and twenty control desks, systems of both space defense and planetary attack. One thousand two hundred staff. There are five cryogenic rooms, a gene bank, some incubators for reproduction and a set of exploration equipment of an unknown type. There is no information as to the status of the cryogenic rooms."

  The door rustled open behind Yanna. She pressed the pause key. The computer's voice stopped.

  Simeon came over to her. "Everything okay?"

  Yanna took him by the hand. "Have a look. I think I'll never get used to this."

  Citadel loomed close. Tremendous shell-holes gaped in its hull, the broken hull structures buried under the wreckage they'd collected on the way. Not a light, not a single sign of life — nothing but an expanse of motionless, crumpled metal.

  An area encircled in red appeared on the screen. Genesis was approaching its edge.

  "This is the safety zone," Andor explained. We can't be sure whether the station is as dead as it seems to be. The colonists fought to the last man. They destroyed the whole fleet," he pointed at the rings of debris orbiting Citadel. "So there's a high probability of encountering battle machines here, just like on the Island. Not to even mention the defense systems of Citadel itself."

  "I see," Simeon came up to the screen, as if it could help him see something the others didn't. "Yanna, you're staying here. Ensure that Genesis is ready for any emergencies. You never know, we might have to beat a hasty retreat. Andor and I will try to enter the station."

  "Why? What do you expect to find there?"

  Simeon shrugged. "It's too early to speak about it. There's nothing worse than disappointment," he touched her cheek with his lips. "We already know how it feels, don’t we?"

  * * *

  An assault module stole toward Citadel.

  "Two miles," Andor said, watching the radar screen in front of him. "No activity."

  Simeon had taken the gunner's position, peering at the spaceships' fragments floating below.

  The ring was not as homogeneous as it had seemed from a distance: the lumps of metal, only vaguely resembling manmade objects, drifted slowly but chaotically like gigantic molecules.

  For the last five years they had seen the same everywhere, like a dreadful recurrent dream: Genesis had visited dozens of similar cemeteries. They hadn't found life on any of them.

  "One mile. Looks like the defense systems are down."

  Andor activated the directional thrusters and steered the ship toward a huge shell-hole in its hull.

  Simeon sealed the visor of his pressure helmet and rose.

  The shell-hole was approaching, like a black gaping mouth of a mythical monster.

  "Five hundred feet."

  A dull thump of a touch-down, then vacuum torches kicked in, sending cascades of sparks around as they welded their ship to Citadel.

  "Yanna, can you hear us?"

  "Roger. The picture is stable. Good luck!"

  Simeon opened the hatch.

  Starborne Citadel took up all the visible space, stretching into infinity.

  Simeon slowly moved along, clutching at the docking supports. Finally he reached the edge of the shell-hole. Andor followed him.

  They forced their way past some heaped armor plates and found themselves in a spacious corridor leading deep inside the Station.

  Their two flashlights sliced through the dark.

  A battle had once raged here. Probably all those who'd survived the destruction of the space fleet had attempted to storm Citadel. Simeon walked along the corridor, looking into the compartments through the doorways smashed by explosions, but all he saw was some destroyed equipment, blown-up consoles, and the walls raked by lasers.

  "We really should find the transport hub," he said." "Otherwise we'll be walking down these corridors till the end of time."

  Andor nodded. He switched to scanning mode and quickly located the entrance to the station's transport system. "All circuits are dead," he said, pointing at the tunnel they needed.

  Simeon stepped in, finding himself inside a large pipe. The wall's plastic lining had burst, exposing bundles of wiring. This was where the transport hub's electromagnets used to be. He pushed away from a wall, and again, trying to gain some speed and move faster.

  Behind him, Andor repeated his actions. He continued to scan the area, transmitting the image to Simeon's tablet.

  "Nine hundred feet a minute. I think that's enough."

  Decks loomed in the dark and dashed past them. There was no electrical activity, only the gloom and the battered metal.

  Finally the signs of destruction around them disappeared.

  "They put up a long fight," Andor commented. "The colonists must have tried to defend the heart of the station to the last man."

  Simeon didn't answer. He was sick and tired of all this madness. He knew of course that constant exploration of all those war wrecks could drive them insane. At any rate, it could result in a one-sided a
nd incorrect attitude to the civilization. 'We must remember that people created lots of good and beautiful things, too,' Simeon never stopped telling himself.

  'Circumstance determines identity.' The ancient postulate never left him alone, forcing him to ponder over it again and again. All human beings had the right to live, but would you really call that a life? Billions of children were born into wars, their souls perverted by propaganda, a low social status and many other unfavorable circumstances. Very few were able to survive them and develop normally.

  "You're approaching a power source!" Yanna's voice interrupted his reflection. "Deck 75."

  "Roger that," Simeon slowed down, using his pack's jets.

  Andor kept going until he stopped at a closed deck hatch. "I'm going in first," he said.

  A minute later they entered the circular corridor of Deck 75.

  There was no destruction at all here. The walls were lined with white plastic that reflected their flashlights' beams.

  "Cryogenic Room 1," Simeon read the inscription on a massive armored gateway.

  Andor was trying to force the lock.

  "The power source is located farther," Yanna suggested. "Connect yourself to any socket on the deck, and I'll be able to give you more info."

  Andor found the distribution board, removed the facing panel and switched himself into the circuit.

  "Let's see... It's nine hundred feet to the right along the corridor. Just a moment," Yanna paused. "Got it. According to the scheme, it's in Cryogenic Room 3."

  Simeon hurried along the corridor almost at a run.

  The indicator on the door to the Cryogenic Room 3 airlock flashed green: the first speck of light in the dead darkness of Citadel.

  Without saying a word, Andor leaned over the code lock.

  With a shudder, the heavy door slid aside.

  Simeon hurried into the airlock chamber.

  He counted seconds as the awoken compressors filled the chamber with air. Finally, the internal hatch began to open, then stopped halfway. Its gears screeched to a halt.

  Simeon forced himself through the resulting opening. He found himself in the control room.

  Several control panels lined a transparent wall, their strings of green lights filling him with joy and confusion.

  A desk stood to one side of the room. The body of a man in a decayed onboard suit lay in a seat nearby. Long strands of gray hair framed his mummified face, its features withered and distorted. This was a very old man who had died a natural death.

  A sheet of paper lay on the desk in front of him.

  "I entrust them to you," Simeon read the inscription on the fragile yellowed piece of paper. His heart missed a bit.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" he heard Yanna's voice in the earphones.

  Simeon pushed the transparent door aside and walked into the cryogenic room. The place was so ancient it was spooky. The step that he had just taken was the most important in their life.

  The level rows of cryogenic capsules lined the never-ending walls. Each was lit up from the inside. There were hundreds of them, and in every one lay a child.

  For the first time Andor's voice rang with amazement, "Did you know anything about it?"

  Simeon nodded, unable to take his eyes off the concentric circles of pale blue light. "These are the children of the colonists. To save them from the horrors of the war, their parents sent them aboard Starborne Citadel. Now you know why the crew fought to the last."

  The android approached the nearest chamber and peered through the transparent lid. A blond girl about five years old lay there enveloped in a shroud of hibernation gas.

  Simeon remembered what Admiral Vorontsov's had said back on Stellar, so far away from Citadel: "You'd have to take a new generation and raise them a couple thousand parsecs away from Stellar!"

  A faint smile touched his lips. Some scary stories might still have a happy ending.

  Here lay those who were destined to become the world's future.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Andrei Livadny is a popular Russian science fiction author. Born on May 27 1969 in the city of Pskov, he was an avid reader from an early age. But it was the Russian translation of Robert A. Heinlein's The Orphans of the Sky that decided his choice of future occupation. The story has become a pivotal moment in the boy's life, leaving a lasting impression on him.

  Andrei wrote his first book at the age of eight. Since then, he's never stopped working on new books. His passion for science fiction has gradually become his career.

  In 1998, Andrei debuted in Russia's leading publishing house EKSMO with his novella The Island of Hope. Since then, he has penned over 90 books that have enjoyed a total of 153 editions.

  Andrei has created several unique worlds, each unlike the previous. He wrote A History of Our Galaxy with humanity itself as a protagonist. This sixty-book series creates a history of our future civilization and its contacts with alien races, forming a convincing and logical picture of humanity's development for two millennia from now.

  Besides hard science fiction, Andrei Livadny also works in cyberpunk genres which allow him to focus on human relationships and raise questions about artificial intelligence and identity uploading, describing cyberspace as humanity's future environment.

  The English translation of A History of Our Galaxy will be available shortly. Check the author's Russian-language site for updates.