by Peter David
Their personal departure was anything but easy. A military transport, protected by three Rangers, arrived in the wee hours of the morning, waking up the neighborhood. As burly men in gray jumpsuits loaded their approved belongings in the rear, the family wandered the house, taking it all in one final time.
Paul shut the door behind them and automatically locked it, which seemed silly since no one was going to take the house. There was little sense for those left behind to move anywhere. There was no escaping the inevitable death that awaited those left behind.
Lily was raised knowing that Earth began rebelling against its inhabitants in the decades before she was born, prompting the plan to evacuate the planet. But despite the best planning by Project Next Generation, they kept losing time. There were now massive storms with great regularity. School was repeatedly being switched to online mode when it grew too dangerous to leave the house. There were shortages that had led to governments falling and people starving. Connecticut was a fortunate location, but even they felt the deprivation.
Creating the United Ranger Corps helped restore some confidence in the crazy scheme to save as much of mankind as was possible. The Rangers were established just when her older brother was little, but she could sense everyone around her exhaling, as if they had been bottling up all this tension and could finally let it out. Not that they were great wizards and could make things better, but they certainly allowed the arks to be built and they were there to make certain her family and all the others could get to ships stationed at various locations around the globe.
Flying over the frigid white land, she immersed herself in the sensations and sights, taking in its stark features and imagining what it must have been like before the shipbuilding began. She knew from her third-grade teacher that it had been the stuff of legend. Mrs. Griffin made it sound magical, but now it was like everywhere else: filled with trucks, rails, planes, and row after row of gantries where the various ships waited. There had been an orientation vid presentation when they arrived at the staging area in Florida before the Americans were taken away from their nation for the last time. A three-dimensional program showed how each transport ship would take up an orbital position, and then all would fly toward one another in a space ballet, coming together and slowing their momentum just enough so they could link up, forming the grand ark.
This odd celestial dance was going to take place five times, following the success of the Exodus launch. A few months before, it was the first to make this attempt and it went off flawlessly. She remembered watching it late one night, holding her breath. She lost count of the number of spacecraft that came together like one of Zach’s toys and formed a colossal singular vessel. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. The Exodus successfully cruised to the edge of the solar system and back. The ship even fired up its Lightstream engine at the edge of the system to ensure all worked according to plan, and then it returned to near Earth orbit where it patiently waited for the other five to catch up.
Before the sun rose tomorrow, something like a thousand ships would start to launch. Within days they would form the arks, and the fleet would travel together. Earth would shrink on the viewscreens, diminishing in size but looming large in their hearts.
Lily felt her own eyes grow wet and hot, as the enormity of this moment settled over her.
She looked ahead, blinking away the tears, and saw the Espérer grow larger. They were nearing the entrance to the point where she could make out the Rangers at the entrance. Zach and Max were talking animatedly to the people around them, but her mother was silent, staring ahead, ignoring the conversation before and behind her.
Lily could not tell who this was hardest on. Everyone, she decided. There was no easy way to say good-bye to friends and family, knowing you were pretty much guaranteed a chance to live while they were all certain to die. Things had grown out of control the last year or so. Something about the planet’s magnetic field collapsing and she supposed she could ask Mr. Mosri about it, but right now she just didn’t seem to care. She couldn’t fix it, couldn’t save her Nana or Mrs. Levy’s dachshund.
She couldn’t save anyone.
There was a loud roar, many voices rising in volume and the sound of something breaking. All the heads turned to look behind them. Lily noticed how close they were to boarding and couldn’t believe something was happening that might keep her and her family from salvation.
Lily was shoved, nearly losing her balance, as a lean man in a rust-colored uniform rushed past her. He was accompanied by three others, and they cut a ragged path through the crowd of passengers. Craning her neck to see past them, Lily saw that one of the barricades had been breached and people were fighting to get into the queue.
The Rangers were not brandishing weapons, but instead were using their bodies to form a barrier, moving the interlopers back. She watched as the lean one was speaking gently to a couple, using words not weapons. Other Rangers came from both ends of the line and worked to keep a full-blown riot from breaking out. There were screams and shouts and more than a few wails of anguish. The teen girl couldn’t help but feel sympathy for people who knew they were being condemned to an unpleasant death.
The lead Ranger waved his arms, creating space between those waiting to board and those attempting to join them. Flanked by the other Rangers, he spoke to the crowd, and, try as she might, she couldn’t make out the words. Instead, her trained eye saw his body move. There was poise and confidence in his actions. He didn’t make broad gestures but smaller, more intimate ones. They invited dialogue, not confrontation. She watched in fascination. Leading seemed to come so naturally to him. Rather than a riot, the crowd listened and understood and willingly returned to the other side of the barricade. As they moved, the Rangers picked up the sections that had been broken and hastily restored them in place.
As quickly and as suddenly as the breach occurred, it was over. Order was restored and the sound dropped in volume but didn’t entirely vanish. There would continue to be complaints and protests until her family was safely aboard the ship. The Rangers made their way back to their posts, and those on line knew better than to applaud their efforts, further antagonizing those unlucky to be left on Earth.
Lily and her father turned around, their backs to the crowds, and continued to wait until processing resumed. There was a murmur behind her, and she turned to see the Rangers returning to their posts, led by the tall, handsome one.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, a gloved hand on her shoulder.
“Sure,” she said.
“I have to apologize for bumping into you like that,” he said.
“Well, you were in a rush,” she said, shyly smiling at him, noticing his large brown eyes.
He chuckled at that. “You could say that. But I didn’t intend on knocking you over, so I’m sorry.”
“No problem.”
“Welcome aboard,” he said.
“Hi, I’m Lily” was all Lily could manage, and she cursed herself for feeling the blood rush through her cheeks.
“I’m Joseph Raige, one of the Rangers assigned to the ship,” he said. “You know where you’re going when you’re on board?”
“Yes, I do. Thanks.” Raige sounded familiar to Lily, and she asked, “Aren’t you in charge or something?”
He shook his head, smiling all the way. “That’s my cousin, Skyler, the Supreme Commander. I’m just a Ranger.”
“Supreme Commander, that’s where I heard the name,” she said, more to herself than the Ranger.
“Yeah, Sky’s in charge of the whole operation, and he can have it. Some of us are born leaders, some of us serve best as followers,” he offered.
“You’ve got some sort of rank, right?”
He tapped the markings over his right breast. “Lieutenant,” he said.
“Nice,” was all she could manage. He had dimples and those brown eyes, the artist in her noted, and she felt herself blush.
“I have to get back to my post,” he said, and mo
ved ahead, nodding to several others.
Her mind wandered and suddenly her family was the next to board. They paused at the entrance, all shiny and new looking, and adorned with scattered decals with pictograms and numbers. Within the cleared passengers were heading for different platforms and elevators while Rangers stood guard, even inside the ship. She wondered if these were the ones coming along.
Lily stepped over the threshold, silently saying one final farewell to the life she had led. The next step would be the beginning of something new.
One by one, her family had their bracelets scanned, confirming one last time that they were who they were supposed to be. The scan matched the passengers’ current weight against their required weight. That had been hard, maintaining a consistent weight to ensure the Espérer could properly lift off. Her dad had to swear off the Guinness, and her mom saved one final bottle of wine for the last night in the house. Zach and Max passed without a problem, and Mom turned out to be three pounds lighter, which made her smile for the first time in what seemed to be days.
Now Lily stood in front of the scanner, handing off her backpack to be weighed separately, as a technician checked the readout on a tablet. He nodded with approval and his eyes moved her along.
It was Raige, though, who handed the backpack over to Lily.
He smiled and said, “Here you go, Lily.” He remembered her name! “We can chat later, if you’d like. I’ve got a pretty rich connection to this whole Lightstream business. But right now, everyone needs to keep moving. We’re on schedule, and I’ll be busted to Private if we fall behind.”
She nodded, intrigued by his dimples and the idea that he’d want to speak with her again. Lily hurried to catch up to her mother, who had been watching with a fresh smile.
Lily took her hand once more, and they walked forward into an uncertain future. There was a flutter in her stomach, a warming feeling that spread up her chest and into her head. It was a comforting feeling, one she hadn’t felt in a while.
She was feeling excited. The adventure of a lifetime, her lifetime, was getting under way.
1000 AE
Earth
i
The world returned to him bit by bit. That wasn’t bad, actually. He hadn’t expected the world to return to him at all.
First there was simply the blackness. All around him, so thorough that on some level Kitai was convinced that he was in fact dead.
Then he slowly became aware of his breathing. It seemed highly unlikely that he’d be dead if he was breathing. The slight hum of computers followed, and moments later, something even stranger: the humming of insects.
Insects? We’ve … landed?
Kitai slowly and nervously attempted to open his eyelids. It held a moment of fear for him, because if he couldn’t in fact open his eyes, he was in some sort of bizarre in-between state: not dead, not alive.
His eyes opened.
Okay, well … that’s a start.
The world around him was slanted. Not a lot; just enough to get his attention. The backs of the seats in front of him were tilted, and cords hung from the ceiling at angles.
Slowly Kitai tried to sit up. He had no luck, and it was only after a few moments of near panic that he remembered he was double harnessed into the seat. His fingers fumbled slowly with the buckles. He felt as if it took him hours to undo them, though it actually took less than a minute. Technically he was in shock, but he wasn’t capable of understanding that. He just felt unsteady and groggy.
He noticed that some of the observation ports had been broken open. Reflexively he braced himself, certain that he was going to be sucked right through the window. It was only when he saw shafts of daylight streaming through the windows that he remembered that they’d landed. Kitai was having trouble recalling various statuses. Dead, alive, dead, landed, still in space, still hurtling forward—he had to remind himself actively from one moment to the next what his personal situation was.
Tentatively, very tentatively, he started to pull off his oxygen mask. He wasn’t really thinking when he did that. It was simply an obstruction that he wanted gone from his face. He wasn’t even consciously considering what its basic purpose was.
Yet he received a very swift reminder as he gasped, finding it extremely difficult to breathe. He held the mask up, looking at it incomprehensibly, as a digital readout blinked on it: LOW OXYGEN: 15%. CAUTION.
This was all Kitai required to jog his memory, to make him remember that he needed to keep the mask on his face. Quickly he fastened it back into position and sat there a few more moments, gratefully breathing in lungfuls of air. Right. Air mask. Need the air mask. Remember that. Once he was certain that he liked the positioning of the mask, he clambered out of the tilted seat and moved into the aisle.
His first confrontation with mortality came a few seconds later, when he saw a body tangled between seats. It was twisted and contorted in a position that left no question in Kitai’s mind that he was looking at a corpse. Yet still he could not take his eyes off him. After a moment, he realized who it was: the Ranger who had placed the oxygen mask on him.
Now he was dead. First alive, then dead.
Kitai’s eyes were huge and terrified. There was no reason for him to worry about repressing his reactions because there was no one there to see them.
Dad … have to find Dad …
Slowly, tentatively, he started moving up the aisle. There was another body to his left, crushed under a section of the ship. He ignored it. If he just stopped and stared at every dead body he spotted, he might simply collapse and let the gravity of his situation immobilize him. He was faced with the reality that he might do well to lie down and die himself just because he had no business being alive. But on the off chance that his father was somewhere in this disaster, waiting for his help, Kitai was not going to deal with the situation by lying down and collapsing.
He made his way down the hallway until he got to a section that led to the cockpit. The door was sealed shut. All around him was debris from different sections of the ship. It had been tossed around enough in space for everything within to come apart and scatter itself throughout the vessel. And that was without looking outside to see where the rest of the ship had scattered.
It was only at that point that Kitai had an awful realization.
The Ursa. Its pod had been one of the things that had struck the planet’s surface. The chances were that the creature inside it had not survived.
But what if it had …?
As quickly as he could, Kitai pushed all such concerns away. Dwelling for any period of time on such disastrous possibilities was simply not going to do him any good.
Suddenly he was startled by a loud, ear-piercing screech of noise that came from everywhere at once. A loud series of beeps echoed throughout the area. He couldn’t even begin to discern where it was coming from, until he looked behind himself and saw the air lock doors grinding together in the passenger section.
He’d gone right by that part of the ship, taking no notice of the body that was wedged into the opening. The lifeless corpse had been shoved out of the cabin, but his arm must have gotten stuck in the doors, preventing them from closing. Slowly Kitai advanced, seeing something tattooed on the man’s arm. Of all the stupid things to notice, a written word on a man’s arm was what caught Kitai’s attention.
It was the word Anna. The doors continued to try to close on it, obviously out of whack since the obstructing arm would have made them cease closing under ordinary circumstances. Since the doors were functioning improperly, they kept rolling open and closed, open and closed, trying to seal despite the arm that would not give way.
“Remove obstruction,” a computer voice began repeating. “Remove obstruction. Remove obstruction.”
Kitai continued to watch, transfixed and horrified. He felt as if he couldn’t just walk away and leave the imprisoned arm behind. But he likewise couldn’t bring himself to touch it.
Finally he hit on a compromise. Carefu
lly, worried he might step on something or, even worse, someone else, he moved over to the arm. Slow and timidly, he extended his foot, hesitated, then sheepishly lifted the arm with his boot. He gingerly nudged it back with his foot through the door onto the other side, allowing the door to slide shut with a thud and a suction sound. Air started blowing hard through the vents, and a tinny computer voice announced, “Repressurizing complete.”
Tentatively, Kitai removed his respirator mask. This time, with an air supply around him, he was able to breathe steadily.
There was an opening in the wall that looked into an adjacent corridor. Kitai peered through it, not thinking he was going to see anything of any use.
There was another human arm there, and at first it didn’t register on Kitai as anything more than another piece of a person. That was all he thought about it until it suddenly dawned on him that its hand looked like his father’s.
Instantly Kitai rushed through the opening and lifted the first piece of debris he could get to. He was preparing himself for the vast likelihood that he was wrong, that the man who was buried under the rubble was simply another stranger.
The moment he pulled away the debris, however, he gasped aloud—and looked down at the battered body of Cypher Raige. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was at best erratic. However, the fact that he was breathing at all was a huge relief to Kitai. He felt that as long as Cypher was still alive in any way, shape, or form, he himself had a solid chance of surviving. That was, admittedly, a hugely selfish reason for being glad that his father was still alive.
A large broken section of the ship was lying across Cypher’s legs. Kitai tried to lift it clear of him. It didn’t budge. Unacceptable, Kitai thought, and started working on another plan.
He looked around and in short order discovered a long metal rod that had fallen from the ceiling. With an effort, he wedged it between the floor and the debris. Then he set his jaw, positioned his feet, and pushed with all his strength. At first he thought he wasn’t equal to the task. But then slowly, miraculously, the broken section of ship lifted off his father’s legs.
