The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 5, Pt. 2

“What happened to the rest of the crew, Rose?”

“A majority of the crew were confirmed dead almost 20 years ago, Pvt. Jackson. Remaining crew are either here right now, or unconfirmed in non-responsive pods.”

Jackson was silent a moment, still struggling to process the information. Dann could relate. “So wait, the survivors are in the pods that were NOT responding to control?”

“Yes, that’s correct, Pvt. Jackson.”

“Jackson, are you feeling up to moving on? There are lots of others to check on, all over the ship.” Dann felt a bit more at peace with Jackson revived; if nothing else he knew he wasn’t trapped in the future alone, but they still needed to be sure the remaining pods didn’t fail, or at least find out if they already had failed.

“Sure,” she said. She was tall, but looked every bit as emaciated as Dann himself did.

“You’ll feel better quick once we’re moving, at least as long as you don’t chug that down too quickly.”

“Pvt. Chambers learned that the hard way,” Rose added helpfully.

“Thanks, Rose,” Dann sighed.

Jackson didn’t smile. They exited the bay, where she blinked and looked around at the woods in wonder. Dann at least had seen the initial setup centuries before. This was Jackson’s first time seeing any of it. They passed dense thickets, meadows lit by ship-central overhead lighting designed to mimic the sun, thick bramble bushes covered with berries—many, many edible plants were included in the ship’s biomes—and crossed two streams within minutes of each other.

After they’d walked for about fifteen minutes through the wild brush, she spoke up. “What caused all of this?”

“Centuries of wild growth. And evolution, Rose says.”

“No, not this. What caused most of the crew to die? What went wrong?”

“Ah, yeah. Rose told me—” Dann’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He remembered something Rose had said while he was still too fuzzy-headed to have been clear about it at the time. “—Rose, you said there was a signal from the planet we were sent to colonize!”

“What!” Jackson exclaimed.

“Actually Dann, what I said was it was from the approximate location of the planet. I wasn’t able to confirm the source with absolute certainty.”

“You didn’t ask about this?” Jackson ground out.

“Hey, you know how you felt when you’d just woke up? That was me, okay? Cut me some slack here.”

Jackson snorted. “Rose, tell us exactly what happened, everything you know. Why’d so many pods fail all at once?

“I …” The android stopped, stood unnervingly still in the shadow of a massive old oak. Her eyes glowed faintly from within; Dann saw them scanning back and forth, almost as if she were reading something. Dann glanced at Jackson, who looked back, puzzled.

“Rose?” Dann prompted.

“I’m sorry Dann, Pvt. Jackson,” Rose said. “I’m having trouble accessing the archival data caches. My access is blocked.”

Jackson coughed, looked up in consternation. “What? Who can block your access?”

“Rose can,” Rose said. “The ship’s computer.”

“But you are Rose.” Dann knew there was a physical separation between the two systems, but—

“That’s not completely true, Dann. I’m designed for autonomous operation, and so I’m largely self-contained. I can access the resources of the shipboard systems to augment my own performance, but I am subject to system-level permissions. I’m locked out of accessing the records of the incident that led to the deaths of the crew 20 years ago.”

Dann was having trouble processing the notion that Rose was Rose but wasn’t Rose. “We’re going to have to rename one of you, I think.”

Jackson nodded. “Definitely. This is making my head hurt even worse. Rose—ship’s computer rose, I mean—why are you cutting off Rose’s access to those records?”

There was no response. “She can’t answer audibly from here, there are no speakers. If you want to talk directly with her we’ll have to wait until we reach the next bay. Or if you prefer, I can act as a relay.”

“Let’s do that. What does she have to say?”

“She says the lockout is a safety protocol.”

Dann frowned and looked at Jackson. She shrugged. “I’m no computer tech.”

“Me neither, I just fix mechanical stuff, mostly pipes and conduits.” He had a sudden thought. “Rose, those other pods, do any of ‘em have computer techs in them?”

“Several, yes.”

“Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. I don’t even know what questions to ask,” Dann said. “What’s the closest one?”

“Computer techs were kept in a cryo-bay closer to the computer cores. We’ll have to travel through several of the biomes to reach them.”

“A bit of a hike won’t hurt us,” Jackson opined.

“We will have to visit an armory before we make the attempt.”

Dann blinked. “Armory? Why?”

“In case we run into higher-order predators.”

“Predators?” Jackson blurted out. “Why the hell are there predators on the ship?”

“The biomes needed to be self-sufficient for centuries. Food webs were established to ensure that, and healthy food webs require high-order predators to keep herbivores and other, lower-order predators in check.”

“Well what keeps the predators in check then?” Dann asked.

“Availability of food, territory and competition with other predators. There aren’t a large number of them; a ship this size, as large as it is, couldn’t support large populations of carnivores. In your weakened state though, it’s best to be safe and go armed.”

“You didn’t think to tell me this before we went after Jackson?” Dann was nervously keeping an eye on their surroundings now, certain they were being stalked on all sides.

“There may be protocols in place for armed escorts out of the biomes, but if so, they’re not part of my defaults. They would have been implemented by the crew.”

Dann groaned. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing whoever had designed this ship was long dead.

The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 5

The building before them rose out of forest like the ancient, all but abandoned artifact it was. Only the efforts of the ship’s autonomous maintenance bots had kept the living, evolving forest from tearing it apart.

As it was, it rose out of the ground on one side only, large reinforced doors set into a windowless wall. There was no roof as such; the building was covered with earth to provide more space for the habitat to grow and spread. The earthen ‘roof’ blended down the sides into the ground, making the building appear to be nothing more than a small hill anywhere but from directly in front.

Rose opened the door, an action that took more force than was strictly necessary for a standard door. These were reinforced, a precaution that had seemed wise in the face of unknown and unpredictable evolutionary twists and turns in the biospheres set up aboard ship.

Inside, the lab was virtually indistinguishable from the one they’d left. Rows upon rows of cryo-pods filled the space. Also like the other bay, the pods here were frosted over, the occupants obscured, and all the status indicator lights showed red. All, that is, except one.

Dann examined the sole green-lit pod. “Private Jackson, Lydia” read the name plate affixed to the front of the pod. He rubbed the pod’s transparent cover, but the frost coated the inside.

“I wonder why just this one pod survived,” Dann asked absently.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Pvt. Chambers,” the android answered.

“You don’t have to call me that all the time,” Dann commented. “Dann will do. Or just private.”

“Alright, Dann,” she said. “Do you intend to awaken Pvt. Jackson?”

“We’d better. Her pod’s still working, and we don’t know what caused the others to fail. There’s no telling if or when hers will, too.”

“True.” The android gracefully began tapping the controls on the pod’s front console, beginning a manual revivification program.

They stepped back as the pod began to heat up and settled in to wait. Dann made sure they had clothes, food and water ready this time.

A short while later, the cover unsealed itself and retracted. “Um, Rose, why don’t you disconnect her and get her dressed. I’ll wait over here,” Dann said uncomfortably.

When Jackson was dressed, unplugged, sipping water slowly and digesting the news of the crew’s fate, Dann turned to Rose. “Where’s the next possibility?” he asked quietly.

The android cocked her head for a moment. “The next nearest possible survivor is Lt. Cobb.”

The private nodded.

“Rose.” It was Jackson. Her voice was scratchy and dry; she looked as terrible as Dann had felt. She also looked intent, staring at Rose with a keen interest. “How do you know where Lt. Cobb is? How did you know where I am?”

The android turned to her. “I have access to most ship systems, Pvt. Jackson, and from that access I am aware of which pods aren’t responding to automated command and control pathways.”

The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 4

Dann had managed to swing one leg out of the pod just enough for his muscles to give out and leave him awkwardly jammed inside when Rose arrived. She was a state of the art android who served as Rose the ship AI’s physical incarnation. Or at least, Dann thought, she’d been state of the art 500 years ago. She was literally an antique by now!

“Good morning, Pvt. Chambers! Let me help you up.” Rose the android had far more personality than Rose the ship computer. It helped her get along with the crew better. Or it usually helped her get along with the crew better.

“Um, Rose … I just learned that almost three thousand of our shipmates have been dead beside me for 20 years. I’m not thinkin’ it’s such a great morning.”

“That’s true, Pvt. Chambers, but you are still alive, and in just a moment I’ll get you unhooked from the pod.” She was a humanoid android, with a reasonably expressive face that was smiling as she said it. He’d had only minimal contact with her before; the smile looked a little weird to him with her matte metallic “skin.”

“Thank you, Rose. Do you—OW!” Rose began stripping the needles from his arms, legs and torso with great efficiency but not much bedside manner. “Watch out! That’s my skin! OW!”

“I’m sorry, Pvt. Chambers, normally this type of work is outside of my regular duties.”

“Ahhh, that stings!” With Rose’s help, he got himself on his feet. The room was eerie in the near dark. “Lights,” he said, and the main lighting turned on.

“Do you know where the survivors are, Rose?” Dann looked around at the other pods in the room. They were still sealed against the centuries, and whatever had gone wrong with the systems had not interrupted the freezing. The glass on each was frosted, the contents unseen.

“I don’t know for sure that there are any other survivors, Pvt. Chambers.”

“Well how about then possible survivors?”

“The possible survivors are in various locations around the ship, Pvt. Chambers. I can list them for you if you’d like.”

“I’ll never remember all that! Where’s the nearest one?” The ship was huge. In addition to all the drive systems and computer cores one would expect, and the cryo-pod bays necessary for the crew, it contained all of the equipment and pre-fab structures they needed to set up the new colony. This included a massive series of compartments that hosted several square kilometers of artificial biosphere to generate air for the ship, filter both air and water, and provide the new colony with the biological stock it would need to grow.

Dann just hoped that any surviving crew weren’t too far away. His legs definitely didn’t feel up to a long hike.

“Pvt. Lydia Jackson’s cryo-pod is not responsive to status update requests. It’s located in the next storage chamber.”

“Okay. We’ve got to go check on her.” Dann took a few steps experimentally to test his legs out. It was astonishing how much 500 years of frozen, dehydrated immobility could take out of you.

“I recommend waiting before doing so, Pvt. Chambers. You haven’t taken the recommended two liters of water prescribed for post-cryogenic trips of two weeks or more yet, and—”

“Can’t I take it on the way? Most of the crew is dead, Rose, I have to check on anybody who may be left!”

“If you insist, Pvt. Chambers.” She—it—she—Dann settled on thinking of her as she—handed him a thin, white robe. That was when Dann noticed he was naked. He’d probably have blushed if he’d had enough liquid in him.

He shrugged the robe on and checked himself over. He was used to thinking of himself as having a decent tan, but he was so white now he looked like a ghost. His skin was almost translucent, with blue veins visible everywhere. He was incredibly thin, too, which accounted for some of his weakness. Cryo-sleep slowed metabolism to a crawl, but didn’t entirely stop it. His muscles, never the largest or strongest, had atrophied over the centuries. “Oh man, I look like crap,” he said, with almost a tone of wonder in his voice.

“It’s an unavoidable side-effect of such a long cryo-sleep, Pvt. Chambers. Your health will return with proper care.” Rose returned and handed him a large two-liter bottle of water, a proper uniform and a ration bar.

Dann tore into the ration bar, the sight of food triggering a hunger like he’d never known. “Pvt. Chambers, you should drink some of the water fir—”

Dann was already finished the bar. “Any more of those around?” He popped the top off the water bottle and drank several mouthfuls down, intent on starting the search for other survivors. He stood still, letting the water flow into his system, then stood very still as his stomach, unused to containing anything after hundreds of years of dormancy, protested the sudden flood with a loud and supremely uncomfortable gurgle.

“Ooooh… urgh…”

“Your system isn’t used to processing food and water yet. I’d slow down if I were you.”

“You think?” he groaned, and leaned against the wall. “C’mon… ugh!”

“You need to slow, Pvt. Chambers,” Rose admonished. “No other pods have activated. If there are others alive, they’re not going anywhere until we get there.”

Dann let himself relax a little. “Okay, okay.” He took more water, sipping it this time. He was starting to recover a little strength. He turned his attention to the uniform. It was a set of light-duty blue fatigues for on-board wear; long shorts with plenty of pockets, a tank top, boxers, socks and heavy boots with electro-magnets embedded in the soles for traversing areas of the ship that weren’t spinning to provide the equivalent of gravity. He started changing, then glanced at Rose, who stood by, passively observing. “Um, Rose, if you wouldn’t mind …”

“Of course, Pvt. Chambers,” she said and turned away.

He had to stop several times while dressing to take more water. As his system adjusted to the intake, he needed more and more of it. Once he was dressed, he was swigging from the bottle freely, without pain, though he still couldn’t take a lot at once.

“Feeling better, Pvt. Chambers?” Rose asked, once Dann tapped her on the shoulder to indicate it was safe for her to turn around. He felt vaguely ridiculous being modest in front of an android, but her face was just real enough, and just unreal enough, to be unnerving. The uncanny valley, some called it.

It wasn’t so much her metal skin, nor her features; they looked and moved just like they should. When she talked, she had all the patterns down right, except maybe for a slight inflexibility in her speech. It was worse in the ship-board Rose, but there was still a touch of it to the android too. No, he thought. It was the eyes. They’d just never quite gotten the eyes right. Maybe, he thought suddenly, it was that the eyes were right, but they were windows into a soul that wasn’t there.

Those eyes regarded him curiously, waiting. He blinked. “Yes, sorry, Rose. I’m feeling a lot better, thanks. Now can we get going?”

She unlatched the door and opened it up. Sunlight spilled into the bay, and noise filled the air.

They stepped out into one of the gigantic artificial biospheres. Birds chirped among the branches of huge trees, some that looked all the hundreds of years they must have lived. Insects buzzed, and small animals scampered away at the unfamiliar scent of human. Somewhere close, a brook babbled away to itself, helping to filter and clean the ship’s water in as close to a natural cycle as humanity could design.

Dann’s eyes were wide as saucers. “This place … I knew this was the idea, but it feels like I was just here, it was nothing like this when we left!” The biospheres had been just a few years old, prepared in advance of the launch and allowed to grow and get settled. There was a huge difference between a 2 year old managed simulation, though, and that same system, left to fend for and manage itself for centuries.

“True, Pvt. Chambers, a lot has changed over the centuries,” Rose agreed. “My observations have documented 4,728 examples of evolutionary adaptation giving rise to new species, and a further 15,171 adaptations of more subtle varieties.”

“Huh?”

They set off toward the cryo-bay that housed Pvt. Jackson. “New species, Pvt. Chambers, and adaptations within Earth species.”

“But all of this stuff is from Earth!”

“Originally, yes. After 500 years though, only the oldest trees actually originated on Earth. Everything else has lived, reproduced, died, and accumulated changes due to the unusual stresses of living aboard a moving, rotating star ship instead of on a planet. Nothing has changed so much that it’s unrecognizable, but many things, especially the complex bacteria and smaller, shorter-lived species like insects, have undergone tremendous evolutionary changes. They now represent species native to, and unique to, this one ship.”

Just at that moment, something that might once have been a mosquito landed on Dann’s shoulder and bit him. “Augh! If they’re so different, why’re they after me? They haven’t had humans to attack in hundreds of years!”

“They do feed on other animal life though, large and small.” She stopped outside of the bay they were looking for. “Here we are, Pvt. Chambers. Pvt. Jackson lies within.”

The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 3

Non-Essential Crew Cryonics Bay 42

UTS Rose Dawn

Jun. 2, 2565 A.C.E.

The cryonics pod door gradually warmed from the inside as power flowed through it. The occupant, identified by the name plate as one “Private Chambers, Dann,” shifted slightly. It was the first movement his body had experienced in close to five hundred years.

The revitalization process took about half an hour. The sleeper’s body was slowly warmed, re-hydrated and revived before consciousness took hold, which itself took another several minutes.

When consciousness did start to reassert itself, the ex-dessicated frozen lump began to think and feel very slowly. He quickly regretted the ‘feel’ part as nerves long-inactive started lodging complaints from his entire body. He lay as still as possible in the pod, partly because all passengers and crew were trained to do so and partly because the shockingly strong pins-and-needles feeling he was experiencing made moving impossible.

He waited for the alert signal his revitalization triggered to bring someone from the medical crew to assist with the rest of the unfreezing process. Lt. Shipman had told him the medical teams would be revived first, and that they should have arrived before he had any desire to even try to move on his own.

So Dann waited. And he waited some more. The cryo-bay was quiet, a fact he noticed once the buzzing of nerves in his ears subsided to a level that let him notice it. His breathing sounded shallow and strangely harsh to him.

He waited long enough that he was feeling far more impatient than uncomfortable. He decided to at least open his eyes. It was a difficult task; that every day ‘just woke up in the morning’ eye gumminess is nothing after 24 hours compared to after 5 centuries.

The bay was dark, lit not by the main lights but rather by instrument readouts and control LEDs. It gave the whole place a dark sort of Christmasy look, Dann thought, at least from the little he could see within the pod.

It was uncanny how quiet the place was, he thought. He opened his mouth to call out, and spent the next full minute in a coughing fit. That’s when he remembered the mass of tubes and needles he was attached to; they were the main reason he was supposed to wait for medical aid in getting up.

He carefully sat up in the pod; none of the other two dozen or so pods that he could see were open. He grimaced; he’d been among those performing final checks on the pods before the ship launched. Everything had come across green. “Hello?” he finally voiced, or tried to. His voice sounded hollow and scratchy and vaguely like a frog with tonsillitis. He desperately wanted water.

“Hello? Anyone there? Rose, are you active?” he tried again. His voice was still dry and wispy, but actually sounded like words this time.

“Yes, Pvt. Chambers, I am active,” a feminine voice responded. Dan sighed in relief. The AI was responding, at least. He wasn’t alone.

“Where are the doctors and nurses? Aren’t they supposed to come up and help me out of this mess?”

“The medical staff are still in their pods, Pvt. Chambers.”

“Wait, what? Why are they still in their pods? Aren’t they supposed to be the first ones awake?”

“The medical staff are dead, Pvt. Chambers.”

Dann’s mouth dropped open. “DEAD! How can they be dead? Rose, what happened?” It certainly explained why nobody else was here; the senior crew should have been awakened and would be busy investigating the deaths in the medical crew cryo-bay.

“My records are incomplete, Pvt. Chambers.”

“Tell me what you know, I’ll try to get myself out of here.” He began plucking needles from his arm, a task complicated by the incredible weakness he still felt, not to mention the shock of the news he’d just received.

“Approximately 20 years ago, the UTS Rose Dawn received a transmission from the approximate location of the planet New Eden. Shortly afterward, a malfunction in the cryo-pod system resulted in the deaths of the medical personnel on board.”

“20 years!” Dann accidentally jabbed one of the needles deeper into his arm and cursed. He pulled at the needles and tubes, but much as he wanted to, he was too slow and weak to disengage himself quickly. “Why didn’t you wake up the senior crew? They’d have gotten some of us techs up to check on the systems!”

“The senior staff are dead, Pvt. Chambers.”

Dann felt dizzy and leaned on the side of the pod. “All of them? How … what … who’s left alive on this ship?” he asked, voice even weaker than when he’d revived.

“Pvt. Dann Chambers is the only confirmed living crew member. Unconfirmed living crew members may include Pvt. Lydia Jackson, Pvt. Reginald Powel, Pvt. Sally Castle, Sgt. Irving Ford, Lt. Frederic Cobb—”

“Just … How many are left?” He’d been horribly afraid for a moment that Rose would report him as the sole surviving person.

“There are one confirmed survivor, fourty-eight unconfirmed survivors, and the mobile interfacing unit remaining.”

“Fourty-eight …” He looked around at the bays surrounding him. They were all dark, and looking closer, he confirmed that none he could see displayed any indication that the occupants were still alive. Dead for twenty years, he thought with a shiver. “Wait. Your mobile interfacing unit is around? Bring her down, Rose. I need help.”

“Right away, Pvt. Chambers.”

The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 2

New Eden Colonial Council Chambers

New Eden

Feb. 19, 2545 A.C.E.

“Order! Order!” the council chair called. The chambers were awash in agitated talk, as usual. Councilman Rojer Mayet sighed.

Mayet was a slight man, non-descript in appearance, with pale skin, neutral brown hair and pleasant, if plain features and middle age. He’d served on the council for almost ten years and never drawn attention to himself in all that time. Tonight he meant to change that.

“If there’s no other business to bring before the council,” the honorable Syth Welker said. Mayet rapped his sounding-box; all eyes in the room turned to him.

The council chair blinked at him with only the faintest hint of recognition. His eyes flicked, showing his use of a display to recall his name. Mayet sighed inwardly.

“Councilman … Mayet, the chair recognizes you. You have the floor.”

“Thank you, your honor. There is one issue that we need to address, and we need to do it soon. I’m sure you’re all aware to some degree of the matter of the original colony ship?”

All around the chamber, faces frowned and a murmur of conversation sprang up. Welker’s eyes narrowed. “The …” His eyes flickered again. “Ah, yes. The United Terran Ship Rose Dawn. What of it, councilman?”

The murmured conversation died down. Mayet looked around the room at a lot of confused faces. “My fellow councilors, you know our history as well as I do. 423 years ago our ancestors arrived here from old Earth and in less than a generation, they built the solid foundation upon which all we’ve achieved has been based.”

He took a sip of water. The room was quiet; he had their attention. It wouldn’t last long though; as he’d said, they already knew the story.

“What most of us have forgotten these last four centuries is that they were not the first settlers old Earth sent here.”

“Nonsense!” blustered an old gentleman he couldn’t see from his vantage point. “Our founders’ ship was the first faster than light ship old Earth ever built! How could they have sent others before us, and why didn’t the founders find them if they did?”

That started the room buzzing again; he looked around at the collection of faces, almost two dozen representatives of the various colonial holdings, and in them he saw some looking thoughtful, others apprehensive. So some of them are starting to remember, then, he thought.

“The first ship that old Earth sent was not found because you are correct, sir. It was not equipped with faster than light drives. It was not found because it hasn’t arrived … yet.”

The mutterings grew loud at that last. “What do you mean, yet?” someone called. “Surely you’re not suggesting they’d still be on their way?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, yes. The UTS Rose Dawn is still making its way here. I received a report earlier today from my Holding’s university; the Rose Dawn has been spotted.”

The chamber exploded with conversation at that. Mayet sat back in satisfaction. Welker looked as stunned as anyone, and as the uproar carried on, started banging his sound box for order. “Councilman, that ship was supposed to carry thousands of colonists and crew. We can’t possibly cope with that many new arrivals all at once. What do you propose to do about it?”

The second colony ship, the UTS Eden River, had arrived at the new world less than a year after leaving the old. When it arrived, it discovered conditions weren’t as ideal as hoped. Their original mandate had been to prepare the colony, just as the Rose Eden would have, but with the intent of welcoming the second ship when the time came. When this time came.

The original colonists had set out to do just that. In the generations after, though, that mandate had come to be less and less important as the stresses of living on the alien world took their toll and Earth and the Rose Dawn’s memories faded into history and oblivion. The population had quickly grown to max out the planet’s carrying capacity; it was restricted by an atmosphere that was close to that of Earth, but not close enough to enable reliable plant growth.

Things were further complicated by difficulties producing viable soil. The micro-biotic cultures that created fertile soil had difficulty with the mineral composition of the native ground. Even the hydroponic growth of food was slowed by short supplies of just a few key minerals.

The current population of the New Eden colony was roughly 15,000, and food was already in desperately short supply in some areas. Mayet had gone over the numbers carefully when he’d heard the news; 3,000 new arrivals would be catastrophically bad.

“I submit, your honor, that we must turn them away.”

“But where can they go?” It was the same voice as earlier.

Mayet had anticipated the question. “I’ll have my university’s technology department go over their records of old Earth technology of the era. They should be able to find some way to remotely reprogram the ship’s control system to return to Earth. The colonists and crew won’t care, they’ll just stay frozen.”

Mayet smiled to himself as the council chair looked thoughtful. He had no intention of sending those people back to Earth, even if he could; he’d already been briefed on the most basic specifications of the vessel. It wouldn’t have any fuel left by the time it arrived. More importantly, it would carry many secrets lost to the centuries. The ship was a treasure he couldn’t afford to let go of.

Chair Welker allowed the chatter to continue for several minutes, then called for order once more. “Objections to Councilor Mayet’s plan?” Nobody raised a point against it. None of them oversaw the University, and all of them knew of the impact 3,000 new arrivals would have.

Mayet rose and bowed to the chair, mentally working through the details of his plan. It was a shame; the people aboard the ship would be a treasure, too. He wished he could keep them intact.

<>

UTS Rose Dawn

Mar. 16, 2545 A.C.E.

The United Terran Ship Rose Dawn drifted through the depths of space, still decades out from the destination set for it so many centuries before.

It was lighter now than it had been back then. Leaving Sol’s gravitational embrace had been a matter of brute power. They’d burned fuel for a good 250 years, accelerating to a fantastic percentage of light speed. When the initial burn was done, the ship’s AI awoke, flipped the ship around, verified their course, and lit off the massive engines once again to slow them down for arrival. Then it shut itself off once more.

The plan was that the AI wouldn’t wake up again until they were a year out, when it was to perform any last-minute course corrections and oversee any minor repairs that might be needed. The plan hadn’t accounted for the interception of an unexpected signal, however.