The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 1

The Ship of the Unforgotten

by Gord McLeod

Troy Orbital Construction Yard

L1 Orbit, Earth

Apr. 4, 2063 A.C.E. 

“… and though we will never see these brave pioneers alive again in our lifetimes, we send them forward with all of our hopes for the betterment of tomorrow. It is with these brave men and women that the dreams of generations past come to fruition, as they will fulfill humanity’s destiny as a multi-planetary species.”

The admiral paused dramatically, head raised, gazing out across the empty void to the hull of the colony ship. She was tethered to the station with only a few remaining umbilicals pending her launch within the hour. He turned back to the sea of glassy floating camera eyes that transmitted his image and his words to the entire population of the Earth.

He paused, cleared his throat of a perfectly calculated flood of emotion.

“Captain Elliot Smith, all of his crew, and all of their colonists will make history this day. It will be five centuries before they set foot on the surface of any world, and they will never again set foot on Earth, the only world our species has known in all of history. But today is a day of celebration. We celebrate their departure. We celebrate their future. And we celebrate the world they will create five hundred years from now, the Eden Rose colony that we will never see, but only dream of.”

The speaker relaxed now. The camera feeds had switched off of him; he watched with the rest of the population as the view shifted to cameras aboard the Rose Dawn where the view panned and cut to linger over each of hundreds of cryogenic suspension pods containing the crew and colonists, ensuring every name, every frozen face was given a moment of spotlight before that individual left the Earth forever.

He stood attentive at first, watching with solemnity and dignity, straightening the uniform he wore. Disciplined as he was, even he got fidgety after the second hour.

The total population of the ship was small, only 3000 people, but the alloted 10 seconds per name still made for a lengthy delay. He wished desperately he could slip off for a drink, but he was required for voice overs at key parts of the presentation, spouting off noteworthy facts about key members of the crew and colonist populations. He fought to keep the impatience from his face.

Finally the view shifted to the final pod, the sole empty pod in the entire procession. The name plate read “Captain Smith, Elliot.” Admiral Richards smiled and relaxed a bit. At last, it was over. The view dissolved to a view of the ship’s bridge where Captain Smith himself stood over the controls. The final words would be his.

“It is with the utmost humility, sadness and hope that we undertake this most important of missions,” Smith said. He was young for a captain; the whole crew were young as every body would need to work hard for years to get the colony of New Eden up and running quickly. “We leave you now in the knowledge that one day, our descendants and yours will work together as part of a civilization greater than what we can imagine today.”

The captain lowered his eyes to the deck in contemplation. “I have only two remaining duties before the great sleep of centuries. It has long been a tradition that a ship be christened before it is launched. It is my honor to do so now.”

He strode to a control console where one button shone a bright green. “May you bring us safely home, UTS Rose Dawn.” He pressed the button; the monitor view switched to an open port on the side of the station. A glass bottle of champagne, still corked, flew from the port. The camera panned to follow the straight path of its flight which ended explosively in a fine spray of glass and liquid as it crashed against the bow of the starship.

The view lingered on the crashed bottle for a few short seconds before switching to views of huge crowds from all around the world whooping and cheering and crying.

<>

New Eden Project HQ

Toronto, Canada

Jan. 10, 2065 A.C.E.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“No sir, I’m afraid not.”

Admiral Richards lowered his head to his hands and tried to slow his breathing. “Are you telling me,” he said, measuring his words carefully, “that we spent trillions of dollars—trillions—on a colonial mission that won’t reach its destination for five hundred years, and now—”

“And now a collaborative think-tank—”

“—a bunch of damned egg-head scientists—”

“—have discovered how to move a ship faster than light, yes sir, I am.”

Richards drew in a breath and blew it out again, slowly. The UTS Rose Dawn was traveling under constant acceleration and had already left the solar system despite having been underway for less than two full years.

“What’re our prospects for stopping the Rose Dawn and bringing her home again?”

“No can do, sir. Even if we had another ship built with a tested version of an FTL drive ready to launch today, it’d take another couple of years to slow the Rose Dawn down, and four more to bring her home. That’s if we had a ship ready to go now. The Rose Dawn was our only ship, and usable Faster-Than-Light will take years to build into a new ship.”

The admiral clicked on the vid window and brought up a news feed summary. The discovery was already all over the outlets; public reaction was astounding. Scanning the feeds quickly showed calls for the recovery of the Rose Dawn, the launching of newer, faster colony ships, the cancellation of the whole project (which made Richards roll his eyes—a bit late there!) and demands for comment from the New Eden project heads. From him.

“What are you going to do, sir?” The young aide asked, looking acutely uncomfortable. The admiral squelched a snort of impatience. He was impatient? He wasn’t the one personally responsible for the decision he had to make next!

“Start drafting a script for immediate release. We’re going to leave the UTS Rose Dawn to continue her current mission, with one alteration. Once we get a working FTL drive built into a ship, we’re sending a second colonization mission on ahead of them.” He sighed. “Let me know when the script’s ready to shoot.”

The Ship of the Unforgotten - Synopsis

A cryo-ship drifts through the vast interstellar distances at sub-light speeds, cared for by a patient AI. Their destination is a planet just waiting for colonists to arrive; or at least, it HAD been waiting for colonists to arrive.

Unfortunately for the frozen crew, faster than light travel was discovered some time after they departed the Earth, and their once-empty destination is now home to a thriving population that has colonized and grown prosperous, served the Earth Empire, grown dissatisfied and declared independence during the ship’s long flight.

Even more unfortunately, they haven’t forgotten about the ship or its eventual destination. And they’re prepared…

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 18)

“You men, stop ‘im!” Waldon bellowed, charging after him. Altman forced himself into as quick a run as he could manage, and was quite surprised when he managed a brisk jog that only made him a little nauseous.

“Kaylene, your staff—” The words were barely out of his mouth when Kaylene, supporting him in the jog, gripped the staff.

“We’ll stop ‘im, catch us up when you can. An’ try not to make yerself sick, runnin’ too hard!” And with that she was off.

With grim determination Altman pressed on; thankfully he didn’t have far to go. After a minute of dizzying exertion he came upon the struggling man. Waldon and one of his men had the suspect pinned to the ground, Kaylene’s staff held down across his shoulders, keeping him from moving. He smiled grimly and caught his breath. “We’ve got you! What are you playing at, causing all these accidents?”

The man struggled and thrashed. He couldn’t move; he was a rather slight man in comparison to the other workers. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Kaylene growled, “You’re a filthy, red-handed liar!”

“That’s ridi—”

“You’ve got the evidence all over you,” Altman cut in. “I spread red iron oxide over all the roofs and high places in this town; there’s nowhere else you’d have gotten covered in it.”

He stopped struggling and turned his face to the side out of the dirt. “Look, I swear I didn’ come here jus’ to cause trouble, I was put up to it! E’s the one you want.” There was a wheedling note of desperation in his voice.

Altman frowned. “And who is ‘he?’”

The man gave one final effort to push up against the staff pinning him down and gave up. “’E’s some Mitchell bloke back in ‘ol Holdswaine, a high-up rich type with plenty ‘o influence. ‘Ad his thugs visit me after I ‘ad some … troubles … payin’ a debt. Them’s the ones set me up with this job an gave me the … er … extra instructions.”

Altman felt a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach at Mitchell’s name, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the blow to his head. With the reputation of the town ruined, Mitchell would have no problem denying them the manpower to build. The workers themselves might demand that they not be sent to help. That would make Mitchell’s Conclave friends very happy. “That’s a tough position you found yourself in,” he said finally.

The man was shrewd enough to sense the change in Altman’s attitude towards him. “You’re tellin’ me! I carried th’ bruises for days after that, an’ I didn’t even give ‘em any trouble. Them’s bad sorts.”

“What’s your name, fellow?”

“Moyle, sir. Ewen Moyle.” His voice was calmer, but he definitely sounded nervous.

“Did you leave family behind in Holdswaine, Ewen Moyle? Friends?”

“Nah, just me mates at the waterin’ ‘ole, but thems that ain’t ‘ere won’t care. Uh … what’re you plannin’ on doin with me?”

Kaylene took the staff back, passing it to Altman, who leaned on it gratefully. She eyed Moyle, a considering look in her eyes. “They’ll kill ‘im, or make ‘im wish they had if we send ‘im back.”

“It’d be no better’n a death sentence,” Waldon agreed. It wasn’t clear to Altman whether Waldon thought this was a good thing or bad. He and the other workman dragged Moyle to his feet none too gently.

“You can’t send me back there! It’s like she said, I’m as good as dead if I show my face in Holdswaine!” He looked on the verge of trying to fight free again.

“No, you can’t go back to Holdswaine.” Altman paused in thought a moment. “But we can’t keep you here, either. Mitchell has too much influence over the union men. You haven’t exactly won yourself any friends here, either.”

“One o’ the northern cities?” Kaylene asked.

“The bigger the better, I think. Big enough to have its own unions, where Mitchell has no power.”

“You’ll let me go? Oh thank you sir! I won’t forget this, see if I don’t!”

“Yes … But this isn’t a free pass, Moyle. Before we escort you out, I’d be appreciative of anything you can tell me about Mitchell or his union work gangs. If he’s sent you to cause problems, he can and will send more, and I think you can help us be ready for it.”

They retreated back to the house for a long talk while Waldon spread the word about the source of the ‘bad luck.’ The story spread like wildfire; it wasn’t long before a sense of relief replaced the growing dread around the work sites.

Untitled Captain Koell Adventure - Day 14

Aru’s readout showed almost what Corwin had hoped for; there were several sites within the colony structure that might be suitable to land, debris allowing. The bot also volunteered the fact that, apparently, they had covered only 3 percent of the colony circumference. That alone made up Corwin’s mind.

“Let’s take ‘er in. This is going to take forever.”

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 17)

The smart thing would have been to approach him calmly, but Altman’s head was throbbing something fierce. Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself shouting to the man. “Stop!”

The man whipped around, and seeing the group headed his way and the dark looks of their faces, immediately bolted. The men around him looked on in confusion, but seeing Waldon present, decided they were best off getting back to work until told otherwise.

Kaylene bellowed in a strident tone, “Get ‘im!” This had no effect at all on the men working around them, but Waldon took off after the man. By the time he added his own shouts to the commotion, the fleeing man was almost clear of the rest of the workers.