 |
| Borrowed from octahedronx of deviantArt |
Have you ever gazed at the stars and wondered what was out there? I suppose not; after all, you were born in a time where the mysteries of space had already been revealed. Let me tell you about a time before this. Let me tell you about the first time my people reached the galactic stage. We had always suspected we weren’t alone in the universe. It was improbable, impossible, that out of all the stars in all the systems, ours was the only planet to produce an intelligent species: us. We had to know what else lay out there, in the infinite expanse of space. From the day we first raised our eyes skyward, it was obvious that our future lay among the stars.
And, somehow, we knew that there were already others out there, waiting for us.
There are few days remembered as well as the first moon landing. The entire planet watched, transfixed, as the shuttle landed and the first steps were taken. Like an infant learning to walk, these were our baby steps into space. Even now, they would barrage you with details, explain the significance, describe the emotions felt. The vigour and candour with which they speak is enough to convince you that they witnessed it first-hand. These momentous events were etched in the minds of all our people, and the tale was told to each and every child so they too could continue our ascent into space.
Because of our fascination with the stars, scientific pursuits took centre-stage and influenced nearly every other aspect of life. I had an eye for art as a child, and spent afternoons drawing androids and space craft more advanced than we could create, painting planets we hadn’t discovered yet. The dedication to advancement paid off though, and three generations after we first ventured into space, we discovered Hyperspace technology.
I remember the day perfectly. I was sitting on the roof of our building, studying material for pilot school when the intercom crackled. The intercoms were only used in emergencies. The crackling died down a bit, and then a voice spoke.
‘Attention, attention. This is Chairman Garza and I have a very important announcement, which I am sure you will all enjoy just as much as I am. Through experiments trying to develop faster propulsion drives for our astronautic endeavours, scientists have discovered technology which will allow faster-than-light travel. I repeat, friends, we can travel faster than the speed of light.’
The claims hadn’t even been tested yet. The prospect of space travel caused the scientists such glee that they immediately notified the Council. Chairman Garza too suffered the same childlike euphoria and decided to share the news with everyone. Suddenly, the entire planet was abuzz with the news that space travel was within our grasp.
It reaffirmed my desire to become a pilot, and over the next twelve months attendance and performance saw an unprecedented increase. Every one of us had the same dream: to fly to an alien world, to explore and see things nobody else had ever seen. We weren’t just going to be flying to the moon; it was the real deal. I studied harder than I had ever studied before, eager to prove myself before the manned flights started.
One year after the discovery of Hyperspace technology, the first unmanned test flight was launched. The SS Caelus flew to the farthest planet in our system, used its gravitational pull as a slingshot and returned 21 days after it had first departed. We tracked its progress during classes. Three days later, after it was cleared for a second flight, the Caelus did the same trip using the Hyperspace drive. It returned 8 hours later.
From that moment, all efforts were diverted into space exploration. Funding was pumped into training facilities for pilots, botanists, geologists and engineers. The pilot school I was enrolled at, Kinalo Aslet Aviation and Astronautics Academy, saw an enormous increase in enrolments and struggled to provide positions for all the eager new students. Engineering students were being commissioned to start assisting with the construction of starships, which were now being built around the clock. An entire fleet was being assembled for our first steps outside our planetary system. We were growing up now, and suddenly the entire universe was ours to play with.
 |
| Have an image to break up the text! |
The head of the Academy called a meeting in one of the auditoriums. I filed in along with a group of other students, some of whom I knew, most I didn’t. I took a seat and patiently waited to find out the purpose of the meeting. Vice-Chancellor Sören informed us that we had been selected for an accelerated program which would have us qualified and, if we were lucky, give us a seat on the first manned flights.
We took the opportunity with both hands and dedicated ourselves to learning and improving. There was a real, honest chance to pilot a starship and nobody wanted to miss that opportunity. It wouldn’t be long before we were exploring the uncharted realms of space.
Our training progressed quickly and soon we moved from simulation rooms and models to the actual working craft. I was stationed on the SS Ouranos with two others: Tal Marx and Merry Airaldi.
I didn’t know either of them particularly well at that point, though Merry and I had shared some classes previously. She looked much younger than she was, and was always mistaken for a child. The first time we met Captain Radic, commanding officer of the SS Ouranos, he made the same mistake. He turned to Tal, and asked if we thought it was funny to bring his kid sister with him. We just stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious. Merry exploded into a tirade about the extensive list of qualifications, awards and achievements she had, before insisting Captain Radic pilot the ship himself if he had a problem. Her assertiveness won her respect from the captain and the rest of the crew, but Captain Radic would still call her Little Merry in jest.
Tal was perhaps the best pilot the school had ever produced and he was quietly aware of the fact. His presence on the team filled me with confidence. I knew I would never surpass him, but striving to match him helped me to improve. He wasn’t very social, but he was always friendly. The three of us became friends during our training onboard the Ouranos. It was unavoidable, considering our situation. We were working together almost exclusively over those few months, with little time for social interaction outside of the facility.
Two weeks before the launch date, we were formally introduced to the rest of the crew. I recognised some of them, mostly engineers who were performing maintenance and running diagnostics onboard the Ouranos. Remembering the names and faces of so many personnel seemed impossible; I was only one of thirty crewmen. There were scientists from a range of fields, engineers, a small security detail, the flight and navigation team and some support staff. We even had a cook, though I couldn’t imagine we had the rations for anything impressive. The Ouranos was one of a dozen ships set for the maiden voyage, and each of them hosted similar crew sizes. I was glad I didn’t have to remember all their names.
Our mission was simple. While our training was being completed and the starships prepped and tested, survey drones had been sent out to chart our system. We knew our own neighbourhood, so it was time to venture into unknown space. Our destination was the system nearest our own, named after the astrologer and scholar Hobbes, who was the first man who dared to dream. The SS Ouranos would land on the nearest planet and begin surveying. Our first order was to search for signs of intelligent life. After that, we would assess the potential for colonisation and recover samples of plant and animal life. The remaining crews would do the same on the other planets, increasing our productivity greatly.
The day of the launch is one I remember vividly. The crew of the SS Ouranos were lined up, dressed in fancy uniforms, in front of a large screen. The Chairman appeared in front of us and began his speech. It was being broadcast not only to us, but to the other crews at other launch facilities and on public screens throughout the entire city.
Chairman Garza spoke with obvious passion and enthusiasm. I was too nervous and too excited to hear what he was saying, but the way he spoke was enough to inspire myself and the rest of the crew. This endeavour was for the benefit of our race, of our entire planet. The great dream was going to become a reality. We would have been heroes, if it had all proceeded the way it had been planned.
But it all went to shit from there. The SS Dasvanu failed to launch. An investigative team later found a leak in the ignition thrusters, but by then it had already been grounded and was too late. Our launch proceeded smoothly, and take off was successful. The Ouranos was away, all systems functioning as normal. As the planet shrunk before us, we broke the atmosphere and were entering territory few had traversed before us. Captain Radic confirmed our position, and then the order came through. All ships were to jump to Hyperspace at roughly the same time, and therefore arrive at the same time. Merry was the Navigational Officer, and punched in the coordinates to the navicomputer.
A series on cameras on board the starships and some orbital satellites broadcasted the launch to television screens everywhere. Eleven starships launched and then, almost perfectly synchronised, they disappeared completely. Static buzzed where the starship cameras should have been; Hyperspace jammed the transmissions, and so for several long seconds there was nothing but static. A flicker, and then Chairman Garza was on screen, blabbering joyously. Eventually an aid handed him a hastily scribbled script, and Chairman Garza advised that the video feeds would be broadcast as soon as the starships returned to conventional space and began transmitting. With that, everyone returned to their day, buzzing with anticipation.
Onboard the Ouranos, Captain Radic congratulated us on a successful launch. All non-essential personnel were dismissed, leaving just me with Captain Radic on the flight deck. I was relieving Tal of his position at the main controls; he would be needed back in a few hours once we left Hyperspace. Piloting a ship during Hyperspace requires absolutely no talent, but leaving the controls unattended would be dangerous if we accidentally left Hyperspace.
After a long period of awkward silence, Captain Radic asked if I needed anything from the mess hall. The suddenness of his question made me jump. I only wanted water. When Captain Radic returned, the silence came with him and stayed with us until we arrived at our destination. We were the last to drop out of Hyperspace, and as soon as we arrived, it started. At first, all we could hear were emergency broadcasts from the other ships – automatic distress signals. Beeping started erupting from the console in front of me; the radars started going wild. I glanced out and saw a half-dozen starships staring us in the face – alien ships.
The camera onboard the SS Andraste began transmitting just in time to witness the foreign ships open fire. An explosion aboard the SS Yume. The cameras went static.
And then the screaming started.
