Homeworld

HOMEWORLD
Barry Beatson

Kallen stood amongst the throng of refugees, all shivering beneath their layers of warm attire despite the season being at the peak of summer. The crowd around him shuffled in subdued silence; some wept, prayed, held their loved ones or clung to the few belongings they were allowed, their collective dismay a reflection of his own nerve frayed anticipation.
He watched with bewildered curiosity as yet another transport hung in the sky high above him, the gigantic vessel appearing ever smaller as it continued to ascend. A ring of vapour cloud burst outward from the distant vehicle as it gained velocity and punched through the barrier of sound. Moments later, a thunderous echo, the sonic boom, rained down to fill the atmosphere as it had at every hour for weeks, the rhythmic chime a now familiar reminder of the urgency that gripped their situation. The ominous tone sounded out the countdown to a time when their lives would be forever changed.
Reluctantly, he let his eyes drift down through the blue sky and its configuration of scattered white clouds. He tried to adopt the peacefulness in their idle, carefree passage, trying to soak it into his mind. He blinked sadly as it failed to relieve his anxiety. A disconcerted thought skittered across the fear that welled within him; he had spent his entire life beneath that sky and yet only now did its beautiful serenity occur to him. This ate into his bleakness. His eyes awash with anguish, the idea edged toward his heart and with it came the deep sense of a longing to remain.
He let his gaze wander down further still, to finally rest on the scene before him. A thousand people away, down a pathed, steadily declining hill, the top of the enormous transport ship protruded out of the earth, its domed top pale and smooth. He would soon board it and embark, the last to join the rest of the fleet already high in orbit.
Shadows stretched out as evening approached and he gradually drew closer to his ship. An itch at the back of his neck tempted him to, for the last time, turn and glance at the sight he so tried to avoid. The abnormal source of the day’s light sat low over the horizon, so much larger than it once was. Now a blood red hue, the Sun was dying of old age, and with it, the future and history of their world would be lost.
It had been months since their departure. The solemn reverie that once shrouded Kallen’s spirit was now lifted as one of the probes sent out years prior returned its signal - a data stream detailing the habitable environment of a planet in a system just shy of ten years travel away; the light of hope fuelled him with an outlook of a new beginning.
Aboard each vessel, an arbiter was designated to make judgments and decisions where the Vehicle’s Intelligent Captain, the VIC, was not given authority. Kallen had been seconded for this task as he met all the required criteria of having no spouse or offspring, was of the right age and most importantly, it seemed, possessed the ability to follow orders handed down by the few that lead the Council without question - to have no initiative of his own. He didn’t care to challenge the pretensions of those who played the games of power and politics, content in the role he was appointed. The decision makers of the Council wasted no time in assigning the probe’s discovery as their destination.
The fleet was a patchwork of hastily prepared transports, not at all uniform in their equipment. Kallen’s ship, being the last to leave the homeworld, was benefitted with everything the construction teams could muster. Fully automated systems laden the vessel, engineering bays held enough material to build small facilities, DNA vaults contained a wide spectrum of plants and animals to be replicated and grown, a cryogenics house filled with millions of people in stasis hibernation. An array of devices such as percussion, laser and detonation tools were also fitted to deal with the hazards of asteroids, everything needed for survival and settlement.
They were now closing upon the Oort Cloud, a barrier of ancient debris left over from an era-long saga when the celestial giants settled into their orbits around the newborn Sun; a spherical shell that encased the entire solar system. Meandering in the cold darkness, it comprised of every shape and size of rock imagined, from pebbles to small planetoids. Uncountable in number, they teetered on the very edge of the Sun’s gravitational limit, defining the outermost edge of the system. The capacity to deal with asteroids was about to be tested.
Already at a velocity of half of light’s speed, they could not slow their momentum. It would mean the journey would take a lifetime instead of a decade. The plan was to javelin through the Oort Cloud with ranks of the more heavily armoured vessels at the head and the more precious cargo at the rear. Positioned in a formation to make the shape of a spear, the idea was that the spear’s tip would clear the path for the rest. Doubts were starting to blossom in Kallen as he eyed the vast scale of asteroids before him on the wall-sized screen display. As he sat in the operations room, a prickle of cold sweat ran across his back; the closer they came, the more reference was given to his sense of just how fast they were travelling.
“VIC,” he called out to the vessel’s AI, “What are the odds of the fleet surviving this passage?”
“Nil”, the bodiless voice came through the speakers. The AI’s tendency to reply immediately in absolutes was unnerving. Kallen nearly choked at the answer.
“What do you mean? What are the odds that some will make it through?”
“Not applicable. Predictions based on the exponential growth in the number of objects after initial contact. Sensory limitations will be inadequate to allow for precise calculations.”
“Well, what are the chances of this ship surviving?”
“Chances… are unlikely.”
Kallen paused to consider his line of questioning, finding his thoughts beginning to scatter. “VIC, what can be done to increase our odds of success?” he asked, adding, “For this ship's success?”
Knowing that, in arrogance, the Council would not hear his opinions, they’d probably already ignored their AI’s advice on strategy.
“The maintained formation,” the VIC said, “Ensues that if one vessel fails, then ten more will fail. Inevitably, from that point failure will be total.”
Kallen was struck by the AI’s depiction of carnage like a punch in the stomach. A deep frown creased the skin between his eyebrows as his mind toiled with that word… ‘If’… If one ship were to fail, meaning one ship alone might not fail… necessarily. Kallen considered for a brief second as it seemed the VIC had subtly planted a suggestion when AI wasn't supposed to be capable of any processing or communication beyond hard logic.
His mind raced as he witnessed the first waves of the fleet disintegrate against the hail of asteroids that met them, the explosive weaponry only served to create smaller, higher velocity projectiles for the next ships to be crushed by, just as the VIC had said. The situation was impossible, like cattle being processed directly into the grinder. Kallen could not let that be his fate, nor the millions on board asleep in the cryogenics house. He was watching the demise of his people unfolding before him he realised.
“VIC! Change course, as far from this catastrophe as possible. Calculate a new route and execute now!” he shouted sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Affirmative”, the VIC replied as the ship lurched to the right.
Kallen held his breath while his heart pounded in his chest, sweat now staining his shirt. He could see the set of asteroids now upon them. He watched as the small fragments of rock and wreckage rained through from the left where the fleet he had abandoned was all but gone, bodies drifting amongst the mangled debris.
“Take all action you need VIC, use everything you have at your disposal”, he ordered while he began to mutter prayers beneath his breath.
Surging currents of hot laser streaked out ahead of them, powdering as many rocks in their path as they could touch. The port side cannons and missiles offloaded in a constant barrage against the oncoming storm of destruction. Some got through - the impacts against the hull vibrated through the ship, lasers on the left pivoted to join the fray.
“Report damages, VIC”, Kallen said. If nothing else, he wanted a voice to break the tension rather than to learn how their situation progressed. There was nothing to do about it but grip the chair’s armrests with a white knuckled reflex.
“Rear port cargo door inoperable… Rear port missile bay out of order… Forward port cannon out of order… Hull breach seventh level port side…”
The list continued a while after the sounds of impacts and the thudding of cannon shots had stopped. They were through the nightmare; the Oort Cloud now behind them, a single minute of hair-raising eternity. Kallen was unsure exactly what all the damages meant but the thrusters seemed to be intact, and the ship was steady.
“VIC, cancel the report”, he said, content to sit in silence in wonderment of still being alive.
Time past as if standing still. There was a particular loneliness about space. Intelligently knowing that every hour and every day, they were moving faster and closer to their new home could not outweigh the plagued sensation of being stagnant as the starry backdrop refused to move. Hobbies and entertainments could not shake it, and depression had begun to settle in his mind, a kind of mental fatigue that seemed a method of torture. To prevent him from going insane and without any immediate need to remain awake, Kallen decided to join the others in stasis and leave the journey in the VIC’s capable hands.
A red LED blinked intermittently between the wings of solar panels next to unmoving eyes of a series of cameras. The lenses reflected the dark silhouette of a planet as the blue-white light of its sun rose behind it. An arced ribbon of flame splashed out from the Sun in the direction of the probe - hours later, the invisible electromagnetic pulse waved through the orbiting probe, short-circuiting its electronics, rendering it an ornamental satellite. A shadow cast over it as the bulk of a ship passed overhead.
As soon as Kallen had closed his eyes, he was opening them again, confused, suspecting something had gone awry with the stasis procedure. He called out to the AI behind the pod window.
“VIC? What happened?” His voice close to his own ears. The pod door hissed as it released its seal. Kallen sat up, noticing his body felt watery, his muscles weak, legs shaking under the weight of his body as he stood. “What's wrong with me?”
“You have been in stasis for over nine years”, the VIC replied. “A solar flare has made contact with the ship. We are within the mission’s gravity. Main and auxiliary propulsions have been disabled. Uncontrolled descent in progress. Contact with mission destination imminent in one minute and forty-nine seconds. Please proceed to the medical bay immediately.”
Scrambling, Kallen couldn’t follow everything the AI had said except for ‘uncontrolled descent’ and ‘medical bay’. He arrived there just as the ship landed on the planet’s surface. The impact threw Kallen into the air, and he was met with the ceiling. He heard the sounds of bones breaking before darkness enveloped him.
He slowly opened his eyes, lying on his back, apparently still in the med bay but now on top of a bed. He raised his hands in front of his face; his arms felt as heavy as concrete. He noticed mechanical sounds as he moved them and they moved in rigid lines.
“VIC?” he called out.