“Doubt that the stars are fire
Doubt that the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love”
All extracts from Penguin books, 1996 edition.
The night was dark and the air chill as summer once again fell away. Marcus and Edna Oliveson, laden with luggage and a child suspended between them, one hand in each of theirs, hurried from the light of a well lit concourse into the bulky shadow of one of man’s greatest achievements. It would have been the next wonder of the world, had it not been on the verge of forever parting with it.
The sleek oblong craft looked almost organic from a distance; it was only when you got close to it that you could see the joins. Man, for all his ingenuity, was far from perfect, and every safeguard conceivable had been taken to ensure that the colonists would be safe from the minor imperfections that were inevitable with a project of this size. Failsafe mechanisms had their own failsafes built in, which were guarded by a network of backups and bypasses. Every measure had been taken to prevent anything from going wrong.
Where the colonists were going was set in stone. All else was at stake. Estimates as to the time it would take them to reach their destination varied between 300 and 3000 years. All those who boarded knew that they would never reach their destination alive. Cryogenics were talked about and then left out in favour of more reliable and flexible biospheres, designed to produce vegetation that would feed a population 3 times that of those going aboard, and for as long as they needed supporting.
These pioneers were people like you and me, simple folk with simple dreams and one common objective; preserve mankind.
“Are you sure this is the right place, dear?”
Edna’s shrill tones had already begun to grate against her husband’s tattered nerves, and he was starting to doubt the wisdom of taking on this mission. Still, the business had struggled, and their departure would conceal financial pressures so vast that his family would soon surely have been swamped in the fall-out. This knowledge weighed heavily on him, and he sensibly assumed that this was contributing to the increasing distaste that he felt for his chosen life partner. He hoped that once on board they could revert to their earlier marital harmony.
“Stop that Roggie, stop it this minute!”
Having briskly completed the admonishment of her son, Edna Oliveson turned again to her husband and addressed him frumpily.
“Marcus dear this doesn’t look right at all.”
“Darling, how many other bloody enormous colony ships do you think the country is likely to be
launching this evening? Just keep moving, will you dear?”
The strain in his tone was enough to move his wife on, despite her reservations.
“I just like to be sure, dear.”
Ignoring his inner scream, Marcus said nothing. He approached a broad platform with the moniker ‘COLONIST BOARDING AREA’ plastered above it in ten-foot high red capitals. He assumed that if that didn’t placate his beloved, nothing would. As he approached, a waif thin bespectacled gentleman in a grey suit confronted him, flanked by two twenty-foot high security droids, bristling with armour.
“Could you step forward please”
The man spoke in a thin reedy voice, and as he did so surveyed them with a large degree of distaste.
“I’m assuming that you are the Oliveson party - I hope you realise that boarding should have finished twenty minutes ago”
Marcus replied quickly, and with no small hint of concern
“I am SO sorry, you see, my WIFE couldn’t find the craft keys…….”
“MARCUS, I… Sir…
The man held up one practically transparent hand, which to Marcus’ enormous surprise actually served to silence his partner – now this was someone he had to have round on poker nights.
“No matter, you are here now, and in any case there are some minor technical adjustments in progress before we can depart. Please climb aboard”
He gestured towards a narrow gangway which ran away to their left, and led upwards towards a brightly lit aperture which stood out clearly against the vast hulk of the spacecraft’s bulkhead. Almost without the family’s full realisation, the droids performed a full DNA sweep as they walked away, in order to confirm their identity. Had there been a problem, the small family would have stood little chance of escaping the gargantuan killing machines.
As they ascended the gangway, Marcus felt the sense of awe and trepidation grow within him. The vessel loomed greater and greater, until it seemed as if it would topple and crush them; consume them. The dazzling brightness that shone from within became blinding, obscuring everything as it descended to envelop them. Marcus felt that this must what it was like to walk the long walk to the pearly gates, into the light, to finally meet his maker. In his mind that was where their journey would ultimately take them. Panic spread through their midst; little Roger whimpered softly.
Suddenly the dazzling light was gone, and they stood in an airlock, gazing down a section of corridor lit from below with white fluorescent strips shaped like arrows. The direction in which they were to travel could hardly have seemed clearer. Edna glanced awkwardly behind her as they marched up the corridor, but saw only a dark rectangle, stark against the bright interior. It was to be her last view of her home planet, the last gulp she would take of the fresh late summer’s air. As she turned to follow her husband, she noticed the temperature rise as the air conditioning kicked in.
“oooh, that’s better isn’t it luv, it’s much nicer in here”
Marcus gritted his teeth. We really need this quality time together, he said. To himself. A crossroads in the corridor was approaching, so he withdrew the smartcard from his pocket that would direct him to their quarters. As they approached the junction the floor lighting shimmered and reformed to reveal a new set of arrows. ‘Now that is a smart card’ he thought to himself. 5 years into his marriage he was already keeping such thoughts to himself, for fear of having to provide a lengthly explanation of each witticism to his spouse. He formed a firm resolution to write down the things they had in common, and then try to pursue them once they were settled on board, but soon discovered that in spite of some mental exertion he was short on ideas. Mentally shrugging, he walked on.
In this way they soon reached their living quarters. As they approached, the door slid open to allow their progress to continue unhindered. Within the compound, there were 3 or 4 families huddled in a spacious and tastefully decorated communal area. It reminded Marcus rather of Big Brother XXIV, but he didn’t like to mention that out loud, not yet anyway. They followed the lead of the other families in the room, perching on the edge of one of the plushly upholstered couches and looking around themselves furtively, waiting eagerly for something to occur.
After ten minutes of waiting in this fashion, little Roger said his first words since they had entered the compound
“Daddy, are we there yet?”
Deep in what was left of his soul, and in spite of himself, Marcus began to weep.
In the Space and Planetary Advanced Fusion Flight control room (otherwise known as SPAFF control), the atmosphere was deathly quiet. Some of the most gifted technical minds of a generation were hunched over their consoles intent on the success of the mission. Everyone knew what was at stake.
The chief engineer rose from his seat, and an enormous digital timer appeared on the video screens that surrounded them, counting inexorably down towards zero. The flurry of figures framed a close up image of the space craft itself, sitting serenely on the launchpad, but emanating a growing sense of tension, like a big cat readying itself to pounce.
“Is the anti-gravity field stable?”
“The passengers should be comfortable during the take off”
His second in command spoke with practised ease, and his reassuring manner gave his words added weight. After another frenzy of controlled activity, the chief engineer began the countdown.
“1 minute”
The engines started up, with a hum which rose to an alarming pitch before settling into a deep bass drone.
“30 seconds”
The gantry fell back, and the support team hurriedly withdrew to their command posts.
“10 seconds”A heat haze rose about the craft, as the fusion retro thrusters sent an invisible torrent of flame swirling up, enveloping the exterior of the vessel.
“nine”
“eight”
“seven”
“six”
“five”
The bass warble grew to a deafening level, and the control room seemed to shake even though it was a clear two hundred miles away.
“four”
“three”
“two”
“one”
“lift off”
As the future of humanity pirouetted between the dark clouds into the bleak night sky in a spectacular orgy of light and sound, the second in command quietly whispered into the Chief Engineer’s ear.
“Those adjustments you wanted made sir”
“Yes, O’Brien?”
“I think I may well have made a slight error….”
The engineer slowly raised one eyebrow, which did not betray the icy shivers travelling down his spine.
“…erm, yes.. I may have entered the amounts in imperial rather than decimal. Just a small error – can’t
really erm… matter, can it sir.”
“Well, O’Brien, it means they are off course. They could end up anywhere. Fear not though, I think
we all knew it was a doomed mission anyhow, so as long as there’s no fiery wreck and the TV cameras
are happy…... you get some sleep, yes?”
So Second Engineer Andy O’Brien went home and did exactly that.
