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The Last Colonial Ship

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In thirty minutes the sun’s last photons would arrive at the planet. After that perpetual twilight would overtake the world. The lingering heat would dissipate over the next few days and after that The End. Taro stopped long enough to catch the streaks of fire rising into the last clear blue sky this planet would ever have. He raced against the colonial ships rocketing away. He raced against the photons charging to the planet. Down one street, through a back alley, hopping over a stray cat, he came to Ami’s door and banged away “Ami! Ami!” From the balcony she peered down. “I got a pass on the last ship!” He waved the slip of paper.

Ami disappeared from the balcony without a word. For a moment, Taro felt that she might not come. The front door’s metal hinge whined and scraped against the pebbled pathway. She stood before him like a water reed quivering in the wind and he embraced her half-afraid that a strong gust might snap her in half.

“I can’t run,” she said.

“Climb on my back!” He helped her up. He held onto the ticket – he wouldn’t trust it to his pockets and he charged through the alley kicking up puddles. The streets in front of him contained more trash than people. Empty buildings cast long shadows cutting the light into tiny slivers.

“How did you get the pass?” Ami asked.

“Lucky.”

They arrived on Fourth and Harvard. The line went around the block, across the street, and into the park. A giant colonial cruiser waited there. The military checked everyone’s papers. “They’re going to catch us,” Taro thought. “But, I’ve got to try.”

“Papers,” the officer said. Taro handed them to him. Every bead of sweat running down his face grew heavier and new droplets oozed from his neck, but he kept his equanimity. “This is your wife, Mr. Weston?” The officer turned to Ami.

Her eyes widened. Her lips opened and she seem to say, “What?”

“Yes,” Taro said. He drew her close. “Elle’s my wife.”

The officer raised a small scanner from the paper to the happy couple. “There’s missing information on this document. Can you provide proof of marriage?” They had to be strict. It was just his job. “Rings?” He glanced at their hands.

“I’m sorry,” Ami said. “We were married just recently but with the jeweler gone, we couldn’t get rings.”

“I understand, no marriage license though?” The officer asked.

“We were in a rush,” Taro said. He brushed his brow again. “We had to run all the way here.”

“Your wife’s not sweating.”

“I’m not very strong, but Taro, I mean Johann, my strong Taro, carried me here.” Ami tugged his arm. “Honey, I can get the papers.”

The sweat on Taro’s face turned cold at the notion of her leaving. After everything he had done just so they could get on the last cruiser. The sky moved from daylight to night without the sunset to mark the change.

“No, it’s perfectly fine,” the officer said. He tipped his hat and left. The line marched forward. The pitch black night became a canvas for twinkling stars and a giant nebula smeared across the horizon. The moon appeared as a hole in the sky.

“Taro.” Ami tugged on his sleeve. “Why did you do it?”

“Why did you do it?”

Behind them a fight broke. It looked like David and Goliath and David was the officer checking tickets. The irate Goliath threw the officer into the street. “We had our papers stolen by some punk! How much? For me and my wife!”

“Don’t listen,” Taro said as he put his arm around Ami. She sipped from his embrace like a flower carried away by the wind. “Ami!” She ran to the officer. Taro dashed out of line rueful of losing their place.

“Wait!” She stopped, panting.

“Mrs. Weston?” the officer said getting up.

“My name’s not Weston.” Ami held the ticket out.

“Honey!” Taro snatched the ticket and held her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t lie, Taro! I can’t!”

“She’s a bit delirious with everything happening,” Taro told the officer.

“You’re that punk! He stole my ticket!”

“Sir, I don’t know what your talking about!”

Johann raised his fist; they were twice the size of Taro’s. “Stop it!” Ami stepped between Taro and Johann. Johann threw a punch striking Ami across her cheek. The papers where her body collapsed fluttered around her like petals off a dead stem. Taro crumpled to his knees. He touched her face but the life left her eyes and she too had joined the darkness of the world.

“My name is Johann Weston. This is the real Elle, not that little twig. I want on that goddamn ship…what the hell are you doing?”

“Sir,” the officer said. “We still have laws. You’re under arrest for murder.” The officer read him his rights. He fought until tased into silence and then hauled away into the night. “Mr. Weston,” the officer said holding the paper out for Taro. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He walked back to the throng gawking at their little melodrama and continued checking papers.

THE END

Notes: I’ve always been curious about what the end of our planet would look like to the people on the surface of the planet. What would it be like if our sun died out? What would we see? What would we try to do? This is a much simplier take on what we would do. I’m sure there would be a lot of looting and rioting in the streets. There’ll always be those people who can get out and those who can’t.

After I wrote this, I saw an episode of Galaxy Express 999 that had a very similar story about a man and woman who refused to leave the planet until he finished writing the history of their world before it was destroyed. He gave Tetsuro that last book and asked him to carry it out into the stars, so that others may remember that they lived on that dead planet. Tetsuro and Maetel escaped, of course, but the man and his woman didn’t. The colonial ship they were to take didn’t make it either. I think a volcano firing out debris blew it up. Sucks to be them.

Life Out There

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I’m over half a century old but I’d like to think that I’m still young at heart. Henry Glover’s my name. Back in my youth I used to work for corporations like Celestine Mining and Winthrope Unlimited doing a lot of asteroid drilling. I was doing eighteen hour days. I’d get home real late and Emily, my darling wife, would have dinner. It’s eat, shower, sleep, repeat. I had enough of that life. A man’s spirit shouldn’t ever be broke. “Live free or die,” that’s what my great-granddaddy used to say during the Revolution.

When I was a kid, I dreamt of seeing the stars and living out amongst them. I didn’t think I’d be doing tedious work. A couple years back there was a gold rush in the Typhani System. It turns out the asteroids were rich in all kinds of minerals — gold, silver, copper, nickel, and aluminum. I swung by there just in time to get my share of the action. I hit a huge silver vein and managed to dig out and smelt the whole thing into bricks. I choose to invest instead of squander it. I quit my job and headed into the great frontier. I could go anywhere, everywhere. It’s all frontier — from here to infinity.

You might think that my wife tried to talk me out of this adventure. Hell no, Emily’s along for the ride. I inculcated my two kids, Jasmine and Alan, with the right way of thinking, but they ain’t just indoctrinated, they’re smart and can think for themselves in a pinch. We live on the MCS Benjamin Franklin, a starship I built with my own two hands out of post-Revolution era flyers. Now, I know you might be thinking, Henry’s it’s a junker, a hodge-podge of shit you welded together, but it ain’t. The computer system is a state of the art QuantaFlex system. There’s a family room with a 360 degree view of space. Emily’s got her own work room for her crafts and projects. I’ve got my sitting room. The kids can use the family room or their own room for games and school.

Alan’s my eldest. He’s sixteen, smart as a damn wick, but that ain’t because of his schoolin’. Sure, public school’s a great place to make friends, but it ain’t no place to teach a child. He can learn his numbers, history, readin’ and writin’ there, but I taught him the skills that will take him further. He’s a handy kid; knows how to fix a broken computer, can stabilize a thruster, and knows the parts of our old Mark I FTL drive. He can handle himself most of all.

It was that day, March 24th. I’ll never forget it. We entered the Endris Beta system. We had been cruising along for hundreds of thousands of kilometers, not a trace of anyone or anything in sight. Jas mapped using the deep sensor sweep as we crossed the void. There’s a good penny to be earned in producing quality maps. We sent a drone to scout the nearby asteroid belt. Seemed to be a relic from a dead planet, smashed to dust eons ago and filled with valuable minerals.

I turned to my boy Alan, “Saddle up pardner, we’re taking the minerpod out.” The boy was obsessed with the thing. It’s a small conical pod with a carbon-fiber chain attached at the apex to the Franklin. It’s got thrusters to move on its own but it can’t go too far. I use it to take samples of asteroids. Research scientists at universities and corporations pay a pretty penny for a slab of rock. They could easily send their own Finders out to scour the galaxy, but they don’t have the money to cover the space. Us regular folks looking to make a buck can do the work for ‘em.

I sat down with Alan in the cramped pod and taught him the controls. There’s a joystick to guide the laser drill and an holo-screen that displays the target. You line up your target, aim, and shoot just like a video game. Once we’ve bored under the surface of the rock, we extract a sample. It’s delivered into a container and stowed away. I taught him how to use the thrusters to maneuver the pod about, but I’d lower the chain close to the rock and make sure he stayed tethered.

“I got it, pop,” he said. Just to prove it he showed me how to turn on the engine without me ever saying how. He operated the drill and centered it but didn’t fire. Computers and ships come naturally to Alan. I reckon some day he’d make a damn fine engineer, but don’t wanna say anything yet. Let the boy figure it out on his own.

We returned to the Franklin. Alan suited up and got back into the pod. I let the tether out and he maneuvered the ship into place. I tapped into the minerpod’s onboard camera. We found an asteroid a couple miles long and began to drill. Inside were traces of gold, silver, and other rare minerals. It was an auspicious start.

Alan and I were so busy that I didn’t see’em on the radar screen. Jas ran into the room hollerin’ about a ship.

“What kind of ship?” I asked her.

She didn’t have a clue. I should’ve sensed trouble right then and there, but I gave the controls to her. “Watch your brother,” I said and headed up to the family room. Through the skylight, I saw a massive ship, one of the old Jupiter freighters with her nose pointed at us. Behind it, ice crystals and debris ballooned from the wake of its jump. I knew Jupiter style boats were the mainstay of pirates. Most of them were constructed by the Chinese, post-Revolution, and unsavory types took to it cause they were cheap, easy to fly, and could jump light years.

How the hell did they know we were here? “Jasmine!” I yelled. “Reel your brother in! Get him on the ship!”

You know how bullets sound when your inside of a space ship? It’s like rain hitting a tin roof. The Franklin’s got a strong hull to bounce bullets, but I watched one of our winglets and engines get tore up. I slid down the ladder and shut the family room hatch just as the glass shattered. We’ve got a strong midsection to the ship, so even if they blow off all the parts sticking out we should be fine.

Jas is in the other room screaming. Emily comes in wondering what’s going on. I shove my face against the porthole window. The tether’s snapped. The minerpod’s floated off. “Alan, Alan!” I call over the radio. The rain plucks our tin roof and our ship twists. I’m losing sight of him and the asteroid belt. “Alan! Respond!”

Our radio whistled and blew static. A chinaman babbled on in his gookspeak. The Jupiter freighter kisses the backside of our boat. Em and Jas screamed; it hurt me to hear ‘em like that. We twisted through space going God-knows-where, and Alan’s in the rocks. It don’t get worse than this.

The anti-gravity failed. Cups, plates, utensils, books, pictures, all the things that made up our quaint little home lifted off and floated about. My daughter doesn’t got her space legs and she’s flailing trying to understand her new derangement. Em’s anchored herself down and gets Jas under control. I swim to the porthole and catch a glimpse of the asteroid belt as we tumble away. The freighter’s girth hides Alan from us.

I get on the radio and turn on my babelfish. “My son’s out there. Help me get him back.” The software translates and transmits.

My answer. A hailstorm thunking against our hull. This time I heard a hiss. The computer beeped at us. We’re venting atmosphere.

“Em! Go plug ‘er up!” I’m headed off to the cockpit. I trust Em and no sooner have I said it she’s on her way. I take Jas with me to the cockpit. We fire the methane rockets and stabilize the Franklin. I know the Jupiter’s got a blind spot right below her, and with Jas’ help we get right under her blazing guns and reorient ourselves to be parallel to her underside.

Em enters the bridge. Her hair’s disarrayed and she’s a bit pale. Near death’ll do that to you. “Get the O2 tanks,” I told her. “I’m cutting the power.”

“Life support?” she asked.

“Everything.”

I turn each system off one at a time until only the lights remain. Em’s got us on the O2 tanks and I shut off life support and the lights. A flashlight and portable radio tuned to my son’s channel’s were the only hardware I got on.

We waited in silence. Instead of methane I use compressed air to make adjustments to keep us parallel to the freighter’s bottom.

“Dad, look!”

Jasmine reached across my face and pointed out the window. My gaze followed her finger. A man in a spacesuit swung over the hull and bounced towards us. He had an ARC-7 railgun. He fired against our hull and shattered the window.

“Out of the cockpit! Out! Out!”

I pushed Em and Jas through the door. The glass cracked with each rail strike. I swam through the hatch and sealed it just as the glass blew out. I felt the suction of space grabbing at my legs, just for a moment. Leaning against the bulkhead, I heard the bastard stepping about our cockpit.

The radio whistled into life. “You surrender. Give over ship and come peaceful.” I hated the way gooks talked — in starts and stops, sputtering each of our words, mangling them.

Sparks flared around the sealed cockpit door. Laser cutters. They were ready to space us. Em held Jas tight. In all my twenty years, I never knew Em to give up the ghost, but I saw it in her eyes. I ordered Em to shut the porthole window and I dashed below deck to shut the hatches just incase they blew those windows out too. When I returned I found my wife hunkering over the minerpod’s LCD. I forgot that it ran on its own generator. The blue glow from the screen bathed their faces, and for a moment even though we were going to die, they seemed tranquil.

The minerpod camera looked straight into the Franklin’s cockpit. Three men stood inside working on the door. Alan! God bless him. He struck one of the pirates with a laser. The other two turned and shot at him. The camera shook and static filled the screen.

We were speechless. My wife, daughter, and I huddled around the screen. I slapped the monitor. “Alan!” I called into the radio.

The picture cleared up. Two men were dead and a third floating off into space. The boy fended them off.

“Dad, I can lead ‘em off,” Alan radioed.

“No, Alan, you’ve done enough.”

“Once they start chasing me, go hide in the asteroid field.”

“Alan!”

“Tell mom and Jas I love ‘em.”

Emily pulled the radio from my hands. “Alan, no!” Snippets of static teased us, made our hearts jump. I glanced out the porthole window and the Chinks pulled away. Alan did it. I fired the ship’s compressed air hurdling us towards the asteroid field. Sure enough the freighter had no idea we’d gone. From the porthole window, I saw that they were chasing him.

We watched the minerpod’s monitor. Alan sped the small ship into the void. Around the edges of his view I saw streaks of bullets whizzing by. “Come on boy, shake ‘em off.” The screen turned to static.

Through the porthole, I saw the freighter’s railguns streaking in the midnight ocean. There wouldn’t be no explosion. If he was hit, the ship would just fall to pieces and his body would float out into space. Moments later, a flash. I knew they kicked their FTL on and dashed out. I sent out a distress signal and waited with Em and Jas. The radio clicked and sizzled. Em clutched it tight hoping that one of the outbursts would be followed by Alan’s voice. I had to pry the walkie-talkie out of her hands and we let it float in the middle of us.

The women shed their tears. The drops squeezed out from their eyes and floated in orbit of the radio. I wept too. So many tears gathered like little glass crystals that I was mesmerized by them. The LCD screen lit them up like little stars.

I lost my boy, but I kept my life, my freedom, and my family.

THE END

So back in January I started writing down a timeline of events for a sci-fi universe I was crafting piecemeal, and I realized that the first two stories I wrote (Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 and Relativity) have a place in that same sci-fi universe. I thought it might be cool to continue building this sci-fi universe through these short stories on Courne Supremacy and it might give me a stronger sense of how things played out. Expect more but it won’t be any kind of linear order. I think I leave clues here and there in the text so the reader can piece together when each of these stories took place.