Colony One

Colony One

E.M. Peters
 

1
st
Edition, published October 2015

© 2013 by E.M. Peters. All rights reserved. Contact via
www.somenerdgirl.com
.

Editing by Heather M. Hilliard

Cover art by J Caleb Clark,
jcalebdesign.com
, 2015

ISBN-13: 978-1516950126

ISBN-10: 1516950127

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

Acknowledgements

To Kyle and Kiersten – your inspired ideas and passion made this novel a reality. Thank you for sharing both with me!

To my amazing beta readers – Maurna, Jonathan, Ada and Don – you all are beyond amazing for your support and dedication! 

“
Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for mankind to keep all its eggs in
.
”

—
Robert A. Heinlein

Prologue

Deep Space

“I gave you an order,” a woman’s voice trembled with restraint. “Change.  Your.  Heading.”

The man at the pilot’s console continued to ignore her, his hands gripping the sides of the glass interface as warning alarms began to chime from the ship’s audio system. He looked straight ahead through the viewscreen, acutely aware of the gun pressed against his head. He clenched his jaw despite feeling dizzy and out of breath.

“I said change it!” It was a rare display of emotion. She took a half step forward, applying so much pressure to his temple that his head bent to the side awkwardly.

“I will not,” he responded through gritted teeth, as his eyes darted from the viewscreen to the console and back.

“Izvinite,” a heavily accented voice cut in from behind them – a voice of reason, “Here is idea. Let us not kill only pilot.” The words were punctuated with irritation.

“He is going to kill us all if he doesn’t change course.” The woman spat with conviction. Her demanding eyes remained on the pilot, unwilling to relent.

“Charlie?” Another voice sounded – this one different; soft, feminine and intent on defusing. “What are you doing?”

“I am completing this mission.” He said even as his neck began to ache with the forced angle. There was no delusion in him – he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would shoot him. He just hoped she wouldn’t; not for this.

“I don’t think so,” the woman changed her grip on the pistol and used her thumb to pull back the hammer. Charlie cringed and felt his body go numb as if his consciousness were abandoning him before what came next.

“Captain! No!”

01

Earth: 2145 A.D.

Population: 20 Billion

“Today marks the one year anniversary of the launch of Colony One – the first ship of its size and purpose to be sent into Deep Space.” A sharply dressed newsman spoke into a camera from behind a glass table, which was lit with a scrolling light moving across it like a ticker. The recessed light reflected off his glasses, making his eyes indiscernible.

“The day was marked with fanfare and optimism as the Confederations of Earth began their journey to colonize the rich and fertile lands of planets in the neighboring Alpha Centauri solar system. Since the initial launch, Colony Two and Three were launched with similar sentiments.

“And while it has been nine months since the last verbal contact with Colony One, Confederation officials and spokesmen have assured the public of the mission’s success.”

The man glanced down, and with the small adjustment, his mood shifted dramatically.

“However, with the upcoming launch of Colony Four, there has been demand for hard evidence of the success of these missions and a call for increased transparency in the colonist selection process. Lance Richardson, of the Expansion Manifest Partnership, explains:”

The image of the news anchor cut to a video excerpt of a tall, broad shouldered man with carefully manicured sandy blonde hair.

“We all knew that contact with the colonies would be limited, which is why there are communications buoys spanning from our solar system to theirs. Because of the distance, these devices can only communicate in very simple terms – they send bursts of data packets that can be interpreted by our engineers. The last message was received just one week ago, informing Command that all was well, and that Colony One was looking forward to eating the first harvest of crops instead of the freeze-dried food and liquid supplements we sent them up there with.” He smiled, and it was a charming smile – engineered to be warm, soothing and adjusted for the levity of the message he reported.

The feed returned to the newsroom. The anchor tapped the table in three spots and the light pattern changed. “Despite Richardson’s assurances, gatherings continue to be organized by a group calling themselves Citizen’s United – designed to protest the launch of Colony Four until more reassurances than just packets of ones and zeroes can be delivered.”

The man slid his finger across the table and the screen filled with an altogether contrasting view. It was a wide shot of a large group of people – surrounded by stacked, slanted buildings. Smoke, smog or both swirled up and obscured the picture. The sight was not wholly unfamiliar; however, the media did not usually choose to broadcast the reality that was the numerous production zones around the world. The pollution might have been considered staggering 100 years ago – now, it was simply a fact of life.

The thickening crowd in the scene was the differentiating factor. The production zones normally buzzed with activity and to see the stagnation was enough to send World Corp executives into fits.

The camera cut in close and swung around with incredible speed, focusing on a woman scaling a scrapheap. A similar drone could be seen filming her from the opposite direction.

“They’ve taken our sons and daughters – our mothers and fathers, and they have given us nothing in return except for the promise of taking us away, too!” The drone’s microphone zeroed in on her voice, which was enhanced by a rudimentary amplifier she held to her lips. The pollution filter that normally covered her nose and mouth hung around her neck, though an outline of it still remained. The parts of her face that had not been covered by it were darkened with filth from the day.

She looked over the crowd resolutely as a noise rose up from them – a mixture of cheers of agreement and angry voices muffled by breathing filters echoing her sentiment.

“My cousin was selected in the lottery for Colony Three.” A young man’s voice cut through the others. “He didn’t even register to go!” The woman on the heap pointed to him and the drone swiveled to focus on the new speaker. The young man ripped the filter away from his face to shout, “They told him he didn’t have a choice and no one has heard from him since the launch!” He exclaimed and began to cough violently before he could replace his filter.

“Say no to colonization!” The woman led the crowd in a chant as the newsman returned abruptly. 

“Gatherings like these have been seen across the globe, some devolving into violence and others seriously impairing production zones. In response, Confederation officials from New America have indicated they may consider implementing protester demands by organizing a Task Force that would travel to the colonies. Once there, the Task Force would gather and bring back testimonials from the settlers in an effort to showcase the success of the missions and keep the colonization efforts strong.”

He paused and pivoted to face another in-studio camera, “When we return, our coverage on a press release from the World Market Stock Exchange that has reported record-breaking highs.”

The viewer image cut to commercial. Patriotic music sounded at levels three times higher than the news broadcast. COLONY FOUR displayed across the screen in thick, white letters. The deep, ethereal voice of an announcer proclaims: “Make history and give yourself the life that you have always deserved with a…”

Niko switched off the wall mounted viewer with an aggressive tap of his finger on a small handheld. The OMNI – Optical Multi-Network Integration – device was mostly translucent when in standby mode. When active, it functioned like the newsman’s desk – scrolling lights and intuitive icons. He stared at it in the palm of his hand for a long moment, then switched the interface and began to select a series of numbers.

He held the OMNI to his ear and listened to tones that indicated he was not yet connected. As he waited, he tapped his foot and let his gaze wander around his apartment. It was sparse, decorated with only the included amenities – the mounted viewer, a galley kitchen with a World-Corp-approved encouraging message scrolling on the display screen of the refrigerator, a glass dining table that also functioned as a work station. It blinked to indicate it was in standby. The wall colors were soothing and earthy – in stark contrast to the view out his window, which faced east on the Mississippi River, overlooking a largely residential area of Memphis.

It was a gray and overbuilt cityscape as far as the eye could see, though it was not unique. There were very few open spaces left on Earth – not even the mountains or former prairie lands were left untouched. From Siberia to the Deserts of Africa – the land was filled with skyscrapers and sprawling shanty towns. Only very wealthy communities still enjoyed things like grass or parks, where neighbors could be more than an arm’s length away.

Between the opportunity to rebuild after the war and the boom in engineering over the past 100 years, the progress was staggering – though at a cost few anticipated. Technology made life easier and expansion over all else had led to population levels scientists were constantly shocked Earth could sustain. As a result of the explosion of engineering and human population, every day Niko looked out onto a maze work of infrastructure and people from his high rise apartment.

That was the whole point of the colony missions, Niko reflected, wasn’t it? To alleviate some of the population pain felt at home. The thought made his hand grip the OMNI even harder as he waited.

The tones in Niko’s ear changed, and then were replaced entirely by the sound of muffled movement.

“At this hour, someone better be dead,” A voice grumbled, foregoing any formalities.

Niko’s expression didn’t change – his jaw set and his gaze fell somewhere on the middle-distance. “I’m calling in my favor.”