The Ark
Tom Christiansen woke up.
His eyes opened to a lit room that at first registered no
meaning to him. A soft thrum was steady
in his ears. The lit room, a thrum - neither leaving any impression
on him, until finally, self awareness slowly rose to the surface – I am Tom
Christiansen. I am in the Betty.
She has woken me up.
He blinked, but still he did not rise, responding to an
overwhelming inclination to lay still while his mind cleared and he felt out
his surroundings. Untracked moments
gathered and passed, and though he listened, he saw no movement, heard no other
sound on the ship. He surmised that he
was alone, and this could only mean that the first two judges had done their
work before him. How much time had
passed?
He tried to wiggle his fingers, then his toes. Bend his legs some. He
took a deeper breath. Physical inventory
checks out. He seemed to be ok.
Rising consciousness began filling in some of the unknowns,
but not all of them. He was planter
number 3 of 11. 2 were intended to rise
before him, Belken and Roiker. The
fact that he was now awake and alone meant that both Belken and Roiker were
gone, probably long gone. It also meant
that Betty had found and placed herself near another potential planetary system. Once close enough and sure of its stability,
she had awoken him to make the judgment, and to decide whether to drop down or
not. If the ship was still holding to
plan, they should be circling a type 3 just about now, and his time had
come. This was his moment, and the
thought of it filled him immediately with excitement and a distant anxiety that
was quickly alleviated by his training.
Drop down through the checklist of what needs to be done. Perform the checklist tasks well, and
everything else will take care of itself.
But first he had to find out where and when he was.
He pressed the release button on his preservation unit, and
it opened with a slight hiss. He
uncoupled the life lines from his wrists and then got up slowly. His body was stiff, but that was to be
expected. His wrists, arms and legs all
felt like they were made of stone. His
head felt too heavy to lift, but finally his feet were on the ground, and he
was sitting up. As expected, there were
liquid nutrient packets next to his unit, and he managed to reach over and open
the first one. He tilted it into his
mouth and the liquid spilled down his dry throat. Within minutes he began to feel better, so he
reached for the second and downed that one as well. Then he grabbed the hand rail and tried to
stand up. Whoa. Not so fast.
He sat down again.
After awhile, he tried again, and this time managed to
stand. Then he took a step. Then another. The nutrient packets were working. He seemed to be ok. Might as well let Betty know he was
awake.
“Christiansen checking in” he said.
“Hello Tom” Betty
replied.
“What year is it Betty?”
he asked.
“4983”.
Holy shit. “Belken
and Roiker before me”?
“That is correct.
Belkin was awoken in 2873.
Roiker in 3752". Both Type
III found planets were fertilized with DNA activants."
"How far out are we?"
"We are Approximately 1.2 parsecs from our Source. 2,456.25 solar years into mission."
Wow. “Do you have a
planet for me”?
“Yes. Type IIIa,
surface gravitation quotient 1.3, atmosphere nitrogen-oxygen content, with
potential survivability quotient of 86.
Partial ambient temperatures. It
looks good. Profile fits within
awakening parameters. We have been in
orbit for 120 solar years without any significant geological or nearby solar
disturbance, so is estimated as a safe seeding haven”.
“Thanks Betty. Good
work. I'll get going on it. You don't mind if I clear my head a bit
first, though, do you?"
"No problem.
There will be a meal waiting for you in the galley"
Whoop De Doo, he thought.
My first meal in 2400 years.
Not that he was looking forward to it.
Back at Source, in their training for the mission, they had been told
that getting their bodies used to orally ingested food again would be somewhat
challenging. Still, it was what it
was. Gotta get through the hard parts
to get to the easy parts. Steak and
potatoes could wait for another day...
He still needed to clear his head. He got up and first shook
his head, then his shoulders, then his hands, then each leg. An old habit of waking up from long ago,
under a different sun.
He walked unsteadily down to the galley, and sat down and
ate the small bowl of warm mush that Betty had prepared for him. Each spoonful felt like sandpaper down his
throat, and evem though he took his time at it, after 3 bites his stomach was
in revolt. He quickly got up and made
it to the latrine before throwing it up into the bowl. He dutifully flushed the stuff away, and
then went back and tried to eat again.
This time the 3 spoonfuls went down without coming back up. Good.
Might as well put that into the success column.
Then his first sip of coffee. Milk, no sugar. Damn, and double damn. That woke him up. He sat at the small galley table and closed
his eyes and felt pleasure in the savory experience of it. Feeling better, he walked over to the bay
window, cup in hand, and looked down for the first time on the planet that was
to be his home.
"Betty, I get to name this thing, don't I?", he
asked.
"If you'd like", she replied.
Did Belkin and Roiker name theirs?"
"Yes. Belkin
named hers 'Eve', and Roiker named his 'Thunderbird'"
He immediately snorted at that, then coughed, and said "Effing Idiot Roiker, naming his after
his car. Just like him". Still, he wondered if Roiker did that just
so that some 1,000 years later the joke would be appreciated by another
human. Thanks for making me laugh, Roiker,
he said to himself in his mind. He
lifted his cup toward the bay window. I
owe you one, buddy.
He took another sip, and stared more out at the planet. A small thing, with greenish hues. Immediately the word came to him. Short and simple. Eco.
"'Eco', Betty.
I would like to call this planet 'Eco' if you don't mind."
"Eco it is, then Tom.
Search and replace completed on all documentation compiled to date. It has now all been uploaded into your home
unit."
Ah, the unit. He
should go check it out and get ready to do his job.
"On my way" he said, and grabbed a couple of
energy biscuits that Betty had laid out for him, and made his way down through
the ship's hallways and up to an air lock marked above it with the single word
"Christiansen". He opened the
air lock, then stepped into what was to become his home for what the mission
team back home called the 'duration', if by 'duration' means 'For the rest of your life'. Way back in his memory, he remembered
stocking this home with books, movies, and close personal items, a summation of
his life at the time. A life way back
when, a life that existed on the other side of his big sleep. Strange to think that everybody he knew back
then was dead now. As was their great
great grandchildren. He had Pictures of
them even. Pictures on the walls of the unit. Ones that he was not quite ready yet to look
at.
Time enough for that, he thought, and went immediately to
the work at hand. His job was to take
the unit down to Eco, and in low level flight, dropseed the planet with the
10,000 or so source DNA capsules that dotted the underside of the unit. The way the unit was designed, there would
not be enough raw fuel propulsion to get back to Betty. Most everything was built for his time on
the planet. He did not know if it had been planned that
way, or if that was just the way it was.
Not his job to think about it. His
job was to seed the planet, while Betty moved off to other planets and star
systems with the eight remaining planters. Maybe in another 1,000 years or so, she would
wake up another, the fourth planter. La
Fonte, if he remembered correctly. The
one with the pretty face.
"Betty, I guess I'm ready whenever you are" he said.
Then, as an afterthought "Thanks for watching over me all of these
years".
She replied immediately.
"Its been a pleasure Tom. You
were a sound sleeper. Good luck with
Eco."
"Thanks."
Back to business.
"Christiansen Descent in 5-4,3-2-1.
Code Activation Now". He
pushed in his personal code on the console, and then pressed his palm against
the plate for identification. While the
jets fired up around him, he strapped himself in watched the dials closely.
"All Go.
Disconnecting in 3-2-1, Now.".
And with a brief jolt, the home unit slowly detached from the mother
ship. He looked above and saw Betty
slowly moving away and pulling out of orbit of the planet already.
His last chance for conversation. "Good Bye Betty, and good luck. Give em Hell".
"Good Bye Tom.
You too. Betty out." and he could see her jets initiate a slow
burst and then grow dark again. He watched
as the ship drifted slowly away. He
continued to watch it a long while, watched it recede until it was just a
flicker of light. He watched it until
she was gone and then maybe a little bit after.
Then again, training kicked in. He turned back to the controls. "Ok Homey. I guess its just you and me now" he said.
Then, as he reached down to the controls to move the unit down to the
planet below, he saw a sticker on top of it with the word "Asshole"
written on it in felt pen.
He laughed again to himself, and said "Fucking Roiker. Now I owe you two." He pushed the controls forward and began
his descent down towards a small green world that he knew would only ever have one
set of human footprints on its surface.
If the DNA seeding ever worked, and the DNA figured out how to make a go of
it on this world, he could not imagine what sort of creatures would eventually
evolve and roam its environs. He
himself would be long gone, and it would probably be more than a few millennia
before those risen up creatures would ever look up upon the stars, and wonder, and
question whether there was a distant home that lay beyond their gaze. As he dropped down the markers across Eco's
surface, he realized that - by that time
- he would long be dust.
He was ok with that.
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