c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-26)
For Commander Hornell Block, being on assignment with the Morningstar III represented a point of pride, regardless of what service he was performing for the Space Force. As the sleek, silver vessel moved toward its rendezvous with the Terran homeworld, he felt strong and useful. Carefully attired in a uniform designed to be comfortable for long periods, and official enough in appearance to signify his military rank. He felt buoyed by a sense of duty and purpose. Yet for the two passengers who were aboard, this mood of confidence was lacking. Instead, they felt somber about the journey. A sense of finality dampened their emotions.
This was, for good or bad, and endgame from which neither would return.
Judson Baines and Kelly Strafe stayed in their quarters during the voyage. Though because of being linked by an access corridor, each room was easily accessible from the other. While the ship’s crew went about their daily routine, the pair pondered what was about to transpire with vigorous conversation and reflective analysis.
The former lieutenant was first to confess uncertainty about the intended scope of their trip.
“Juddy, I know this is necessary. We had no standing left at the Mars Colonies. But what do you have in mind once we reach Planet Earth? What will we do with the rest of our lives? Just conduct historical research maybe, cataloging the decay of that old order, or what? Plant a garden? Grow vegetables and flowers? Write poems? Sit around and stare at each other? Or... start a family to revive the population?”
Her candor made the university professor blush with a rosy shade of embarrassment.
“Restart the birth cycle? Heavens, no! I’ve got no bold intentions like that in mind. Not at all. What is left of that big rock isn’t always hospitable. There are still cyclical storms which linger, an effect of the Great Uprising and global war. What they did to the league of nations, and their own environment, was a tragedy. Though I think that nature has righteously begun to heal from the cataclysmic event. The Digger shuttle carries a limited life span, and only a meager amount of provisions, so we’ll have to figure out how to feed and house ourselves. The civilized districts that I encountered were located far from each other. Calimex, on the west coast of what used to be called North America. Atlantia, on the east. And Torontara, to the north, a part of the former Canadian confederation. Each seemed to know little about the other. They were somewhat paranoid when dealing with outsiders. And suspicious of overtures for peace. But my curiosity is about what else has remained, after the fragile organization of society collapsed. There must be more to learn. We will have an opportunity to document clues that might prove to be useful, for future generations. Sort of like conducting an archaeological dig. Except that descendants of the dead empires may still be alive...”
Kelly tugged at her ponytail, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
“Okay, so we start at the trailer park where your ancestor lived? And then, go from there?”
Her bearded associate nodded and smiled. As a scholar and perpetual student, he had already begun to plan their next project, in earnest.
“I found some interesting data in records we brought back from the last visit. T. C. Lincoln never jumped on a Larman Transport, bound for Mars. Apparently, he died at the rural community and was buried in a makeshift grave, along with other residents who chose to stay behind. There is a small cemetery somewhere on the property. It was referenced in notes kept by one of the first groups to arrive, when construction of a primary base at the Percival Lowell Institute had begun. I wandered around the front field on that abandoned property, but saw nothing. It had become overgrown with weeds and brush, and wild, indigenous foliage. But I think we could scan the acreage with our shuttle. That might give us a visual map to locate his place of final rest...”
Strafe snorted and smacked her hands together.
“You’re obsessed, Juddy! I think this is more about a desire to tie up loose ends of your own family tale, than to help mankind!”
Judson Baines shrugged and signified agreement with this observation.
“You are probably right. I can’t argue the point...”
His volunteer companion stretched like a cat, breathed deeply, and stood up to loosen her joints.
“So, we start at the point where you landed, near the shore of Lake Erie? We’re going to live in that ruined village of manufactured homes, like refugees from the 21st Century?”
Her egghead counterpart was excited to consider the adventure that would follow their arrival.
“On our world, I was really a prisoner. Hidebound to stay silent about the social and political factors that brought everything to a halt. They are terrified of dissent. But said more honestly, what they fear is truth. They fear debate. They fear knowledge and open discussion. The path they have chosen is not much different than the one that eventually destroyed the Terran civilization. I am sorrowful for them. And yet excited for us, as witnesses to the endurance of nature. The cosmos isn’t eternal, perhaps, but it has survived for billions of years. We don’t really know the full story. But as spectators, we can look and listen, and learn. That is a privilege I won’t ever surrender...”
Kelly stood over her male equal, who was still seated at a table by his bed.
“You almost make me believe in a resurrection story. At least it sounds good, when you describe what can happen in literal terms. But we’ve got to build a new homestead in that wreckage. A hole-in-the-wall where we can hide. A safe space for a second beginning. Are you strong enough, and smart enough, for that task?”
The professional thinker bowed his head, and paused for a moment.
“If not, it’s a respectable way to die. I’d rather meet my end with a virtual notebook and stylus, or even a pen and sheet of paper, than a weapon made for combat. The empire couldn’t save itself by killing enemies. And Mars can’t do the same, by killing its history. The story must be told. What comes next is up to travelers like ourselves...”
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