Return (662 hits)
Category: GeneralLabels: Fiction
Rating: 1.43 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by J Baker <Superjack11058.at.yahoo.com> (View user info) at 2004-08-27 06:18:49 EDT
Coataal flipped a switch, and dropped back into normal space. The sudden shift made him queasy, but he'd made enough jumps that it didn't bother him nearly as much as it had when he began his journeys, over a century (of his time) before. Of course, this jump was different. It was his last jump on his final trip. He had returned.
The old familiar system spread before him as his craft sped through the orbiting comet clouds. The Nine, it was called. Home beckoned, but distantly yet. Deceleration into orbit around his old planet would take another two weeks. He felt relief sweep over him. At long last, he had returned—his seemingly endless mission finally ended. He would be Home soon. He permitted himself to sleep.
The first sign something was amiss came when he attempted to hail the outer base on Oqtam, the ninth planet. There was no response. Coataal tracked through several frequencies, repeating the same hail over and over.
"Colonel Coataal reporting in to Oqtam base, over? Repeat, this is Colonel Coataal reporting to Oqtam base, returned from Survey mission, requesting acknowledgement, over!"
Silence, not even static. He tried to quell his deepest fears, which threatened to rise. His track into system would carry him past the base, and he could use the scanners to get a visual on his fly-by. He spent the two hours prior to the overflight in the small gym, performing calisthenics.
With ten minutes remaining to fly-by, he made his way back towards the bridge, pausing to examine his reflection in the mirrored wall. The hundred-year voyage had taken its toll, in spite of regular rejuvenation treatments. His hair had given up all ghost of black, and was now fully white shot with streaks of grey. His lean frame, always well-muscled, was giving way to a ropy slackness in spite of his efforts, and his deep brown skin had begun to sag under his chin. His almond-shaped eyes were still sharp however, in spite of all he had seen.
He settled into his command couch, sipping a glass of hot qai. Oqtam was coming up on him now, and he settled the viewer over his eyes, mentally directing the imagers and sensors. Oqtam was by in a flash, for his craft had hardly decelerated since entering the Nine a day before.
His fears, now realized, settled like an icy ball in his guts as he reviewed the images in slow-time. The base, what was left of it, was deserted. The great pyramids of the Space Force were gutted, as if by massive explosions. Debris littered the cratered ice fields surrounding the cluster of monoliths, and he saw several tracks of what looked like crash-landed vessels strewn about. Oqtam base had been completely annihilated.
He would have gone down to the surface to investigate further, but he didn't have sufficient energy stored in the power cells to execute the complex and draining procedures necessary to turn the ship on such short notice. And he was anxious to reach Home; perhaps answers would await him there. He had a horrible feeling, though—that his questions would be answered by the inconceivable worst nightmare endured by all Survey mission pilots when they accelerated to light speed for the first time.
Time, of course, passed differently in light speed than it did in the (real) world. He had the computer run the numbers. During his Survey, which had lasted 104 years of his own time, over 60,000 years had passed at home. Could it be the Impossible had happened? Had the People fallen? The Empire of the People had endured for 10,000 years by the time Coataal (the first of the Brave Hundred) had launched in the prime Survey ship on his mission of exploration and data collection. The thought of the Empire disappearing during the thousands of years spent in absence often occurred to the young pilots in training (how long ago it seemed that he had laughed and joked with the rest of the Hundred), but was never given serious consideration. The People had stood for decades of centuries, and of course would last forever. So they reassured themselves.
Coataal considered. Obviously, disaster had struck at Oqtam. War from within was no option—the Empire had known peace at Home for thousands of years. Possibly invaders from outside the Nine on their own exploration voyage, some unnamed natural disaster...anything could have happened. But if the Empire stood, such disaster would have been repaired before long. His soul churned. He knew the answer, but his heart could not accept. The Empire had indeed fallen.
Coataal was wracked with desperate sobs. All there was left now was to finish his journey Home and see what remained of his beautiful People: their magnificent pyramids and cities, the magnificent works of art, the Temples of Greater Thought, the orbiting shipyards around Aqmas, the Rusted World.
He spent most of the rest of his decelerating journey either in the gym or blind drunk. Nothing helped him sleep, so he finally resorted to medication. Sleep was no refuge. He was tormented by dreams of his ruined world—he saw it as it must be without the People: a barren desert devoid of life, scoured by titanic winds, the oceans dried to a salty crust. Maybe destroyed by some errant comet or meteor. Perhaps the moon herself had fallen out of the sky.
His dreams did not prepare him for the wretched reality.
As he neared Home, computer began picking up local transmissions. Exceptionally low-quality, they nonetheless littered the space around his beloved world. Next came the satellites. Certainly of intelligent design, they orbited his world in a morass of crowded space debris. Home's pristine sky had been polluted with an orbiting junkyard.
Other than the trash in orbit, Home's physical appearance was something of a relief, he thought as he settled into a distant orbit. She had maintained her beautiful mix of blue seas and verdant continents sprinkled with desert, although they seemed to be arranged in a slightly different position than he remembered.
Coataal ordered computer to pipe the audio from captured transmissions through the cockpit. It came as unrecognizable mumbling, but the voices were those of people. Maybe not the true People; perhaps their descendants? He ordered computer to begin translation of the language that gibbered through the space around his world.
Again over a glass of hot qai, scanning the world below with his imagers, he thought on things. If these people were truly descendants of his own, they would surely be anxiously awaiting his return! Perhaps they would have answers for him. All sensors and images indicated a primitive people. They had to have some space-faring capability to put such trash in orbit. But there was much more these primitives could learn from him. Knowledge of their ancestors, the great Empire of the People; not to mention the wondrous results of the past hundreds of years of his discovery-laden voyage! He would fundamentally change their world, he thought with a smile.
It was then computer chimed. It had completed translation of captured transmissions from the surface, including, computer informed him, entertainment and news broadcasts. Astoundingly, computer had found some reference to Coataal himself, in the obscure religious beliefs of a long-disappeared race in these primitives own ancient past.
Coataal began reviewing the captured transmissions.
Two hours later, his craft was speeding away from Home as fast as he could coax power from the drives. He would be outsystem in 14 days and could jump to light immediately thereafter. In a short years' time, he could be back at Epsilon Iridani. The natives on that system's second world were friendly, he mused as he nursed a glass of hot qai (spiked liberally with sithe) in trembling hands, and the females were biologically similar enough to be...interesting.
Much to the dismay of the ancient Toltecs, Colonel Qetzal Coataal of the Space Force would not be coming home.
User Reviews
Submitted by CoffeeAndSmokes (user info) at 2005-02-26 23:03:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this one was awesome, too. Have you ever thought about getting published?
Submitted by phredde2 (user info) at 2004-10-23 10:01:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by omnifica (user info) at 2004-09-01 17:36:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i'd do britney spears. on the jerry springer show. oh wait, what were we talking about?
Submitted by bakerlover <daliladiva.at.hotmail.com> at 2004-08-27 20:09:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
wow- you always give me chills. and your story isn't bad either ;)
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2004-08-27 07:44:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Jerry Springer, the presidential debates, maybe a Britney Spears concert...
Submitted by earth_collapse (user info) at 2004-08-27 06:57:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hurry up and write some more you twat, I hate being left in the dark.
Submitted by Cymak (user info) at 2004-08-27 06:43:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Cool shit, there. People should write more sci-fi.
Submitted by Scotsman (user info) at 2004-08-27 06:42:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought that was great! What did he see that made him run? Jerry Springer?
Submitted by retarded_ape123 (user info) at 2004-08-27 06:25:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Very interesting