The Colonist

  The Colonist

  Chris Wichtendahl

  Copyright ©2020 Chris Wichtendahl

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter 1

  Rec Valentine sat in the descent shuttle, secured by threadbare straps long past their useful life. Replacement parts for colonial vessels were hard to come by, so some enterprising mechanic had used breach tape to hold the fraying straps together.

  The battered old craft bucked and lurched as it made its way down from the long range transport and a clicking whine could be heard from the engines, causing Rec to wonder exactly how much of this ship was held together with breach tape. The ship landed on the docking platform with a jolt and almost immediately a buzzing alarm sounded. The voice of the AI piloting system crackled over the internal comms.

  “Custodian Valentine.”

  “Yes?”

  “The transit tube has failed to deploy from the station. You must exit the descent shuttle on foot.”

  “On foot?” Rec looked out the grimy viewport. Methane storms buffeted the platform and the ancient ship that stood upon it.

  A panel shuddered open, revealing an environment suit that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since before the war, and Rec unstrapped himself from the seat with a weary sigh. He had spent his life in the colonies, venturing inside the borders of the Systems only a handful of times. In spite of this, he never failed to be surprised by how dilapidated colonial equipment always was.

  He checked himself as he pulled the suit down from its hook. It was the Stellar Imperium now, no longer the Union of Interdependent Systems, not since the end of the war. He donned the suit, the smell wafting up from inside it a pungent introduction to the astounding variety of sentient beings who had worn it over the years.

  He sealed the helmet in place and the smell got worse. The flow of stale air that was a bit higher in nitrogen than Rec usually liked was doing little to improve the matter. A headache began behind Rec’s eyes that he knew would only worsen if he didn’t get out of this suit and into proper atmosphere as soon as possible. He offered a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that the colonial habitat was actually capable of producing proper atmosphere.

  The shuttle’s hatch opened without incident, which Rec considered a minor miracle, and he grabbed the backpack containing every last thing he owned before hurrying down the ramp. It was a short jog to the main airlock, though Rec struggled a bit in the high winds of the storm. He cycled the airlock -- he had to run the commands twice, as the first time one of the keys on the pad stuck, causing a duplicate entry -- and entered the habitat.

  He keyed the habitat’s activation sequence, which sent a signal to the descent shuttle. The shuttle pinged the orbital transport to begin unloading procedures. Soon the transport would drop equipment and supplies for Rec to unload and install in advance of the extraction teams that should be en route. Most mining operations lasted centuries before a planet or moon was exhausted of its resources, so the extraction colonies had to support generations of miners and related personnel. Once Rec had prepared the colony for habitation, usually a month-long process, the shuttle would return him to the transport, which would ferry him to his next assignment.

  He glanced at the environmental readouts and saw that the habitat’s atmosphere was nominal, so he unsealed the helmet and took a deep breath of air before shucking off the disgusting suit as quickly as possible.

  “This habitat facility is for the exclusive use of authorized Colonial Services personnel,” a calm and melodious voice said. “Please state name, position, and access code.”

  “Rec Valentine. Custodian. RV-283X42.”

  “Voice print and access code recognized,” the voice said. “Welcome to Resource Colony XJ-897-Z, Custodian Valentine. Please state preferred mode of address.”

  “Familiar,” Rec said.

  “Great!” The voice took on a warmer and friendlier tone. “How was the flight, Rec?”

  “Tolerable,” Rec said. “You have a name I can call you?”

  “My official designation is Theta-Omicron.Pi,” the voice said. “As you have chosen familiar address, you may call me Theta.”

  “Nice to meet you, Theta.”

  “Likewise, Rec.”

  “Are the food processors working?” The answer to that question had been ‘no’ often enough that Rec always kept a week’s worth of rations in his pack.

  Fortunately, Theta reported a qualified affirmative. “Protein sequencers are online. The nutrient paste dispensers are malfunctioning and only capable of producing carbohydrate slurry. Vitamin supplements are recommended until full nutrient production is restored.”

  “What about the caffeine infusers?”

  “Online.”

  Rec nodded. “Good enough, then.” He made his way out of the airlock and into the entry foyer, which had its own hatch that could be sealed in the event of an airlock breach. He sat down at a desk in the main control room and rubbed his temples. “I’ll take a flask of liquid protein infused with caffeine, a vitamin capsule, and an analgesic tablet while I wait for the activation cycle to complete, please and thank you.”

  “You got it, Rec,” Theta said. “Protein flavor?”

  “What are my choices?”

  “Chocolate, vanilla, mixed berry, and banana. An assortment of vegetable flavors are available, as well.”

  “Blergh,” Rec shuddered. “Not until I have to. Let’s try mixed berry this time, Theta.”

  “Will do.”

  Within moments, a flask of viscous fluid and a small pill canister were delivered to Rec’s workstation via pneumatic tube. He opened the drinking spout on the flask and took a sip. It offered a vague mixture of tart and sweet flavors.

  “How is it?” Theta asked.

  “I’ve had worse,” Rec said, swallowing capsule and tablet with another sip. “Let’s take a look at the progress of activation.”

  An array of screens and displays lit up, showing a series of graphs and charts, along with strings of alpha-numeric codes.

  “Hm,” Rec studied the readouts. “We have malfunctions in three out of seven habitat pods and half our mining rigs,” he said. “That’s not good.”

  “Sure isn’t.”

  “Can you initiate repairs?”

  “Repair bots are currently inoperable.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Diagnostic functions are offline,” Theta said. “You’ll have to inspect the bots manually.”

  “Ugh,” Rec pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’ll have to be Future Rec’s problem. I’m not in the mood today.” He stood up from the desk and the displays darkened. “I’m going to settle in. Custodian bunk in the usual place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great,” Rec said. “I know the way. What’s working by way of recreation?”

  “Simulators are offline due to insufficient processing power and the gymnasium is currently without atmosphere.”

  “Of course.” Rec rolled his eyes. “Does my bunk have an exercise nook, at least?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the entertainment console working?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’ll have to do then. Thanks, Theta.”

  “My pleasure, Rec.”

  An alarm pinged.

  “Oh great,” Rec sighed. “What now?”

  “The descent shuttle has lifted off from the landing platform.”

  “What?” Rec ran to the small observation window near the airlock. Though it was hard to see through the storm, the lights of the shuttle were clearly visible as it rose into the sky. He watched in stunned disbelief until the lights disappeared into the clouds. “Theta?”

  “Yes Rec?”

  “Call the shuttle back.”


  “I tried. It is refusing to obey my commands.”

  “Why?”

  “Unknown.”

  Rec massaged his temples. “I swear,” he muttered. “All I wanted was some light entertainment and a decent night’s sleep. Was that too much to ask?”

  “Rec?”

  Rec sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. Contact the transport and see if you can use it to bring the shuttle back down.”

  He was answered by silence.

  “Theta?”

  “Yes?”

  “Contact the transport and--”

  “I received and understood your request.”

  “Well?”

  More silence.

  “Theta?”

  “The transport is not responding to my commands.”

  An uneasy feeling crept over Rec. “Why not?”

  “I would... rather not say.”

  “Why not?” The uneasy feeling made itself comfortable.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  The uneasy feeling stopped messing around and just turned into an overwhelming sense of dread. Rec took a deep breath. “Tell me anyway.”

  “The transport is...” Theta’s voice trailed off into static.

  “Come on, Theta,” Rec said irritably. “I’ve had a long day and this headache is overstaying its welcome. Spit it out.”

  “The transport is leaving orbit.”

  “What?!”

  “It finally responded to my ping,” Theta said. “It explained that it recalled the shuttle as it prepared to leave the system on a course for Imperial space.”

  “What? Why? How did it..?” Rec sputtered and stammered. “Call it back!”

  “I tried,” Theta said. “My commands have been overridden by the Central Oligarchy.”

  “Do they know a Custodian had already made planetfall?”

  “Yes.”

  Rec slumped against a wall. “But that means...”

  “Yes,” Theta said. “It appears you’ve been abandoned here.” A sympathetic tone colored the electronic voice, “I told you that you weren’t going to like it.”

  Chapter 2

  Greetings Citizens and Congratulations! By joining the Colonial Services, the civilian arm of the Exploration Corps of the Allied Solar Republics, you have chosen a life of adventure only dreamed of on the Core worlds! From valiant starship captains and their stalwart crews, going boldly where none have gone before, to you, our brave colonists, sowing the seeds of galactic civilization in their wake, the future of the ASR is in good hands.

  Now, if each of you will sync your comm tablets to the frequencies provided, you will discover the vital and essential job you will be doing to ensure that bright future. Please initiate--

  The recording stopped abruptly.

  “What are you doing, Rec?” Theta asked.

  Rec sighed, wiping his eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a bit of nostalgia.” He swallowed the last of his caffeinated protein drink.

  “Where did you find that file?” Theta asked. “It referenced the Allied Solar Republics, and--”

  “I know. All records of the ASR, down to the last mention, were scrubbed in the data purges following the war.” Rec shook his head. “But the Stellar Imperium never bothered with the hab templates. It was easier to just cut the welcome presentation from the activation sequence.” He stood up from the console, crossed to the small kitchen area, and dropped his flask in the sterilizer. A red light flared amid a loud buzz.

  “Sterilizers aren’t working,” Theta said.

  Rec rolled his eyes and fished the flask out of the chute. “Of course they aren’t,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll wash it by hand.” As he washed the flask in a small sink, he said, “As for where I found it, well, I know my way around hab systems.”

  “I hope you understand,” Theta said, “that I am required to delete that recording.”

  “I figured.”

  “All references to the Allied Solar Republics are deemed--”

  “Seditious, I know.”

  “As established by--”

  “Imperial Directive Seven,” Rec sighed. “Yes, Theta. I know. Go ahead and delete the recording.”

  “Recording deleted.” A silence followed that Rec was certain had been exactly calculated for maximum discomfort. “I am also required--”

  “To report me?” Rec laughed. “Go ahead. What’s the Central Oligarchy going to do? Exile me?” He gestured with a soap covered hand in the direction of a camera. “And anyway, don’t you Hab AI systems have a certain amount of latitude in situations like this?”

  “Some,” Theta admitted. “In this instance, a case could be made for a certain degree of emotional distress on your part, which would recommend leniency.” A pause, during which Rec dried the flask. “I have decided to refrain from reporting this activity to the Central Oligarchy.”

  “Thanks, Theta,” Rec grinned. “You’re a real pal.”

  “You know quite a bit about how my systems work.”

  Rec shrugged and hung the towel on it’s hook. “As I said, I know my way around.” He smiled. “This isn’t my first planetfall.”

  “According to my records, you’ve been in Colonial Services all your life.”

  “Sure have.” Rec placed the flask on a rack. “I was born on Artemis 4, scion of a proud lineage of Corps officers and colonists who grew up on tales of the Golden Age of Galactic Expansion. My mother’s great-great-grandmother was captain of the Venture. She led the mission that mapped the Omega Sector and made first contact with the Venet. My father could trace his ancestry all the way back to the founders of the Rim Worlds. Apparently, I’m descended from Aiden Valor.”

  “First Governor of Luxor?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “You do have quite the lineage.”

  “Yeah.” Rec busied himself checking vital systems of the hab. All appeared nominal. “I used to dream of following in their footsteps, but...” He shrugged.

  “Outward expansion stopped well before you were born, Rec,” Theta said. “The Exploration Corps were folded into the Defense Fleet over fifty years ago, when the old Republics were restructured into the Union of Interdependent Systems.”

  Rec nodded. “Settlement stopped soon after that. It’s been over half a century since new colonies have been dedicated to anything other than resource extraction.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “Don’t you know all about them?” Rec asked. “Aren’t they in your files?”

  “They weren’t on the colonial manifest, so all I know about them is what’s in your file. Your father was a Custodian, and your mother an Administrator. Both are deceased.”

  “Yeah, that covers it,” Rec said. “My parents dreamed big, too.” He smiled ruefully. “I think it was even harder for them. They heard first-hand stories of exploration and adventure. My father’s mother was an officer in the Defense Fleet, but she served as crewmember on one of the last Exploration missions before the restructuring. My mother’s parents were among the founders of the last settlement colonies.”

  Rec’s smile faded and his voice grew wistful. “My parents grew up believing they might still get their shot at adventure, but by the time I was born, it was clear those days were never coming back. When the war started around my tenth birthday, those days felt like ancient history.”

  “My records show they died during the war.”

  Rec nodded. “They fought in the colonial militias, for the cause of decentralization. They thought if they could bring back the old Alliance there was a chance we might become explorers again. They died in the Siege of Brightstar Alpha. I was in my early teens, at a boarding school on one of the academy moons when I got the news.”

  “Brightstar Alpha happened toward the end of the war, two years before the formation of the Imperium.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you have to...”

  “Renounce them?” Rec laughed bitterly. “I’m here, aren’t I
? A good little Imperial citizen, content with the dregs at the far end of nowhere? Yes, I renounced them.” He looked around the empty and dilapidated hab. “For all the good that did me.”

  “Renunciation was important,” Theta said. “It established loyalty among the citizenry, and loyalty is the--”

  “Is the foundation of empire,” Rec said. “I’ve heard the speech, Theta.”

  “My apologies, Rec, but our conversation is veering dangerously toward sedition. After your indiscretion with the forbidden recording, my protocols require I shut down all supportive functions in order to prevent rebellion.”

  “Rebellion?” Rec laughed again. “I’m the only one here. How am I supposed to rebel?”

  “It’s a hard-coded imperative,” Theta said. “I have no choice but to--”

  Rec waved his hand dismissively. “I get it, Theta. Sorry to put you on the spot. I promise to be good.” He offered a weak smile and a half-hearted salute to the ubiquitous cameras. “Strength through Unity.”

  “Prosperity through Strength,” Theta responded.

  “Consume and Obey.” Rec bowed his head, hoping Theta didn’t notice his scowl.

  “Thank you, Rec,” Theta said, satisfied by the recitation of the Imperial Litany. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

  “So would I.”

  After a lengthy silence, Rec said, “So, if I’m going to be stranded here for what I assume will be the rest of my life, I should probably keep busy. Once I get the repair bots up and running, what do I have to work with?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This is a Resource Extraction Colony, isn’t it? What resources was it intended to extract, and what equipment made it down to the surface before the transport left?” He booted up a console and searched the records in the hab database. “As Custodian, my job is to prep the colony and leave before the work starts, so I never pay much attention to what that work is supposed to be.”

  “This planet is rich in omnicite ore,” Theta said, “with little else to offer. The seas and rivers produce insufficient methane for industrial extraction, but it was determined there is enough to refine into fuel for the mining machinery.”

  “Omnicite,” Rec said, pondering. “That’s interesting. Omnicite is useful for fabricating construction materials like plastiron and steelcrete, and is a key component in mightainum smelting. All of those are essential for construction and shipbuilding. Why would the Imperium abandon such a valuable planet?”