The knock comes at 0730, jolting me out of my blissful sleep.
For a horrifying moment, I think I'm going to be taken away from my safety, not again. I feel a sense of dread lurking beyond that door like a shadow, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then there's a voice.
"Briefing in thirty minutes!" a voice called from the hallway. "Don't be late."
Relaxing my posture, I dragged myself out of bed towards the bathroom. The face staring back at me looked dead-dark circles under the eyes, a slight indent on my cheek from where my face pressed on the bed, stubble that grew out of control. I didn't look like myself, though who would after the detention center.
The quick blast of soap water sprayed me clean, a water saving mechanism done for all showers. I dressed up in the plain clothes they laid out on my bed–gray cargo pants and a black compression shirt, both designed for utility rather than style.
I stepped out of my room, following the signs down to Conference Room B.
The meeting room was already filled with people-give or take twenty or so, all lined up. I slipped in quietly, trying not to make my presence known.
Studying the others' inmates' faces, most of them look the part–scarred faces, dead set eyes, the kind of people who've seen the true lows of humanity.
As I continue to look around, the door seals shut with a hiss, and a massive screen at the front of the room flickers to life. A man appeared on the projection–broad-shouldered, wearing a uniform so heavily decorated it was in layers. His face stern, and uncannily like the war figure from the early ages, Uncle Sam that we learned about in history books, stuck in a hardened expression.
"You are the expendables," he began, "You will be the first line we send to this new planet. Planet 0952B, otherwise known as Tiamut. Your mission is to collect as much intelligence as possible before the other nations can establish a presence there. This is a key event in determining the hierarchy of our nations for the future. If we succeed, each and every one of you will be remembered in the history books as pioneers, heroes who led us to greatness. This is not only your chance to become a free man once more, but your only chance to write your names in the history of mankind as a whole."
The word "expendables" seemed to hook me through the gut, he didn't say that by accident, he meant it in the truest sense.
Glancing around the room, I see a mix of two crowds: some already demotivated by the first sentence, while others are looking more eager than ever, hungry even. But I'm left in conflict, the way he said "expendables" doesn't sit right with me, like we're not explorers but rather guinea pigs for the army. Running aimlessly towards a large uncertainty. But I'm desperate, and desperation makes you swallow up your doubts, so I don't speak up; no one does. The decision had already been made. We were going, whether we liked it or not.
The general's image faded, leaving us with only the wall to stare at for answers. A junior officer stepped into the room–a young man, his eyes aged before himself-and began distributing equipment packages.
"This is the standard exploration gear: Gill suits with integrated Gill-Lace, Insti-fab bands, emergency rations, and basic survival tools. The drop pods are equipped with minimal supplies to best help in the descent–you'll need to fabricate everything else once on planet. Questions?
A man near the front raised his hand. "What's it like there? Can we breathe the air?"
"Tiamut is an oceanic world. Ninety-seven percent of the world is covered in water. The atmosphere should be breathable, but that's only in theory. You'll be spending most of your time underwater, hence the gill suits."
"Is there any life on the planet?"
"Unknown. That's part of what you're supposed to find out."
Another woman spoke up. "How long is the mission?"
"Indefinite. You'll remain there until you've gathered sufficient intelligence or we recall you. Likely six to twelve months."
"And if we can't survive that long?"
Without a change in his expression, the officer replied, "Then you won't."
The room fell silent, and the officer glanced at his watch.
"The time for questions passed, you must all now collect your gear and proceed to the launch bay. We depart at 1000."
The ship was enormous–a sleek, elongated hyper-light vessel that looked like an abstract painting brought to life. It hovered just above the top of the spire, over a launch pod so massive it could probably fit dozens of these ships.
We were loaded aboard like cargo, ushered into a cramped chamber. I found an empty seat and strapped myself in, messing around with the harness until it finally clicked into place.
Around me, everyone else was doing the same, slightly easing my tension that it wasn't just me. But nobody spoke. The sound of jittering feet and tapping fingers was all that could be heard.
A voice came over the intercom. "Initiating hyper-light jump in T-minus five minutes. All personnel, secure yourselves for transit."
Five minutes.
Five minutes until we left Earth.
Five minutes until there was no turning back.
In my last five minutes on Earth, I thought about my mundane life living here. My apartment, with the spinning ceiling fan. The office cubicle, with Gerald, sitting alone on my desk, never to be watered again.
Useless thoughts to have at such an important moment, maybe. But they were mine. They were all parts of the life I had led, boring and meaningless it all was.
And now it was all being left behind, left to gather dust.
"T-minus one minute."
My hands gripped the armrests, knuckles turning pale.
"Thirty seconds."
Around me, everyone was closing their eyes, praying, whispering final words that the right people might never hear.
"Ten. Nine. Eight."
I forced myself to breathe. In through the nose, out of the mouth. I started to shake. This was the last…
"Three. Two. One."
I was thrown back into my chair, the ship itself seemingly pulling away from me. As the world exploded into light.
The journey was nothing like I'd imagined.
I've seen simulations, heard experiences, and read books of countless experiences on it but none of them could've prepared me for it.
It felt like my entire being was being turned inside out and stretched across infinity all in a moment. Every color of light started as beams being shot forward then stretched both ways beyond the eyes' reach, combining all together as the lights circled around me until it was pure white, pure blinding luminance. It was beautiful.
Then I came to my senses, people around me were retching into sick bags provided for exactly this purpose. The sound of gagging and coughing filled the chamber, an unholy chorus.
But strangely, I felt fine.
Maybe I was numb. Maybe my body had been through so much in the past week that the hyper-light travel didn't even faze it.
Or maybe I was just lucky.
The tunnel lasted exactly fourteen minutes and twenty eight seconds, I counted every one of them as my way to pass the time.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. The light vanished, replaced by the pure darkness of space. Wherever we were, there was only one star, to the right. But there were no other visible dots of life. And a moment later, the gravity kicked in, settling me back into my seat.
We had arrived at Tiamut.