“Are We There Yet?”

written by Kyle Brady, edited by Taylor Nelson
copyright © 2010 Intuitive Industries LLC
do not reprint, publish, or distribute in other locations, in whole or in part, without permission
also available in PDF format

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Are we there yet?

These are the words that sprung out of nothingness into my head, as if someone had spoken – except they hadn’t. As the semi-transparent door to my cryotube rose open with a small hiss, I looked around the room and found nothing out of place: all the other tubes were empty, the ship seemed to be intact, and life-support was functioning. Since I was by myself, I went to investigate not only the voice, but why I’d been brought out of Darksleep so early; there was no announcement from the ship’s computer as to why I was revived.

Are we there yet?

“Who are you?” I asked aloud, surprising myself with the volume of my voice. “Where are you?” There was no answer.

I floated up the hallway, using the overhead rails as a propulsion system, towards the ship’s cabin, where I could at least turn on the artificial gravity. After a few minutes of upper-body workout, I arrived at the place where the cabin should have been, and saw only the closed bulkhead, which indicated nothing good. Using the commterminal on the wall, I keyed in my captain’s code and accessed the status menu.

Are we there yet?

The voice, I now realized, seemed to be coming to me not through my ears, but directly into my brain. Ignoring it for the problem at hand, I quickly discover that there’s no longer a portion of the ship that can be labeled as the cabin, which is wonderful.

“Who are you? What happened to my ship?” I ask again to empty, circulated oxygen.

I am here. You are here. We are here.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Speaking to empty air is getting tiresome.

Are we there yet?

“Are we where?”

Where we are supposed to be.

“Fine.” I move to the ship’s transport system, which is thankfully closer than the cryopods were, and glide down several decks while attempting to remain in the center of the transport tube, finally arriving at the intended level. The secondary control room, although not a cabin, is enough to get gravity working, check some computers, and take a look out the viewfields, all from the end of the corridor.

Unlike the cabin, this control room wasn’t closed off by a bulkhead, and I have full access. Passing through the entryway, still floating, my mind stops completely: the ship is in orbit, not around our intended destination, but instead around a brilliantly glistening planet of blue and green, backlit by a white dwarf star that’s close enough to matter, but far enough to not be immediately dangerous.

Are we there yet?

“Are we where!” My patience has begun to run thin.

Our destination.  My homeworld.

“This isn’t where we’re supposed to be – I was crossing the galaxy to rendezvous with a transport ship and be its secure escort. We sure as Zeus aren’t anywhere near that ship!”

No, this is our destination.  Truly.

“And what, exactly, is this destination? What is its purpose?”

To return me to my homeworld.  So that I might protect it from future evil.

I begin to laugh, but an ethereal figure materializes out of nothingness in front of me, despite the fact that it exists on the other side of the viewfield in airless space.

I lived long ago on this planet.  My people left it to eventually become your people, in places far distant.  I have existed for some time in this incorporeal form, but cannot travel great distances alone.  As your ship left, and you went into your hibernation, I boarded and controlled your computers.

“Even if I believe you, I have two questions. First, what happened to my cabin? Second, why did you return here?”

This planet was once called Earth.  Many of its people left when the local sun began the next phase of its life, but some remained.   I am here to guide and protect those who did not leave and evolved differently from your own people.

“And my cabin?”

An unfortunate event.  The path chosen placed us within many dangers, resulting in damage to the ship and the loss of your cabin. Regrettable.

“What?”

I must leave now.  Your ship has been useful and I am sorry for your loss.

With that final, cryptic statement, and ignoring my question about the loss of the cabin, the shimmering figure before me vanished in a trail of bright light that I tracked into the lower orbit of the planet. As I prepared the ship to leave the vicinity of this blue-green globe, the increasing brightness of Earth caused me to look up just as the entire planetary sphere disappeared in a single flash that was simultaneously empty and bright.

After taking a few moments to ponder the strange events that occurred since I woke from Darksleep, I slowly turned the ship around on what little power was left in the storage batteries, hoping to use the star’s light to recharge enough to plot the shortest path back to my system.

That’s when the star went dark and I remembered those cryptic final words: “I am sorry for your loss”.

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written by Kyle Brady, edited by Taylor Nelson
copyright © 2010 Intuitive Industries LLC
do not reprint, publish, or distribute in other locations, in whole or in part, without permission
also available in PDF format