Chapter 2 #2
Outside the palm-sized observation window, the station fell away, quickly replaced by the growing hull of the Nicaea, dark and imposing.
Growing closer, the imperfections and hundreds of patches along the once-smooth exterior were hard to ignore.
Meteorites, blown apart by the canons, had rained debris along the tight paneling, scratching deep gashes as they passed.
Over and over, for a thousand years. The Nicaea had taken beating after beating without reprieve.
What a wreck, VIFAI said.
She was strong enough to get this far.
It doesn’t take much to follow inertia, VIFAI chimed up as the shuttle came to a stop with a last burst from the stabilizers.
Now came the important part: The shuttle would “knock” and the ship would “answer” before any doors opened or any docking took place.
Even old ships, without an AI construct navigating their journeys, could perform a function this simple.
Well, this isn’t good.
Problem?
This ship is so old it has no general operating system or AI pilot running it. Not that I can find. Doshua should have told me about this. Station is getting forgetful in its old age. I won’t get any information about what we can expect to find inside. I’m effectively blind and mute.
Without a general operating system running a ship or a ship AI presiding over it, VIFAI had no one to ask questions and no one to give it answers.
It lacked the configuration to speak to all the various parts of the ship or open doors, shut off lights, or really do much of anything of value.
Yet, when the shuttle “knocked,” blindly following protocol, the ship welcomed it inside and presented the closest airlock for docking.
The lights were clearly on, even when no one could possibly be home.
Still following protocol and without questioning the peculiarity of what had just transpired, the shuttle fired its stabilizing thrusters and moved to dock.
Odd.
Maybe you missed it, Iris suggested cautiously, ignoring the rising hairs along his neck.
A ship this size, me missing its AI would be like you missing a temple while standing at its gates, VIFAI bit back.
A foolish remark, Iris admitted. He picked up his duffel bag from the floor and walked over to the airlock.
The instant the doors parted, a current of warm, humid air filled the modest airlock to the brim.
A cacophony of earthy smells from otherworldly florals and other abundant alien flora flooded Iris’s senses with their sweet musk.
The heavy silks of Vessel robes, made to withstand dry heat were instantly soaked with fresh sweat and condensation and clinging to his back and thighs.
“Feels like home,” he said with a small chuckle as he wiped his forehead.
A dark, moss-lined corridor greeted him just beyond the airlock doors.
Moss covered every surface, running up the walls and weaving a patchwork of green around the flickering light panels.
In some spots, it bled a deep blue, so heavy it was nearly black.
Fat droplets of condensation settled along most horizontal spots, clear and bulbous.
Iris wriggled his toes against the soft, squishy ground with every step.
Down the corridor, the carpet of moss gave way to an array of vines.
Their lithe bodies had pried open the doors, pulling the two halves apart.
Large, yellow blossoms ran along their length, reaching through cracks in the composite of ceiling panels.
Breaking the first rule of walking barefoot through generation ships, Iris reached out and placed his palm flat against one of the vines.
A pulse played beneath his fingers with the steady rhythm of an unseen heart.
Peculiar, Iris told VIFAI. Make a recording of this, please.
Above him, the vines converged in an organic trellis, punctuated with more heavy, yellow blossoms. When Iris removed his hand from the vine, the flower closest to him furled its three petals inwards and released a fragrant puff before retreating into the vine at once.
Ignoring the second rule of walking barefoot through generation ships, Iris inhaled the sweet perfume the flower had left for him.
That could most definitely be poison, VIFAI said.
And I am inoculated against most poisons. And if I am not inoculated against this one, then it is the will of the Light that I perish here, Iris replied, sardonically. Relax a little. He brushed aside the vine from across the doorway and ducked underneath it with one fluid motion.
Most generation ships were designed to strike a balance between lasting utility and marginal comfort, as both were vital for human survival.
There was nothing comforting about a lifelong entrapment in a glorified can with only a modest hull to shield the inhabitants from all the brutality of outer space, so when quarters couldn’t be expanded horizontally, architects built up.
Most communal spaces boasted high ceilings and were equipped with lighting that shifted to mimic the rising and setting sun.
Where possible, corridors that went on for kilometres weaved between open spaces and living quarters, forming vast networks.
Iris had read that the most sophisticated of these ships boasted holographic ceilings capable of projecting the entire range of weather patterns, and some rooms were large enough to grow full-size trees.
The Nicaea appeared to be one such ship.
Judging by the abundance of diverse vegetation, the ship was large enough to sustain weather systems even when its climate controls failed in-flight.
Iris wouldn’t have been surprised to spot a few small animals scurrying by his feet.
Some always snuck aboard generation ships while they were planet-side.
Do you want me to run a sweep, since we don’t have a map?
Iris glanced at the floor in response, and VIFAI registered the slight movement of his eyes as a yes.
The Nicaea lacked an operating system, so there was no way for VIFAI to ask it for directions.
Iris reached out and placed his hand against an exposed bit of the hull.
When his skin met metal, a mild electric shock originated at his neck and shot through his arm before disappearing into the wall of the ship.
It was up to VIFAI to sweep the ship’s electrical circuits, tracing the wires along the entire body at lightning speeds.
In a few seconds, Iris would have a workable map, but in the meantime, he allowed himself a moment to pause and smelled another, now burgundy, blossom.
Before he could make sense of the otherworldly scent, VIFAI returned and flashed a freshly made outline of the Nicaea’s interior directly into Iris’s mind.
The map glowed a faint white against his surroundings and was malleable to Iris’s gestures, to pinches and stretches, zooming in and out as Iris willed it.
“Thank you,” he said, wincing at the jolt of electricity that accompanied VIFAI’s return.
He walked on slowly along the overgrown corridor, rubbing the base of his skull where the electricity spurred from.
It would calm on its own if he didn’t think about it too much.
The electrical shocks were a fair cost of interacting with the inorganic consciousness, a cost Iris had long accepted as his penance.
He found it insufficient in magnitude for his transgression.
Do you find it strange that we haven’t found anyone yet?
No footsteps, no traces of anyone at all coming through the corridor Iris now ventured down. On ships of Nicaea’s size, one could get lost indefinitely, found only by another Vessel when the temple would inevitably send one to lay to rest one of their own.
This is one of the distal airlocks, VIFAI said.
If I were starving or suffocating, I would probably go towards the centre, towards the greenhouses.
Plus, the ship would have shut down these vents first in case of catastrophic failure.
It takes a lot of energy to pump air through kilometres of vents.
Wouldn’t want to be trapped out here during a hull breach.
Ships are good at math. They’d rather waste a few passengers to save the colony.
Iris ignored the hints of amusement in its reply and walked on.
As he covered more distance, he passed from one ecosystem to the next.
The humidity around him dissipated, tropical vegetation giving way to small, barren shrubbery along the entire width of the corridors.
New bark-covered branches fought their way through the paneling, cracking and peeling away the once-beige composite.
It was then that VIFAI alerted him that they were being watched.
A moment later, a flicker of a bright red cloth caught Iris’s attention.
If not for the earlier warning, he would have thought it to be a bird’s wing.
But now, blossoming excitement filled Iris’s heart, even as he knew full well it could be quashed within the next second.
It could have been anyone: another Vessel, a lone survivor.
A lone survivor? Iris steadied his breathing.
Would he be the first in the past three hundred years to make contact with a passenger from a generation ship? Unlikely, and yet—
You should probably say something. You’re being rude.
VIFAI was, of course, right. Iris was being incredibly rude. Doing his best to exude calm benevolence, he called out, “Please come out. I mean you no harm.”
The flash of red darted across his field of vision again and then a small, female voice yelled back, with perfect diction, “That’s exactly what someone who meant me harm would say.” The chances that this was the last remaining survivor of the Nicaea were dwindling.