Drifting… I felt like I was drifting. My head was fuzzy, like I couldn’t concentrate, and a buzzing sounded in my ears that sounded tinny and off. My sluggish consciousness drifted some more, but the sound of the buzzing wouldn’t stop, and slowly – ever so slowly – I was dragged forcibly back to consciousness. When I came to, all I could feel was cold, and all I could see was a tangle of overly long hair in front of my eyes, and a frosted window that concealed anything on the other side. I was wearing a bodysuit that looked vaguely like a blue and white wetsuit, and I could see IV tubes attached to my wrists and arms. Was I sick? Where was I? Fear crept in around the edges of my consciousness, and I began to hyperventilate, but then something inside me clicked. Remember your training, John. Remember to control your fear. Fear will kill you. Control your fear. I breathed slowly, in, and out, performing techniques I did not recall learning. I repeated it again, and again until the fear began to lessen, and I stopped hyperventilating. Where did I learn to control my fear? I couldn’t remember. My memories felt fuzzy around the edges, like my brain was still not up to full speed. Once again, I wonder if I am sick.

The buzzing stopped. The silence was so profound it seemed even louder than a moment before, and I took a moment to stare at wherever I was. I seemed to be in a pod of some kind – cramped, roughly coffin shaped. A Cryo Pod, my brain told me. I remembered them from the Television. It was a new technology that people were going to use to colonize the stars. Is that where I was? I looked at the frosted window, which was rapidly thawing, and saw the silhouette of a large humanoid shape beyond it. Still shivering from the cold, I craned my neck to get a better look.

It was difficult to make a good judgement of size since I couldn’t identify wherever my Cryo Pod was stored – but if I had to guess, I think the large humanoid shape was almost 2 meters tall, and easily massed 95 kilograms or more. He was wearing something that looked like a high tech space suit – something a bit better than we had, whoever we were. I was starting to remember more as time passed. I was with a group, and we were going somewhere. Obviously somewhere that needed a Cryo Pod. Maybe I was on a colony ship? I did recall the news talking about ecological devastation, and the need for humanity to go to the stars. I must be on a colony ship!

I watched the tall figure move about a bit, until it reached towards the pod and pressed a button on the exterior panel. With a whoosh of displaced air, the pod door opened, and cold stale air hit me like a punch to the gut. However long I had been out, it was a pretty long time. The cold of the pod quickly fled as the room seemed to warm, and I couldn’t stand. I fell to my knees, and groaned in pain as the needles from the IVs tugged at my body.

“I am going to release you from medical. Please don’t move.” The large humanoid had a deep rich voice – like a rumble of thunder than most would consider attractive. A male voice, with a thick Russian accent, but speaking English or something close enough to it. He sounded friendly, but for some reason, I felt wary and nervous. I nodded, and tried to gather my strength. He pressed another button, and I yelped in pain as pressurized gaskets popped and pulled the needles from my wrists and arms, rather roughly. It hurt – I was sure it would leave bruising. Still, I was no longer trapped by the Cryo Pod. I could move, if my body didn’t betray me.

“What is name?” The deep voice asked. “Are you well?”

“I’m John…” I realized I couldn’t remember my last name. Why can’t I remember? It felt like it was on the tip of my tongue, but it eluded me. “I’m cold. Sore.” I heard myself saying the words, but my voice sounded weak and reedy – like I was only partially thawed. Maybe I was?

Another figure in a space suit entered the chamber the strange giant of a man and myself were in. This one was shorter – maybe 190cm, and much lighter – perhaps 80 kilograms, but both had their viewscreens polarized, preventing me from seeing their faces. The smaller one spoke, and this time I heard a different male voice.

“Can you walk? Do I have to carry you?”

This one didn’t have the thick accent – instead it was flavoured by a touch of it – enough to give it spice, without drowning in it. His voice was higher in timbre – not as deep as the bigger man, but still masculine enough. I tested my strength and thought I would be able to stand. “I think I can walk. Just not quickly.” I said, standing slowly. Every muscle felt sore and stiff, like it had lain unused in some time. Again I wondered just how long I had been out. Either way, the second man seemed satisfied, and motioned for me to follow him, which I did at my best speed, which was slowly.

I slowly shuffled from the Cryo Pod, realizing that there was little I could do at the moment. I followed the second man down a hallway and into what looked like a small airlock. The airlock was attached to something – a tunnel my brain tried to call an umbilicus – that led to another hallway. It looked like I was being transferred from one ship to another. Were they Search and Rescue? Somehow, I didn’t feel they were. I didn’t recognize any of the patches on their spacesuits, and they seemed understaffed for a search and rescue ship. How would I know that? I couldn’t tell. My damn memory was still playing tricks on me.

Eventually we ended up on the other ship, and he took me to a room. It was rather plain and nondescript. There was a single bed with sheets on it, and a sort of TV terminal on the bunk above it looking down, sort of like a coffin hotel in Asia. There was a desk and a large console and vid screen – obviously some sort of computer or television as well, and a small closet that looked like a shower and bathroom combined. I knew what it was – I just didn’t know how I knew what it was. Wherever I was had gravity, so it must be fairly large and spinning. Space Station? I wasn’t sure. There were no pictures on the walls or decorations in the room of any kind.

The smaller man who escorted me shifted, and removed his space suits helmet with a hiss of escaping oxygen. He looked about 25 years of age, with short brown hair and a clean shaven face. He had brown eyes, and was moderately handsome. I don’t know why I was cataloguing his physical appearance – it was like it was something ingrained in me.

“I’m Drogozin.” He said. “Call me Drago for now. My full name is a mouthful.”

He seemed cheerful, and not too worried about the situation. I decided to humor him. “Where am I, Drago?”

He paused, and obviously thought a moment. “Good question. What’s the last thing you remember, John?”

I thought for a moment, and for a moment I came up blank – but then details started to fill themselves in. Slowly at first, then bit by bit more and more came to me. “My name is John Kerrigan. I was on a Colony Ship – I can’t remember what it was called. We were going to Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons.”

“What is Jupiter?” Drago asked. He looked more curious than sarcastic, but I figured he must be joking.

“It’s the largest Gas giant in the Solar System.”

Drago tried to not look frustrated. “I get that. Which solar system?”

Which solar system? What the fuck did he mean by that? THE Solar system. “Earth… The Terran system. Sol.”

I don’t know what I expected his reaction to be, but surprise wasn’t it. “Then I have some bad news for you, John.” He said. “Your ship had an accident while everyone was in Cryo-Sleep. Meteorites struck your ships computer, and navigation went offline. You missed Europa, and left the solar system. You’ve been drifting in the black for a while.”

We left the solar system? How? I calmed myself again, breathing slowly in and out. “How long? How far?”

Drago looked unsure if he should answer or not, but moved forward. “A long time. Millennia. Several hundred light years. Terra is a long way away. I’m sorry.”

The words hit me like brick, but my shock was mitigated partially by my patchwork memory. I didn’t remember who I missed, or who would miss me – at least not yet. I didn’t recall my role in the colony ship – I didn’t even recall how I joined the colony. All I knew is that even if I could recall my past life, everyone I had ever known was dead and gone. My world – the world I knew was dead and gone. I didn’t know what to do, and slumped down onto the bed in shock.

“I’ll leave you to get some rest for a bit, John.” Drago said uncomfortably. Even he didn’t know what to say to me. He left the room, and the door swished shut – a little green light on the door panel switching from green to red.

I guess I’m locked in, I think to myself. I can’t concentrate on that yet, I was struck by a feeling of loss, so immense it seemed the passage of time was crushing me. I pulled myself into a ball and laid down, trying to stop the shaking and dread I could feel I was suffering from but had no control over. Breathe. I remembered to breathe. A few minutes later, the shaking had stopped, except for the sound of my blood pumping in my veins, which seemed to me almost like the sound of rhythmic thunder. I was exhausted – totally, in both body and mind. I wondered for a moment why I was alive, or if there was anyone else on the colony ship that survived, but before I realized it, the stress and fatigue caught up with me. Everything went black.

* * *

John stared at the acceptance letter in disbelief. ‘Congratulations Mr. Kerrigan! You have been selected as one of the members of Colony Ship Hyperion, bound for Europa. Report for pre-flight training at the Wisconsin facility no later than May 15th, 2120. You have 20kg of cargo allocated to you, so pack wisely.’

“Woohoo!” John fist pumped and did a victory dance! I’m getting off this rock, he thought. I’m going to go into space. YES! John didn’t even read the rest of the letter – he already knew what he needed to know. He ran upstairs to his cramped apartment to pack.

* * *

Three days had passed since John had received the letter from the Europa Project. What remained of his belongings were packed into a hard sided suitcase and a duffel bag – all the mass he was allowed to take with him when he left Earth. He was sitting in a greyhound bus, headed to Wisconsin. He’d sold the rest of his belongings and vacated his apartment – he wouldn’t be needing it anymore, and god knew that it would be filled by the end of the day. With 12 billion human beings on Earth – an Earth ravaged by global warming and ecological mismanagement – there was never enough of anything to go around. Food and Living space was all rationed by the megacorporations that were the real rulers of the nation – of the world, really. The actual governments had caved in to the corporations sometime in the previous century, and were now basically bought and paid for subsidiaries of the corporations. For most, life was miserable and desperate, filled with too much work, and not enough food. Medical care was a dream that only the fabulously wealthy could afford.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

John sighed. It’s not like you could afford the treatment anyway, John, he thought. If the Europa Project new you were trans, you’d be off the project so quickly your head would spin. Too many potential health issues – both mental and physical. Fuck that. John may have disliked – or maybe even hated – the way his body made him feel, but he hated living on Earth a whole lot more. His parents died in a factory fire when he was 16 years old – and instead of becoming a ward of the state, he fought to be emancipated and started working towards one goal… Leaving Earth behind. There were too many people, most with too little empathy for others. As far as John was concerned, anywhere was better than here.

He had worked hard, too – taken extra classes on his workload, taking anything that would help him qualify to join a colony ship. He had studied math, physics, first aid, computers, piloting, electronics and more, and had worked like hell to make himself exceptional enough to be noticed by the Europa Project. His six years of hard work was gruelling, but it had paid off – he was going to Europa!

Its too bad its come to this, he thought. People fighting over the scraps of the world, struggling to do their best to leave it. I heard the planet was beautiful once. Not now. Most of the planet was covered in a massive industrial metroplex, except for the protein farms and algae factories that provided the vast amounts of biomass that the population had to eat. One massive megacity, of concrete, steel, with 12 billion souls packed in like rabid sardines. No thank you. He thought. Even with all the risks, I’d rather die in space than here.

The bus rumbled onward, leaving John to mull over his thoughts.

* * *

Three months had passed, since John had arrived at the Europa Project. At first it had seemed magical, and intimidating – but now it was home – where he worked, played, and trained for their eventual liftoff. Three months more and they would be leaving. November 5th. He couldn’t wait. John had spent the last two months learning the systems of the Hyperion Spacecraft – what they called the Colony Ship – and how to repair it if needed. He’d learned about Avionics, Sensors, and even a bit Engineering – at least enough to know it wasn’t his forte, and he should stick to piloting. His role was on the bridge crew – a lesser command officer and pilot.

The captain of the ship was Nathan Scott, a man of vast intellect and skill in his mid 40’s. He was capable, fit, and ready to lead – but so were they all. The last two months had been a crucible in which the finalists had had their rough edges honed off, and made ready for the rigors of space flight. They’d received some Zero-G training, and some training with the use of space suits and EVA maneuvers, and they knew that where they were going, one mistake meant death – for them, or for the entire crew. Camaraderie was high, and few people on the team were truly enemies. They relied on each other, because out in the black, there would be no one else to rely on. They were family, in an odd way – and like all families, they had issues.

The past three months hadn’t been all work and no play. He had made friends – Justin, Katie, Samantha and Dillon. Friends he could rely on, relax with, and whom he was beginning to trust firmly. Justin was a blonde, with a hawkish nose and a surfer’s athletic body – although god knows why anyone would want to actually swim in the oceans they were so polluted. His devil may care attitude help keep their moods up, even when the workload got to be immense. Katie’s easy smile and long brown hair was easy on the eyes, and it was comforting to know almost nothing could phase her. She had used to be an air traffic controller – and said it was slightly less stressful than serving in an active war zone. Samantha had a sense of humor that went far when combined with her impish good looks and short red hair. She was sexy too, in an unattainable way. Together with Justin’s attitude, Sam helped keep their team on the level. Dillon was the reliable friend. Short black hair framed a square face with more than a little sadness etched upon it. Life had not been kind to Dillon, even more so than John himself – and he was happy to have John and the others as friends. John had caught himself watching Dillon more than once, checking him out – and turning away before he was seen. John felt something for Dillon, but it was never going to go anywhere. Dillon was 100% straight, and was crushing on Katie, and unless a miracle happened, John simply had the wrong plumbing. Nothing was going to change that anytime soon, either.

One of the best memories they’d had together was heading to an old amusement park in Bay Beach, Wisconsin for the weekend. They had splashed and played, rode roller coasters and gotten sick on ice cream and funnel cake – like people used to do before everything went to hell a century or so ago. For a few days, they were able to forget the world was sick and dying, and simply enjoy themselves. It was a good memory.

Since then, the teams had been working hard to prepare for liftoff. Everything seemed fine, and on track, until we heard about the unrest in China. Mass riots and stories of rampant cannibalism came out of the far east, and somehow we knew that the simmering planet we called home was about to boil over. Schedules were changed and moved up – less needed training was cancelled. We worked harder than ever to meet a new deadline, and as stories of chaos and strife spread, we heard new rumors – rumors of war.

We didn’t know where they started, or which megacorporation was being the fly in the ointment, but we knew our time was short. There was a sense of frantic urgency that left everyone in its wake. The powers that be decided our training was over – and on Sept 5th – two full months before we were scheduled to leave, we blasted off and left Earth behind. It wasn’t until 10 days later that the first missiles were launched.

At first it was hard to know exactly how many died. Billions, at least – and what was left was a radioactive wasteland. We had finally done it – nailed the final nail in humanity’s coffin. Some of the colony crew thought there was some hope for survival, but at the time most of us couldn’t see it. Earth was done. Europa was our future. Three days later, we entered the Cryo Pods. There was cold, then nothing.

Its amazing how it felt – Like you were floating in blackness, with no sense of time or awareness. Some people said you could dream in Cryo – but John wasn’t so sure. He hoped not. Six years was a long time to dream – and the idea of the possibility of a six year nightmare was terrifying. Better the blackness, he thought. The Hyperion would take six years to reach Europa, where it would find the supply ship sent three years prior waiting in orbit. When he next woke, John realized he’d be starting a new life.

* * *

John woke to the sound and feel of engines thrumming in the ship. As he opened his eyes, he once again had to brush the long brown locks of his hair out of his face. How long had it been growing? He wondered. Hair still grew in cryo – but it was far slower than it should have been. Then he remembered. The Hyperion had an accident, and he was thousands of years and hundreds of light years from what should have been his new home. Everything he had worked for was gone.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Fuck me sideways.” His body ached all over – sore from extended Cryo, but at least he was no longer freezing from the cold. The cabin he had been locked in seemed climate controlled, and was reasonably comfortable. He was still wearing the Cryo suit he wore when he left his Cryo pod. The blue-white suit was made of neoprene and Kevlar, and was decent armor against terran slugthrowers. God knew what kind of weapons they had nowadays. The logo of the Hyperion was on his chest, and his shoulder proclaimed “13” – a number he used to consider lucky. Maybe it still was, he thought. I’m not dead, am I?

John stretched and sat up, his back and shoulders aching. He felt hungry and weak, and a bit dizzy – but otherwise pretty shipshape. He stood an examined his room. It was much the same as he remembered it from when he arrived, although the bathroom plumbing looked somewhat unfamiliar to him. Needing to use it badly, he tried to suss it out, and made use of the facilities – although not without a little squirming and struggling to discover how the new technology had changed things. Oddly enough, it didn’t seem too different from what John was familiar with – close, but recognizable. That was good; John didn’t want his first impression with his captors or saviors to be him standing about in soiled clothes.

Once he was done emptying his bladder, he took a look at himself in the mirror – trying to take stock of any changes that might have happened over his time in Cryo. The first thing he noticed was that his hair was much longer than he had left it. He normally wore his hair short cropped in a tight, neat style that was archetypically masculine – the better to avoid questions about his gender identity. Now, it was long – hanging down to his shoulders in brown waves, and covered his eyes like Cousin It – a hairy creature with a squeaky voice from an old comedy vid filmed a century ago. The thought of himself wandering around squeaking while being unable to see made him chuckle, and he pulled the hair out of his eyes enough to get a better look at himself. He had a square face – a strong face, which frustrated him to no end. No facial hair – electrolysis and laser treatments back on earth had ended that definitively, but his strong shoulders and athletic build told people he was unmistakably, frustratingly male. He looked thinner – almost gaunt. Apparently his system had been starting to cannibalize itself; that would explain the weakness he felt. At least I’m alive, he thought. I suppose that’s a start. He wondered what the crew of the ship he was on intended to do with him.

Not able to glean any more useful information from the mirror, he left the bathroom, and returned to the rest of his quarters. Although space was a little tight, the room was more spacious than the ones they had had on the Hyperion. It was actually a pretty decent sized cabin for a spacecraft.

He looked about for some sort of intercom, and pressed a button he hoped would call someone. A perky female voice replied a moment later. “Hello?”

“Uh… Hello. I’m John – the guy you took from the cryo pod. Can I get something to eat?”

“Sure thing, John. We were just waiting for you to wake up. I’m Hortencia, the ships engineer. I’ll call Bear and Drago and one of them will come get you ASAP.” The voice sounded perky – and in his mind he pictured a cheerful blonde. He had no real idea what Hortencia looked like, but his brain imagined her that way.

“Thanks, Hortencia.” John replied. “I’ll wait.”

“Great! Someone will be there soon.”

With nothing else to do, John sat down to wait.