1 Year Later.
Welcome back! You are now tuning into the inner thoughts of myself, Peter A. Boffrick. As of three seconds ago, you have come aboard (Well maybe not physically, but certainly spiritually!) my beautiful Big Bertha. Hip Hip Hurray! (Cheer with me! No? Fine…)
You are about to witness history in the making. (Does that mean you can see through my eyes?!?) Phew… Had to cast a quick glance around the control room. Make sure I was still in control you know? I chuckle just a bit at that.
Anyways back on topic. You find yourself in the captain’s chair with none other than the brightest and greatest, myself! Yes, yes no need to applaud me, I understand.
“Uh, Sir?” asked my navigator hesitantly.
I don’t know why he’s so shy… man up! “Hmm? Yes, what is it?”
Looking at me weirdly he continues, “Your signature please.”
Must be my dashing good looks! “Oh… right! Of course,” Almost forgot about that.
“You have control” Dennis replies while backing away cautiously from my blinding smile I send his way.
Switching gears and ending my short mental blog, I turn deadly serious for a moment at the gravity of the situation. Reaching down to the ground I pull my jet-black ship captain’s hat from out of a compartment. It fits right in with my knee length leather duster. I may or may not have had it made just for the occasion.
I reply in the gravest voice I can muster, “I have control.” I straighten my shoulders and because I just can’t resist any more I throw my arm towards my highly trained specialists team and bellow from the top of the my lungs “Start the engines!”
Or at least that’s what I tried to do before I start hacking from too many years spent not taking care of myself and seldom speaking. (I prefer email okay!) My ever-faithful navigator Dennis T. Hubenberg with a bit of worry on his face (and a frown, I can see that you know!) asks, “You alright?” If from what lays ahead or actual worry on my behalf who knows what he’s concerned about really.
Pounding my chest and holding up a hand just for a moment I cough out one last time, “I’m *cough* fine.” Clearing my throat, and knuckles held to the mouth I speak in a highly-sophisticated voice, “Start the engines.”
All five members, the best in their individual fields, turn to their holographic monitors to oversee their systems as they start up. (What you thought the company I made dealt in toys or something? Heck no!)
Dennis hails from America and mans the Star Chart Station (SCS). Meaning he is in charge of navigation and piloting.
Elise G. Hoff has roots in England and is the lead engineer of the team. She was overseer of Phase 2 and knows the ins and outs of the ship in her sleep.
Prof. Chow Li (Spff! HaHa that always gets me every time.) is our specialist of language and culture. She oversees communications and any possible first contact protocols if we were for some reason to need them. (Who knows there might be intelligent monkeys over there as well!)
Then we have Dr. Molotiv from Russia in charge of Medbay. Possibly the most important job since who knows what diseases and other shit might be over there. (He also has no middle or last name weirdly. The guy screams secrecy, I love puzzles!)
Last and certainly least since the ship has no outer weapon systems is Gen. Brewster from Germany. He’s in charge of MilPPer. Standing for Military and Public Personal. (MPP)
As I see it we won’t really need to much of a military right away so I combined public relations with the military. (What could go wrong right?) Brewster is an impressive man known for a hard stint personality of a few words. I’m sure we could get along (probably). There was no possible way to add weapons on the outside since it might mess with the compensator. Sadly, that means no Admiral aboard this space boat.
He does have two companies of a hundred marines each fully kitted with the latest and greatest gear available though. I even managed to convince (force) my logistics chief to fit an Abraham tank and several genuine warthogs into the cargo bay! (I’m a halo fan okay! Even geniuses need to take a break occasionally. Deal with it.)
The bay is stocked full of everything we could possibly need. You name it and it’s in there. Fabricator? Check. Food and water for at least 30 years? Check. Atomic Bombs? Chec… What? No of course not! The fuck would we have those for? (Don’t tell the chief but I may have secretly snuck a small 2 megaton one on when he wasn’t looking… it’ll be our secret.)
Breaking me out of my internal rant Elise talks through her headset as her hands furiously input commands, “Engines are green and hot sir.” (Okay I may have told a small fib earlier. I might have gone and gave myself the rank of Supreme Admiral. I’m in charge anyways!)
Resting my elbows on the armrests and clasping my hands together I reply, “Very good.”
“Nav is up and running, course is plotted and authorized.” Dennis piped up.
“EMTs are standing by in Medbay.” Continued Dr. Molotiv.
“Comms are working. Link established with ground control.” Chimed Prof. Chow.
“Marines and Personnel are at their stations or strapped in.” grunted Brewster.
Smiling I indicate to Prof. Chow to pull up a holopanel to my chair. Popping up in front of my small holoball inlayed in the left arm rest of my chair, was my first project in MavTech that made me rich. Stabbing my finger through a button labeled ground a comms channel opened to Drew, my operator on the ground.
“Hello sir. Awaiting our orders.”
Drumming my fingers on the back of my hand, “Open the lid.”
“Aye sir, on the way.” Turning to the side Drew shouts at some people off screen.
A deep rumbling vibrates throughout the ship as mechanisms and gears turn letting sunlight fall upon the white glossy hull of Big Bertha. Her name is engraved in big black blocky letters on either side. This is the first time in 30 years, ever since she was made, that the sun could shine down on her.
Nearby the island several media helicopters and their crews stutter and jump, severely startled. Just moments ago they had been playing cards and griping about the boredom of their job. They start scrambling the crews on standby knowing something massive is underway.
The dome that they had been watching on rotation for the past 32 years has never opened before. People can be seen on their holowatches contacting their employers waving hands around (just like they don’t care!) hither and wither conveying the severity of the situation.
Within minutes of the dome unsealing, news channels around the world are already flashing headlines of ‘Breaking news!’ and ‘Billionaire Peter B. on the move after decades of seclusion and secrecy!” People around the world no matter who they are, government officials or common workers, look to their holodevices in curiosity and anticipation.
Onboard Big Bertha I log into a backdoor account I created before selling MavTech. Inputting several lengthy commands and passwords, the logo of MavTech shows on screen before me flashing slowly while rotating. Requiring voice authorization, I say slowly “The White Fleet Sails Off.”
The logo flashes frantically three times before it stops rotating and comes to a stop and fades away. In its place my image appears quite clearly. Across the globe holodevices turn on whether they were off or sleeping and the screens change to my image that’s currently being broadcasted.
“Attention consumers and people of the world. I come to you not as a hostile takeover of your daily lives, but to inform you.”
Straightening my soldiers even further I look the part of a dashing hero dressed in black. “For the past 34 years, I have secluded myself away on a private island. I was not building weapons like the media often preached or painted for you.” Sounding understandably sad by this I speak with quite the emotion! (Although I did have several made they don’t need to know that.)
“I was in fact building a ship to explore the very stars themselves!” Spit almost flies out of my mouth I’m so excited! “Me and my personal team will be leaving Earth behind. We will leave communication satellites behind every so often, most likely every half-light year, to keep connected and relay our discoveries.”
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Nodding once, then twice I continue, “We set off for the Andromeda System. We leave not as some radical group but as explorers of the unknown.” At some point I’d lifted my fist during the speech almost like a salute.
At the words explorers of the unknown I look to the side and nod to Chow who starts a countdown and speaks to Drew quietly. The ship shudders and starts to tilt. It feels like its falling back slightly. I let my fist fall with it.
Strapping myself slowly to my chair I stare back into the screen silent, letting the drama build up. Feeling a very big thud and a loud click around 30 seconds later I say to the screen, the world, “Farewell Earth.” And cut the connection.
Grabbing the control stick on my right armrest I disengage the safety measure and push forward until it rests as well.
“We have ignition sir,” says Elise.
Big Bertha starts to move forward slowly along the track at a 45-degree angle at first but starts to pick up speed fast. An arm behind the ship and attached to the track is doing most of the heavy work. All employees and workers have already been evacuated from the premises during my small (but highly inspirational!) speech.
Once clear of track the thrusters will pick up the load and carry us into orbit where we’ll make any course corrections needed. A few hundred unmanned drones have also been launched to protect us as we leave. (I’d prefer not to have to meet any missisles, no thank you!)
After about 5 minutes I feel my stomach drop and Elise informs the entire ship, “Track arm disengaged. Engaging thrusters.”
Only moments later I feel my ship stop shaking as we leave the track up and out into the blue sky. Looking at my screen in front of me showing dispensable camera views time seems to stand still. My thoughts racing, I think to how much time has gone into this dream of mine.
Just yesterday it almost seems like I dropped out of high school, made a successive company, made plans, put those plans into motion, and now here I am. I started out alone but made some colleagues and of course, I have my mind buddy. Then the ship massively bucks and time hits me real hard in the gut. Blowing my breath away and accomplishing bringing me back to reality.
“Thrusters engaged. We have liftoff.”
Meanwhile on the ground, a certain someone watches his holoTV. I always wondered what that crazy bastard was doing out there on that island Defense General Anthony Witzker thought to himself. It is himself who convinced the President to sell the island off and leave Peter alone. He sees himself as a friend in the back going unnoticed to Peter.
Even money can’t always buy everything so he decided to be the one dealing the cards from the alley. Some materials are always hard to acquire unless you have the right connections. Anthony kept his eyes glued to the screen just like everyone else in the world aware of what is going on.
Cameras follow the white spec in the sky although they are more likely to show the blinding light reflected off the ship than the actual ship itself. Talking to his secretary Anthony politely asked, “Get me the manufacturer of satellite series 23-1B please.” He was damn sure that whatever his friend is going to do out there, that he’d have a friend on the ground back home to smooth things out.
"We'll be leaving the atmosphere momentarily!" shouted Dennis. "ETA on departure of Earth's gravitational pull is an hour and 47 minutes."
Looking at the screen before me my draw almost dropped. Sure, I’d seen pictures from cameras before taken of space from outside the atmosphere, but it’s not real until you’ve seen it yourself with the best gear available. The stars are so much brighter and the moon several times bigger. My eyes were almost just as bright. Anyone looking would probably think I was a kid who’d seen a mountain of candy.
Speaking of candy… my stomach growled. “Alright everyone is dismissed to go eat. See you back here in an hour thirty. The time just hit 13:42 on the dot. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m sure since I was just way too excited for today. (Don’t want anything embarrassing happening you know?)
Escaping my chair, I walk down several small cramped corridors and 2 flights of stairs. The kitchen is located somewhat close to the hangar bay 3 where most of the food is stored. Water is recycled. (Thankfully still fresh for now! Drinking my own piss later will be an experience I’m sure. Hopefully the fish we grow won’t leave their taste in it as well.)
Making it to the kitchen I open the door greeting every random person that passes by me with a small smile (and a who the fuck are you? There’s around 1200 people on this ship okay? Cut me some slack.) Sadly I couldn’t convince the chief that I needed my own dining room. Sitting with the normies isn’t too bad though I guess.
You got this Peter! They aren’t staring at you… I keep repeating that to myself as I head up to the counter. Chef Balinsky, a 5-star chef from some famous hotel, is on cook duty today it seems. (Even I and my money couldn’t convince some of the more famous chefs to leave their kitchens behind.)
“I’ll take some macaroni. Extra salt.” Most of the dry stuff is pasta, supposedly able to survive a nuclear apocalypse. I have some doubts about that but whatever.
Hefting a huge ladle, he scoops an extra-large serving, probably since I’m the captain of this ship. “Here ya go.”
Giving him a quick, “Thanks.” And not a second glance I move to a corner of the room reserving a seat on the edge closest to the door. (Hey I’m not trying to be especially rude to the guy or anything. I just haven’t eaten in a while and I’ve already spoken much more than normal. Need some me time.)
Blowing on the steaming noodles I swirl my fork. Then I shovel it into my gaping mouth already salivating at the smell. I proceed to then spit everything back into the bowl! Hot! Jumping up while cursing I practically sprint over to the water jug near the end of the counter I missed in my hurry for me time. I drench my throat and immediately feel relief as an involuntary sigh escapes me.
“Spff!” My head snaps to the left where I see at least half of my bridge crew turned around or looking mighty interested in their polished shoes. Grumbling to myself I move back towards my seat as Brewster ambles along up to the water jug himself.
Grabbing the fork once again I take my time to sufficiently cool the noodles down and eat. All but forgetting the earlier incident I revel at the taste of the noodles. Sooo good! Much better than those instant noodles I had all the time during my research days.
In no time at all I’m done. I guess one good thing that came out of that embarrassing event earlier is everyone avoids me for the time being after the murderous glare I gave them. Checking the time, I see only about 45 minutes has passed. Ruminating I hesitate on what to do next.
Might as well familiarize myself with the ship a bit more in the downtime. We’ll be getting to know each other over the next 24 years. Only looking at the plans and important component blueprints isn’t good enough.
I slump my way over to the metallic grey sliding door. Almost everything on this ship is metallic grey and black. Hand rails run along the walls just in case of emergencies with the occasional potted green plant to spruce things up just a bit.
With how heavy this ship is we still haven’t completely left the gravity of Earth yet so there’s no need to worry about having to use the rails yet. Probably a good thought there as well. Ship is massive so I’ll just stick to the areas around the bridge for now.
I reach a branch and think; ini, mini, miny, moe, catch a tiger by its toe, if it hollers, bop it on the nose! My hand stops on the right door. Grinning to myself I swagger up and the door opens to a quarter company of marines inventorying their gear (Shit!). All their heads swivel around to face me. “Wrong room, sorry.” Spinning on my heel smartly I walk right back out.
Turns out the other door leads to the Medbay stocked full of shining cabinets stuffed with drugs and other stuff that must not be named. (I hate needles!) I got some weird questions from the staff in there and promptly did my best to back myself out of the sticky situation (Haha! I’m the best, aren’t I? No? To cheesy? Fine…).
Any who, this leads back to the present of myself having just wasted 30 minutes and feeling exhausted because of it. I retrace my steps back through the mess hall and up to the control room now called bridge since we’re in the air soon to be space.
Cheering up visibly at what was to come I stride through the door. Or at least that’s what is supposed to happen until my face meets metal. Rubbing my aching nose, I thumb the keypad attached to the left of the door getting a green circle in response as the door slides noiselessly aside. Shouldn’t have sung that childish song earlier I grumble to no one in particular.
The rest of the team is already inside and if they see my nose was a bit red they didn’t comment on it likely remembering the death stare I gave them earlier. Plopping down in my captain seat I bring up the timer set before we left to eat. It reads 7 minutes until complete gravity well departure and 5 minutes until afterburners.
We have been slowly moving in the outer reaches of Earth’s Atmosphere making sure everything is in working order as we complete our repositioning. Don’t want any unforeseen failures or dealing with no gravity. Speaking of that, to Elise, “Warm up the compensator.” I say.
“You got it.” Comes back.
Technically the ICMT2 hadn’t been tested yet. Earth’s magnetic field would mess with it too much so I’ve only ran thousands upon thousands of simulations. (Another key reason as to why some individuals passed up on my offer to explore a new planet.) Of course, some didn’t want to come because of this but I managed to convince the critical figures after a lot of time and money.
This will be the first time the ICMT2 runs at full capacity keeping gravity inside the ship to a normal level and set to repelling about a hundred meters off the hull. I’m not too worried since all my projections and calculations have led me to a 98.9% possibility of it working.
Even in the worst-case scenario of 1.1% it shouldn’t kill us. There’s a reason we’re giving it a full 10 minutes of running before engaging the afterburners which will get our momentum going over several days to light speed.
“Gravity well exit complete.”
Leaving Earth’s gravity behind us all together the gravity slowly gets lighter and lighter as we break away from low orbit. I can feel myself starting to almost float out of my chair. Five minutes later we’re in our projected course start location.
“Engage compensator.”
“Aye Sir, Starting compensator.” Elise flips a switch and presses a comical red button I had made just for the compensator. (There had to be a little umph to make it stand out, right? It’s my greatest creation after all!)
A tiny amount of Element Dawn (made by yours truly!) flows into the inner sanctum of the compensator. Almost immediately a low thrum runs through the ship as anything about to float away (not much since most everything is strapped or bolted in place) thuds onto the floor of the ship. Settling back into my chair my unknowingly tense shoulders relax themselves and a breath of relief leaves everyone else.
“Compensator is stable. No problems can be seen.” Reports Elise.
One of my most genuine smiles shows on my face as I say, “Of Course! I built the thing.”
Waiting several more minutes we watch closely for any change in the situation and decide to activate the afterburners exactly after 10 minutes has passed.
“Forward for a New Dawn is just over the Horizon!” I shout manically since it just feels right. (I have been waiting for that one ever since I decided on the name for the Dawn element!)
Elise taps a few commands and the ship shudders and moves for a fraction of a second forward. Then all hell broke loose. Mine and everyone else’s vision shifts blue with a tint of purple and black polka dots along the edges.
I say to myself “Ah crap.”
Then I’m falling face first onto the floor passed out before I even make it halfway. My butt sticks up in the air since I was leaning forward off my chair and not strapped in since the gravity was back on. Everyone else’s heads slump forward since they were a bit smarter.
Then we all disappear.