Aurelia
The lottery. I never thought I could hate two words so much.
I don’t fancy the idea of my survival being based on randomness –to be fair, it’s more likely to be based on sex appeal, but since I don’t score very high in that area, I can only hope the lottery mechanism is random.
But it’s probably not.
Which means, I’m probably not going to be one of the lucky ten million who are chosen to evacuate Osticara.
Which means I’ll be vaporized in a nuclear wave once the Zyxien arrive. Yay!
“Auri! It’s happening! It’s live!” The voice of my banshee sister interrupts my emotional introspection, and I run to the living room. I’ll be dead soon, but at least I didn’t have much to live for.
“They’ve sent the list out, we should get a text any second now, check your phone!” She’s staring at her device with eyes so wide it’s a miracle her eyeballs haven’t popped out.
The television is set to the news, and the announcer speaks calmly, reassuring people that even if they aren’t selected, it doesn’t necessarily mean death.
Hah. As if anyone believes that.
“We’re not going to get in.” I huff, pull my phone out anyway. “There’s like millions of people more qualified.”
“But you said less people would enter the second lottery?”
“Yeah, I bet a lot of people still did.” I roll my eyes, “and there’s no way that lunatic Captain is going to let his temporary wife be chosen by an algorithm.”
“The winners should receive a notification any second now!” Says the announcer on television. She smiles too widely, almost like someone has a gun to her head. Someone probably does at this point. I’d be bawling my eyes out if I had to spend my last days cramped in a news office.
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Enea taps frantically at her screen, her long nails clacking on the glass, “anything? Anything? Do you have anything, Auri?”
I flick open my screen. “Nope.”
“Come on.” Her tapping intensifies, “gods damn it! Where’s the fucking notification?”
I sigh. At least it was fun while it lasted. The vague of hope of-
BZZZZZZZZZZT.
My phone erupts into a seizure, and I throw it across the room in shock.
“It’s the Marillion!” My phone writhes on the ground as a colourful, flashing image of a spaceship pulses on the screen. A cheery tune screeches from it, electronic synth music, with a robotic woman yodelling: “Aurelia Anique, you have been selected to join the crew of the Marillion! Click here for details!”
“Oh, my gods! Click it!” Enea leaps across the room before I can stop her, pouncing on the phone like a fox on a mouse.
“What does it say?”
“Aurelia Anique thank you for entering the lottery blah blah blah….” Enea trails off, and brings the phone closer to her face, narrowing her eyes, “…you may bring one family member with you on your voyage. Please print and sign the legal documents attached to confirm the marriage. A member of the crew will pick you up from your residence at 5am tomorrow morning.”
“Oh gods.” I lean against the door frame. I can practically feel my soul leaving my body.
It must be a cruel prank.
This can’t be real.
“This can’t be real!” Enea echoes my own thoughts, “oh my gods! You know what this means?!”
It means I’ll get to board one of the most beat up ancient starliner ships in history for a very fun trip back to the Central Planets.
“We’re getting out of here, Auri!” She shrieks at the top of her lungs as she jumps around the room waving the phone about, “we made it! We made it!”
Oh gods. Not for long.
The cruise ships of the Marillion Dynasty are notorious for their lack of safety protocol. They use an X0X-Lo1 styled engine with an OhNoSheTriedtoEattheCat interface. Those things were built from literal junior mech starter kits and named by the mentally questionable Illion of Marillion the 7th – aka; the captain of this fleet.
Oh gods.
“Aurelia, can you believe this?!” She grabs my shoulders, shaking me so hard my teeth rattle, “why are you looking like that! We’re making it off this ticking time bomb of a planet!”
“We’re going to die!”
“No, we’re not!” She’s too ecstatic to think this over. But that’s Enea, not me.
There was a reason The Marillion was placed under fraudulent investigation and disbanded one hundred and twenty years ago.
But look at us now, so desperate to evacuate the planets before the Zyxien get here– so desperate for ships they revived The Marillion and her crew (and mad mad mad mad Captain!) from criminal cryosleep.
And chose ME to win the temporary wife ticket to a new life.
Gods.
I’m actually going to die.