Post by illirica on Jun 5, 2022 17:22:08 GMT
The ship hummed as it sailed its way through the stars. Once, the hum had been a joyous thing, sweet and reminiscent of home. Time had gone on, though, on and on, and the song of the ship had gotten harsher, ruder, with some very questionable verses thrown in here and there.
Most people barely heard it. It was a background noise, one that they had grown up with since birth, one their parents had grown up with, their grandparents, their great-grandparents - all the way back so many generations, to the far and distant horizon of an Earth that was only an image to them, dutifully stared at in cultural education classes about the traditions of the people they thought they had once been.
The ship had a name: Adastra, and a duty: to carry the people on to new worlds. The former of these things no one cared about - indeed, they had even forgotten the original name had been Ad Astra, 'to the stars.' But children had been born, and children's children, and there just wasn't the luxury of wasted spaces any more, even between words.
The people remembered the duty, though, because they were still trying to fulfill it. They had hoped to reach a world they could colonize, but their first hope had failed them, their second had been lost before they arrived, and with decades or centuries between each hope, it was hard to remember what each hope was, or even what hope itself had ever been.
Some said they should turn around - that they should take the generations they had come down and spend as many again to return to the Earth they had once originated with. It had been failing then, and perhaps it had already failed - but at least it had been there. At least it was something they could assume was real, unlike whatever lay ahead.
Others gave history as a counterpoint. The ship had been launched because Earth was dying. Now it would be dead, and visiting its barren grave would be of no real use to its distant children. They must go on, and find a new hope.
The dissent made its way into the ship's song, another added disharmony. Within, the people who didn't listen to it carried out their lives, one beat at a time.
"Line up, you little shits, or I'll tan your asses myself!"
Jan Li scowled over the slapdash assembly of youngsters as they figured out how to form a line, then stalked down it looking for something to complain about. She was a stocky woman, not particularly tall but tall enough to stand over most of the youngsters, and with the sort of build that led to people thinking she was larger than her actuality - although this might have been the attitude, which would have fit a person six times her size.
"Coverall zipped, Mr. San, I can see the sandwich you nicked from here. Miss Yi-Smith, what did we say about earrings when you're working with maintenance? I swear you are the sorriest lot of youngsters I ever laid eyes on. Someone here better have something good for me. Let's see it!"
A bit more nervous shuffling, and one of the youngsters tentatively held out a spool of soldering wire. Jan accepted this, holding it up to the yellowish light above with a critical eye. "Not bad. I can find a home for this. Good, Mr. Benneth, we'll get you an extra ration of something. What about the rest of you? Surely someone has something worth the time I spend managing you pathetic lot. Bring it out, or we'll all be working extra this evening."
Most people barely heard it. It was a background noise, one that they had grown up with since birth, one their parents had grown up with, their grandparents, their great-grandparents - all the way back so many generations, to the far and distant horizon of an Earth that was only an image to them, dutifully stared at in cultural education classes about the traditions of the people they thought they had once been.
The ship had a name: Adastra, and a duty: to carry the people on to new worlds. The former of these things no one cared about - indeed, they had even forgotten the original name had been Ad Astra, 'to the stars.' But children had been born, and children's children, and there just wasn't the luxury of wasted spaces any more, even between words.
The people remembered the duty, though, because they were still trying to fulfill it. They had hoped to reach a world they could colonize, but their first hope had failed them, their second had been lost before they arrived, and with decades or centuries between each hope, it was hard to remember what each hope was, or even what hope itself had ever been.
Some said they should turn around - that they should take the generations they had come down and spend as many again to return to the Earth they had once originated with. It had been failing then, and perhaps it had already failed - but at least it had been there. At least it was something they could assume was real, unlike whatever lay ahead.
Others gave history as a counterpoint. The ship had been launched because Earth was dying. Now it would be dead, and visiting its barren grave would be of no real use to its distant children. They must go on, and find a new hope.
The dissent made its way into the ship's song, another added disharmony. Within, the people who didn't listen to it carried out their lives, one beat at a time.
====
"Line up, you little shits, or I'll tan your asses myself!"
Jan Li scowled over the slapdash assembly of youngsters as they figured out how to form a line, then stalked down it looking for something to complain about. She was a stocky woman, not particularly tall but tall enough to stand over most of the youngsters, and with the sort of build that led to people thinking she was larger than her actuality - although this might have been the attitude, which would have fit a person six times her size.
"Coverall zipped, Mr. San, I can see the sandwich you nicked from here. Miss Yi-Smith, what did we say about earrings when you're working with maintenance? I swear you are the sorriest lot of youngsters I ever laid eyes on. Someone here better have something good for me. Let's see it!"
A bit more nervous shuffling, and one of the youngsters tentatively held out a spool of soldering wire. Jan accepted this, holding it up to the yellowish light above with a critical eye. "Not bad. I can find a home for this. Good, Mr. Benneth, we'll get you an extra ration of something. What about the rest of you? Surely someone has something worth the time I spend managing you pathetic lot. Bring it out, or we'll all be working extra this evening."
