Segunda

By J. Leonard

The year is 2233, and humanity has finally found a viable new home. Named for a second chance in the discoverer’s native tongue, the opportunity could not have come at a better time. Earth has too many people, too much conflict and not enough resources for either. However, the Colony I, Earth’s new Ark, disappears after the last wormhole jump to Segunda. Power hungry politicians, predatory nations, and those who have nothing to lose—all have an angle to take advanta

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781640969100

Book preview

1

Location: Unknown

He awoke not knowing who he was or when it was on the deck of a small ship. He didn’t know where he was either, but as his visionslowly cleared, he came to realize the small ship had crashed. That, at least, explained his being under the flight control panel. He decided to try and pick himself up, but the ache in every muscle in his body convinced him to stay where he was a little longer. Slowly, the memory of crash landing into a small ravine came back to him. The ravine of what planet though, remained a mystery.

Mom always said to wear seatbelts he thought to himself, remembering odd bits and pieces. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought, even as the memory hinted at something much bigger he should be recalling.

Feeling a little less foggy, he eased himself up into the pilot’s seat. The shatter-proof cockpit shield was apparently aptly named. Barely. There were large cracks that could begin leaking atmosphere at any time.

The ship appeared to have no power, but as his senses cleared, he noticed a burning smell. Like an electrical fire. The kind of smell that makes you think things may be about to get much worse.

Struggling up out of the seat, he went to make sure the antimatter reaction was also shut down and not still trying to power the nonfunctioning engines. He made it back to the control panel, where fuses were sparking and smoking, causing the smell.

This can’t be good! he said aloud, panic creeping into his voice.

He punched open the panel containing the fire extinguisher and doused the fuses. The sparking abated, and after a few nervous minutes, so did the smell.

Shew!

That was close. Though it looks like this ship won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

He gathered up supplies for a scout of his hopefully temporary home. Emergency rations, pulse rifle, holo-comm…

Maybe this comm is personalized…

He flipped it over and looked at the small screen. Tapping a random button, the screen came to life:

Welcome, Roland

September 3, 2233

Well, if this is mine, at least, I know my name.

Fastening on his helmet, he cycled through the airlock hatch and stepped out onto the alien world. The hatch opened to reveal a vast, empty wasteland. His field of vision was flat and featureless past the ravine, covered in a reddish-brown soil. The sky was almost pitch black, hinting at not much atmosphere, if any at all. Roland tried a little jump to test the gravity. Somewhere between the Earth and its moon.

Roland walked around his ship, hoping to ascertain the cause of the crash. In big, bold letters on the side of the ship were the words:

Exploration Patrol

New Americas

Red, white, and blue stripes were painted large and bright behind the bold words.

Why am I in an EP ship? The memory of the patrol turning down his application after he had completed the training programs came back to him. That brought back other memories as well. Not so pleasant ones.

Circling around to the other side of the ship, Roland discovered the cause of the crash. Two large laser scars arced down the hull and through the engines.

Why the hell would someone wanna do that? Who would do that? And where are they now?

Discretion being the better part of valor, he decided to move away from the downed ship. At least for now. Waking up to these slow and strange realizations was keeping him off balance. Better to be missing until he could remember more.

Roland wasn’t sure where he was going, other than putting some distance between himself and the ship. The small ravine did not take very long to walk out of, and the view remained the same. No trees, no mountains, no sign of life. Just dirt as far as he could see.

The holo-comm had a compass, but who knew what the magnetic field was like on this rock, so he tagged the location of his ship and just let it track his movement. The emergency rations would feed him nutrients and water through an IV-like unit in his suit, but that would only last a couple of days. He would need to come back here.

Roland headed away from the ship in one direction as well as he could. Apparently, the reddish dirt and small pebbles were the most interesting things on this planet. Looks could be deceiving, so he walked with his rifle at the ready, just in case. The rifle felt good in his hands. Like he was familiar with this weapon.

As he walked, the memory of telling everyone about the EP turning him down came unbidden to his mind. All he’d ever wanted was to make his family proud, but damned if things didn’t have a way of going sideways.

Realizing he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, he shook away the cobwebs of regret and looked to the horizon. A plume of smoke was rising up ahead of him. Dust storm? Pursuers? Roland decided he didn’t want to find out just yet after all. Turning, he headed back to the ship to find he had travelled much farther than expected. He ran as fast as his suit would allow, looking back over his shoulder from time to time.

The plume of dust was definitely getting bigger, which meant closer. EV suits were not made for heavy exertion causing his breathing to become labored. The thought of possibly being hunted didn’t help. He increased the oxygen flow and pushed on.

Finally, the ravine came into view with the plume of dust looming ever closer. He made his way back to the ship, hoping that whatever was unsettling the dirt on this planet had not yet noticed him.

He cycled back through the airlock hatch as quickly as possible and, even though he was now trapped, he felt safer on the ship than out in the open. He left his suit on and helmet sealed in case of emergency. He went to the front and looked through the cracked shield, which thankfully, was still holding. Nerves on edge, he watched, hoping to see signs of nothing more than a small storm.

After what seemed an eternity, a small rover came into view at the mouth of the ravine.

Uh-oh.

Not knowing friend from foe, Roland hid in the cramped cargo compartment in the back of the ship. Better safe than sorry. The door slid shut, leaving him in darkness; the suit’s small readout of his vitals provided the only light. Feeling like a sitting duck, he couldn’t help but wonder why someone would want to shoot him down. Or why he was in this ship at all, for that matter.

The sound of the inner door sliding open broke him from his reverie. He held his breath reflexively and opened his faceplate, hoping to hear them talking.

Heeeeeerrreeee kitty kitty, said a man’s voice.

Heh, where is this guy? said another.

I don’t know why Aston wants him so badly, but I want that reward, said the first voice, up near the cockpit.

Aston…Thomas? The Veritas Political Party? Wants me?

He’s either in here or dead out there. This thing have a cargo hold?

Right outside the door.

Deciding to take advantage of the only thing he could—surprise—he aimed his rifle at the door. Holding it with his right hand, finger on the trigger, he pushed the open panel with his left.

Yes, said Roland, pulling the trigger, making that the last thing the surprised man ever heard.

What the— the man in the cockpit turned in time to see his cohort fall and Roland stepping out of the cargo hold. Surprise still on his side, Roland fired another shot. The man was quick, diving behind the pilot’s seat. The shot missed and travelled on to shatter what was left of the weakened cockpit shield. Roland darted back into the open cargo hold as the atmosphere quickly vented from the ship. He slammed his faceplate down and peeked around the corner.

Two shots from behind the seat made him dive back to the safety of the room. That was close. Breathing hard, he took a second to collect himself. He grabbed a spare boot and tossed it around the corner. Nothing.

Here goes nothing. Rifle first, he peeked around the corner again and fired before really looking. The shots were good, slamming into and penetrating the seat that was the man’s barricade. But he was no hero apparently, already through the open shield and scrambling down the front of the ship.

Roland got to the open shield as the man neared his rover, just outside the downed EP ship.

Sorry friend, he whispered, lining up his sights as his would-be assassin fumbled with the door. I can’t let you leave in that rover. Roland fired two quick bursts, dropping the man just as he was getting the door open.

Guess I have used this before. Roland was frozen, looking at the dead men. Now that he was out of survival mode, that realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Dead men. He slumped down in the scarred pilot’s seat.

It was either them or me… Now, what the hell is going on?

2

Location: New York, New Americas

The president of the New Americas sat behind his desk, waiting for one particular phone to ring. Three years ago, Stan Jacobson was a strong leader but, like so many before him, failed promises and unmet expectations had left him with little trust, and even less popularity. The disappearance of the Colony I only made things worse.

The New Americas formed officially in 2151. After decades of military, political, and economic support, the United States decided it would be better to have all the Americas under one rule. Theirs. It consisted of North America and the former Central and South Americas. With so much US money going to these new areas, the United States wanted their resources and manpower against the ever-growing Chinese superpower.

A controversial decision to say the least; the critics were now being proven correct. Living conditions had deteriorated so much in the United States that many felt energy and resources should be focused at home, rather than faraway places, serving political agendas. The additional responsibilities placed on an already overworked American government were proving disastrous. Unemployment was skyrocketing and despair soaring even higher.

Things were no better in the former Central and South Americas. A brief spurt of growth and improved conditions followed the union, but the American government’s aid and control had become increasingly sporadic and half-hearted. Many of the areas were in far worse shape today than before the union.

Enter the Colony I project. A far-reaching idea that had been discussed since the days when NASA first landed men on the moon—the colonization of another planet to serve as a second home for humanity.

In 2171, Edward Perez, an unremarkable astronomer at the time, discovered a planet that would eventually become our shot at redemption. It was named Segunda from his native language, representing our second chance. After almost two centuries of trying, astronomers had found no sign of any other intelligent life, but they had finally found a second Earthlike planet.

Decades were spent on the multinational project of planning and building Colony I, a massive ark to take humans to Segunda to make a new home. Scientists had already made a breakthrough in wormhole technology and were in the process of using and placing wormhole portals. It would take a series of jumps as, up to this point, they had simply jumped to a random star system and back. Now they finally had an actual destination. The Colony I launched in 2231 to both enormous fanfare and controversy.

And now it was missing.

Rin—

The President picked up the phone before it completed its first ring.

Still no word, was the simple comment on the other end. The look on Jacobson’s face told the Vice President all he needed to know.

They had lost contact with the Colony I a few days ago as it finally neared its destination. A polarizing topic from the start with millions of Americans questioning the crippling expense, this newly perceived failure was destroying Jacobson’s campaign for Steve Anderson to succeed him, thus sealing his legacy. Many felt that was the President’s greatest concern, not the welfare of the people at home or on the Colony I.

I need answers! said the President irritably. What the hell has happened to that ship? It cannot have just disappeared! He didn’t wait for a response before slamming down the phone.

We’re working on it, sir. The Vice President did his best to soothe his nerves. Steve Anderson was more than capable at his job. An intelligent, attractive, charismatic man at forty-four, many felt the two men’s roles should be reversed.

The press is only going to buy our evasive bullshit for so long.

I’m well aware of that. EP scout ships are already following their known route. It will take time.

"I don’t have time Steve. Veritas is suggesting the Colony I has been destroyed and some are going so far as to call the whole thing a hoax!"

Steve thought his long-time friend was sounding more and more irrational these days. He’d actually thought Stan would make a good president. He may have been wrong.

"Sir, no one believes Veritas’ propaganda, and the success of the Colony I will cement your place in history." Trying to placate the leader of the free world.

It better, Anderson, or so help me I’ll take you down with me!

The Vice President rubbed his eyes and let out an inaudible sigh. Sir, there is one more thing.

What is it?

The Exploration Patrol is missing its new prototype scouting ship.

3

Location: Unknown

Roland needed a way off this planet. Figuring Thomas’s men got here in something other than their land vehicle, he got in the rover and set off in the direction from which they had come.

The adrenaline from his encounter was wearing off, but it had succeeded in jarring loose most of his memories. Turns out, he was good at piloting vehicles and firing weapons because he had been through the Exploration Patrols’ rigorous training three times. Each time they turned him down due to background, despite exemplary performances. A year after being denied, you were allowed to attempt the process again, and Roland continued to hold out hope that they would see he could help them. So far, no such luck.

As he drove, there was not much to focus on other than the tracks, so his mind wandered as it often did. He had spent the majority of his life having fun. He would never hurt anyone, but a few otherwise poor decisions had left him not wanted by well-paying jobs and ineligible for the EPs. So he bartended not far from the Exploration Patrol offices in downtown DC, hoping to, maybe eventually, meet someone that could help him. One fateful night, he overheard a man well into his Jack Daniels bragging about how much money he was making to anyone who would listen. Typical. But this man was talking about sending the Colony I to a better place. That the government didn’t know what they were doing. People moved away from him at the bar like he had the plague. As Roland was about to cut the crazy drunk off, two bulky men in black suits came in, paid his tab, and forcefully escorted the man out. No tip.

Roland went to the authorities, but he was viewed as a crackpot selling a drunk’s story to try and get a foot in the EPs. Typical.

A large shape on the horizon finally gave him something to focus on other than regret. He approached at a steady pace, hoping that if anyone was there, they would just assume it was their two comrades returning.

As he neared, he could make out a ship slightly larger than this own. Unlike the EP ship, however, this one had no discernible markings, and it was perched nicely on its landing gear. No sign of anyone