Rolling Stones | Lost In Space

The Lauriel Disaster

0600 ET
LAURIEL, ALEXIS J, PASSENGER - 24TH COLONIST GROUP
LOCATION: RESOLUTE WING D R12

The 24th Colonist Group was the largest Resolute trip yet. People were literally packed like sardines in a flimsy matchbox. I don't blame them for it, though. Earth's climate was dissolving into oblivion at a near exponential rate, and humans, of course, traveled in literal hordes from all over the globe for a minute chance to save their own hides. The famous, shiny Resolute, designed by no other than Maureen Robinson and her crew! The Resolute will save us!

Me, being a human, was one of them.

I sighed and pushed the blanket off my legs. This year, the Resolute had reached its occupancy limit in record time: 4 days. It took 4 days  for over 900 humans (that's 32 passenger Jupiters alone - each with their own average occupancy of 6 - not including the flight staff, maintenance crew, various workers, etc.) to pack up and leave Earth behind, forever.

Ha. No one expected the entry tests. Each entry test failed (and there was a lot) only opened up a slot to be filled. That was one of the most stressful things about the exams - no one was rooting for you. There was nothing defining about you. Oh, don't stress yourself out. There's always someone who wants it more than you. You were no more replaceable than a scuffed-up boot. That was the main turn-off in years past, but I guess this year, everyone had a chance to study.

I passed, obviously, and my parents landed a job in the control rooms. My mother, atmospheric specialist, and my dad, chief of Internal Systems. Flight 24 was one of the last remaining before the heroic Resolute had to be replaced - damages, and all that jazz. The last remaining chance to see my brother, Boris Lauriel. I guess even Maureen's precious Resolute can't hold up against the passage of time. 

Bit weird, our names. Alex and Boris. I suppose my name isn't the most...foreign sounding? Tell that to my dad. he insisted  upon it, being the #1 British guy in the world. My mother's Ukrainian.

Boris is my twin. I wish he could've gone with Mom and Dad and I. He's got this lung condition, so of course he had to be off the second Earth's air went to shit. But why didn't we all go together? I suspect, though they won't admit it, that my parents wanted Boris and my grandparents to 'scope the land'. Make sure that Alpha Centauri was worth it for the rest of us. Somewhere, deep down, I know it. That's why we're stuck here on Flight 24. Which is so dreadfully, dreadfully crowded.

I rolled from my bed, feeling the coldness from the floor seep between my toes. A couple strands of hair fell from the braids running down either side of my head. Damn. I'd been experimenting with different braids recently - Mom had insisted that this one would get my hair the waviest. I combed my fingers through my hair, feeling the loose braids dissolving under my touch. Ebony strands fell into my eyelashes, ensuring that this dark morning started out with a frustrated groan.

I didn't dare turn on the lamp, for fear of waking my mom. Like most mothers, she's a bitch when she's woken up. Instead, I opted for the starlight that lightly ghosted the room.

The view outside was dark and starry, just like it was every morning, day, and night. With my window at the very back end of the Resolute, I could see the pinprick of light I'd been tracking for the past few months - Lillith. According to the map down in the dining hall, Lillith was actually a star about 40 light years away name A-T3. A red dwarf. I don't know. I've just been tracking it for shits and giggles. Lillith was just crossing the Resolute's southern hemisphere at about 72 degrees. Interesting, I mentally noted, whatever the hell that meant.