New Horizons, Vol 1, The Voyage.

1. Acceptance Letter

Cheyenne held the tablet tightly in her hands. The decision was made, one she cannot go back on.
Signing up for the voyage was going to change her life and hopefully...
Glancing up from the email, having read it a dozen times, she peered over the edge of the antique form of technology and looked out over the sun-bathed hay feilds stretched as far as the eye can see.
This is all she's ever known, zone 8. They grown animal feed here for hundreds and hundreds of miles, unmarked by the warzone, untouched from the survivors, free of pollutants and fall out.

Her family, what little she knows, holds this land with an iron fist. But even they, powerful as they are, are dying off.
Grandmother Elizabeth moved slow most mornings, clenching her jaw, flaring her nostrils when she moved wrong. It's unbelievable the old woman thinks no one notices the daily pain shes in, running cattle from one sprawling paddock to the next, supply the plains with meat for the families controlling the grow belt.

Grandma Elizabeth shouldn't be running cattle, shouldn't be riding horses, and, should not be drinking so much.

The screen cracked with age and foggy from outliving its designated time, Cheyenne glanced down to the email, both black brows arched high on her forehead. How is she going to tell the family what she's done? What she's signed up for?

Turning the device off, she put it in her messenger bag and fastened the purse closed before exiting her 200 square foot cabin.

Cheyenne can waste no time, the post office will be closed soon, she needs to apply for her passport, file paperwork and put up the monitor.

Outside, tied off to the porch post, waited her strawberry roam quarter horse. She undid the reigns and gracefully mounted her faithful companion. She as this horse were nearly the same age.

Clicking her tongue, the command was given. The horse turned and the journey down the caleechy dirt road bathed yellow in the sun began.

The post-office was a white brick building in the middle of a squalid little town, asphalt roads had long since given way to cracks, weeds and dirt.
Homes, businesses, and governmental buildings had struggled against the grains of time, of war and famine.

Riding up, Cheyenne dismounted, tying her steed off before entering the post office.
No lines.
She opened her PO box, pulling out a welcome packet for, THE VOYAGE.
Sheepishly stealing away to a corner, out of sight and out of mind, she shakily opened the envelope and pulled out the contents.

Scanning over the pages, reading the instructions, she glanced up once.
Wind howled across the plains, flecks of dirt pelted against the windows. The baleful moaning of dead trees and northerly squalls heaved against the stone building.
Her horses mane danced in the gusts.

She looked back down.
1. You must obtain your terrestrial and intergalactic passport.
2. Go to the immigration office and report to the administration of placement and transport.
3. Once you sign in, orientation will begin. The device will be fitted to your ankle, wrist and sternum. You will not remove device unless your physical reports you are unfit for the 2 year method of transport. I.E. If you have desired skills, are part of the labor union, or are a female of reproductive age , you will then be reconsidered for the 10 year transfer on a cryo-barg.
4. At the 5 month mark you will be assigned a world, and, if you qualify for the program, you may be placed with a compatible spouse and rewarded a land grant and sum of money, determined on skill, aptitude test and functional health reports.

Thank you for apply to the program, and welcome, to The Voyage. Where dreams meet reality.

Cheyenne quickly closed the packet, shoving it in her messenger bag. Heart racing, stomach churning, she leaned against the row of PO boxes, realizing she was shaking in her boots.

"My god." She whispered to herself, "grandma is gonna kill me."