The Ship of the Unforgotten

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

New Eden Colonial Council Chambers

New Eden Colony

Feb. 19, 2545 A.C.E.

“Order! Order!” the council chair called. The chambers were awash in agitated talk, as usual. Councilman Rojer Mayet sighed.

Mayet was a slight man, non-descript in appearance, with pale skin, neutral brown hair and pleasant, if plain features, and middle-aged. He’d served on the council for almost ten years and never drawn attention to himself in all that time. Tonight he meant to change that.

“If there’s no other business to bring before the council,” the honorable Syth Welker said. Mayet rapped his sounding-box; all eyes in the room turned to him.

The council chair blinked at him with only the faintest hint of recognition. His eyes flicked, showing his use of a display to recall his name. Mayet sighed inwardly.

“Councilman … Mayet, the chair recognizes you. You have the floor.”

“Thank you, your honor. There is one issue that we need to address, and we need to do it soon. I’m sure you’re all aware of the matter of the original colony ship?”

All around the chamber, faces frowned and a murmur of conversation sprang up. Welker’s eyes narrowed. “The …” His eyes flickered again. “Ah, yes. The United Terran Ship Rose Dawn. What of it, councilman?”

The murmured conversation died down. Mayet looked around the room at a lot of confused faces. “My fellow Councilors, you know our history as well as I do. 423 years ago our ancestors arrived here from old Earth, and in less than a generation, they built the solid foundation that all we’ve achieved has been based upon.”

He took a sip of water. The room was quiet; he had their attention. It wouldn’t last long though; as he’d said, they already knew the story.

“What most of us have forgotten these last four centuries is that they were not the first settlers old Earth sent here.”

“Nonsense!” blustered an old gentleman he couldn’t see from his vantage point. “Our founders’ ship was the first faster than light ship old Earth ever built!”

That started the room buzzing again; he looked around at the collection of faces, almost two dozen representatives of the various colonial holdings, and in them, he saw some looking thoughtful, others apprehensive. So some of them are starting to remember, then, he thought.

“The first ship that old Earth sent was not found because you are correct, sir. It was not equipped with faster than light drives. But they did send another ship before our ancestors’ vessel. It’s simply that it hasn’t arrived … yet.”

The mutterings grew loud at that last. “What do you mean, yet?” someone called. “Surely you’re not suggesting they’d still be on their way?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, yes. The UTS Rose Dawnis still making its way here. I received a report earlier today from my Holding’s university; the Rose Dawn has been spotted.”

The chamber exploded with conversation at that. Mayet sat back in satisfaction. Welker looked as stunned as anyone, and as the uproar carried on, started banging his sound box for order. “Councilman ...” Welker began, obviously scanning the records, “that ship was supposed to carry thousands of colonists and crew. We can’t possibly cope with that many new arrivals all at once, we haven’t the carrying capacity on this world. What do you propose we do about this?”

The second colony ship, the UTS Eden River, had arrived at the new world less than a century after leaving the old. When it arrived, it discovered conditions weren’t as ideal as had been hoped. Their original mandate had been to prepare the New Eden colony, just as the Rose Eden would have, but now with the intent of welcoming the second ship when the time came. When this time came.

The original Eden River colonists had set out to do just that, quickly building a beautiful place to live in the alien environment. In the generations that followed, though, that mandate had come to be less and less important to the inhabitants of New Eden as the stresses of surviving on the alien world took their toll, and Earth and the Rose Dawn’s memories faded into history and oblivion. The population had quickly grown to max out the planet’s carrying capacity; they were restricted by an atmosphere that was close to that of Earth, but not close enough to enable reliable agriculture.

Things were further complicated by difficulties producing viable soil. The micro-biotic cultures that created fertile soil had difficulty with the mineral composition of the native ground. Even the hydroponic growth of food was slowed by short supplies of just a few key minerals.

The current population of the New Eden colony was roughly 15,000, and food was already in desperately short supply in some areas. Mayet had gone over the numbers carefully when he’d heard the news; 3,000 new arrivals would be catastrophically bad.

“I submit, your honor, that we must turn them away.”

“But where can they go?” It was the same voice as earlier.

Mayet had anticipated the question. “I’ll have my university’s technology department go over their records of old Earth technology of the era. They should be able to find some way to remotely reprogram the ship’s control system to return to Earth. The colonists and crew won’t care, they’ll just remain in cryogenic suspension.”

Mayet kept his face carefully neutral as the council chair looked thoughtful. He knew already there was no way he could send those people back to Earth; he’d already been briefed on the most basic specifications of the vessel. It would no fuel left by the time it arrived. If he couldn’t send it home, though, there were always other options.

Chair Welker allowed the chatter to continue for several minutes, then called for order once more. “Objections to Councilor Mayet’s plan?”

Nobody raised a point against it. None of them oversaw the University, and all of them knew of the impact 3,000 new arrivals would have.

Mayet rose and bowed to the chair, mentally working through his thoughts. There was much the University could learn from a ship like that, an artifact of the colony’s own history sailing from the great void and back into their lives. It was a shame, he thought; quite a shame.