Andromeda-15

A-15

This is an account, written by former leader of Andromeda-15, Admiral Callista Scott- Bourdeaux's wife Rhea Bourdeaux, describes the fall of one of the most prosperous stations in our galaxy. She was found and interviewed by our team, in order to be put on trial properly.

A century ago, in the year 2023, the Earth erupted into war. Gas from the nuclear explosions settled on top of the ozone layer, fatally crippling the atmosphere of the blue planet, giving the human race a time limit- and an ultimatum. A team of scientists, led by my two times great grandfather Leonard Kelly, rushed to find a way to sustain the population on limited resources, but quickly ran out of time. When Leonard discovered a journal filled with descriptions of an old spacecraft, built to fly faster than the speed of light, he had an idea. From this image, he crafted the first of many in a fleet of ships that would occupy the Messier 31 Galaxy- Andromeda-ェ. We thrived on these vessels; today, over 30,000 humans inhabit 32 distinct crafts, each unique in its culture and design. It was on the 15th Andromeda that I was born- in the year 2098, a week after its production. I grew up never knowing Earth; the last human there had died nearly a decade before my parents were married. My people have never known the fears associated with older technology, only that it saved us from certain doom. Perhaps we should have taken more care, been rigid in our beliefs. Gas would have been swift. Technology is not.

It arrived in the the third season, around the time when we left our orbit close to KELT-2Ab, a gas giant not unlike Jupiter, and headed for the outskirts of the galaxy. The crops grew strongest when we passed brighter stars, so the stations were set to trade places with each other depending on the time of year.  Each ship had its turn to raise and harvest the crops; most was stored in cryo-tanks for harsher times, but a great feast always followed the harvests found near the KELT planets. Filled with exquisite costumes and foreign dignitaries, it was not abnormal to be introduced to the newest technology for sport; we took our advancements seriously. A man from Andromeda-19, known for his inside grip on the tech market, attended annually. Corshill had a knack for being convincing, the car salesman of circuit boards and wires. I didn't particularly care for him, but my wife Cal thought him a close friend, so I tolerated his less than genteel manners to avoid argument. I had no premonition that this gala would be any different; he always left without causing too much damage, and was harmless if you didn't let his words scratch you. Corshill was known for being a course fellow, scorned throughout society, but tolerated like an odd commodity you don't enjoy further than the gossip.

This particular machine was small, nearly invisible. I wondered if he had broken a piece off the walls' molding, until he stopped talking to a group of A-5s and hobbled towards me.

"Rhea,"He hissed in greeting, "You look well."
"As do you, Corshill." My smile hurt, pulling my cheeks upward as far as I could, "What have you got there?"
"A new device that will revolutionize the relationship between our homes," Corshill matched my grin, but it felt malicious, decayed. "It will guide our leaders to great harmony. I'll assume you've heard about the recent activity out near A-30?"
I'd had, of course, but had thought nothing of it. Rebellions popped every now and again, but they were solely focused on returning to the Origin planet. Our military forces quickly squashed them, and the news had chosen to focus on the wedding of another station's leader instead of the small terrors.
"This device will, for example, guide Madame Callista to make mathematically sound decisions regarding all areas of her métier- it would free her up to travel, or maybe invest in a hobby for when she retires?" He motioned at Cal with his free hand, smile increasing. "Darling, do try this. I know it works, but I'd much like for you to understand the depth of its genius. It will make the stuffy old AI unit running your ship look like nothing"

"What do you think, Rheanon?"  Cal placed her hand on my shoulder and  straightened her jacket with the other. "It seems implausible." I laughed, prepared to leave as soon as this conversation ended, bored with petty gossip; I would retire at the first opening, and I was prepared to let my wife fend for herself.