Generation Cerberus
In the year 2019, the Russians developed the blueprint from the Generation Ships. Their research was set back until 2024 when the Third Reich, which controlled all of Europe except Russia, declared war on Czar Kalasov III. The Czar pushed the Reich out of his territory, resulting in the Reich’s first loss since 1940, and commissioned a team to begin groundwork for a prototype model of the Generation Ship. On the morning of August 16, 2032, the first Generation Ship, named after the Czar himself, was sent out on its first and only voyage. Its mission was to go to Mars and retrieve information as to whether or not the planet could support human life. If it could, then the crisis of natural resources that was being experienced would come to a close.
When the Kalasov launched towards Mars, worldwide panic ensued. The United States, still reeling from the wars they fought with Mexico, scrapped together a group to obtain the blueprints from Russia. The Consolidated Divisions of Asia allied with Canada and Australia, forming the Coalition of Independent Generation. The goal of C.I.G. was to create Generation Ships from non-Russian blueprints, but to achieve the same ends.
While C.I.G. developed Generation Ships with theoretically infinite life support, the Kalasov returned, thirty-two years after its departure from Russia. Its arrival was utterly disastrous. At 3:24 A.M. exactly, according to the Russian military clocks, the ship entered the atmosphere. For an unknown reason, whoever was piloting the ship didn’t know how to work the communication console, and missiles were fired from a Russian silo. The Kalasov sank into the Pacific, irreparably damaged. A Russian recovery team salvaged a recorded data file that proved how the supplies lasted for the journey there and back, but that many of those who tried to explore the planet did not return safely. By this time, Earth’s resources were drying up, and Mars, which had seemed the optimal choice for colonization, was proven inefficient. Hope became just a memory.
Research on new planets that could support life continued, however, and the C.I.G. built a ship that could house a theoretically infinite number of generations that needed almost no fuel to operate and was entirely self sufficient. A select number of families, approximately two from each nation, and a couple thousand elite crew members were chosen to make the voyage on this ship to a planet that may well take centuries to reach. The scientists called this planet Eden and the great black ship, with its three observation decks jutting out like necks on a massive, shadowy dog, was christened Cerberus. Its first and only voyage began in 2109, and this is the story of the tenth generation living on the Cerberus.
Dimitra Kalasov was sitting at the core of the Cerberus, marveling at the gears whirling and grinding as they supplied energy to the entire ship. The thin steel sheet that stood between her and the one mile drop through a mesh of pistons and belts that led in a suicidal and direct route to the engine room. The entire room was lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs that hung high overhead shower of sparks from the machinery.
Breathing in the fume thickened air, she smiled. This was her Utopia. She was covered from head to toe in oil, grime, and dirt from working maintenance on the machines all day long. The dignity that her name would’ve had some years back was well diluted, and she was no longer the relative of a ruler, but a mechanic. A beeping from the pager at her side jolted her from her reverie, almost sending her into the pneumatic abyss below. She snatched at the belt clip and read the words that flashed across the tiny LCD screen.
“Command Deck I. Those guys are bloodsucking bastards.” She muttered, replacing the pager. The crew of Command Deck I was consistently trashing communication and transmission equipment. She checked her watch and decided to let them wait. There were still five minutes left on her break, after all.
“Lieutenant Callow, I need help here!” Engel shouted, cringing as sparks shot out of the communications console. Engel was standing over it, trying to keep the sparks from getting in his eyes as he hastily attached wires together, fusing and separating at random. After a few more seconds of his spastic electrician routine, Engel gave a sigh as the console gave a dull whir and stopped spitting angry sparks at him. As he sat down in one of the command deck chairs, Callow burst through the door with a fully warmed up fuse gun, the all-purpose repair tool that Engel had assaulted the console with.
“Where’s the problem?” the Lieutenant asked, eyeing the room cautiously.
“I took care of it.” Engel wheezed, brushing a lock of his long, receding blond hair out of his face.
“Well, then what ‘was’ the problem?” Callow asked, through gritted teeth. In his quick survey, he had noticed that the communications mainframe was offline.
“It was ticking again.” Engel said, pointing the fuse gun at the console. Callow started to say something, but Engel interrupted him. “Oh, and Dimitra should’ve been here, but she didn’t respond to her pager.” As she said this, the Engineer burst into the room, pushing Callow aside and diving at the console, fuse gun drawn.
“Dammit, Engel!” She shouted, light flaring from inside the console as she quickly and deliberately reconnected wires properly. “I was on my break! Do you have to cannibalize the machinery while I’m relaxing? First, I get paged by you, then the pager shuts off altogether, and then… Sweet damnation, Engel!” She shouted this last part as she came out of the wireworks for air. In her hurry to get up to the deck, she had forgotten a proper safety mask and had only a green plastic face visor to protect her. “It’s like you try to break as much of our tech as possible! I’ve seen kids do better cross wiring than this!” She came back up again and but the cover back on the console, then sat down on the newly repaired machine as it whirled to life. “So tell me, Engel, please, what was wrong with it this time?” She growled, tapping one foot angrily against the metal frame of the console as she took off the visor, which was melted at the edges.
“It was doing that weird ticking sound.” Engel said sheepishly, sinking into the chair. In the three years since she’d turned sixteen, Dimitra had almost single handedly been running maintenance on every machine in the ship. No one else dared touch anything for repairs without her express permission.
“Ticking?” She asked, taking a deep breath. Her thing face was turning red with anger. “You almost ruined vital machinery because it was ticking and you just couldn’t wait five minutes for me to finish my break?” She asked, glowering accusingly, her small body shaking with rage. She couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall, but she scared Engel to death. He barely managed to nod in response. “You idiot!” She exploded, throwing her visor at him. “I’ve told you plenty of times, Engel! The ticking is part of the console’s self diagnosis program! Lieutenant Callow could’ve told you that!” Frustrated, she pushed off of the console, snatched the visor off of the floor, and stormed out of the room, muttering something about pushing Engel through the airlock.
Callow moved to the console and flipped a switch that activated the P.A. system across the entire ship.
“This is Lieutenant Jonathan Callow, speaking to you from Command Deck I. You may have noticed that our communications systems were temporarily offline. The problem has been fixed, and I assure you, it will not happen again.” He finished this routine speech and shut off the P.A. system before turning on Engel.
“Sir, I didn’t – If I had – I couldn’t…” Engel said, speaking too fast to make a coherent sentence before long.
“Quiet.” Callow said, his voice resonating with authority. “You have consistently been trouble for this facility, Engel. I can’t afford to have you doing things like this. I’ve got my position to think of. Besides, if this continues, we may have another Mutiny on our hands.” Engel cringed at this. Callow didn’t know what he was saying. The Lieutenant was a young man, barely twenty two, while Engel was in his early forties. Engel had fought during the Mutiny; a rebellion caused when the Russian groups on the ship established theirs as the standard language, and in the process killed many of the Commanding Officers who had ruled the crew of the Cerberus with despotic tactics. Engel had supported them.
“Yes, Sir.” Engel muttered, realizing that he was defeated.
“And so, to ensure that this does not happen again, Engel, you are being demoted to a position as a security guard around Command Deck II.” Callow continued, opening a channel to Command Deck II on the communication console. The screen flickered to life, showing Lieutenant Commander Victor Larkhill seated before his own console, and Security Commander Maria Aegis standing at his side.
“Lieutenant Callow.” Larkhill said, nodding once in Callow’s direction.
“Commander Larkhill. Commander Aegis.” He responded, with a similar gesture for each of them. “I would like to request a transfer for one of my men.” He added, taking a good look at them. He didn’t usually see Commander Larkhill, who had been the leader of the Mutiny so many years back and was by no means a young man anymore. His hair was gray and receding, cut in a very military style, and he wore one of the heavy military coats that had been stockpiled on the ship shortly before its launch. Aegis, on the other hand, was new to her position as Security Commander and only a few months older that Callow. She and Callow had grown up on the same sector of the Cerberus as children and were still close, despite the difference in ranks. On the job, Aegis wore her long hair in a tight red bun, and moved quickly, stiffly and deliberately in the military uniforms. She always took her job seriously, much more so than Callow, which was one of the major reasons why she a Commander and he was a Lieutenant. Not that he minded, of course. Callow knew that he could never be able to handle the stress of a high level officer position, so he did not even bother to try.
“Where would you like him transferred to?” Larkhill asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“A security post in Command Deck Two.” Callow responded, casting a brief pleading look at Aegis.
“We’ll take him.” She said almost immediately, cutting off Larkhill as he began a sentence. Realizing her mistake, she quickly tried to explain it away. “We, uh, we need, ah… More security officers desperately, Sir.” She said, regaining her footing. “We’ve been at a loss for security personnel as of late, and we need all the help we can manage in this command deck.” She said, glaring at Callow momentarily before regaining her composure.
“I will trust your reasoning, Commander Aegis, and I also trust you to see to it that this man is an official member of Command Deck Two’s security staff by tomorrow morning. Lieutenant Callow, what is his name?” Larkhill asked, pulling a datapad from under his chair.
“Engel Marcini. His current position is Maintenance Manager of Command Deck One.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Callow.” The Lieutenant Commander said, cutting the transmission.
“Engel, you’re dismissed.” Callow said, without turning around. He was supposed to have dinner with Maria tonight, and he wanted to be ready. The colder he was to Engel, the sooner he would leave. True to Callow’s prediction, the former Maintenance Manager of Command Deck One went to his quarters, feeling utterly defeated.
