Flash Fiction

In the second heroic age Lars Nansen perceived himself as something of a failure. He had the right education, he had all the training and all the necessary connections. As yet though, he had not managed to attach himself to any successful expedition.

He had been part of two failed expeditions and a third that he refused to ever discuss. So, as he faced the new day, he felt less than enthused for his coming interview as second in command on a trip expected to last at least five years. It seemed more like an internment than something anyone would agree to, but. But his uncle, his self appointed promoter and himself a onetime glorious expedition leader, had readily agreed to the interview on his behalf.

As he arrived at the launch site organising staff were busying themselves with obscure activities. The interview was merely perfunctory considering the expedition commander’s opening remarks were ‘welcome aboard’. Within forty eight hours Lars was fully accredited and strapped into a deep sleep tube ready for the fifty five light year journey to Iota Horologii. Fifty five light years that would be forced into a one year flight. He would be full familiarised with every detail of the ship and mission while he slept deeply. As he fell off the edge into the chemically induced torpor he thought of how his or more correctly, his families reputation had strongarmed him into this claustrophobic tube.

Then there was black, until there wasn’t. It was like being pulled through a briar patch face first with the scratching forcing wakefulness. Lars emerged from this trauma still thinking about this enforced expedition. He cursed aloud. His throat like the curse was dry and bitter. His eyes would still not open, but nevertheless he held out his hand for the rehydration drink. Nothing. He cursed again. He waited. Slowly he started to regain feeling in his limbs. His eyes opened jarringly. As his senses slowly gained ground, he noted the silence. An unexpected silence. The lack of crew. The scent of decay. The taste at the back of his throat. All the data he had processed during his deep sleep said this couldn’t happen.

Steadily and very carefully he unclipped and disconnected all the tubes and monitors. Normally this would be done by a specialist, but he also had the knowledge. He took his time to acclimatise. He called out, he knew the names of all the crew. His calls fell dead in the protected environment of the ship. He patiently sat motionless until he believed his body functions had returned to near normal. When he did stand and move about the first requirement was to find some clothing. He was also noting an unexpected chill.

Dressed and rehydrated he explored the dead, deserted ship. First he checked the deep sleep tubes, most were empty but just a few contained rotting, gloopy corpses. As he was making his way around the empty ship his overriding thought was ‘Lars Nansen, yet another fail’. He eventually found five bodies in the sleep tubes but no evidence of the other twenty odd crew members. He located the rehydration store backup power and got it online and working. He was able to eat and drink his fill. After a few days he got some of the ship systems operational. After searching through the least corrupt of the systems the revelation that floored him the most was that he had been in the sleep tube just over twenty five years, a quarter of a century!

After a few weeks of struggling with decaying circuitry he managed to get the exit doors ready to open. As he couldn’t get any external readings, although he intuitively knew the ship must be on solid ground, he fully suited up. The multi-layered door slid reluctantly, gratingly aside. The readings in the suit helmet showed the temperature remaining steady. A red, orange view greeted him. A deep yellow ball of what must be Iota Horologii dominated the sky. He could make out what appeared to be ruined buildings, but then again, they could be just rock formations. The helmet readings suggested that the air was breathable. He stood contemplating for as long as it took for his heart rate to reach something approaching normal. He twisted the fittings and gently raised the visor. He let a long breath out and then took a full breath in. The first breath on… Nansen’s World.