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We’ve really just accepted the sheer amount of FAAS (Free-floating abandoned or semi-abandoned spacecraft). I mean, if you think about it, spacetravel has been around for more than a millennium… I’ve seen craft that are three-hundred years old.
When I first saw Asha, I thought she was a freighter, she was so beat up - dented, parts of her just gone. There was no sigil, no sails, no flags, just a lump of white and grey metals. When we got closer, I noticed silver cables embedded in the hull and I was like, holy stars, we got a Founder Ship. The painting on her starboard became clearer as the crew pulled up. Nora, my first mate, is the only one that can read Old Landing and she told me it said “Asha” and a numerical “1.” I just thought, holy shit, we’re about to be so famous.
A small crew of my Divers (manual exploration personnel, those who open doors, move heavy objects, or strip spacecraft) set up our portable airlock and tested the air inside. This is standard procedure because we need to make sure in the case our suits malfunction we can still, you know, live. The air tested as oxygen with large amounts of contaminants from what Zed, our chemist, said was the decomposing bodies of a lot of people.
I know the laws, the regulations. We called the archeology division immediately, but I didn’t want to wait around! I left Nora in charge of the crew and our ship, and I was the first person in those doors.
It was dark, and the air was cold and still, according to Leda, the envi (Environmental Technician, those who monitor and control the air quality, temperature, and smell of a spacecraft) we’d picked up on Lonor that cycle. These things told me and the crew that was with me - Leda, Mark and Aurora - the divers, a grabber (someone who removes valuable or significant things from the spacecraft, takes pictures of writings, and uses comprehensive knowledge of a model’s interior to navigate the spacecraft) named Nod, and our tech guy, Larz.
Look, like I said, we followed all the regulations. We didn’t dilly dally, just headed right to the nose of the ‘craft. Seeing a founder’s ship in person was… stars. They just don’t teach you how big they are in school. Bow to quarter, miles and miles, and we didn’t know how much was just living space. It might have been taller at one point, but the cargo and main engine was just gone. We'd docked somewhere in the back, and, based on Nod’s predictions, needed to walk to the very nose of the ship to reach the pilot deck. So we did. We headed in a straight line down the side corridor, then up a flight of stairs, then down a ladder, then through a couple doorways. On the way we didn’t see much, a few skeletons, some scattered debris, a few tools laying around. Few of the doors were open but the ones that were- I mean, they talk about the “sins” and “material waste” of the Founders, but, man, all that space used on lounging rooms or bars? When they could have fit more people? It was no wonder the 80 or so that made it to Eartto all had some kind of revolution. This one was knocked so off course I’m sure the PS (Piloting System) was damaged or something, making our presence all the more unstable. The Vent Suits (Agile suits that can alternate between filtered air from surroundings and breathable air contained in tanks) kept some of the cold out, but it was cold. Leda kept adjusting our temperatures as we got closer or farther from the core of the ship.
The doorway to the control room was tall and made of a tarnished metal. Decorative. It had a big diagram of a human body on it, the brain and brain stem outlined in deep red. It was vaguely familiar… I think I remember seeing something similar on a tour my wife and I took around Eartto’s capital when we first got married, except that one had the heart outlined.
Once Larz had opened the door, Leda opened our air pathways on the suits and a strange, dank metal smell hit me. Likely a burst fuel line. We hadn’t seen that many in the civilian hallways, but the narrower, darker rooms we passed had been choked with them. Long ago, one of the people must have punctured a line.
There was light inside the control room. Once we’d adjusted, we almost tripped, there were so many fuel lines. They were twisted around thin black pillars and draped on control panels and winding up the sloped walls into narrow openings in the ceilings. My eyes caught on a particularly thin one embedded in the door frame and I followed it to the center of the room. To the Pilot's chair. My first thought was that it looked uncomfortable, my second though was, holy stars, there’s a person in there.
I tried to meet eyes with Nod, but he was just staring at her. We all were. Stars, a Pilot. I felt like I was getting up close and personal with a black hole. Next thing I knew I was standing in front of her. I crouched down. Leda broke out of her trance and started scanning the fuel lines nearest her with her MEDS (Mobile Engineering Diagnostic Scanner) and turned her body away from me. Nod approached, brushing the arm rest of the chair almost reverently. I remembered he grew up in a Convent (dwellings for those who worship Pilots) and moved over. We both crouched in front of the Pilot. I reached out a hand and brushed her arm. Her skin was so ice cold where I’d tapped it. She opened her eyes and looked at me, and then Nod. Alive. Stars.
Her eyes were pitch black, even the parts that were supposed to be white. I don’t know who spoke first, me or Nod or Leda or Mark. “Hello.” No, it was her that spoke first. I’d expected her voice to be raspy, but it was just broken. She coughed for a while, and we looked politely away.
I said, “Hey,” Stars, “Hey,” like we were on a vidcall. She said nothing. I got the feeling she was uncomfortable with how close we were, and scooted away. Nod did too. The others came around to stand behind me and she made eye contact with all of them.
She was very still, didn’t twitch, didn’t even breathe. I knew some part of the ship was breathing for her.
She said, “Who are you?”
I focused on her, and I said “I’m Captain Axel of the Haloc. Do you know where you are?”
I’ve recently gotten rescue certified, and all my training bubbled up to the surface.
She said “Yes.”
I said, “Are you hurt?”
She said no.
I asked her, “Is the name on the outside of this Ship yours?”
She said, “What name?”
I said, “Is your name Asha?”
She said, “Yes.”
You don’t think about the little movements people make when they are talking to you, even people in pain. The little leans forward, the turn of their head, a crease on the forehead. She didn’t move at all. Her wrists, elbows, hips, and ankles were bound to the Pilot chair with narrow bars. Larz got rid of them, then we all sat down around her. I brought out my mobile recording device- before you ask, it was malfunctioning then, it didn’t work until later. I think something about the ship made it do that. All I can tell you is from memory.
To start, I asked her how long she had been alone, and why. Asha said that it had been a long, long time, and she did not know where exactly the ship was, or where exactly it was supposed to be going. Or she didn’t remember…she kept zoning out, staring at something only she could see, maybe something outside? She told me she could feel our ship come up to her, and knew when we had entered her ship. I asked her why she was a Pilot… I don’t know why, I think I heard someone talking about folklore and interviews done with the last one they found- when my parents were teenagers. The recorder then clicked to life.
Transcript of statement of Ashe, Pilot of Founder Ship 1. Materials given by Captain Axel Vance of the Haloc ship and co-owner of Vance Space Salvage. 3148, YOS (Year of Our Stars). Categories: Founder Ship(s), historical figures, Pilots, Silverfuel, spacecraft.
I didn’t choose this. From what I found, no one did. I don’t think anyone could. I was captured… I woke up here. I tried to keep them from hurting them, but my hands were tied. I would have fought with them, I had before- but I couldn’t move. The people… the good people, hardworking and resilient, won.
Then, later, year four, Engine One failed- we weren't going fast anymore, the people wouldn’t make it. They tried so hard, but it was too late.
They died slowly. Where they stood. We ran out of food. The cargo was knocked away with the engine. They tried so hard.
End Transcript.
Continue Non-Mission Report.
I don’t… I’m not qualified to interpret what she said. I met her eyes again. At that moment I remembered a mural I’d seen on a school trip in my teens… just a slab of warped metal. On that was a carving of a woman with long braids, big eyes staring upward, perched on the edge of a chair with shackles on her wrists. The tour guide I had half listened to enthusiastically rattled off the legend of the pilot that never arrived. “Of course,” she said, “Our people are only here because of revolutionaries, but this one, this woman was the last great fighter. She discovered the Elites' plans and told the common people that they were being abandoned. Instead of killing her, she was the first to become a pilot.” Are these connected?
Larz got a ping (a message to a mobile communication device, sometimes a MCD) from the main ship. The Archeology team nearest to us was approaching. We had maybe… six minutes.
Like I said, I know the rules. She had to die. It was a whole unit in my Government Regulations class in college. It's my job as the captain of my ship and the co-owner of my company to do the hard things. I sent Leda, Larz, and the grabbers away, but Nod refused my orders. He was muttering under his breath, a prayer maybe - but to whom? His saint was right in front of him.
I shoved him out of the cockpit - sorry, pilot’s quarters.
I don’t really remember what I told her. I was very overwhelmed, which doesn’t happen that often, but when it does I need a minute to be present again.
She told me how to do it. Told me what thick silver tube to saw through with my knife.
I lowered her to the floor carefully. She asked me to cut her bonds loose before I did it.
I wrapped her body in a standard tarp, then Mark picked her up for me. We made a much more gloomy procession back to the Haloc, trailing in a silent line. Your people's ship was approaching, and I really just wanted to hand the whole operation over and get paid, then get the hell out of there. All the wonder was gone. We just waded through hallways and hallways of dust and bones.
Nova cleared the dock when we got close and we managed to get her to an empty storage room before the crew swarmed us and the archeological team arrived.
When we went back with your team she was gone.
Look, I’ve been asking around in my own crew. I’ve known most of these people for ten years, and they can’t lie to me. No one on my crew was in there, no one on my crew touched the camera, no one on my crew moved the tarp to the hallway. We didn’t put the ship into lockdown for another four hours after we didn’t find her body.
It’s almost as if she stood up, opened that door, and walked away into oblivion. It keeps me up most nights.