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2100. The Earth's population is bursting, resources are scarce, pollution and war ravages the planet.
Eventually a select group of politicians from around the world meet in secret, unknown to the main governments. They propose an experiment to see if Humanity can begin anew. The Pioneer Project of 2080 was sadly put on hold when the Great War began in 2089, but by plugging the last of the world's resources into it, maybe, maybe we can save ourselves.
The Pioneer Project is a Spaceship, using a Tau Hydrogen Drive, capable, in theory, of travelling at Lightspeed. The original aim was that, if the ship found a suitable planet, it could return home and rescue the rest of humanity. However only one spaceship was built, only enough for fifty people, and if the ship ever returned, the likelyhood is that Earth would have destroyed itself.
Quickly the greatest minds on Earth are assembled, but one vital part of the plan changes; upon touchdown to a suitable planet, the memories of all those on board will be wiped. Only their skills and basic functions will remain. As one of the politicians states; "It is absolutely vital that no trace of war hunger, greed or jealousy be present in their minds. They must be as loving, generous and happy as children, as intelligent and skillful as machines. They will create a Utopia by default; how can one kill if the word is not in his vocabulary?".
A moving argument indeed, but will these bad qualities show themselves to be inherant in all humanity? And will the crew find a way to preserve or restore their memories? Will they ever return home? And what society will they create on their new planet?
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Hazel Nishkova was seated on the observation deck, as were all passengers who weren't involved in the piloting of the ship. Heavy straps kept her and her shipmates from moving under the high G's, and then zero gravity involved in take-off. The scene through the panoramic window was enough to chill the blood. Beyond the perfect compoud of the International Space Headquarters, empty houses littered glass-strewn streets, and beyond that, where people still clung to architecture, spirals of smoke wound lazily upwards, indifferent to the chaos and pain below. There were no sirens; it was too far gone for that now. Screams and yells, and the wailing of small children, would have been discerned at closer quarters, but no one ventured in to the areas they knew they would not return from. Black streams ran through shrivelled banks, and a purple smog swallowed the black smoke. It was late evening, and the weak rays of sunlight filtered through broken trees and piles of debris. The horizon blurred into brown and grey, the once grand skyscrapers levelled, all greenery scorched. The public were now feral animals, the politicians nowhere to be seen. The last battles were fought obliviously, with primal needs, or bitter suicide instinct.
The scene juddered as the Pioneer1 began her ascent. Hazel felt her weight double, then triple, as the forces weighed down on her. Then the pressure became so intense her vision went completely white momentarily. When she refocused, the veins of destruction covering the curve of the planet were visible in stark relief. Black clouds covered whole countries, and bombs that exploded were visible even from this great height. Grey, brown, black, and then the thick purple smog swallowed them, pressed against the window. The ship shook and creaked in the turbulance, and Hazel was suddenly certain that the smog was a demon trying to claw them back down to hell. Someone vomited. Other than that the silence pressed back on the glass as heavily as the smog pressed in.
Abruptly clear, black space, like soft velvet, replaced the purple smog. Hazel sighed in relief, and then breathed in deep as the G forces lessened, taking her back to normal weight, and then, with a naeseating quickness, to zero gravity. The planet was enveloped in the purple fumes, the boundaries between land and sea marked only by a darker shade of purple, and interspersed with balls of fire from bio-weapons. One arc of green fire appeared at the north pole and streaked across to the equator. There was no explosion, so sign of a hit. Not knowing what that fire was designed to do made the unwilling observers feel even more terrified of the evil raging below them.
But gradually the ship was tipping, turning, and their last sight of Earth was beginning to sink below the window. With morbid fascination, the audience stretched forward in their seats to see. On the horizon, probably near Europe, part of the smog was punctured, trails fading off into space. A rocket, glowing with heat, swung round a deadly orbit. Hazel watched it. Was it heading for them? Or just close? Was it aimed at another country? Was.. it was heading for them, roughly. Who knew? Who knew if there was any longer logic or direction between the people pushing buttons. If it was a conscious attempt at mutually assured destruction, a spiteful swipe at humanity's last chance, or a stab in the dark using a geo-mapping system made redundant by the smog.
What did it matter now... all that was certain was that the rocket was heading for them.
