Diaspora of Light

“Home is the human heart. Our return to God is in no way separate from our return to ourselves, to the point of inward truth out of which our humanity shines forth.” - Arthur Green

Journal of Karl Mons, Vice Captain, WOS McKenna, May 4th, 3039, outside of the Oort cloud, System 2

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. The problem is that we really don’t know shit about space, do we? For a while, we thought we did. We piddled about the solar system, playing astronaut and collecting samples and prepping for the journey we all knew was ahead. Finally, in 3030, we figured out superlight travel. The World Order built a monolith of a vessel to make the first interstellar voyage, with construction taking place in orbit around Mars. Houston and Beijing heard the cheers through the comms as the captain floated in front of the hull and smashed a 2092 bottle of Billecart across the bow, not the only bottle to be disposed of that day, and a dozen different ministers of the various world faiths gave their god’s blessings over the trip. Two years later we decelerated from lightspeed in front of the Oort cloud. The Wayfinders got us through without significant incident. Another cheer, and another round of champagne, and we were ready to test our new bicycle out on the driveway of the universe.

So began our first lesson in true space. As we drifted to the assigned coordinates for our first superlight jump, we started hearing something coming from deep space. What started as a light whine became a bellowing roar before the ship slammed in seconds through distances it should’ve taken years to span, even at superlight speeds. Our cheers turned to screams as we noticed the horror painted on the faces of the Wayfinders. As the ship came to a stop, we found ourselves confronted by brand new constellations and a whole new Oort cloud. Those screams went unheard by Houston and Beijing. Still, I believe that they didn’t go unheard altogether. I believe it, and I fear it.

Gehenna Valley, New Alberta, system 2, 3115

Clouds drifted on moonbeams above the settlement of Gehenna, a tattered cotton blanket sporting tears where bare hilltops and the peaks of buildings poked through. A lone drone hovered under the light of the same moon, white plastica reflecting the red moonlight and blending with the reddish clouds. Jacob Levi sat on the wing of the craft, staring up at the constellations. The wrong constellations.

Three miles south of him, the WOS McKenna made an implacable wall against the horizon. The shining gem of the World Order ships, it was once a monument to human strength. Now, it was a constant reminder of exile. They still learned the old constellations in primary, memorizing them alongside the elements and great pioneers of history and science, but what had once been a relentless drilling had subsided to secondary concerns. There had once been hope that an old earth constellation might be spotted, and in being spotted would act as a key to get home. A point of reference, by which the Wayfinders might be able to at least get a direction to move in, even if the mysteries of deep space still eluded them. In eighty years, not a single star had been spotted that might be traced back to the old world. The colony no longer needed Wayfinders, as far as it was concerned, but instead could use terraforming engineers and men and women of state. Course plotting, with its endless secondary schooling and esoteric physics, had fallen into the realm of literature and art, to be enjoyed by a select few within the comfort of university.

Jacob Levi’s own family was partially responsible for that. Jacob’s grandparents had settled into a diaspora in Gehenna with the same stoic resignation his people had always shown and had become the leaders of a movement to reprioritize assets away from returning home. Some small collection of Zionists had joined the rest of the crew, a contingent which had ended up taking the name Zionists, while the majority of the Jewish population had gone down into the valley and made a home among the clouds and the great fungi of this world. The remnants aboard the ship had nicknamed it Gehenna, and it had stuck. As years passed with no improvement to the colony’s knowledge of why the ship had careened into unknown space, the weddings and goods and art and life of the colony grew more attractive, while the constant military operation of the ship drained those who stayed. Yusef Strauss had even devised a way to make a liquor out of one of the native fungi, a heady spirit that left wedding goers autopiloting home in the late hours of the night. Bonds formed, feuds incited, and society stratified along ancient lines, a new world meaning little against the weight of centuries. These days Zionists were little more than a memory, and few outside them had much care for the old solar system. Jacob didn’t mind being part of the few, of course. Since boyhood, he’d flown his drone up here at night to think or to study. That was a perk of being in the middle of his siblings – he could come and go without a soul noticing.

Jacob relaxed into the curvature of his wing, staring at a lifeless husk of metal that had cursed him to a life of giant lichen and 50-hour nights, while he prepared to commit a crime that would either save his family’s fortune or doom them. He’d come out here to think out of habit, but as he looked around, he realized that it provided a good frame for his thinking. 30 meters to his right, another drone rose through the clouds, pulling him out of his solitude. A sleek black enamel finish and equally dark hair bursting its way out of the cockpit meant Naomi Russo, which probably meant it was about time to get a move on. Jacob had more important things to do tonight than to sit around third wheeling Naomi and whatever vapid meathead she had brought up here. He got to his feet and walked the thin arm of the drone like a balance beam to the cockpit, then hesitated, hearing her call out.

“Isn’t it Friday night, Jacob? You said you have plans!”

He looked back, tapping at the watch on his wrist, but not keeping the guilt off his face. Her drone pulled closer as he spoke “I do, in about 15 minutes. Thought I’d come up here and catch a little air beforehand.”

She gave an annoyed tsk, curls bobbing above deep brown pools. “You had better not blow me off at second night, pal. We will be bowling, and you will be paying.” She turned to go, then doubled back, a wicked smile on round lips. “And you will bring me flowers, because you lied to me.” Just before she pulled off, Jacob saw the expression on the other passenger of Naomi’s drone, a mix of embarrassment, puzzlement, and general awkwardness as he tried to pick apart whether this would be a date or not. Gehenna wasn’t so small that everyone knew one another, but it was small enough that everyone knew someone who knew did. The thought usually left Jacob claustrophobic, but today he didn’t have enough in him to care.

Things were always weird with Naomi now. When they were kids, it was all about what you knew, whether it was knowing dinosaurs or knowing a cool spot in the lichen that would serve as a good hiding spot in foxes and hunters. Now, it was all about who you knew, and Jacob was woefully under-prepared. Naomi, on the other hand, thrived on it. She was good with people, and almost always knew what to say. Beyond that, she was undeniably pretty, with espresso skin and tight curls that fell to her shoulders. Everyone wanted some of her time, and no one else in the queue thought Jacob belonged there. Sometimes you just have to keep up, right? Instead of getting into the cockpit, Jacob winked and slowly leaned back, plummeting into the clouds as he put on his AR goggles. Wind rippled through his knee length jacket as he watched himself through the camera of the drone, highlighted in yellow against the red of clouds. By his estimation, he looked pretty cool.

He took control of the drone as he entered the clouds, guiding his body into the cockpit and leveling off just in time. Maintaining his speed, he whipped across Gehenna toward the university, skimming low over the east quarter and the intermingling smells of spices. It was still early night, and the bakers were just turning in for a quick sleep before the midnight shift. The crimson glow of the moon mixed with the yellow of the streetlamps, and for a moment the town seemed ablaze. Jacob passed over the riverwalk neighborhood, its lights still on. He searched for his own house as he rose his glider to hide in the clouds a little. A few drones were parked outside, guests of his father over for Shabbat dinner. He longed to go inside, to spend one last night drinking wine and telling jokes, hearing stories and playing with his sister. He moved on before he could be tempted. One more night became a lifetime if you let it, and he knew his father’s stance on what he was attempting tonight.

He stopped by his dorm, grabbing a packed bag and a few personal effects. He left a small collection of letters on his desk, to be found after Shabbat ended and his family came to find out where he had been all this time. He took a last look and left towards his balcony drone dock. Waiting On the dock, arms crossed, was Naomi.

“Naomi, what are you” was all he got out before she cuffed him over the ear.

“What the hell was that? Are you trying to kill yourself? I swear, sometimes you really – “She trailed off, seeing the packed bag and the letters. “Jacob, what is that?” Looking over her shoulder, he noticed that her date was gone. “He went home. But not before mentioning that you look like ‘the guy Peter Mullen has been hanging around’. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Naomi, you should go.” He tried to surreptitiously glance at his watch, but she caught his wrist.

“The guy is a scumbag, Jake. What does he have you doing?” She wasn’t pleading – Naomi didn’t beg, she ordered – but this was about as close as Jacob had seen her come to it. On a dime, her demeanor changed. “Whatever it is, I’m coming with you. No, don’t try to talk me out of it. You need someone with a head on her shoulders to keep an eye on you, with how you’re acting.”

“Like someone who wouldn’t dive into a job with no idea what it is?” That earned him a glare, but she didn’t budge. He pushed past her to the dock, pointing out to the hulking steel of the ship. “That is where I’m headed, Naomi, and I’m not headed there to grab earth wine, a ship-fed lamb. I’m there to get us home.”

Naomi’s eyes might as well have popped out of her head. “And somehow Mullen is going to help you with that? He’s not a Zionist, Jake, he’s just a thug and maybe a terrorist. What can he possibly do for you?”

“He can get me a superlight drive,” he replied nonchalantly. “What, Naomi? No one even uses them. There hasn’t been an experiment in 36 years. Did you know that? I have taken all the classes, and I know I can be a Wayfinder, if the council and the director would just let me try! Outside of a few old crazies out in the boonies, no one seems to care that our most valuable resource is gathering dust in a damned briefcase! I know Peter doesn’t give a shit about getting back to the rest of humanity, and to be honest I’m not sure what he wants, but it’s not going to matter if we get our hands on the drive.”

Naomi had composed herself as he talked, and he could see that he was making headway.

“Naomi, think of what being able to travel back to earth would mean. Every year, more people die here of sicknesses we know how to cure, but don’t have the resources for. I want to meet new people who don’t already know my whole life story, see a world that isn’t bathed in red, try food that isn’t either lichen or raised in climate control. I want to see our people’s history, Naomi. I want to pray at the Western Wall. Can’t you understand that?”

Naomi didn’t say anything, instead standing in thought for a moment that felt like an eternity. “Fine,” she said,” Let’s go.”

The plastica engine of the drone let out a low hum as the two angled toward the Mckenna. The hundreds of stories of ship loomed over him as he approached, and he was careful to stick to the heavy fog to avoid detection. The ship’s computers would recognize a cloaking device being activated nearby, which would automatically engage defense systems. Mullen insisted that they wouldn’t engage for an uncloaked ship, though. His best shot was to simply avoid eyesight. The condensation from the fog slid under his coat, wetting his cotton sweater and chilling him to his core. Shivers coming from his left let him know that Naomi was in a similar predicament. By the time he reached his destination, his numbed fingers nearly missed the code on a keypad he never should’ve known existed. Thanks, Pete. How Peter had come by the information, he did not want to know.

He cracked the door and listened inside to be absolutely sure no one was working tonight. Thanks again. Offering the code had been one thing. Anyone working here could’ve leaked it, and whoever it was might’ve gotten away with it. Mixing up the schedules so that no one was guarding, though? Mullen’s informant had ensured their own imprisonment, or worse, if they got caught. Even he didn’t have the power to pull that off without some serious commitment.

What does he want? What is he willing to go through all this for?

Jacob passed through empty corridors, glancing every now and again at a slip of paper holding instructions. Finally, he slid open an automatic door, briefly scanning the empty room before entering. Lining one wall was a variety of lockers, each with a unique pin pad. Along the other side, computer terminals and screens glowed, open to a variety of star-charts and maps. Ordinarily, he would have been thrilled to be in here, to have the opportunity to study the records of the Wayfinders and chart paths through the stars. A lone table stood in the center of the room, and atop it sat his prize, a small black hardshell case. He quickly spanned the distance to the table. Right where Peter said it would be. Now for his part of the bargain. He made his way to the lockers and opened number 6. Inside was a small hard drive and a case of money. He pocketed the drive, but not before making a copy, and left the money. Peter had said it was his to do with what he wanted, anyways. He turned away from the table to see Naomi staring at one of the screens.

“Jake, come here.” Her voice was shaking. “I don’t remember much from primary school, but is this what I think it is?” On the screen above her head blipped pictures of two constellations. The first was Aquila, timestamped May 4th, 3039. Pre-warp. The second was a constellation dated thirty minutes post-warp. A model rotation, run three months later, listed a match between the two constellations with 99.87% certainty. The Doppler readings for the constituent stars were off, but a note below read:

Lends credence to theory by J. Howler on 3039 warp causation – inconsistency of speed of light beyond planetary systems resulting in unique lightspeed matter transfer phenomena

Two thoughts passed through Jacob’s head at the same time, alongside a wave of emotions.

They’ve known where we are from the offset.

We can go home.