“Such a small few are affected in that way. I can agree to speak with these people privately. To ease their concerns by sharing what I saw firsthand. But I will not subject my family to all the legal crap from a second public statement.”
“That would be a wonderful compromise. I’m certain this information would be of great help to a handful of people in our very township.” Mr. Tilley smiled and sat on the edge of his seat. “You are wise to avoid the ‘legal crap’.” Mr. Tilley laughed and took a short drink from his glass. I couldn’t tell if it was water or spirits in his glass but either seemed appropriate. “Have you seen the new ship parts being assembled in the technology sector, the rail line buildings?”
“No, I didn’t realize we were assembling a new style ship. Don’t you think the Q drive ships the miners use would be a good model to start with?” I asked, peeling the wrapping from a section of modified pear slices.
Mr. Tilly accepted the bundle of fruit and cheese I brought with a hearty smile. It looked to me like he hadn’t eaten recently. “Those ships get us to the asteroid belt in a month with a full load of gear and back to the surface in two loaded down with ice, but no. It is more likely the event will disperse our genetic material across the universe and seed a planet for us before we reach a habitable planet ourselves. Trappist-1 has two possibilities, but it’s 40 lightyears away.”
“So, it takes us 80 years to get there?” I asked, not knowing how long it takes to travel that distance.
“Currently, it takes us 160 years with our best technology at top speed 100% of the time. No machine can operate at that level. My optimistic estimate is 240 years. The spacecraft we have now will become a mass of floating debris in fifty. Every piece will need maintenance and replacement at least five times in my optimistic estimation.
“And the human that steps off that miracle ship will be very different from any human you see walking around today. We are left with the best option, surviving the event and looking for closer celestial groupings to explore.
“Hope is what remains,” Mr. Tilley chuckled, and his eyes glassed over. “We find something previously missed from our limited view here on the planet. Alpha Centauri, perhaps a red dwarf with some time left, could be heating a small world just out of our sight. Better, faster propulsion could develop in the next hundred years, but it won’t be designed on the universe ships.
“They will have the technology we send them with. Only minimal advances will be possible once they are sent out. Imagine everything a population needs for 200 years packed in one massive ship. Reclamation, diagnosis, and repair will be all they have the time and room to worry about. Minor improvements yes, but nothing earth-shattering will happen without a testing ground to blow things up. Most of what we have, technology-wise, was born out of a fiery trial and error system.”
“The Red’s plan to outrun the path of the comet destruction. How realistic is that?” I asked, knowing the outcome of their plan would affect Blue.
Mr. Tilley finished his glass, rose from his chair and walked the edge of the room. He stopped by a beautiful cut glass decanter, filled his cup and leaned on the edge of his desk. “Some theorize the crust around the impact site will shudder as if the ground were in a semi-fluid like state,” he took a long gulp and cleared his throat. “Picture a bowl of gelatin quivering under a greater vibrating force. The ground will re-shape and then settle once the seismic activity stops. I don’t know where you can hide from that kind of change, but I hope my Blue Bell finds a way.”
“So really, what chance do any of us have of surviving this?” I put down my snack and prepared myself for a cut and dry answer.
“Location, distance from the significant impact areas. Luck. Divine interference, maybe. We needed water, and the Kuyper belt has ice comets. We harvested too many of them and disrupted the natural flow of materials. Events a century in the making, flung a massive problem over the galactic back fence and they are going to hit us in the eye with it.”
“Can’t we blow it up or make it smaller somehow?” I asked.
“The computer models are not promising. Anything we try makes the problem worse in different ways. Our mining ships downgraded the problem from a plant killer to a planet modifier.
“We may have some surface water again, but there won’t be anyone left to use it. The Reds do have one advantage. They have faith in each other and their God. Their religion gives them a community wherever they relocate. We have loyalty to our government and the laws of men, our society laws. Once those boarders are erased, buried under a mile of earth, we will be left with the strong and the dead.”
“I don’t know why we bother then. If it’s just random luck, how can we prepare?” I asked.
“Take my card to the re-education center. Look into the training classes provided there. This new world won’t care what crest your blood can claim. It will care if you are worth feeding. Your skillset during and after the crisis will determine your usefulness.
“The strong will move to the ships, the dead, the dying, and the useless will stay here and face fate head-on. I know I will be one that stays on the planet. My age makes me less than desirable for the ships. My theoretical knowledge won’t help repair
