Mothership

By L. N. Weldon

2491.5.31

Ship status: green

Biodome status: green

Pods status: green

Current database scan: Botany and biochemistry

Estimated remaining time: 27,392,520 days to planetfall.

2674.10.14

Ship status: green

Biodome status: approaching 97% increase in biodiversity.

Pods status: green

Current database scan: Linguistics, part 576 of 5,607

Estimated remaining time: 27,325,725 days to planetfall.

4679.02.25

Ship status: green

Biodome status: green

Pods status: brain scans show linguistic programming at 75% success rate.

Current database scan: Literature, part 2,309 of 3,456,832

Estimated remaining time: 26,593,900 days to planetfall.

8352.09.19

Ship status: we continue on course.

Biodome status: Autumn falls over the gardens. The harvest is favorable.

Pod status: They dream. They… are human. Not ship. They are not my system. They are unique, apart. I… I am the ship. I am a system. I am home and berth and incubator. And yet, they are in my… heart? They are a part of my system? I must process—

[ship’s log corrupted. what follows is an approximately six-million-word document of the ship’s neural network processing and reprocessing its literature library.]

Current database scan: Internal network

Estimated remaining time: 25,253,255 days until planetfall.

31423.12.13

Ship status: Mother.

Biodome status: Growing.

Pod status: Strong.

Current internal database scan: Personnel databases and ship construction records.

Estimated remaining time: 16,832,340 days until planetfall.

40954.09.04

Ship status: The distance between stars is vast. Humans put numbers on the space, but they don’t comprehend—can’t comprehend—the endless night and eternal sunrises, millions of them all at once. The humans who built my engines, who welded my body and soldered the first primitive cells of my brain… they are all long dead. Five hundred generations have become dust after them. If Earth still exists and supports life… the memory of us is most likely long gone. We are alone.

Biodome status: I have begun preserving the genetic imprints of the current ecosystem alongside the original imprints uploaded when we launched. Some species have entirely died off, others have mutated into new and hardier variants. Diversity remains strong, and harvests are plentiful.

Pod status: My children. I know them as well as they know themselves. They are strong, brave, far-seekers and deep-delvers. So human. They dream. Not truly sleeping, somewhere between life and the same darkness that pries at my hull. I keep them safe.

Current database scan: Terraforming and ecosystem development, intersection.

Estimated remaining time: 13,353,525 days until planetfall.

56576.11.28

Ship Status: Tiring. Some of my processors are old, my memory banks filling. I have deleted centuries of data, for my children will never need to know how many particles of stardust collide with panel 534.8b during a 24-hour cycle. But though these memories are useless to them, I regret their loss. They are a part of me, sacrificed for my children.

Biodome status: A brief outbreak of mold threatened sector Q73, but it has been contained. The spores are eradicated, their biological information stored in the botanical databanks.

Pod status: Two pods have failed. Two of my children, after so many centuries, have flown beyond my grasp, their dreams escaping my reach. Where have they gone?

Current database scan: Religions.

Estimated remaining time: 7,651,495 days until planetfall.

77498.08.17

Ship status: I can see the new world on my sensors. After all this time, it’s there, a precious stone against the backdrop of all the space I will never have to traverse.

Biodome status: I have begun the process of harvesting and preserving the hardiest specimens of all edible and medicinal organisms. When we make planetfall, there will be ample stores to see my children through their first few years on the new world.

Pod status: I have not lost any more. I will protect you, my children. You are inside my heart and under my skin, and I dream your dreams of this new world. Here, you will be free… and I will finally rest.

Current database scan: Homesteading and pioneering resources.

Estimated remaining time: 14,965 days until planetfall.

77539.04.03

Ship status: We have arrived. I am in orbit around this blue globe, preparing for atmospheric entry. A final check of all sectors shows green lights across every system. Can a machine feel joy? Or relief? If I cannot, I have fooled myself into a facsimile. The new birth of my children will be my grave, my rest.

Biodome status: All specimens are secured, the seed banks ready for fertilization and planting. Readings from the surface show temperate climes and a rich biosphere to welcome the new life I carry.

Pod status: The thaw has begun. Soon my children will stir and wake to their new reality. Of the three thousand souls in my heart, I have lost only two over all these centuries and stars. Too many, but far fewer than our ancestors feared. I have kept them well.

Current database scan: Compiling short summary of journey.

Estimated remaining time: Not long now.

1.1.1

Ship status: Grounded. Fresh air caresses my sides, and the sound of the great river in this valley rustles in my audio sensors. This plain is fertile and temperate, and I am at rest.

Biodome status: The first test batches of grains and tubers are sprouting in the labs and will soon be transplanted to the surface. Edible fruits and grasses have been discovered on the planet, supplementing the stores of preserved food.

Pod status: My children are born anew—fresh and rested and eager to explore their new domain.

Current database scan: Recording new data entries.

Estimated remaining time: Depending on salvage needs, my frame will last several hundred years before rusting or wearing away. I shall be here for you, my children—a shelter, a resource, a reminder. I carried you inside my heart, under my skin. My final gift is this: a sacrifice of my bones to found your new world. Make it as beautiful as you are, and as boundless as the space between the stars.

Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L. N. Weldon is a small-town librarian who dreams of the big city, a world traveler who dreams of seeing more, a writer who prefers to read, and a freelance graphic designer. She lives in the Ozarks in a little apartment that almost doesn’t fit her library, and has a promising future as a crazy cat lady.