Roadster

Roadster

By MLC

A tribute to the Falcon Heavy launch on 6 February, 2018

Cast:
Commander Thorne
First Officer Webb
Science Officer Ivan
Ensign Jacobs
The Imperial Kingston Starship Powell
The Roadster

With special guests:
Commander Erwin Johnson
Cosmonaut Dmitry Yelchin
Astronaut Peggy Mills

 *All cast members are fictional with the exception of The Roadster
*Main image of the Roadster is from Tesla Motors. 

Roadster

“Commander, I’m detecting an unidentified vessel ahead. Forty-three thousand, two hundred and five Karveks away."

Commander Thorne placed his palms against the flat panel in front of him. The readouts glowing inside of it indicated the IKS Powell’s course.  They were to explore the quiet solar system lurking around Shasta IV, the North Star.

“Hail them,” he said, holding his breath. Anticipation burned through his limbs, and his gut churned. The separatists never ventured past the blue moon of Vegra II, and the IKS Powell was fifty billion Karveks away, which left only one possibility.

“No response,” came Lieutenant Commander Webb’s reply.

“Scan it,” he ordered, leaning forward. “I want to be sure it’s not a separatist trap.”

“Aye, sir.”

He stared at his panel and waited for the images to appear. A quizzical notion swept hold of him as his face contorted into an expression of uncertainty. He ran his fingers over it to enlarge the images and display them on the giant view screen at the other end of the bridge.

“What is that thing?” Ensign Jacobs muttered. Thorne folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s not Talsian,” Webb murmured. Thorne drew a deep breath. There was no mistaking the alien artifact in front of them. The entire vessel felt otherworldly as though it had drifted from another plane of existence.

“Open all hailing frequencies,” he said. “There may be life as we don’t know it onboard.”

“Frequencies open, sir.”

“This is Commander Adrian Thorne of the Imperial Kingston Starship Powell. I come from the Talsian Empire of the Iridian solar system. We welcome you.” He waited and watched the eerie vessel drift against the vast blackness of space.

And waited.

“Lock on a tractor beam and bring it into the cargo bay.” He drew a deep breath. Something felt off about the entire thing. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he felt his gut nagging that there was more to the object. The colorless, alien shape meant nothing until they brought it aboard to inspect it. One would think they’d have developed better imagery technology by now. But then again, maybe they had; the Powell left Talsia five years ago.

“Aye, sir.”

He sucked in a deep breath before turning. He signaled his First to accompany him. Beads of sweat formed at his brow. Could this actually be some alien probe? A satellite?

We wondered if we were alone. 

Talsia is not the center of the universe. 

And that thought sent chills down his form. He rounded a corridor with his First in tow. Silence marked the air as the pair made their way to the cargo bay.

But wasn’t finding evidence of alien life the point of his mission?

So why then, was he scared shitless? Why did he suddenly feel so small and pathetic? He hoped Webb didn’t see the uneasiness in his stride or the slight quiver in his hands. Thorne stopped at a large airlock and pressed a command into the panel beside it. A hiss echoed through the door before a green light blinked above them.

“Here we go,” he whispered.

“What do you think it is?” Webb asked, his voice tense. The massive door slid open. Thorne felt it shake the floor, the motion vibrating through his boots and up his calves. He squared his shoulders and crossed the threshold. He lifted his head to gaze upon the alien vessel and stopped.

 “What the hell?” Webb stepped beside him and gaped at the thing. “Is that a cherry red convertible?”

“Yes.” Thorne moved forward to give the car a closer look. A life-sized figure sat in the driver’s seat, clad in an ancient spacesuit.

“There are words on the base. I don’t recognize the language.”

“I see them,” he muttered, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Tell Lieutenant Ivan to trace this thing’s journey back to its origin.” He continued walking around it.

“Aye, sir.” He heard Webb issue the order into his communicator. The last car to roam Talsia was a bulky monstrosity with two long tracks for tires. He remembered seeing images of it in the Ancestry Museum when he was ten. The hideous thing in the archives is over two thousand years old. 

 “Have Ivan run a hypothetical simulation: shoot this thing into space from Talsia with two-thousand-year old technology and compare it to the actual findings.”

“Aye, sir.”

He’d wait until the science officer finished her calculations before drawing conclusions. Thorne stopped in front of the convertible. It was a beautiful thing, much more sleek and vibrant than the ones in museums.

“Why would anyone shoot a car into space?” Webb wondered, stepping beside him. He shook his blonde head. “So you have a solid space program, the ability to send rockets to other planets, and this is what you do with it?” He spread his arms out. “Shoot a cherry red convertible into space?”

Thorne erupted into laughter. He doubled over and fought hard to regain his composure by biting his lower lip. He moved and knelt down at the structure’s base. Placing his right hand onto it, he blinked a few tears away.

“Because why the hell not?” he chuckled. “Have every inch of this photographed and cataloged. We’re going to put it back where we found it.”

“We’re not bringing it back?”

“No,” he smiled, rising.

…

Ivan’s expression contorted into confusion as she held the tablet against her chest. Thorne tapped his desk with his index finger.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Were you unable to run the computations?”

“That’s just it, sir,” she breathed. “I did. I ran them ten times and had the computer run its own simulation. I got the same result each time.” She set the tablet down. “If our ancestors shot this into space, it would be nowhere near this system."

“It might have latched onto the gravity of one of these planets over here and ended up in an orbit. I see it has an elliptical orbit around this system’s sun.”

“No…sir…it wouldn’t be anywhere close to this sector. It would still be in the Deraus Belt.” Thorne’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened. He leaned forward.

“What?” he rasped. That was half the distance between their present location and Talsia.

“That’s not the shocking bit, sir,” she continued, her voice wavering. “This car, whatever it is, didn’t originate from Talsia.” She tapped the tablet. “When I kept running the simulations, the computer said it came from a local planet.” She slid it across the desk. “See?”

He studied the image on it, the orbit she had calculated, and ran his fingers over his chin. His heart raced. There was no way. The car, the figure inside of it—it all was human. He stood up and marched out of his ready room and onto the bridge.

“Take us deeper into this system,” he barked. “Maximum speed. Scan every single planet and search for ones suitable for life.” He turned to Ivan. Thorne folded his hands behind his back. All he could do was wait. Wait and give his crew a false sense of calm. No one else needed to know yet. Maybe it was all a fluke. Maybe some aliens found the car in the Deraus Belt and dumped it off in their system as a trophy.

“Scan every planet for life.”

“Sir!” Ensign Jacobs shrieked from his console. “The third planet from the sun! There are lifeforms!”

“Easy now,” he sat down in his chair and crossed his legs. “Slow us down and take us to their moon.”

“I’m reading a lot of satellite traffic.”

“On screen.”

“There is a crude, rudimentary space station in orbit around the planet. I’m reading a few life forms onboard.”

“We’ll hail them first.”

“No response.”

“Open a channel, all hailing frequencies.”

“Channel open.”

“I am Commander Adrian Thorne of the Imperial Kingston Starship Powell. I come from the Talsian Empire of the Iridian solar system. I greet you in the name of the Empire.” He waited, his heart thumping beneath his chest in a frenzy.

“This is Commander Erwin Johnson of the International Space Station.” Static ripped through the audio reply. Thorne held his breath and wondered how the translator had worked so fast. “Welcome to our solar system. Greetings from Earth.”

“Earth!?”

Everyone screamed it.

Everyone. Thorne included.

“Commander Johnson,” he said. “In the interest of peace and cooperation, please transmit an image of yourself, and we shall do the same.” He cleared his throat.

“We’d love to! With me is Cosmonaut Dmitry Yelchin from the Russian Federation and Astronaut Peggy Mills from the United States.”

Thorne nodded even though he knew they could not see him. Were they humans? Were they aliens who just happened upon this planet, and the translator made a mistake?

“I’m scanning the planet, and Sir, it is every bit of the mythological utopia Earth in our imperial songs. Warm weather, blue oceans, lush landscapes…”

“Talsia is a fine planet,” he said. “Are you suggesting treason, Ensign Jacobs?”

“N-n-no, sir! In the beginning, there was Talisa, and there was us. We conquered the rocky mountains and forged our Empire from-”

“Enough,” he stood up and stared at the view screen.

“They transmitted the image, sir,” Webb said.

“On screen.”

The bridge fell quiet. Everything seemed to slow to a standstill as though someone had frozen time itself. Smiling at them were three humans in matching jumpers, one female and two males.

“Starship Powell, have you received our transmission?”

No one moved.

“Transmission received. Please wait,” Thorne replied. He made a slicing motion with his hand. Webb closed the channel. “Ensign, recite the imperial lullaby.” He sat in his chair and glanced at his control panel.

“Aye sir,” Jacobs squeaked.

“Oh Empire, we awoke in the stars from our eternal drift.
The stone towers of Talsia gazed up at us.
We answered their plight.
Talsia, child of Earth.
Talsia, we molded and shaped you.
Talsia, who will one day be that blue planet in the heavens.
Eternal!
Eternal!
We hail thee!”

Thorne steepled his fingers together and closed his eyes. There were certain truths buried deep within myths, for there was always a sliver of reality hidden there. He drew a deep breath, his broad chest rising.

“Open the channel,” he ordered a moment later.

“Aye, Sir. Channel open.”

“Have your people colonized other worlds?” Thorne asked. He supposed the alien-humans would wonder why, of all things, he was asking about that.

“No. I'm afraid not. It's just us and our lonely little planet here!” came the cheerful reply.

“Have you ever sent ships on exploration missions?”

“We have a few probes- "

“Don’t lie to me.” He eyed his First. "Send them a live feed of the bridge. Now.”

He watched the screen and waited.

“You’re-you’re…human,” Johnson’s voice rasped.  “This is impossible.”

“I know this must be very strange to you, but we need to know the truth.”

“Yes. There was one manned expedition. It was supposed to go to Mars, but we lost contact with the shuttle as soon as it left the atmosphere.”

Thorne listened, his mind reeling with a thousand possibilities. “Ivan,” he said. “What are the odds that their lost ship was swallowed up by an anomaly and spit into our solar system?”

“It will take me a bit to run some calculations, Commander Johnson, do you have more information on the shuttle? Where it lifted off, payload, erm…what kind of technology you guys have? Oh, and um, did you guys shoot a, um, car into space?”

“The roadster,” Johnson’s voice drifted through the channel. “You guys passed it? Ha! Yes, it is ours." There was a pause. "I'll transmit the information about the Mars mission, but if you are thinking what I think you’re thinking, that doesn’t explain the fact that your technology is far superior to ours...and the fact that there was no Adrian Thorne on board.”

“There are anomalies out there that fold the fabric of space and time," Thorne cut in. "It is possible the shuttle was sent thousands of years back in time—your time—as it emerged on the other side of the fold.” Thorne smiled. It made sense, but would these people get it?

“Like an episode of Star Trek.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Thorne watched Ivan at her console as her slender hands worked the controls. Before she confirmed their predicament, and the altered beginning of the universe as the empire knew it, he had another pressing question.

“Commander,” he began. “Why did your people shoot a car into space?”

~FIN