Chapter Text
"Greetings, class, and welcome to Imperial History 1221. The fact that you are in this particular level of class is already a sign that you are well on your way to a career within The Empire’s innermost workings, likely here on Earth. I’m Dr. Mainz, and I’ll be running you through every last detail of Imperial History that we have records of. And that is quite a lot, given that we can trace the beginnings of The Empire to 769 AD. You’ll find your syllabus and any required readings on your PAD, and be sure to check the ‘Extra Credit’ section every now and then for assignments for bonus points.
Now, while I know that Imperial History was covered in your primary and secondary schoolings, they only covered what the Ministry of Education deemed important for every capable citizen to know. The Birth of The Empire, the discovery of the New World, the Age of Imperialism, The World Wars, The Troubles, and First Contact. Now, regrettably, I am required to go over these time periods with you again, just in greater detail. However, I am also allowed to go over everything that happened before them, and I have elected to go over some things that have happened since then. I’ll be detailing such events like the Crusades, the bloody Sunset Invasion, the Reformation and the Revolution, the Scramble for Africa and the Siberian Expansion Project, everything that precipitated the American Revolution and the fallout from it, and even some events your parents might have been alive for, such as the L-Gate Crisis.
Your assignment tonight will be a quick introduction, who you are, where you’re from, and what exactly it is you hope to be. I expect everyone to have these sent to me within 1 Imperial Week.
-Dr. Mainz”
I read the email again and again. This was really happening. I’d been selected for Dr. Mainz’s Imperial History course. I can’t believe it, usually only Earthborn and the rich in the Inner Colonies are selected. But here I am, some kid from the fledgling world of Eternia on the farthest fringes of the Empire, a far cry from the Inner Colonies covered in urban sprawl or the luxurious Habitation Stations. Just some farms and small settlements spread across the landmasses. The trip to Earth will take a great deal of time, and there are many stops on the way, so I’m making the drive alone, the AI in the car doing all the actual driving. The lights in the cabin turn on, and I see the station ahead, styled after the first railways on Earth. I close my eyes and can picture it vividly, the ladies in their poofy dresses and parasols with frills, the gentlemen in their suits and hats strolling into the station to head towards their destination, leagues faster than by horse and buggy. The crunch of gravel as the car slows down snaps me back to reality. I gather my things and unfasten. The car beeps cheerfully as the doors hiss open and I exit onto the gravel to fetch the rest of the things from the trunk, already opened and lit. As I shut the hatch, the car beeps twice to signal that it will return to its garage. I watch as the tail lights shine through the dust and fade into the starry night. I walk to the station doors, fading back for a moment into the past the building comes from, before the hiss of the auto-doors dispels the illusion. Greeting me is an old SM-202 Droid, who the community has cheerfully named “Kuya.” Kuya was purpose-built to be a station master, so he’s roughly human from the waist-up. He’s built into the station itself and has a limited ability to simulate conversation, mostly small-talk since his creators imagined there wouldn’t be time for much else. I approach him with my ticket, and he greets me with his aging voice-box the same way he has for years.
“Well hello there! Buying a ticket or checking in?”
“Checking in, Kuya.” He can’t recognize his name, but it doesn’t stop any of us. “Heading to New Omaha.” I hand him the ticket I printed out earlier.
“Awful early to be on a train, no?” There’s the classic Kuya small-talk, made as he scans the ticket with his fingers. I’m going to miss it.
“Be sure to get some shut-eye. Travel is more fun when you’re awake!” He tears the ticket in two with precision and grace. “Be safe, and come back soon!”
I chuckle as he hands me back the ticket stub.
“I will, Kuya.” I stuff the stub into my pocket and gather my larger bags as the gate opens before me. I cross through and look at the waiting area before me. It’s not as ostentatious as the exterior, in fact it’s almost spartan, but that’s to be expected of a line-end station in the middle of nowhere. The large tube running through the center of the space is where the Hyper-Rail runs. The doors are sealed tightly shut, to preserve the negative pressure in the tube that makes the rail so fast. I head to a bag-check where my larger bags are tagged and stashed away, to be loaded onto compartments in the bottom of the cars. The trip to New Omaha will take about an hour, not counting the stop at a connection station to readjust the pressure in the tubes. I wonder about what Earth is like. I’ve seen the pictures on the Lightnet, of course, and on the QuantuCable but are those just the good sides? Are there places that aren’t bright, shiny metropolises full of hustle, bustle, and smiling faces? The picture swirls into view, a desolate city, streets slick with rain and refuse. The people huddle around fires in barrels before cops come and arrest them. Far above the neon-lit streets, the aristocrats and capitalists live in luxury built on the backs of those below them, living in cramped, dark apartments they can barely afford. Is this the “real” Earth? What the Imperial State Department doesn’t want us to see? The whooshing of the Hyper-Rail dissipates the city street. The hissing of the tube pressurizing compels me to gather my things and make for the tightly-sealed door, which opens in conjunction with the train doors inside. The interior of the Hyper-Rail is pure white, and soft-looking with rounded corners and gentle curves. At this early hour, I find myself alone. I seat myself by the window and gaze back into the station. Hanging up on the wall right above the entryway is the flag of The Philippines, the mother nation of my colony, Pag-Asa. I’ve never been, but my mother visited once and very dearly wants to take me. The doors shut and I hear the pumps depressurizing the tube surrounding the train. The gargantuan doors at the end of the station open, and clamps release the train. It begins to speed along, and as I exit the station I am greeted with the warm morning light as the first of the planet’s two suns rise on the horizon. I pull out my PAD again and reread the email. Dr. Mainz mentioned Imperial History being covered in primary and secondary schoolings, but I am not an Imperial citizen. He goes on to say he will go over that information again but I still feel that I will be left behind. I compose an email to him, and pray that he is understanding.
“Dear Dr. Mainz, while I am grateful to be allowed into your class I must admit I am concerned about my understanding of Imperial History. You may or may not be aware, but I am not an Imperial citizen. I only have the basic grasps of Imperial history offered by the education system I was raised in. Do you have any recommended readings to help me catch up?”
As soon as I hit “send” I realise I’ve forgotten to sign it. Shit. My inbox lights up with his reply, and I open it expecting the worst.
“Thank you for reaching out. I’ve attached a quick crash-course on British history. Well, relatively quick. This series should give you a little more than the basic understanding you have but still leave enough gaps that I won’t be entirely out of a job. I know the Journey from Eternia to Earth is not exactly short, so hopefully I’ve provided enough material to keep you entertained. I look forward to seeing you in class!
-Dr. Mainz”
I open the attachment and find a 30-part animated history series, with each episode running about 25 minutes. This first leg will be the shortest so I decide to queue up the first episode as the train speeds on.
-)(-
Just as I finish the first episode, I feel a subtle jolt. The braking clamps must have attached. I put my PAD away and gather my things, looking out the window as the speeding plains begin to slow. Both of the suns are up and shining brightly over the yellow grass. Despite having 2 suns, Eternia is far enough away from them that conditions are more Earth-like, though grand terraforming machines exist to ensure maximum comfort and habitability on the planet. My view of the plains is cut off as we enter the station, and the huge doors seal behind the train. A voice comes to life from the speakers overhead.
“The gate is now pressurizing. This is the Morrisonton Station. If this is your stop, please prepare for disembarkation. If this is a connection, please take this time to use the facilities before we depart.”
The message is repeated in a few other languages, but I’ve tuned them out as I get up and walk around. I look out the window into this new station, larger than the one back home, but only by a bit. The flag of the Second American Republic hangs over the doors. There are a few aliens I can see in the crowd. I can recognize the Xy’leth, with naturally circular head crests, and some Mireesh, with large heads and eyes. Both are a rarity in Imperial Space, as their homeworld’s governments are notoriously xenophobic. There’s also a sizable amount of Lozovata, a fascinating race of sapient plants. They’ve always pursued close ties with other aliens, and as such they are quick to adopt the culture of the race they’re interacting with. Lozovata do not wear clothes on their own worlds, seeing no need for them as they are plants, but will wear clothes if visiting another race that does. It’s somewhat funny to see a 2 metre tall creature made of leaves and bark wearing a suit, and most of them would agree. The voice on the speakers come alive again,
“The gate is now pressurized. The doors will be opening soon. Please remain clear of the doors during disembarkation. Thank you for travelling Hyper-Rail, and we hope to see you again soon.”
The doors hiss open, and a few other passengers board. I return to my seat and hope nobody has been assigned next to me. I’ve always found travelling long-distances alone comforting. As I re-read the initial email from Dr. Mainz, I hear the doors hiss shut. The tube depressurizes, and the train speeds off once again. I look around the cabin, I see the Lozovata speaking with a few humans, and the Xy’leth. The Mireesh is speaking with a human woman, who I recognize as having been with him earlier. I tune out their conversation as I gaze onto the field of yellow grass, and recall some facts I’ve read about Eternia.
Eternia was originally a barren world, the only reason it was on The Empire’s radar was evidence it had once been inhabited by the Agartha, a race of aliens who visited Earth when humanity was young and paved the way for us to take to the stars. As The Empire grew, they ran out of worlds to colonise. There were no worlds left that could be terraformed, and while they could construct habitable stations, they were far too small. So they tasked themselves with figuring out how to make new worlds. They called the result of their word the Dynamic Core Ignitor, and the mechanics of its function are far beyond my understanding. But it gave worlds the ability to support life, and with the introduction of water and simple plants, a new world was born. Eternia is one of many such worlds. It’s primarily a mining world, as the mechanics of the Dynamic Core Ignitor left soil quality too poor for anything besides the hardiest of grasses. Imperial interest has been minimal, and most of the colonies on the world are so-called “Free Colonies,” colonies from other nations on Earth that have special charters with The Empire, who manage the vast interstellar infrastructure of mankind.
The shuffling of clothing turns my attention away from the fields and to the Lozovata sitting at the end of my row, who has just sit down. They are much more intimidating up close, with small thorns like a cactus’ and exposed, bare “teeth” beset by two beady eyes. In spite of this, they are incredibly xenophilic and are extremely interested in the cultures and customs of others, often completely adopting the culture of the world they are on, no matter how far-flung it is from their own. They turn to me and bow their head slightly, before opening their PAD and beginning some work. As I turn to my own PAD and queue up another episode, I notice a sweet smell in the air.
-)(-
The subtle jolt hits again as well pull into the next station. As I pack my things, the Lozovata turns to me.
“Is this your stop?” They ask in an echoey, almost ethereal voice. It’s...oddly comforting. “I’m continuing on but I would hate to be in your way if you are departing.”
“Yes, this is my stop,” I reply. The plant creature gracefully exits their seat and politely gestures for me to exit. “Can I...ask you something?” I say with nervousness as I exit into the aisle.
“Of course,” The Lozovata replies. “What do you wish to know?”
“I don’t want to come across as rude but...how do you...er, speak?”
I did not think it possible, but they appear to smile, before turning their head up and pointing at a small mechanical box just underneath their jaw.
“Changes in bioelectricity are processed into speech here. It’s quite the marvel of technology, the Scandinavian Legion helped develop it.”
“That’s...fascinating. Thank you for sharing.”
“Thank you for asking. Enjoy your travels, human.” They say as they sit back down, bowing their head again. I bow mine in return and exit the train. The New Omaha station puts both Pag-Asa and the Morriston Station to shame, which is to be expected, New Omaha is the only Spaceport on this continent. The bustle is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, there’s so many conversations in so many languages flying all around me. I see all manner of human and alien alike going about their business, families, workers, businessmen, all in one place. I take a deep breath and look at the signage above my head, written in English, Lozovata, and Scandinavian. I find “baggage claim” and head that way, all the while taking in the sheer cultural diversity of the place. It’s honestly a little overwhelming. There’s a small “ding” from my PAD, and I see my mother has sent me a message. I open it as I move towards the baggage claim.
“Have you made it to New Omaha yet, dear?” I type my reply,
“Just got off the HyperRail, I’m on my way to baggage claim.” And send it. It doesn’t take her long to respond.
“Glad to hear! Did you run into anyone interesting?”
“I was the only one on the train leaving Pag-Asa. But after the stop in Morriston, a Lozovata sat in my row. We didn’t talk until I got off, though. Did you know they communicate through speech processor boxes?”
“Oh, how cool! I didn’t even know we got aliens this far out! What else did you learn?”
“Nothing else, sadly. But I’m sure I’ll have a chance to talk to others on the shuttle ride to the Starbase.”
“Let me know if you do! I’ve got to go to work, let me know when you get to the Starbase! Love you!” She ends her message with a kiss-face emoji, eliciting a small cringe.
“I will. Stay safe, love you too!” As I close my PAD I realise I’ve made it to baggage claim, which is much more advanced than the one at home. Where the one at home has a simple carousel that all the luggage is loaded onto, here it is a series of kiosks where one scans their ticket, and their luggage is then dispensed on a conveyor right next to them. No risk of mix-ups, as each luggage tag is paired with each ticket. I find an empty kiosk and scan my ticket. The screen shows an animation of the luggage being fetched from the back area and loaded onto the conveyor, which no doubt is much more fanciful and friendly than what the process actually looks like. But it’s charming. My two bags are rolled out, and I grab them before taking a seat nearby to pull up my e-ticket for my shuttle flight to the Starbase, where I will get on the Starliner that will take me to Earth.