Pearseus: Schism

December 31, 2099 AD, UES Pearseus: Lucas

First came the alarm. Seconds later, the first explosion. It traversed UES Pearseus, bearing an eerie resemblance to ripples caused by a pebble breaking the surface of a still lake. The shockwave made its way along the ship’s axis in confident, devastating strides that disfigured its elegant form and dismembered its hull, sending twisted pieces of flesh and metal to impregnate the void. Alarms blared while pods shot from the mutilated spaceship, carrying people and equipment to the planet below.

Luckily for Second Engineer Lucas Rivera, the main engine in the ship’s bowels exploded seconds before he entered the engine room. A moment later and he would have been vaporised by the explosion or sucked into space. Instead, the violent tremor threw him onto the floor. He watched with horror as the entire section in front of him disintegrated. The pressure sucked his friends out of the ship one after another, their mouths open in silent screams, their faces masks of agony.

Stop him! cried a crystalline voice in his head.

Lucas woke up with a jolt, covered in thick globs of sweat. He lay on the bed panting for a few minutes, then jumped to his feet to stagger to the small sink in the back of his cabin. Splashing some water on his face in a vain attempt to wash the nausea away, he leaned against the sink, head bowed, breath slowly returning to normal. For a moment he considered heading back to bed, then decided the bar would be a better choice. The nightmare had left a foul taste in his mouth; he needed a drink, and to see some people, even the kind of people on UES Pearseus. After all, it was New Year’s Eve.

The ship itself could hardly be described as beautiful. It owed its unusual name to its pear-shaped body, the extra girth necessary in order to accommodate its FTL drive. These recently developed faster-than-light engines bent space around the vessel, allowing it to cover vast distances in the blink of an eye. Of course, this would not be necessary on this occasion. Their destination had been the heliopause, the space at the very edge of our solar system. Since reaching it a few hours before, the ship had stood still, preparing for the centennial celebrations.

There were over five thousand people on board, if one included both crew and the extraordinary menagerie of people crazy enough to spend New Year’s Eve on a spaceship and wealthy enough to afford it. Since the space cruise had been advertised as the place to be, with the new century dawning that very night, the world's most successful businessmen, politicians, actors and celebrities filled the ship. They all looked forward to the party of a lifetime on the edge of the solar system.

Lucas stepped into the narrow corridor and grinned a polite smile to a couple walking towards him. He took a deep breath; the corridor reeked of alcohol. The man tripped, and Lucas recognised a former president. His escort, a beautiful young blonde half his age, held him steady. They both giggled as a bodyguard pushed Lucas aside. He stumbled, yet felt no resentment, his mind stuck at the explosion in his dream. Stop him, the voice had said. Stop whom? He could not shake the feeling something was wrong. My place is at the engine room, not the bar. He glanced at the people heading away from him and spun around, picking up his pace.