Collected Short Stories

Lost - Part Three - A New Start

The President was being escorted closer to the strange aircraft flanked by guards on all sides. A team had been sent in to clear the craft of any hostile there may be and to detain anyone, or anything, on board.

"Sir, the vehicle is clear. One alive inside. He's pretty hurt, but he's breathing." The general spoke directly to the president, ignoring the shouted questions from gathered government scientists and researchers trying to glean any bit of information they could.

"Take me inside. I want to talk to him," Spoke Truman, not allowing for any other options to be given to him. He had already been briefed that they believed the survivor to be human, but how could that be possible? No nation possessed the capability to travel in space. And the technology on this ship was not of this world. It couldn't be.

Truman was lead through the open door, what looked to be a loading dock of some kind, and his mind could not grasp what lay before him on the other side.

"What the hell are these things?" Truman asked with a slight quiver in his voice. This looked like a really bad nightmare. Glowing objects made out of something he didn't recognize formed long rows throughout the massive cargo hold. Inside each, there seemed to be a human-shaped silhouette, raising alarming questions.

What could this ship be for? Where these people kidnapped? Is this some kind of strange and horrible experiment? The Nazis where capable of horrible things, but surely they did not have this advanced technology. They never would have defeated Germany if they had. This was well beyond anything the U.S. possessed.

Truman walked towards one of the many scientists examining the containers, "any idea what these could be?" Asked the president while examining one closely himself.

"Not yet sir," came the reply, "this stuff is waaaay more advanced than anything I have ever seen."

"Very well, figure it out. We need to know." And with that the president continued to what looked like the bridge of this craft, with the lone survivor inside.

****************************************

Matheson coughed and his vision came back. He wasn't sure if he blacked out or for how long, but now army medics were attending to him and an important looking man stood before him.

"How are you feeling? That was a hard landing you had there. They tell me you speak English." The suited man spoke to Matheson as he sit propped up on the floor.

Matheson looked back and forth at the medics working on him, "what year is it?" He asked nervously. Half hoping he was still unconscious.

"Its 1945 of course, why do you ask?" The man responded slowly.

"It can't be.. Who are you?" Matheson was still in shock.

"I am the President of the United States. Who are you? And what the hell is this aircraft that you flew in from space?" The president spoke confidently, wanting his title to carry the weight it deserved.

Matheson was hopeful, at least he was speaking to the man in charge. The United States largely funded the colony program, and even though these people would find it difficult to understand this ship, perhaps he could convince them of the truth.

It was 1945. He had ten thousand humans onboard this ship, all the technology and resources to get an advanced colony started, renewable energy, advanced power sources, computers. And now he had a planet to live on that was not ravaged by the onslaught of disastrous climate change.

He wasn't sure how it was possible that they had gone back in time. He would have to wake Clarrisa so she could work on that. What mattered more was convincing Harry Truman that he was from the future and not a lunatic or a communist or whatever else Truman was worried he was.

Matheson spoke out in his raspy aged voice, "Mr. president, it is an honor to meet you. I am sorry you had to, or will have to, drop the bomb on Japan. I don't know the exact date so I'm not sure if that has happemed yet."

That should make him curious about what he has to say!

" How could you know that? That's classified." Truman looked concerned, but quieted the voices in the room claiming he was a spy.

"Sir," Matheson continued, "I don't know how to convince you. I don't believe it myself. But I haven't woken up from this nightmare yet so here it is." He paused and cleared his throat, "This ship is named The E.C.S. Nebula, Earth Colony Ship. It was commissioned in 2122 by the United Nations, a world governmental body established after the war you find yourself at the end of now. The planet had become uninhabitable, due to climate change caused by pollutants like coal and oil, and the nuclear fallout of the next two world wars. We left the planet with ten thousand colonists in hibernation pods and the resources to start a new home on a new world. Shortly into our flight, we encountered some kind of cosmic phenomena that sent us to a place we did not understand. After years of flying through that place searching for a home, we hit a similar event, and we found ourselves back in the milky way. Needing to see what had become of our home world after all those years we approached Earth, and now I find myself face to face with a man that I learned dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki to force the surrender of the Japanese while I was in history class in grade school. It's been a wild ride."

The President stood there, giving away nothing in his expression, "do you have proof of this claim?" He asked quietly.

"Just help me over to that control panel, ill bring up some video." Matheson held a hand up, his old bones creaking as he went.

The President motioned to the medics to help the man, and he pressed a few buttons on the console and brought up an image of Earth, massive cities dotting every continent, or what was left of them. It seemed the oceans had risen significantly, forcing coastal dwellers to move inland.

Matheson played clip after clip. Videos of the construction of the Nebula, views of a ravaged and near unliveable planet, and technology that they had never seen. He shopped images of their flight. Their journey through the otherworldly cosmos.

Truman took it all in. Absorbing the information fully. The occasional gasp of surprise or confusion coming from him as he pondered the images.

"You say you have other people here besides this deceased woman, show me." The president stood straighter as he spoke.

"If you will let me, I would like to wake up the rest of my flight crew, it has been a long time since I have seen them. Six people, down that hatch." Matheson pointed towards the ladder in the floor.

"Very well. Soldiers, please keep your weapons ready for any tricks." The medics took their leave of Matheson and flanked the President as guards.

The older Matheson punched in the command, and keyed the intercom for the chamber beneath him, " hey guys, come up slowly, and don't panic. Everything is fine. I'll explain the best I can."

The crew slowly entered the bridge, eyes widening at the shock of the scene before them. Their friend and crew mate had aged decades it looked like. The Captain, similarly aged, lay dead on the floor. And many strangers were in the bridge wearing archaic clothing and holding outdated weapons.

"What the hell?", spoke Clarrisa, the first up through the hatch, " what is.."

Matheson cut her off, "Clarrisa, I would like you to meet Harry S. Truman, President of the United States. Welcome back to Earth.

*****************************************

Governor Samson examined the plot of land from the mountaintop. This would be a good spot to start the colony. They would have to wake people in small batches, and try to explain to them the situation. The President agreed to let them settle here in exchange for knowledge and access to the advanced tech they had.

Perhaps this was better than a new world. They have a chance to save the one they let fall apart. They could take the lessons of their time and bring them back here and use that knowledge to help shape the new world order that rose from the ashes of the second world war.

A chance to right the wrongs. To bring people together. To add conservation and environmental care to the relentless March of progress.

A chance.

A New Start.