"Why can't we go back?"

The room, which a second ago had been doing a good impression of an aviary goes deadly silent at this question. The question comes from a short man with bristly eyebrows too large for his forehead. His light green uniform holds the insignia of the wellness division. It's a lie that there are no stupid questions. And judging by the reaction of Captain Harrios sitting next to him, he agrees.

Two days have passed and we still have no better understanding about what's happened. Somehow we've travelled to another galaxy. We have no idea how, or even the distance from our own. It's like some giant hand has lifted us from one pond and plopped us down in another.

I'm not a religious person. I've never believed in a higher power. Yet, I'm always intrigued by the theories we are either dust in the grooves of someone's floor or a simulation. These theories explain when science can't. They're like the Gods of our past. There's always a scientific answer and I know there must be for what's happened to us. We have to be patient.

"Go back?" Amit, the Posterus' head of engineering stands, an incredulous look on his face. "How? We don't even know where we are. It would be like blindfolding you in a maze, leading you to the middle, and asking you to make your way out the way you came." The giant man spits as he talks. He peers around the table, silently asking for confirmation that this man is stupid and should leave.

The room stays silent. A few of the members, bored already, gaze out the window onto the enormous concourse of the Posterus. Everything is shiny and new. Compared to the Persephone, which has years of smells, the Posterus is sterile. Every dent, scorch mark, burn and stain on my ship comes with a story. This place feels like the packaging hasn't even come off yet.

Captain Harrios—our representative for Union fleet—clears his throat. While I agree finding a way to get back is the wrong focus for this meeting and our immediate goals, I keep quiet. As Captain Harrios reminded me before the meeting, I'm a side note. I'm only here to give a brief on the events that occurred with Davis Sarka.

Having to explain how the leader of the Burrs hijacked my ship was not how I wanted to spend my morning. Never mind trying to explain the logistics of turning a human being into a bomb.

Call him what you want, a terrorist, space pirate, pain in the ass. His involvement is the reason we're here, stuck in this unknown system. We're in this mess because of his ideals about humans and interstellar space travel.

Harrios opens his mouth to speak but Amit interrupts him. "We aren't going anywhere, not until we repair the engine. And that's going to take months." Amit flops back in his seat. It groans from the weight. "Months!" He throws his hands in the air to emphasize his statement in case anyone thinks he's exaggerating.

The room explodes again. Politicians, engineers, doctors, even the chef and botanist have opinions. I lean back and observe as each screams louder. Each hoping their voice will be the one to rise above the din, even though, they themselves refuse to listen. I watch as Ash's great hope disintegrates into ego and rhetoric. Our first chance to prove we can govern better than the Commons and here we are, no better. Each section thinks they know best. Each representative bullies for their opinion to matter. It makes me sick to think how right Vasa is.

When we began the planning stages of this journey, we also created a new way to govern. We formed committees with one representative from each of the sixteen departments. No one is in charge, everyone has equal say. Each section votes on their representative.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the point of this whole mission to find a suitable planet to colonize? So what if our starting position has changed, why does the mission? Why can't we continue from here?" It isn't very loud. I say it more to myself than anyone else, perhaps that's why it gets noticed. Everyone stops and turns to me. Captain Harrios' nostrils flare as he shoots me a venomous look. A clear warning in his eyes: keep quiet.

Harrios stands. His six foot four inches tower over the table. He runs his hands down the front of his uniform, emphasizing the medals displayed at his breast. What an ass. "I suggest that while the engine is being repaired we use this time to assess how we got here. Figure out how, if possible, we make it back. If we have no idea where we are, there's no possible way we can find Kepler 980f from here." His build and stature remind me of my father when he was a young lieutenant. From the pictures I've seen, they both have that same cocky attitude pouring out of every orifice. Only Harrios isn't so young and it's beginning to show. His checks are drooping off his face like pudding sliding down a wall. And it's getting harder for his uniform to hold in his paunch. It protrudes out the bottom when he forgets to keep it sucked in.

Captain Harrios is the epitome of career officer. He was born into a family of generals leading back to several world wars. He's made a name for himself by stepping on anyone willing to bend over enough for him to get a foot hold. While I don't deny my own similar ambitions, I doubt I've left the same wake as Harrios. There's several rumours flying around that he bribed his way onto the mission. It's the only way to explain why someone ten years older than the age cap made it onto the mission roster. Only a select few in extraordinary circumstances have been able to bypass the age cap. I almost didn't make the cut myself. At thirty-four I slipped in with one year in my favour.

"I'm not suggesting we do. I'm suggesting we find a different planet, one that's closer. I've been studying the information sent back by the probes. It's clear there are planets in the sweet spot within a hundred light years of us. And while we're waiting, instead of sitting on our as—sitting around, why not send out the fleet ships? We can mine from some of the surrounding asteroids?" I'm not about to sit around for six months waiting for other people to decide my future. I'd rather be in charge of that myself.

I didn't choose the best career path if I wanted to be in charge of my own life. Maybe that's why I've spent the last fifteen years doing everything I could to get where I am today. Granted, lost in an unknown galaxy fighting over who's in charge, is not the end goal. But I'm captain of my own ship. I at least have command over my own officers. With the Union fleet commanders a distant speck, I can steer myself and my ship with more say. Harrios may be our representative, but he doesn't command me. We're the same rank. I'm not going to let him take charge and decide what the Persephone does for the next six months.

There are nods around the table as my idea takes hold. We started this mission with the knowledge that none of us would make it to our final destination. Our estimate is that it would take us over a hundred years to make it to Kepler 980f. The planet we've chosen for colonization. But any number of things can set us back. There's even the possibility we'll get there and it won't be suitable after all. This mission is a big risk for our species. The asteroid belt can't sustain our species forever. It was only a temporary solution until we could find something more permanent.

The exodus from Earth to the Belt wasn't something that happened over night. It took decades. Over fifty years of planning. Fifty years of knowing there was nothing to do but watch a planet die around you. The ecosystem that humans once fit so perfectly in, was disintegrating around them. I can't imagine what it would be like to know your children wouldn't grow up in the same world you did. Millions of others before you destroyed that for them. Because of ignorance and laziness and greed.

Those fifty years were the worst.

There was poverty and death like nothing the world had ever seen. The wars were over leaving nations shredded of resources and money. The only way to survive was to pool together and start fresh. That's how the Commons started. The dregs of the world's nations banded together and created the rudimentary council that became the Belt's government.

They constructed ships and made plans. They built modules to transport up to the asteroids in the Belt and constructed the first cities. They started on Ceres, which was the largest of the asteroids, a dwarf planet which became Alpha. They established the first colonies and the Commons to oversee the rest of the settlements. There were five. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. A stray asteroid destroyed Gamma over fifteen years ago. Very few survived.

But before all that, before even the last wars, humans had pipe dreams of terraforming Mars. They spent almost a quintillion on the project. The last three countries with space programs sent up five ships with a different purpose. Robots manned the first four and established the settlement. Each dropped off a set of supplies for the fifth and final mission. The last one, manned by five astronauts.

But the ship never made it to Mars. And no one knows what happened. The ship didn't explode. It didn't crash. It disappeared into the unknown. The program bottomed out after that. And then the resource wars started and all thoughts of building settlements on distant planets vanished.

After Gamma's destruction, the Commons proposed our current mission. We needed to think bigger, think long term. They designed and built the Posterus over the next twenty years. A generational ship carrying over 45,000 people to begin a new life on a new planet. Only now, those 45,000 people are stranded in an unknown galaxy with no clue how we got here.

"How long would it take to send a ship to one of these asteroids?" The captain of the Posterus is a tiny, squat woman with short stylish white hair. I'd only met her one time before, but she struck me as someone you didn't want to cross or piss off. I get the impression that Harrios is coming close to doing both.

"A couple of weeks—"

"Depends on the asteroids orbitational position—"

Harrios and I both speak at the same time. Before Harrios can commandeer the discussion, I stand and launch into my proposal. "There are two asteroids within easy reach. I propose we send each of our ships out, the Persephone and the Brimley and investigate. It would only take a few weeks, a month at most, to get to each, mine resources, and get back. We could be there and back in under six months, easy."

Sixteen pairs of eyes focus on me. I'm leaning forward, my palms pressed into the hard metal surface of the table, my heart thumping hard. Before anyone can reject the idea I push forward. "It's the reason they included our ships in the mission. We're faster and more maneuverable than the Posterus. It's better we spend our time on something productive."

"You'd want the ships to investigate together?" Someone at the far end asks.

"No!" Both Harrios and I speak at the same time. His eyes turn to me, it's a brief glimpse, but I see it. He hides his disdain as he turns to Captain Wells. "No. It will be faster if we travel separately."

"The asteroids are in opposite directions," I say. "It's better if we split." Even if they were close together, I'd find another asteroid. I don't need Harrios micromanaging my day to day.

Amit snorts from his seat. "And of course you'll want to take Hartley with you?"

"Of course. He's my head of engineering. I'm not going to leave him behind."

"We need him for the repairs to the engine. It's his engine."

This is true, but I suspect Amit wants Hartley to make the work easier for himself. There's no reason they can't rebuild the engine without him. "You don't need Hartley. He may have designed the Posterus' engine, but he didn't build it. He'll be more use to me on my ship."

"Is this true?" Captain Wells asks.

I nod. "We're still making repairs."

"What if he'd rather stay here? Hartley's a scientist, not an adventurer." Amit raises his eyebrows at me.

I don't know if that's true or not. It's Ash, my first officer, who knows Hartley best. But it doesn't matter. I'm going on this mission with Hartley or not at all. I have to find the diplomatic way to make this clear. "If you need help with the engine rebuild I have no problem transferring crew from my ship. Fukui has been working under Hartley for the past month, he would be as good..." I trail off, remembering Fukui's blank stare. The weight of it crushes me. We knew starting out there would be casualties. Space travel, even in this century, is dangerous. But we've barely begun, and already our death toll is at sixteen, eight of whom are from the Persephone. I try to think of Fukui as a number, one among many, but it isn't possible. I can see all eight faces as if they're standing in front of me.

I look up to see everyone staring at me. "Um, Fukui was one of our casualties." I take a deep breath, I need to be strong about this. "But you can have your pick. Not Hartley. I need someone who knows my ship. And it's not a good time to introduce a new head of engineering to my crew. Not with everything else that's happened." I let that thought sink in. Everyone knows we've had the greatest loss. I'm sure many see it as a failing on my part, but that's not something in my control, so I let it wash away. I have too many other things to worry about.

"That's a reasonable request," says Captain Wells, pulling everyone back to the situation at hand. "If no one else has any other questions why don't we take a vote." There will be seventeen votes, because this is a Union fleet matter, Harrios' will count as two. I have a feeling he's going to shoot down the idea, knowing him, he'd rather play it safe. And sure enough, when it comes his turn, he votes no, so does Amit for obvious reasons. But Captain Wells, the man from the wellness division and eight others vote yes. That means in a couple of days, once we finish repairs, the Persephone is going exploring.

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