A Decent Land: An Anthology of Arks #1
Brief biographies of the first forty ships to arrive in the system Mammaria.
1. The Cryochambers
Most of the time, our people exist with a constant mortality as a shadow to their lives. Put simply, they’re scared to die. Who isn’t? That’s the natural order of things. Yet, to some, the end can’t be contemplated; there’s too much work on the slate.
Subverting the astral timing of fate is routine for the ruling class. Monarchs develop disease, demand a chamber and wait for, “Land ahoy!” Two political parties swap the reins of the fleet each year, and the opposition civil servants spend their break in stasis.
Some office workers are intelligent with savings, and make the most of a meagre salary. Those who earn enough can preserve their parents, a pet or themselves. The process is notably traumatic, however. Many can’t forgive their children for funding the morbid ordeal. On paper, it is remarkably efficient; reports of bio-feedback errors continue to fall with each generation.
The dutiful staff of this ark are friendly, but wouldn’t slip into a chamber themselves. We all applaud their efforts, and successful water retention is always improving. It’s just they’ve seen too many cadavers enslimed upon the thawboard. I’ve heard that teeth remain in the gloop, and clack to the ground as fleshy liquid spreads across a gurney.
At present, The Cryochambers house our Scout Ark bridge crew, kin of the cityfolk, a procession of Whigs and King Qualat — our eldest and most respected regent, awaiting the dawn of A Decent Land.
2. Neighbourhood Watch (Gūlyu Aiak’us)
A proud and magnificent daughter is she, Gūlyu Aiak’us — a guardian city. We have a district of urban arks that provide residential comfort, and they vary in flavour and size; each with their own intricacies. But Gūlyu Aiak’us, our Neighbourhood Watch, hides amongst their number; ready to blast invasion fleets with an impressive array of munitions.
A functioning citadel, with various territories, this ark would appear innocuous enough. Attackers — rare though they are — zone in on the cluster of municipalities. They imagine civilians are weak, and a military response would be delayed. In general, they’re right — if not for Aiak’us; praise to our marvellous saviour!
Many an onslaught has ended in victory, thanks to Gūlyian guile. Her forward cannon slides out from a beak at the bow, loaded with quantum torpedos. Defence capabilities are low, truth be told, because of her front-loaded weapons. In concept, Aiak’us will devastate aggressors before they have chance to respond. If a second wave follows, our primary fighters — The Lieutenant and two of his Pawns — are usually ready to cover their mothership; having flown from protection rotation ‘round Parliament to aid in the ongoing battle.
She’s host to a modest population of paupers, forced to live in fear. Indeed, they can’t afford any better, so tend to favelas on the smooth spine of danger. They get certain benefits, of course; food welfare, funeral packages and free psychotherapy. Riots are common, but Aiak’us Rangers are top of our Graviball league.
3. Immaculate Laboratory
It’s been a tough six-hundred generations; especially for arks at the forefront. Intermittent attacks, solar flares, celestial impact damage and worse have come and gone at regular intervals; left our number decimated. Those that survive are diseased or enwebbed, and oftentimes charred by our enemies. An exception to that is the Immaculate Laboratory; a cowardly hovel of dreamers.
Within, its tinkerers work on a cure to the viral infection that eats at our bioships. They also work with Biologists, Analysis and — sometimes — Engineering. Yet, their association with Alternative Propulsions is strained and antagonistic.
They’re key to coordinating efforts with invaluable scientific arks, and they know it. Without them, we’d have no hope of successful Arrival; we’d flounder and drown. Their greatest achievement is practical alchemy, a malleable, liquid smog. From waste, they craft long strands of this matter, and deliver it ‘round the whole fleet. With it, we fashion new dinghies and schooners that handle outstanding repairs.
The Immaculate Laboratory turned water to wine by inventing the smog, which also feeds us. A Smog Roast is a weekly tradition for families entrenched in our urban district. The matter is rationed, its formula secret and military stocks get first priority.
And so, we protect them — begrudgingly, constantly — and silently hope they’ll succumb to disease. Alas, their ark is mostly metallic, with vast glass domes and programmable tendrils. They’re safe in their cubicles, and live to old age, but then they retire and move to the back of the fleet; at least three waves from the front!
4. The Crimson Castle
Our long-forgotten native planet — from what I understand — was inundated with royal families, ever at war with each other. Most were stubborn when The Cataclysm came, and only a few joined the exodus. The Crimson Castle is a remnant of history, and it’s home to a family of regents.
The eldest — King Qualat — is beloved fleet-wide, but his public appearances are largely symbolic, and conveyed through the use of sapient holograms. For five generations, he’s slept in a chamber; approximately ten years away from his death. His daughter, the honourable Princess of Crimson, went missing soon after he checked himself in. That left Prince Qualat, a damnable fool, to the throne without any challenge.
Public debates with his holographic father were commonly broadcast, and made for great viewing. Eventually, King Qualat ver. 3.4.15 demanded his son was ousted, and banished to one of the military ships. The ensuing rebellion was swift and clean, though the Prince made threats; directed at the chambers. He ordered Aiak’us to obliterate them wholesale, and was most surprised when she didn’t. By that point, our fleet was sick of his whinging (and treason seemed something to do, at the time).
He was last seen spiralling, out of control, precariously orbiting an exoplanet. A trio of lovely daughters was his parting gift to the fleet.
Today, our holographic king has lost count of his various versions.
The Princess of Crimson, in all her glory, was never seen again.
5. Barracks
Our barracks form a city of its own, regimented to the very last inch of its length. Clocks run on time, and the trains tick along; barbers use cutthroats and recycling is mandatory. The air, I’m told, is the cleanest in the fleet — though the residents of Zaļā Yowusta claim otherwise. No privilege is too rich for our soldiers, and they repay that kindness with sacrifice. Enlist, and you guarantee comfort; or so the posters say. In truth, they should read, “Enlist, and you guarantee your death”.
Every year, a class of graduates joins the crew of a Pawn; a light munitions model that we craft from braids of smog. If their Pawn can weather the storm of deep reconnaissance, attack and debris, the best of the team are transferred to Aiak’us or — sometimes — employed in The Scarlet Guard. Exemplary soldiers are given an invitation by The Lieutenant, touted as the ultimate goal for a truly ambitious child of the barracks. At the end of each path is the same sad result, and the names of our fallen scroll on an infinite loop ‘cross enormous, digital banners.
Joining our army is sold as a game; its leaderboards are gospel. How long can you last? How many postings? How many alien skulls have you cracked? That’s why the barracks are so well-maintained, and it irks the Immaculate Laboratory. How dare they achieve it with aggressive aplomb, without a spare second of thought for the science?
All featured artwork is by the marvellous jrdsctt, and it’s official Decent Land material; not taken or copied from anyone else!
This is the first part of a prequel to my latest novel, A Decent Land. Further editions will run regularly across the next two weeks, until the anthology is complete. I’ve been deeply consumed by this project, and I hope you enjoy my meticulous descriptions. I’m writing this series as part of my ongoing professional art direction.
If you’re a long-time reader of mine, or I’m a long-time reader of yours, thank you so much for bearing with me while I’m a little quieter on Medium. Whenever I post a big piece like this, I try to follow it up with a round of reading. But, if I miss a work of yours that you’re particularly proud of, please feel free to let me know in a response.
There are a few fantastic people who have clapped and responded to A Decent Land, including:
Mhstuart, Sanjana S, Amanda, Belcairn, Umar Imran, Rachel Irene Wilke, Grimsby Hackney, A. Alexander (Alex), Jesse R. Barker, Valentine Enedah, Lisu Mei, Teresa Wymore, Hussan Ara, Jonny Masters, Ripley J. Cloud, Salim C, Edward Hix, Dianne Reneé, Miss Catherine La Grange, spinster, Un P’tit Je Ne Sais Quoi, Regina Clarke, Lark Morrigan, Shereen Bingham, Hayden Moore, Don Drewniak, JF Danskin, Gus Gresham, A Cashman, Malcolm Liao, Eva Rtology, Lo Everlasting, Le Voir N. Lewis, Sharing Words, augmented man, Mona Lazar, Charles Cowling, Reece Reid & Diana Meresc.
Thank you all so much for your support, and I encourage my other readers to follow!
Suffice to say, this is a whole new arm of what is slowly becoming a franchise. My head has never been so deep in my fiction, and it’s actually required on a deadline! So, you’ll be hearing a little more from me now as I pump away at these arks. I hope you enjoy this twist on my universe, and how about that magnificent, bespoke artwork?! I encourage you to check out jrdsctt; he also made art for my previous album!
Lee David Tyrrell