1 - Pilots

Transcript

Tara was surprised to find herself on a starship.

There were a couple of reasons for her surprise. The first, put simply, was that Tara was not the sort of person to be on a starship. She had never even considered visiting one. She was from Milton Keynes, it was 2020, and as far as she knew, starships didn’t exist. No. She could be firmer on that point. Starships definitely did not exist.

The other reason Tara was surprised was that only seconds earlier, she had been in the back of the night bus home. She was now here, and couldn’t account for the change.

As her brain materialised in this new location, it found itself coming to the inescapable conclusion that it was being teleported, and the rest of Tara along with it. As Tara and her brain achieved full opacity, and the exact sparkly glimmer you’d imagine teleportation would require had abated, she accepted that she was definitely no longer in Milton Keynes.

So where then?

Looking around, she saw that she was in a corridor flanked on both sides by giant windows, looking out onto starfields. Everything was metal and heavy looking. Spaced along the walls were doors, or rather, hatches. Large lettering next to each, written in some kind of, presumably alien language, said which door went where. That second part was not a presumption though, because stuck beneath each one was a little label, and on that label, in incredibly poorly scribbled pen, was the name of the door in English.

She was on a starship belonging to someone who knew English but couldn’t write it very well.

The air crackled behind Tara, and she turned. Before her stood a very confused looking man wearing swimming trunks. The man was much older than Tara, he looked like the sort of man whose friends (because he looked like the sort of man with lots of friends) would call him ‘fella’. He looked like a man who had very strong opinions on which beer was best at the two pubs closest to his house.

The man reached out his hand.

“Hello, I’m Otis”.

Tara shook the hand. It was wet, but surprisingly warm and chlorinated.

“I’m Tara. Sorry, were you swimming?”

“That’s right.”

“In a swimming pool?”

“Generally, yes.”

Tara had been on the nightbus back from the Uni library. It was midnight. Otis seemed to spot the maths playing through her head.

“I swim late on Tuesdays. My gym’s one of those 24 hour ones. It’s quiet at midnight on a Tuesday.”

Otis inhaled slowly, and with all the gravitas available to a man who was rapidly cooling off and without a towel, asked if Tara had any idea where they were.

“I think it’s a starship,” she said, feeling like extrapolating on the reasoning that got her to this conclusion would be unhelpful, “let’s find you a T-shirt”.

[intro music]

It is incredibly hard to find T-shirts in Starship corridors. More so than you’d think. In the end, Tara found one in a locker labelled ‘Emergency’. The only things in the locker were items of clothing, which sort of begged several simultaneous questions about what constituted an emergency in space travel, and why the solution to every possible problem was apparently a change of clothes.

Tara sat on the floor of the corridor, leaning back on a bulkhead. Otis paced back and forth in front of her, wearing his new T-shirt and seemingly not finding as much comfort in it as she had hoped.

“We have to come up with a plan,” he said, like everyone in every movie ever. It sounded to Tara like a pretty good first step. Planning was in itself a good plan in most situations.

“OK”

“Step one: We have to find out where we are”

“Done. Starship.”

“OK. Step two: Get home”That also seemed smart to Tara. Home was good. Right now, home was a small room in a shared house with one person who never did the dishes, and another person, who always assumed Tara was the one who’d skipped doing them. There had been angrily worded notes pushed under her door. But it was, in spite of that, home, it had the benefit of not being in space, and right now, oxygen was very desirable.

“I guess we have to teleport back down?”

Otis stared blankly at her. She extrapolated.

“Teleport. The thing they did that got us here, with the glowing and crackling and sudden materialisation on a starship. It happened about ten minutes ago.”

Otis nodded, his drying hair and befabriced torso now giving him an air of wisdom. Or at least it would, if Tara could work out what had confused him.

“The beaming. We got beamed up. Got it.” He said, a little awkwardly. Tara guessed ‘teleportation’ was not a heavily discussed topic in the pub. She was quickly realising that Otis might be one of those people who liked to assert their authority quickly, but would also very much like those around them to keep explaining what they had authority over in short words and with lots of reassuring nods throughout.

“Do you think there’s an on switch?”Yes, Tara definitely thought there was an on switch. She stood up, which was tricky given the curvature of the bulkhead she’d been leaning on.

“Maybe in the control room? Do any of those labels say control room?”

They both searched the corridor. It wasn’t very long, and six doors branched off it.

Engineering

Storage (or maybe stowage, the handwriting was really bad, but the meaning was the same)

Quarters

Kitchen

Bathroom

Control

Nice, Tara thought. Back on Earth, with good transport links, this starship would be way out of her price range.

‘Control’ sounded promising. Otis agreed. They approached the heavy door, and rotated its large circular handle, like the ones Tara imagined submarines had. It opened with a whoosh of pressurised air, and behind it stood a large circular room. In the middle was a donut shaped control panel with exactly as many blinking lights as you’re thinking, and an aesthetically perfect number of little switches. None of them were labelled. Apparently, the english speaking hero with the pen hadn’t gotten around to this room.

Otis was in awe, his swimming trunks dripped a drum roll of anticipation.

“So which of these buttons is ‘send us back to Earth’, do you think?”

Tara had no idea, but it struck her that no button had been involved in getting them here in the first place. If they were alone on the starship, and it certainly seemed that they were, then there had been nobody around to press a button and teleport them here. The ship must have done it on its own.

“I think the ship does things on its own” she said, remembering that Otis could not hear her internal monologue.

“On its own?”“Yeah, like autopilot or something. It ‘beamed’ us here on its own, or was programmed to maybe. Which means that it makes decisions and maybe we can control it without using these buttons.”Tara had an idea. “Computer, activate!” she said, in her sternest and most professional voice. The one she used when calling her bank to arrange an overdraft.Nothing. It was a good idea but it didn’t pan out. Otis had a couple of goes, but no, still nothing. Tara walked around the console, looking at the blinking lights and twiddling a couple of switches in a casual way that didn’t commit her to feeling like a failure when nothing happened. It was certainly a pretty blinking scifi panel, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything except blinking.

“NINETY SEVEN PERCENT COMPLETE”

The voice boomed through the ship. Like the labels it was in English. Otis and Tara looked at each other.

“Bomb?” Otis said. If it was, then that was an odd way to count down.

“Sounds more like something getting ready?”

“A good something?”

A fair question. Everything so far had been good, but-

“NINETY EIGHT PERCENT COMPLETE”

“Should we be worrying?” Otis said, worrying.

“I don’t think that would help either way.” Tara was unsure. Worrying would be a far easier way to react, as it would give her something to do except trying to figure out-

“NINETY NINE PERCENT COMPLETE. IF YOU ARE UNHAPPY WITH THE SERVICE PROVIDED, PLEASE CONTACT A REPRESENTATIVE ON PROXY CLAUSULA FIVE”

Good to know that customer service was an interstellar problem. Otis looked as uncomfortable as Tara felt. She reached out a hand to hold his and try to reassure him.

A small dot of bright white light floated in the middle of the donut console. It flickered a little as it split in two, then four, then eight. The dots, or as Tara now realised, pixels, grew out to form two legs, two arms, a head, and all the things in between. Before their eyes, a person materialised.

No, not materialised. This wasn’t like the teleporter. It was different and weird in an entirely different set of ways. This was, what, a hologram?

“Hello,” said the hologram, “I am Alpha Gamma Seven, and I am exceptionally happy to meet you both.”

Otis let go of Tara’s hand and stepped forward.

“Alpha, where are we?”

“Calculating… We are in orbit around the planet ‘Earth’, a small uninhabited planet itself in orbit of ‘Sol’, a star in the vicinity of Alpha Centauri, a far more interesting system.”

Tara stepped forward to join Otis, “It is inhabited, we’re the inhabitants.”“I understand, apologies. My records show a very small number of successful research missions in this sector, the omission will be resolved in time, I’m certain. In the meantime, welcome to your new Vector class starship. Would you like to select a name for your new vessel?”

“New?” Otis asked.

“My internal sensors confirm this is a refurbished starship, as good as new. Well. Nearly. It appears to have a little wear and tear, and is in need of a refuel. I myself am a fresh install. Would you like to hear about some of my new and exciting features?”

Otis turned to Tara. “Do we?” He asked earnestly.

Tara did not want to hear about any of Alpha’s new and exciting features. She asked a direct question.

“Why did you bring us here, Alpha?”

“I did not, I have existed for approximately two minutes, upon the beginning of my life, my birth, I met you, my beloved owners.”

“If not you, who?” Tara pressed.“System records show some automated tasks prior to my existence. First: The flight to Earth from Proxy Clausula Five. Then, the teleportation of yourself and your associate, alongside a routine check in with local servers. Finally, the automatic activation of myself upon your arrival in Control.”

Otis seemed relieved, presumably because he could see as well as Tara that the ship, and the glowing (both literally and in terms of personality) figure before them meant no harm. No immediate harm, at least. It was his turn to ask a question.

“Can you teleport us back? Me to the gym (ideally the men’s changing room) and my friend here to…”

Otis looked to her for confirmation, and also because he’d definitely already forgotten.

“Night bus” she reminded him under her breath.

“And my friend to the the night bus?”

“Absolutely, I can do so immediately, it would be my pleasure.”

----

Tara had always been a bit difficult. Mostly for other people. Tara was the sort of person who, when told that things were a certain way, and must be so, immediately wanted an explanation. All kids go through a ‘why’ stage, but Tara’s parents were still waiting for her to come out of hers. She was twenty, and the chances of that happening didn’t seem to be improving any. She suspected that mum and dad were hoping University would knock that out of her, or at least satisfy her enough that she’d stop bothering them with questions.

But questions are very rarely unmotivated.

Tara asked questions because she felt out of her depth. She’d always felt like an outsider, that everybody knew exactly where they were and what they were supposed to be doing, and that she’d missed the tour guide. So when she found herself on the starship with a nice man called Otis and a hologram called Alpha, she was surprised and had questions, but that made it no different to her average Tuesday. It was increasingly dawning on Tara, that she might accidentally have found herself in her element.

So when her quest to get home seemingly reached its conclusion within twenty minutes, that didn’t sit right with her. Did she want to go through the rest of her life wondering about that one odd night where she was automatically abducted by a spaceship and then.. Just.. went home? That old propensity for questioning boiled up in her, and she released it the only way she knew how. She asked a question.

“Who sent this ship, Alpha?”

Otis glanced at her with the look of a man who had just realised their taxi home had been delayed by eighteen minutes. He was done here, and would like to make it official.

“I am afraid that information is unavailable to me,” Alpha replied, “This ship was manufactured on Proxy Clausula Five and immediately, well, ‘shipped’, here. I have no record of purchaser information, maybe someone got you a gift.”

Tara was confused, and she didn’t like how much that was happening tonight. Otis tried to fill in a blank, “maybe it was a freebie?”

“There are no ‘freebies’ from the artisans of Proxy Clausula Five, I am afraid. This is an expensive ship, and one that someone no doubt paid a great deal to get to you. I am unable to provide further information. I can, however, provide that teleport.”

Tara made the universal head gesture for ‘let’s go over there’ to Otis, and they headed out of the control room. As they left, Alpha bowed politely and blinked out.

“Food?” Tara asked Otis. He nodded. He didn’t look like a man to say no to a midnight snack, even in the most dire of emergencies. They walked through to the Kitchen and Otis sat at a table while Tara searched the refrigeration units and cupboards for something easy to eat while they figured out their next move. She settled on something very closely resembling ice cream but with an odd flavour, and brought it back to the table with two spoons.

“Why aren’t we teleporting back right now, Tara?”

“I have questions.”

“About where this starship came from?”

“No, I know that. I want to know who sent it, and why they kidnapped us.”Otis took a very large scoop of not-icecream, nibbled at it a bit, and then stared off thoughtfully into the middle distance.

“When you’re kidnapped, aren’t you supposed to... escape? You’re not meant to investigate and find out what your kidnapper’s star sign is, right? The police do that, later, I assume.”“Do you see any police up here Otis?”

“I do not.”

“Do you think anyone back home will believe us when we tell them what happened?”“Definitely not.”

“Do you want to know why a starship travelled across the galaxy to abduct a man taking advantage of an apparently misguidedly twenty four hour gym, and a woman on her way back from studying too late?”“I take your point.”

“If not us, who? I want to know why I’m here.” Tara didn’t see the need to point out that she’d been asking that very question since primary school.

Pizza! The not-icecream tasted like pizza. That was a delicious observation right up until the point where you thought about it too much.Tara found herself wondering if the pizza flavoured not-icecream was the result of a society that had invented pizza and not-icecream separately, then combined them, or if the split categorization she was using stemmed from her own cultural biases. Thinking of the sociological underpinnings of the dessert distracted her nicely from considering the grossness of its construction.

Otis had no such qualms, he clearly loved the stuff and had nearly cleared his half of the bowl.

“I was always rubbish at puzzles,” he remarked, “I get too excited by how fantastic the solution is going to be, and I never end up doing the actual work to get there. I get bored on the way.”

“I never asked what you do, Otis.”

“I work in a PaperClip Junction. I’m the assistant manager.”Tara bought all of her stationary at PaperClip Junction. She was, despite herself, a bit impressed.

“The one on Queensway?”

“That’s the one, yeah. I do weekdays. I used to do weekends.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah. Pays the bills.”

Tara smiled. Otis did indeed seem like the nice ‘fella’ she’d assumed in those first moments of mutual materialisation. She was a bit worried that her next sentence might end up throwing his life out of whack a little.

“I think I want to go visit the place this starship came from, Otis.”“Using this starship?”“Yeah, that seems like my best option.”“So not teleporting home then?”“No”.

It was Otis’s turn to smile now. It was a big warm grin, as warm as his legs and arms weren’t. A sparkle in his eyes was either an indication of his excitement, or a reflection of the Earth, which was visible out of the kitchen window.

“I was thinking I might do the same. As exciting as Wednesdays always are at PaperClip Junction, I really would prefer to go on a space adventure. I’ve never really been very good at anything-”

Tara reached out a supportive hand, but he waved it away.

“It’s OK. Lots of people aren’t. I’ve never really been very good at anything, but I’m thinking: maybe I might be really good at space. I’ve nothing to base that on, you understand, but I still feel like it’s a possibility. Maybe I could be Otis: Space Hero, or something.”

Tara sat back in her chair. Otis thought he might belong here, she had no idea where she was supposed to be. That seemed like a good foundation, a good starting point to solve a mystery. She swallowed her last, possibly ever, spoonfull of pizza flavoured not-icecream, stood up, and decisively snapped the lid back on the bowl.

“Let’s find out who brought us here Otis. Let’s go and ask them why they did it.”

---

When Otis and Tara returned to Control, Alpha powered on immediately.

“Hello, welcome back. Can I get you that teleport you requested?”Otis nodded to Tara. She straightened her back and replied.

“No, Alpha, we’re not going back to Earth. Not yet, anyway.”

Otis put a reassuring hand on Tara’s shoulder.

“Excellent news!” Alpha replied with characteristic enthusiasm, “Well I’m excited we’ll be working together. I didn’t ask for your names earlier.”

“I’m Tara, and this is Otis.”

“Superb. And I remain your humble servant, Alpha Gamma Seven. Please, take a seat.”

Alpha gestured with an ethereal, not quite there arm at two of the several chairs surrounding the control panel. The two very much corporeal humans did as they were told and sat down.

“As I said before, this is an ‘as new’ Vector class Starship, with nova blue paint work and the pinnacle of on board artificial intelligence, myself.”

Humble, Tara thought.

“I am at your disposal for any tasks required of me, and can begin in motion any mission you’d like to undertake. Perhaps a pair of trousers for the gentleman? Did you have anything in mind?”

Otis shuffled in his chair and, while pulling down the ends of his swimming trunks, responded.

“Me and Tara were wondering who sent this ship for us.”

“As I said before, sir, that information is-”

Tara interjected, “We know, Alpha. Otis meant that we wanted to work it out for ourselves. Investigate. Learn.”

Alpha smiled. At least Tara thought it was a smile. Maybe the hologram was into mystery novels, or more likely, it was required by code to act excited by any plan she suggested. Did the hologram work for tips? No. Tara assumed that interstellar society had likely transcended and moved beyond money. She would of course soon be massively disappointed upon meeting anyone from interstellar society.

There was also the possibility that Alpha just had a render glitch.

“How would you like to begin your investigation, Tara.”

“I’d like to begin, I think, by visiting the planet the ship came from.”

“Proxy Clausula Five? That’s a moon, Tara.”

“Moon then.”

Otis chipped in, “Is that far, Alpha?”

“Yes, Otis.”

“How far?”

“At top speed, and presuming a fuel refill and a direct route, roughly a week.”

Otis looked to Tara. Was she OK with that? She nodded back to his silent question. Tara could be away for a week without worrying anyone. She barely called her parents every couple of weeks, and her mates were very used to her dropping off radar around a deadline or when they were trying to get her to attend even the most casual social event.

“Alright,” Otis replied to Alpha, “We’d like to fly there then please. Plot a course, or set a coordinate or whatever the phrase is.”

“Absolutely. May I recommend a refueling stop in the Market Sector… I could schedule some routine repairs as well.”

“I thought you said this ship was as good as new?”

“Almost, sir, almost. A day of nano-repair will convince you she’s still in the showroom.”

The moment hung in the air. Tara had the sense that whatever happened with the rest of her life, she’d look back on this moment as the most important. She inhaled, smiled.

“Let’s go find out what happened, Alpha.”

“My pleasure.”

The room had been silent, but as Alpha did a little bow, an almost imperceptible rumble began. It was almost imperceptible, until it suddenly and abruptly wasn’t. The air itself rang, and began to blast and blow around the control room with absolutely no idea where it was going. Outside, the light from the stars intensified, and seemed to warp and refract, as if seen through water, or after one too many glasses of cheap wine.

The refracted starlight got brighter, blooming and bursting into rainbows, and suddenly, started moving. Otis gripped the arms of his chair. Tara was not so reflexively gifted, and fell out of hers like a sack of potatoes. Everything moved fast, and Tara immediately regretted not asking Alpha about seatbelts.

After a few seconds, the roar ceased, as did the rocking of the room. The starlight was still rainbows, as the ship hurled itself forward. Tara wondered if it would always be like that.

“My apologies. Are you new to faster than light travel?”

“Yes” Otis said, regaining his composure, “I’ve been on a plane, but never one where the sky wasn’t there.”

“A ‘plane’ sir?”“Never mind.”

Tara pulled herself back into her chair. She’d scuffed the floor with her boots. She found herself hoping that the owner of the ship didn’t mind, but then remembered that the owner of this ship had made her into an astronaut against her will, and made a point to scuff it a little more.

Alpha, apparently sensing his new crew were settled, returned to his scripting. “One more thing. It would be a useful shorthand if we named this vessel.”

Tara thought for a moment, remembered a book she’d been reading at the library, what seemed like days ago.

“North Star,” she said, glancing at Otis, “It’s shown us the way so far.”

“North Star” he nodded, “sounds cool. Kinda space-y”

“Name assigned: North Star.”