The colonists didn't know about oceans, plants, or history. They didn't even know quite what space was, but they knew what happened in it. That account was taught to generation after generation of small children, and it made the colony, where death was negotiable, a clear choice for a permanent home.
Waffles spent a day trying to inform the somewhat inbred masses before showing the actual ship.
The colonists' ancestors were once on a journey through space. There was a disaster, and most of the crew died after being sucked into the vacuum. The survivors suffered starvation, dehydration and brutal cold as the vessel's systems fell apart.
Ms. Halo found them and made them a home on her planet. She had meant to take the damaged ship to be scrapped but forgot after watching her late-night programming.
James Washington found it and with the village's help, transported it to a cave, which he then sealed except one or two small openings. The spaceship was massive. The mission to hide it required the early humans to wreck Ms. Halo's hovership - a crime they received a harsh scolding over.
The ancestors repaired it the best they could, but dared not to use it. They never understood what caused the fatal accident. The colonists forgot a lot about the ship and colony's origin. It usually only revealed itself through distorted traditions and stories. Only a few curious people studied the old books and took care of the ship. Waffles became a member of that secret club.
The colony had quadrupled its population since they first moved into the homes Ms. Halo made for them. There were roughly 180 of them for a ship designed for a maximum of 90. Waffles believed the vessel could handle the additional people, a theory he based on nothing but optimism.
Likewise, they had to fly it out of the cave, which was an impossible feat of piloting, or really easy. No one had ever piloted a spacecraft, so they didn't know. Ignorance was the scariest thing they faced, but Waffles had one morale-boosting nugget of information.
Where they came from was unknown, but where they were going was in the old books - planet 02A orbiting the Alpha Centauri star. It was a place of unparalleled natural wealth, or so Waffles believed. It contained things the humans only had artificial contrivances for. Real oceans instead of kiddy pools. Forests made of real trees instead of the plastic kinds. But most importantly, it had freedom, both scary and exciting.
Fear kept the colony in place for generations, but now they had the necessary motivation. A line had to be drawn. Buttercup gave the order for an escape.
But before anything else, they had to unseal the cave.
"We can use this to blow a hole near where the old main entrance was," Waffles explained to a couple dozen people who were staring at the space ship and leaving their mouths open.
"White clay?" Cuddles asked.
"I have instructions for it," Waffles said, "It explodes."
"Sounds dangerous," Buttercup said.
"It is."
"...Can you teach me how to use this?" Buttercup asked.
"Probably."
"I guess, I can handle that part then," Buttercup said looking at Waffles, "Better someone who can run."
"Oh there will be plenty of running to go around. We'll also need food, food we can grow," Waffles said staring at Cuddles, and then Patches, and the Cuddles again. "We'll need someone to go inside Ms. Halo's house and steal some plants. Someone who knows the layout."
"It's the job I've been training for," Sweet Pea said.
"Yes... well, you'll still need someone to let you in," Waffles said.
"We'll do our part," Patches finally conceded. "But we don't need Sweet Pea."
"Bullshit."
"Excuse me?" Cuddles said.
"No, no, bullshit is correct," Waffles said, "We'll need everything we have in the food stores and anything we can steal from Ms. Halo's. But once that's out, growing our own food is imperative, luckily the ship's lights simulate sunlight. We're not just talking about a couple of bushes, it will need to be enough to start a farm. We'll need the quietest people to do this. Sweet Pea happens to be one of them."
"Fine."
"By the way, who's going to fly this thing?" Buttercup asked.
"Huh, our pilot isn't here," Waffles realized, "I think I told him. Yes. Maybe. Well, I'll tell him again in any case. I mean how could I forget something like that?"
***********************************************************
Mittens loved to run. But he had run out of places to run by the time he was five. The diameter of Ms. Halo's yard could be covered in a 80-minute jog, even with his still-developing legs.
So he moved on to climbing. At first, it was exciting, the plastic trees were designed for climbing along with providing shade, simulating the people's natural environment, and occasionally diffusing a fine mist of valium gas to send people into a deep sleep.
But climbing one tree was like climbing any other, and house-dwellers generally disapproved of him getting on their roofs.
Then he found the cave.
It was endless, especially for an 8-year-old. Not only could he get his fill of adventure, but it also gained him membership into an ancient club of humans, of which Waffles was the only remaining member at the time. Mittens knew about the ship even before the village leaders, and he was proud of that fact.
For a child, he had an incredible talent for keeping secrets. In this case, he wanted to protect the one place he had all to himself. All to himself and one peculiar old man.
He went back there on the night of the great escape. Everyone had already expanded one entrance and trampled all over it, so he used his own private hole.
He knew the cave better than any member of the secret club, living or dead, and he usually chose the most precarious path. This time it led him to Waffles, who was taking a break and gazing blankly at a chart.
"What are you doing?" Mittens said while approaching the old man.
"I'm preparing."
"You're checking the star map."
"What else would a navigator do?"
"A navigator? You taught me that word before."
"It's someone who figures out what direction to go. If we were here longer, I'd have you read some manuals, some ancient books, on space navigation," Waffles said while approaching a dust-laden shelf with dozens of operations manuals and a cookbook. "A little late for that."
"It sounds easy. I mean we're just going in a straight line after we get out of the cave."
"That does sound easy."
"So you're going to do this one thing, and then what?"
"I'm also the engineer. That is the person who repairs stuff."
"Didn't you say the ship was broken before? Did you fix that?"
"No. That was repaired before I was even born."
"So you've never done the engineering job? Maybe you should stick to driving the ship."
"Oh no, I'm not driving the ship, I'm telling the driver where to go."
"Wait, then who is driving?"
"Oh... right. I guess I haven't told you yet. You are."
"What!?"
Waffles got down on one knee, a painful and exhausting accomplishment. Looking at him eye-to-eye, Waffles could see the shock setting in. I'm glad it's not me, he thought.
"You can do this. No one knows these caves better; no one can explore better; and no one can play that spaceship flier game better.
"What about you?"
"I'm just too old," Waffles confessed, "I've looked at these charts and manuals every day of my life, imagining I could be out there in the stars. What's out there? I always wondered if there were other people. Where do we come from? Can this crummy ship really fly?"
"Wait, what?"
"But, I've never done anything about my curiosity except for sitting in these caves. You, on the other hand, will get the chance you deserve."
"... I don't think I can."
"You're the best we have," Waffles wanted to tell the boy he was their only hope, but he figured that would be
a little too much pressure for an 8-year-old. Instead, Waffles just called him the "chosen one."
Mittens was shaking. Suddenly, the cave trembled.
"That's the sign."
"Sign?"
"The plan is very intricate and subtle, except this one part - once people start yelling and rushing into the ship, it's time to leave. You can do this. I believe in you. So does everyone else in the village. Now I have one more thing to ask."
"What?
"Help me off my knee, I'm in so much pain right now."
***********************************************************
The end-of-the-world sex wasn't possible for Patches and Cuddles, but they were getting as close as they could.
They sat on their sofa in Ms. Halo's expansive parlor, illuminated only by the dim light given off by the viewscreen. Cuddles never knew quite how to negotiate an intimate position with Patches sitting beside her on a couch. Her solution was to reach over and pull on her wife's waist until she was straddled between Patches' legs. Patches would remain coy, but only for a little while. Just before they lost themselves in each other, something caught Patches' eye, and the session came to an end.
"It's time, she's asleep."
Ms. Halo was reclined deeply into her chair, and now showed all the characteristic signs of an alien in slumber.
Cuddles sighed. "What if we just went to the door and shut it," she whispered.
"Then, the mission would fail, Ms. Halo's son would take over, and everyone outside would be put down. But before all that, they'd lynch us for destroying their plans."
"It doesn't have to work out that way," Cuddles reasoned, "We could work it out with Ms. Halo, tell her what's going on, and just stay in here."
"Stay in here?" Patches asked, "For the rest of our lives?"
"That's not so crazy. I don't even like being out there half the time. The stares. The mutters. Half the time I'm being paranoid, the other half..."
"Yeah, we're not the most popular people in the backyard," Patches said, "But if we abandon them now, we'd be confirming every nasty thing they think of us."
"So?”
"They made us part of the council right?" Patches asked, "That means we have a responsibility to work in their best interests. It doesn't matter if they like us. It doesn't even matter if we do what they want. What matters is that we do what's best. And we both know Ms. Halo can't protect them forever."
"You say that now, but after a few years without any privacy on a rickety spaceship, I think you'll change your mind."
"As if we have any privacy now," Patches said, looking towards the elderly alien who had been sitting just a few meters away.
The two thought for a moment about the cost of their relatively decadent life. They had lived indoors since they were born and were now the only living inside-humans left. Their entire relationship, from their first kiss to their unofficial marriage, served as entertainment for Ms. Halo. What she couldn't watch in-alien was recorded on one of the house's many cameras. But Grandma never meant any harm.
The two humans had even negotiated a few black hours in the night, so their relationship didn't become a complete peep-show. Still, they never pushed too far, for fear of being kicked out.
It was a decent life, but freedom excited them. They imagined a world with real trees and large bodies of water. A land big enough for an isolated cabin where they could be truly alone for the first time in their lives and wear flannel.
"I'll let them in," Cuddles said.
"Don't worry about it, just keep an eye on her," Patches said. Her wife wouldn't actually betray the village, she thought, but there was a serenity that came with being near Grandma. It was like the calming effect of valium gas, but with a sense of spiritual contentment. Patches thought her wife needed that more than she did. She looked back, thinking it was the last time she'd see the kindly alien that raised her from birth.
***********************************************************
Patches cracked the door open for the looters. "Just make this fast, you're not sightseeing here, and we don't know if Ms. Halo will wake up."
"Yeah, we understand the mission," Sweet Pea said.
The thieves made their way into the home, each inspecting the door as they entered.
The door was a subject of fascination for them. The fact that they couldn't open it caused enormous political strife for the colony, even from the early days.
Traditionalists believed the handle required a right-twist and then a pull. It was the most attempted method of opening, and even though it never worked, it stayed the most popular for decades. Then a rabble-rouser suggested that it was a left-twist and then a push.
He was mocked at first, and he couldn't open the door, but his theories rose to prominence as a younger generation abandoned traditional thinking.
Then a self-described scientist who claimed to have studied the door in-depth proposed a right-twist, a push, and then a jimmy. His paper on the subject convinced many.
Then an equally well-qualified genius called the right-twist, push, jimmy idea ridiculous - he proposed a left-twist, a pull and then no jimmy.
Popular opinion swayed between those two concepts for some time. One prominent figure proposed they try to find a middle ground, if for no other reason than to restore peace and harmony. That meant no twist, no push or pull and no jimmy. He stood motionless in front of the door for 14 hours straight to demonstrate.
Spectators were awed. He had gotten closer than any other door theoretician to opening it. Some metaphysicians came forward, claiming there was no door at all. Despite years of failed attempts to walk through the door, that theory remained in the village's intellectual circles.
In summary - they couldn't open the door, but they could wait until Ms. Halo opened it for Cuddles or Patches and then wedge something into it. The concept was so crass that only Sweet Pea deigned to try it.
"The greenhouse is this way," Patches explained to the men.
They passed the living room area where Cuddles was still keeping the sleeping alien company.
The men each looked in and gawked for a moment before continuing.
They reached the greenhouse. A field of racks stretched before them, each contained a familiar plant variety.
"We won't be able to get meat," Patches explained, "Ms. Halo buys that off-world, same thing with bread and cheese. But we can get sansa beans and pulitimers for protein. Then finkle-berries, quadirles, and beet-squash for carbs. For the additional vitamins we'll need yaksfer and trutomein. We won't be eating too well, but we should manage."
The group started grabbing the food, seeds, and planting soil they needed for their long journey. "So, you must not be too happy about leaving. I mean giving up the palace and all," Sweet Pea said.
"Stop it. Grandma does everything possible for the colony. You all have beds, clothes, things to entertain you. It's not all that different for us, we just don't have privacy."
"Privacy huh?"
"Don't knock what you have to someone who doesn't have it," Patches said, "Be careful, we'll need some of those pulitimer plants whole, but they're delicate," she said to one of the men.
"You two have been making that case for years, how it's no picnic in here. You can't lie now, with me looking at your little heaven."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I guess, we didn't pass your room, right? Or did we? You know what, I'd really like to see it. See how bad it is."
"That's ridiculous, there's no time," Patches said hoping to shut down the conversation. Suddenly one of the men broke something glass. "Careful! Oh god, you're all making a mess in here," Patches said.
Sweet Pea put his boot on one of the racks and kicked it to the ground. The dirt and plants scattered. A pipe opened and started to leak water.
"I don't care what kind of mess we're making here," Sweet Pea said a few inches from Patches' face. "You don't care, we're going to die if we stay here, and you do
n't care! But I guess you don't have a reason to. Grandma isn't going to harm you."
Patches tried to smack Sweet Pea, but he caught her hand. He let go. Holding his hands in the air, he stepped back.
"I'll wait in the hallway," Patches said, "hurry up."
She left.
"You heard her! Hurry!"
***********************************************************
Their bags were packed.
Crying. Fighting. Fear. The occasional revolt and overwhelming anxiety. It was similar to most moving experiences.
Filling the water tanks was an ordeal. Waffles feared that if the tanks were 100 percent full, they'd be overweight. Buttercup worried that if they weren't 100 percent, everyone would stink from not being able to bathe regularly. A compromise was reached - the tanks would be full enough to probably weigh down the ship and people would stink, but hopefully both problems would be mitigated somewhat.
Mittens was another issue. He sat motionless at the controls of the ship. His seat was surrounded by windows, giving him a panoramic view of the ship's position in the rocks and darkness. Or at least it would have if his parents weren't there.
At one moment they would encourage their son, saying, "Please honey. We all know you can do this. We love you very much." The next they would turn on the captain, "I can't believe you're making him do this! Why can't elder Waffles do it."
Waffles was disqualified from the role of helmsman. The arthritis in this hands prevented him from holding controls for a long time. His failing eyesight prevented him from seeing important things, like rocks. And his complete lack of hand-eye coordination made the first two problems redundant.
"This is a three-person bridge with seven people on it!" Buttercup yelled at the parents, "If you have no bridge role, then leave."
Sweet Pea escorted the parents out.
"All right Mittens, we're going to do this together, very slowly," Buttercup said, "let's start by lifting this thing a few feet off the ground, and we'll just go from there."
Several dents and screams and a nearly fatal cave-in later, Mittens managed to pilot out of the newly created hole. He gained an unwarranted sense of pride and left his fears on the planet's surface. The ship was now on its way.
They accelerated over the course of two days, and the entire population felt a deep sense of pride in their accomplishment. They took turns gazing out the windows. Their spirits soared, then sunk, then disappeared. An explosion rocked the ship.