Prince Crimson Arc
15th April
Ceres. The second of the three worlds colonised under the flag of the Freehold. Officially incorporated as the Colony of Ceres on the 23rd March 2040, twelve years ago. Population, around five hundred. Status of surface environment: tier 5, little to no atmosphere or magnetosphere, uninhabitable outside of enclosed underground settlements.
This world was now what filled up my view from onboard the Proserpina. A bland grey world, not too dissimilar from my home world, at least on first appearance. Unlike on Luna, there are no natural caverns on Ceres. The one and only settlement on the planet had to be entirely dug out. That settlement, for whatever reason, lacks a name. Simply referred to as Ceres, as if it is the whole planet. No one ever thought to give it one, which only extenuates the perceived lifelessness of this place. This is indeed the far-flung frontier of human conquest. The furthest frontier, and my home for the next two years.
My father, Consul Frank Scuderi, co-ruler of the Freehold, asked me to come to this distant, desolate place, with the goal of ensuring that this colony doesn't die off. To ensure that it still has a future because, as might be expected, a population of five hundred doesn't ensure any long-term sustainability.
My quarters aboard the Proserpina are located near the front of the ship, allowing me to get a full view of the planet as we make our approach, without having to turn and crane my neck too much. It doesn't look too different from home.
I tear my eyes away from the view, and push myself away from the window. My quarters are rather spacious, at least compared to the rest of the ship. I left most of my belongings back on Luna, but what I did bring with me quite easily fits, taking up less than half the room. From what I understand, not many people have ever used this room either. Reserved for special guests aboard, of which there have been few. Ceres is not a top travel destination, unsurprisingly. The fact that there's only one ship in and out every two years, is quite a turnoff.
Whilst we haven't arrived at Ceres yet, that doesn't mean my work trying to save this colony hasn't already begun. In fact, it began before we even launched from Farside. There are seventy-six other passengers aboard the Proserpina with me, the majority of them likely to become permanent residents of Ceres. Two-thirds (about fifty) are Palestinian. As part of the alliance between Israel and the Freehold formed during the War of Independence, when the Freehold became established as an independent nation twelve years ago, it was agreed that the Freehold would help ease the stress of overpopulation in the Levant. Specifically, by resettling at least ten thousand Israelis on Mars, and allowing a constant flow of Palestinians to be taken to space. Originally, the idea had been for Palestinians to be settled on Ceres, but when that clearly became unfeasible in the long-term, a number began to be permanently settled on Luna. As such, the majority of Ceres' five hundred or so residents are Palestinian.
As part of the work I am to do during my time on Ceres, I've been talking to and working with the people onboard the Proserpina with me, to give me an idea of what to expect when I arrive. Many of the people on the Proserpina already have family or friends on Ceres. One of their main concerns is the fact that they haven't really seen their family since they left for Ceres. Because of its' isolation, there's very little communication between Ceres and the rest of, well, humanity. Communication is only possible through long range radio transmissions, and even then, this isn't possible at all times of the year. Only when there is an open route between Luna and Ceres, when neither the Earth or the Sun, or even occasionally other planets, lie between the two bodies, is communication between the residents of Ceres and their families on Luna possible. This makes communication at times impossible for months on end at times, which is very difficult for the people left behind on Luna. And, presumably, those on Ceres as well. Before I left Luna, I probably wouldn't have understood, but out here in the emptiness and loneliness of space, I think I understand it now. I have some limited communication to Luna and Ceres, but mostly with my father. I haven't talked to my little sister, Artoria, or to any of my friends from school since I left.
Among the newly arriving colonists, is a Bangladeshi botanist named Zayd. He's employed by the Legislative Council of Ceres, the governing body of the colony, to work on the hydroponic farms that have been built within the settlement. The farms were originally run by Ingprad, one of the chaebols that dominate the economy on Luna. Ingprad pulled out of Ceres a couple of years ago, however, citing the venture as unprofitable. The colonial government then had no choice but to buy the farms off Ingprad, and take over management of food supply in the settlement.
Zayd's become someone special to me. Someone important. I don't completely understand how I feel about him, but at the very least, I enjoy his company, and the relationship that we have at the moment. Though, that might all come to an end soon.
Most days, I spend a great deal of time in the common room, and talk with as many people as possible. By this point, I know all of the seventy-six passengers relatively well. It has been eleven months, after all. Many from the older generations of the Palestinian contingent didn't welcome me at first, but perhaps influenced by their younger friends and relatives, eventually involved me more in their conversations, and came to respect me. Through them, I learnt much about their culture, their faith, and their language. Much of this had been lost to them, after leaving their homeland of Palestine, but they still have the memory of it. For those reasons, it isn't surprising that they shunned me at first. I'm the symbol of everything that was taken away from them. My father is the person that they blame the most for what they've lost.
Zayd's quarters are also near the front of the ship, not all that far from mine, just a floor above. He lets me in, and the two of us sit down on his bed. There isn't any space for chairs or anything here. Zayd's apartment is tiny, about a third the size of my quarters, if that. Most of the room is taken up by his equipment for the work he will be doing after we arrive on Ceres, as well as a small collection of memoirs and personal items.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Zayd asks me. I can tell that he thinks that this is a bad idea.
"I feel like I have to," I reply, "I've had it this way for almost ten years. It would feel strange to change it now."
"Well, if you say so."
Zayd gets to work. As well as being a botanist, Zayd also has some past experience as a hairdresser. Since I was about nine or ten, I've had my naturally dark hair coloured a pastel pink. It's something that the Palestinians, especially the older more conservative types, will frown upon, I can't bring myself to change it. Maybe because it's a memory of home. Everyone on this ship is the same in that way. Trying to cling on to whatever they can remember of their home.
Of the many memoirs that Zayd himself has, a photo of his older sister, and her family takes pride of place. From what I understand, his sister's family was relocated as part of the Project Gaia Foundation's efforts. Millions have migrated out of Bangladesh in Foundation sponsored resettlements to depopulated areas. Zayd's sister now lives and works on a small patch of farmland in southern Siberia. More than twenty-five million people have been resettled in Russian Siberia over the last ten or so years. Most living on farmlands, or in the new towns that are springing up there.
Zayd first cuts and tidies up my hair. I keep it long, or at least long by lunar standards, so that it rests on my shoulders. Or does, when there is gravity. After he's done with that, Zayd begins working the dye into my hair. Because there's a lot of hair, it takes him some time, and even after he's finished, I still have to sit here for at least another twenty minutes, waiting for it to get into the follicles of my hair.
Once he's done, Zayd sits down next to me, squeaking the springs in the bed.
"We're almost there now, aren't we?"
"Yes," I reply, "Ceres takes up the whole view from the cockpit. The pilots told me that we'll be landing in two days."
The two of us then sit side by side, without saying anything for a little while. We both know what it means once we arrive there. Me and Zayd both have work to do. We both have lives to get back to once we arrive on Ceres. It isn't like we won't be able to see each other at all, but we'll both be a lot busier. We won't have time to spend together, not like this anyway. The voyage of the Proserpina felt almost like a dream to me. A seemingly endless flow of time in which I was free. Free from the expectations of everyone, my father and the rest, just for a short amount of time. But that journey is now coming to its' end, and I can't simply stay like this anymore. I have work to do.
Zayd takes the initiative, as usual, pulling me gently towards him, kissing me. His lips, his mouth, his tongue, are warm and inviting. It makes me want to forget it all. I wish that I could stay here forever with him. Here with Zayd. That this journey would never end. It would be so much easier if I had no responsibilities, no need to do anything for anyone other than myself. But that is the duty, or perhaps the curse, of the Scuderi name. It is my duty to give my life for the people of the Freehold. Yes, maybe it is a curse rather than a duty.