Episode 37
Travelling Light E037S01 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Thirty Seven.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
19th Herach 850
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
It is always remarkable to me how the most extraordinary days always begin so innocuously. I woke yesterday at my usual time and went about my usual routine – meditation, bathing, breakfast – with no inkling of what was to come.
I had intended to pass the morning quietly, and perhaps check in with Wolph in the afternoon to see if I could be of any assistance in the engine room. But I had barely got myself settled when all my plans were overturned.
Ordinarily, it is nigh impossible to feel any sense of motion while the Tola is travelling through vacuum. But yesterday, sitting in the common room with a cup of tea and book, I felt myself pushed into my seat as the ship's gravity struggled to keep up with a sudden surge of acceleration.
Fortunately, the navigation deck and the common room adjoin each other. As soon as the pressure holding me into my chair relented, I went to find answers.
“There's a distress signal,” Aman explained, not taking her eyes off the navigation array. “It's faint, possibly degraded. But it's within range.”
She said this with a finality I understood. As a ship's pilot, and one from an old space-faring family at that, I can well imagine the moral and emotional imperative of responding to such a signal.
The others had felt that surge of speed as well, of course, and I suppose they were as keen for answers as I had been. One by one they came up from the other decks, crowding into the navigation deck and shouting questions over each other in a mess of voices.
I ended up fairly crushed against the bulkhead, and Wolph had to step outside entirely and peer in over people's shoulders from the doorway. It was a testimony to the seriousness of the situation that Aman made no effort to get anyone to leave.
“The signal is coming from a ship,” she said, tapping at her controls. “My scans are picking up life signs, but I… I don't think it's the crew…”
The display in front of her dissolved, and reconfigured itself into a slowly rotating image of a cylindrical vessel, clearly the worse for wear. Bolted to the hull was a name plate.
“The RSV Orielle?” Annaliese read aloud. “Now why does that sound familiar…?”
“Mark IV Langschwaft,” said Wolph, leaning in to see better and nearly crushing Tsabec in the process. “They stopped making them ages ago. Decades!”
“You said the signal was degraded,” I said to Aman. She hummed in acknowledgement.
“The emergency shuttles have all been deployed. I think it's abandoned. I think it's been abandoned for a very long time.”
“But what about the life signs?”
A wry smile twitched at Aman's lips. “Like I said, I don't think it's the crew. It's reading as plant life.”
Annaliese sat bolt upright in her chair. “The Orielle! I knew I'd heard of it. I remember the stories from my graduate days. It was a botanical research vessel for the University of Terlig. Officially, it was lost during a routine data survey.”
Tsabec raised an eyebrow. “Officially…?”
“Well. There were rumours. Legends, really, by the time I heard them. They say the data survey was just a cover. They were actually gathering samples of the Amalas toccanas.”
She paused, clearly expecting this to mean something to us all. At our blank expressions, she gave a huff of exasperation.
“The Amalas toccanas! The most important plant in galactic history! Or the most famous, anyway. It's said to have unparalleled medical uses, to hold the key to curing countless diseases on countless worlds.
But it's tremendously rare and tremendously unstable. Any attempts to sample it or to remove it from its home world has failed miserably.”
“Just to be clear,” said Hesje, “This is a fairy tale – not historical fact?”
“Oh, it's completely fabulous! [laughs] But if the Orielle is here – and if there's a chance the Amalas toccanas is somewhere aboard…”
Aman broke the silence. “That settles it then. We're going aboard. And you-” she said, gesturing to Annaliese “-shall lead us.”
Annaliese looked shocked. “Me? Oh- Oh no. No, I never intended- I-I have no experience-”
“You know plants,” said Wolph. “None of us do.”
Aman nodded at him in acknowledgment. “He's right. If this wonder plant is somewhere aboard, you're the only one among us who might be able to identify it.” She checked the display in front of her. “We'll be in range to dock within the hour. That gives us plenty of time to plan.”
As we filed out of the navigation deck, my eyes fell on the bookcase tucked behind the door, each shelf neatly filled with titles like Strange Tales of the Stars; Uncanny Adventures Volume 2; and Down with All Hands: The Thrilling Secrets of the Black.
All at once, I remembered Aman's relish as she told me tale of the Mirana de Res and the ships lost in Lomea's Gyre. Little wonder she was keen to investigate a ghost ship of her very own.
Annaliese rose to the occasion beautifully. Aman, Duytren and I joined her for the expedition and, uh…
…no. I think I will save the details for my entry to the archives. No use telling the same tale twice, after all. Suffice to say, we came back to the Tola in a very good mood.
“I've a bottle of Cesitian fire-wine in my cabin,” Aman confided as we climbed back aboard. “I've been saving it for a special occasion but, um…”
Duytren's face lit up. “Oh, don't tease. Exploration's thirsty work!”
But before Aman could reply, Wolph burst into the room. His eyes locked with Aman's, more serious than I had ever seen him.
“Need you on nav deck, quick. Ship approaching. Scans confirm – it's Scarry.”
Aman leapt into action, all thought of celebration gone. Within minutes, the Tola was surging into motion once more, putting as much distance as possible between us and the Guillemot.
That was yesterday. We have been running ever since.
Aman has instituted a communications embargo for the time being, on the off chance the Guillemot is somehow tracking our transmissions. However, I have been permitted to send this letter via relay to explain the situation.
I do not know when I shall have chance to write again. [sighing] I hope it will not be too long. This feeling of being pursued is… [sighs] untenable.
Send my love to everyone, and hold us in your prayers. And… Well. I know it is not really the done thing, theologically speaking. But if you should feel yourself moved to pray for some minor but irrevocably disabling mechanical fault to befall the Guillemot's engines? Well. I certainly would not object.
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry HE85019-5: The exploration of the abandoned research vessel the RSV Orielle, and what was found aboard.
Key words: Amalas toccanas; botany and horticulture; galactic history; myths and legends; oral literature; the RSV Orielle; scientific research.
Notes:
According to Annaliese, the Orielle was abandoned over 90 years ago. Fortunately, its age did not seem to have affected the automated systems. Aman piloted the Tola carefully into place, and the Orielle's docking protocols took over.
“No need to suit up,” said Aman as she joined me, Duytren and Annaliese at the Tola's entry hatch. “Scans are reading normal pressure, and the air itself is remarkably clean. I'm getting no signs at all of any hazardous materials.”
For a moment, none of us moved. Then Duytren let out a breath. [sighing] “Alright then. Let's see what we can see.”
A shiver ran through me, a mingling of nerves and excitement. I did not know what we might encounter aboard but I was keen to find out.
The Orielle was cylindrical in shape, with the docking bay at one end of the cylinder. The bay seemed perfectly ordinary as we stepped inside. And yet, I could not shake a sense that something was wrong. I looked around, trying to find what was prompting the feelings.
“The environmental suits are gone,” said Annaliese, checking a storage cabinet. She was wearing her mechanical legs for increased agility during the mission, and the soft whirr of their joints was loud in the quiet.
“They must have packed them on the shuttle,” Aman murmured. “There are no signs of decompression. They wouldn't have needed to put them on either while they were aboard or on the shuttle itself. That's a good sign. It means they had time to plan the evacuation.”
Duytren was looking around, eyebrows knotted in a frown. “Why are the lights on? That's not normal, is it?”
As soon as she said it, I realised that was the source of the wrongness I had been sensing. The lights in the docking bay were full and bright – a far cry from the dim emergency lighting that ought to have been the only illumination on a ship 90 years cold.
One by one, our eyes fell naturally on Annaliese. She was the mission lead, after all. Her back straightened, and she set her jaw.
“I suppose we'd better find out.”
She took the lead, stepping out into the corridor beyond the docking bay – and almost sent us all sprawling when she stopped so suddenly, Duytren walked straight into her.
“Annaliese!” Duytren snapped – then stopped.
What we had taken for a corridor was actually the bottom of a long, central shaft that cut through the entire length of the ship. Curved walls rose up around us, the decks of the ship coiling around the central, circular courtyard in which we stood.
But that was not why Annaliese had stopped. She had stopped because of what lay at the top of the spiral. Or rather, what grew there.
Above our heads, stretching into the space between decks, was a canopy of plants as vivid and thriving as any forest.
As my eyes adjusted, I realised there were plants all around us. What I had taken for shadows in the corners were actually banks of flowers. Vines twisted over the walls, wrapping themselves around the dust-smothered light fittings.
Speaking of light, it fell down through the central shaft in drifts, bright and clear as a summer's day. Annaliese turned slowly on the spot, gazing at the riot of life all around us.
“What happened here?”
“I might be able to pull a status report,” I offered. “Can you see any kind of interface anywhere? That might shed some light on things.”
Annaliese nodded. “Good idea. I'll look around down here. Aman, Duytren, could you please look for a way onto the upper levels, and see if you find anything up there? Stick together, and I think you'd better avoid the lifts.”
Duytren flashed her a grin. “On it, boss. Command looks good on you.”
[tutting] “Oh, get on. We'll be down here if you need us.”
It was hard to see any of the original ship's structure with the plants in the way. As I searched, I realised there were areas where I was no longer standing on the metal floor of the ship. Instead, my boots sank into something soft.
Annaliese knelt down, rubbing some of the dark, damp substance between her fingers. “It's growth medium. It's been piled up here, like a-a… Like a flower bed.”
Finally, we found a maintenance hatch tucked away behind a tangle of barbed, brambly vines. Annaliese held the branches clear while I got to work.
It took longer than I had expected. The Orielle used an electrical system that I had never seen before – likely because it had become obsolete long before I was born. But finally, I called up an all-systems status report and sent it to my communications device so I could read it.
Suddenly, Aman's voice rang out from above. She was leaning over an upper railing, waving for our attention. “Get up here, both of you. You're going to want to see this.”
We found the stairway as I scrolled through the report, trying to make sense of what I was reading.
“Looks like those old stories were right,” I told Annaliese. “There was an engine malfunction. The crew had to evacuate. But like Aman said, they had plenty of time. I think they used that time to do all this.
They hacked the ship's systems to run the lights even if nobody was aboard. I bet you any money those bulbs have been replaced with grow lights. And the report said something about the fire suppressant system? I thought it was a mistake but I think they've set it to go off periodically."
Annaliese pulled a face. “Fire suppressant? The sprinklers? [gasp] Oh, gosh! Water. Of course. A-and the growth medium, it must have been the crew. They put it about the place to let the plants spread as they grew.”
“Is it possible?” I said. “Can you make that kind of closed system in a space like this?”
[laughing] “Look around! I should say it's pretty bloody possible!”
The upper level was even stranger than the first. A layer of mulch covered the floor, dropped leaves long since rotted into softness, criss-crossed with shallow roots.
With a leaping heart, I saw there were insects in it – tiny living crawling things scuttling back and forth, living out their tiny lives, utterly unaware of how… [sighing] remarkable they were.
I laughed. I could not help it. “Oh, this is mad!"
Annaliese's eyes shone bright as they found mine. “Isn't it just the most wonderful, ridiculous thing?!”
Aman showed us into what had once been a laboratory, long since swallowed by the implacable forest around us. Duytren stood at the far end of the room, grinning at the wall in front of her.
Like many of the walls in here, it was covered in vines. But these looked different to the others we had seen. Flowers burst forth from them, big as my hand, with petals that flared out from the centre like a bright, billowing cloak of colour.
As soon as Duytren saw Annaliese's face, she laughed. “I take it this is, uh…”
“The Amalas toccanas,” Annaliese breathed. “It's real. It's real and it's alive. They found a way to keep it alive. Here! Of all places… [sighing] Here!”
We spent hours on the Orielle. Annaliese wanted every bit of information we could squeeze from the old ship's records, and I spent a good deal of time transferring crew logs and research notes while the others took various plant samples.
But we also took the time simply to explore, walking down corridors long since given over to the plants that made their home here.And I do mean 'given' over.
The Orielle crew could have beaten a hasty retreat, powered down the ship and left their erstwhile specimens to their fate. Instead, they had taken the time to turn what had once been their home into somewhere these plants could not just survive but thrive.
They had laid the foundations, set the wheels in motion, and then departed, to leave this secret, silent garden to spin out a life for itself out here, in the depths of space.
Before we left, I asked Annaliese what I should do about the distress beacon. We had no signs that anyone had come before us, despite the beacon having been beaming out for presumably the entire time the Orielle had been lost.
Still, as unlikely as it might be, I did not like the idea of inflicting on others pilots and captains the fear and anxiety that I had seen on Aman's face as she rushed to answer that call for help.
“I agree,” said Annaliese. “We can't leave it running as is. But then again, I rather hate the idea of nobody ever finding this place again after we've left.
I think you'd best change it to a greeting of some kind. That way, people can investigate if they like but it won't be quite so, uh, panic-inducing. Just something to say, 'Hello. We're here, and we're alive, and isn't that wonderful?'”
So that is exactly what I did.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by H.R. Owen, with accompanying artwork available on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for an archive entry, we want to hear it. You can send us anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
If you want to support Travelling Light, please consider leaving a review on your podcast platform of choice. You can also make a one-off donation or sign up for a monthly subscription at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
With tiers starting at just £1 a month, all supporters receive bonus artwork and additional content, the ability to vote on audience decisions, and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server.
This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence.]
--END TRANSCRIPT--
