FAN FICTION
JOURNEY FROM EARTH
by Khyron_Prime...12 June 2004
My name is Actor. If you asked me why, I'd have nothing to tell you. But if you came up to me and asked me to tell you something--anything...--I would be here to tell a story, because this is a different universe than I've ever been in before. This is the land of protoculture, alien friendships, and the fourth millienium's dawn.
The Earth is a wonderful place--it seems to have been fertilised with seeds that refuse to ever let the grass change from green, light the skies with a lovely blue, and make every sunrise like the first. It really is a magical land.
People go to work everyday, driving automobiles that never need gasoline, using the same power as the capitol city's bullet train: Protoculture. An energy source which made the human race into the galactic traveller that it is, and when I hopped-off of that same bullet train, it was New Monument City's spaceport that caught my eye, and I looked again across the rolling hills, as if forvever saying goodbye when I handed the machine my identification card.
The ship lifted-off, slowly burning the shields of metal launchpads below, and my eyes locked on New Macross City. The lights, the buildings, and all the people there. It was Earth's pride and joy, the one of which tourists always took postcards home; the city that never lost the stigma of being the first city in the universe to house a peaceful relationship of human and alien. So many people...They don't even risk having a spaceport there; Monument City is so close-by that it pretty-much acts solely as the military base for New Macross. Haydon knows it would take a whole city to protect the damn place. Its all been said before, I know, so I think that I'll take a nap--its a long ride to Tirol.
But before I can really get relaxed, the stewardess comes over to tell me that we've just exited the Earth's atmosphere and that the anti-gravity has been activated. Gotta hand it to 'em--those pilots have got this down to an absolute science; no bumps, knocks, or shuffles, just a simple use of the atmospheric shields and its like there's no such thing as "exit" or "re-entry"...well, at least not for me...or the rest of the passengers on-board. I can see a man throwing his baby boy up and down--must be a Zentraedi, goodness knows I'd never try that with my own son, but then again, if I had arms the size of jackhammers, I might think differently about it. His wife tells him to stop it, leaning over to grab around his arm, hah. Second generation Tirolians are funny; they still get excited about emotions, and when their pale faces get flustered, they look like tomatoes. But she's having a good time laughing, and so am I--where'd that stewardess go?--she was one fine piece of Praxis...
The first fold takes place right as we make lunar orbit; it still makes me nauseous, and it makes it worse wen the Captain comes on the intercom afterwards and says: "Now, even for first-timers, that wasn't so bad! How about we go back to Earth and try it again?!" Bastard. He's got a Spherisian accent. Its easy not to lose your lunch when you never need to eat.
The fold takes us to Pluto Base, where the ship stops for final checks before departing the solar system. Its kinda like a hub for the United Earth Government Forces--like an immigrations center, trading post, and military base all rolled into one. When we get back on the ship, I notice the lady next to me putting a clip in her blue hair. Something to remember Earth by?
The second fold doesn't kill me like the first one--the stewardess offered me a couple of fold-sickness pills...right after she *cough* informed me that I was "unimpressive as a male specimen of the human species." Well, whatever, 'cause when the blues and reds of the fold stop going through my "impressive" eyes, Base 66 comes into view. Its kinda an ugly thing, you know? Its like they took a normal exploration base and decided that because it was the best defold point for travellers, they should naturally want to leave a good impression. Personally, the way that they've been adding onto it for this long, I'm surprised it doesn't have enough gravity to pull-in Base 67 as a moon by now.
The crew members make sure to tell everyone on-board that the ship will be travelling into Local Group airspace during the fold, but to most of us, it doesn't make a difference. After all, its all part of the Interplanetary Alliance, anyway--the UEG just must have some idea that people still consider the Local Group and the Solar System as separate worlds. Right...If I recall correctly, it was only thirty-two hours ago that I was in New Macross. Separate? Hah. We all live in one society.
There's one guy who isn't so confident. The guy is shaking in his seat like a newborn Garudan, mumbling to himself and sweating crazily. The stewardess tries to talk to him, calm him down, and everybody is watching. She puts her hand on his shoulder...and he seems to snap. "The Zentraedi are gonna kill us all!" he screams, throwing his arms into the air. Some ignore him, others get mad. He yells again: "Those bastards killed my fianc�e because they didn't like her ship being in Alliance space! They're gonna kill us, too!" Everybody knew he had gone too far. There were some bad Zentraedi out there, but when was the last time that we really heard of anything major?--Major. Yeah. That's the word. Its a perfect descriptor for when three Zentraedi leapt from their seats and beat the crap out of the guy.--He should have known better: You don't just throw out Zentraedi insults and expect to leave happy. Luckily enough, the Praxian and Human stewardesses broke it up just in time to take the guy to a side room. Good thing--the fold engines sounded like they were ready to overheat.
But hell, not too bad. In fact, its always fun going from Earth to the Local Group, 'cause its like one big frickin' party on the ship: Its like, out of nowhere, one woman yells "Garuda, here we come!" and with that, the thirty-some other Garudans on-board start hooting and hollering, just about ready to tear their bio-masks from their faces in eagar anticipation. But they calm down, and then the Perytonians start chanting like crazymen, and the Zentraedi make-up their own words to the Perytonians' song, and before I know it, everyone's yelling about how good its gonna be to go to their home planets and how their planet's the best. Its not quite an arguement, per say, but more like an agreement--when the Praxian lets out a warcry, a Zentraedi will return it, and they'll look each other in the eyes, and the Praxian will yell in the Zentraedi language and the Spherisians will answer and before the ship is ready to explode in this display of brotherly love, every race on-board sings the anthem of the Interplanetary Alliance.
And Alpha Satellite comes into view. The defold? Nice and smooth, giving me a good view out of my window of the Local Group's first united decision to explore the space outside of their own planets. It must mean a lot to them, but heck, its just another stop for me; its been around since long-before I was born. So we unload, presenting our identifications and passing through the entry gates--except for one Kabarran; wonder what he was trying to pull? But heck, no problems here; my shuttle is waiting for me. The terminal is like a pick-up station--a star with a corner for every planet, with lighted signs each written in English, Japanese, and the planet's native tongue. Its fun, in a way--"Which language should I read-in today?"
Then I get a tap on my shoulder. That stewardess is smiling at me, so I ask her where she's headed.--I have time for small talk; I'm not due into base for a couple of days. She tells me she's headed home, to New Praxis. "New Praxis? I've never been there before," I lied. "Well," she says, "then, Human, you have never seen the most wonderful planet in the Alliance." I ask: "So?" Then she grabs my arm in her hand. Damn, she's strong. And she drags me to the gate for New Praxis, not like I could have broken her grasp, anyway.
Gosh, I love this place..
