All of us seemed to come through unscathed by the brief battle with the UNWG forces.

The various colonists had broken into different groups. Some of them were gathered in the lounge, animatedly discussing the fight with UNWG forces they’d just been through. They were also sipping on drinks a little stronger than champagne. It was basically “serve yourself” since Glenda and Steven were otherwise occupied and the Lancer didn’t have a full crew on board. One colonist who introduced himself as Tim Watson was acting as bartender and turned to the elderly gentleman with scraggly hair, saying, “So, Pops, what’s your name? Care for another martini?”Smiling, the old man said, “Well now, my, er, real name is Brice and I was a professor of history in a small mid-western college. I’m retired now of course. And yes, I think another martini would put me in the mood, as it were.”

Another of the crowd around the bar, a young man with piercing eyes, content to sip on club soda said, “A history teacher. You’re kind of old. What can you bring to the table where we’re going?”

A couple who had identified themselves as Mariana and Andrew Stuart both chuckled and she said, “Now Jack, be nice. There’s a place for everyone–”

“Actually,” the older man said, “I know a lot of things about a lot of things but besides, someone has to chronicle what we’re doing. Our children’s children’s children will want to know what brought us to the new planet, how we formed a government, what led up to their present situation. I rather fancy being the historian for the group. Besides, I was sick of gardening.”

“Well then,” the young man Jack said, “I dub thee ‘The Historian’.”

A middle-aged fellow, Dave, turned to Tim Watson and said, “Another beer, my good man.”

There were several others there and they soon began introducing themselves to each other and discussing everything under the Sun, or rather, the stars. Unobtrusively, the one dubbed The Historian decided this would be a good time to turn on his wrist-pad microphone and perhaps record for time immemorial the early comments of some of the colonists.

Suddenly it was a mad scramble. Where only a couple days ago everyone thought they had another three months to prepare for the trip to a new world, now UN authorities had gotten wind of the trip and were rounding up colonists.

Robert James Hamilton, President of StelCo and financier of the trip to Alchibah sent out a desperate email:

Fellow Colonists,

I am sorry to have to suddenly change our schedule but it seems the UN has gotten whif of our plans. Already they have rounded up several of you.

There is no time to lose. Drop everything. Forget everything. You must immediately pack and get yourself to the Hilton Orbital Resort. I’ve made reservations for you so your personal craft will be allowed docking space. Your cover is that you are going on a one week planetary tour aboard the Lancer Cruise Ship. In reality, that ship is owned by StelCo. It leaves for Titan Dry Dock tomorrow afternoon. That’s only 12 hours from now.

While the Mayflower itself is able to hold almost unlimited cargo, the Lancer isn’t. You are limited to one large suitcase and one small carry-on bag. I’m sorry about that but there simply isn’t time to make other arrangements. As it is, the Mayflower is not nearly complete in the stores and provisions I had hoped to bring along. Make sure you have several changes of clothing, sturdy boots, and a warm jacket.

We will all meet at the Mayflower in a couple days. Until then, good luck, best wishes and hopes.

RJ Hamilton

It will be interesting to see what choices the colonists made in attempting to compress their entire life, and their hopes for what will be needed on the new world, into one suitcase. As for myself, I brought along paperback editions of a few of the books of last century’s Robert A. Heinlein. That, and an electric chainsaw. Can’t build a home if you can’t fell the trees…