Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

‘Of course it’s out there,’ Juno replied. Although the Chinese generation ship had gone radio silent around two years ago, Juno still imagined it floating like a shadow through the solar system, making its slow way to Terra-Two. The Chinese government had launched it four years ago – a bright vessel with 100 passengers, on a trip expected to last a century. Sometimes Juno wondered what it would be like to leave Earth behind, and – unlike the crew of the Damocles, who had access to Igor’s technology – to know for certain that only her grandchildren or great-grandchildren would ever set foot on Terra-Two. What would they be like by the time they arrived? The children of another century, whose parents and grandparents had lived and died in the void? It had seemed inhumane to Juno, to raise children in the sanitized air of a spaceship, who would live and die without ever seeing a cloud or touching a lake. By the time they reached their promised destination, would they even remember what they were looking for?

Two years ago, the crew on the Shēngmìng had filed for the right to be recognized as a separate state, which led to an inquiry into life on the ship. Their commander, Zhang Wei, had died and been replaced by the scientist Xiao Lin, whose voice crowded the airwaves for a while. They had painted a new flag, changed their name and written up a constitution. The astronauts refused to be considered employees of the Chinese National Space Administration and proudly presented themselves as citizens of a new country.

They had debated it in school. Some argued that the Outer Space Treaty meant that a spacecraft could not be considered an independent country. To many, the idea was ridiculous. And yet there was no denying that the citizens of the Shēngmìng appeared to have adopted their own set of laws and system of government, and lived in harmony under its jurisdiction.

‘We have built a beautiful country,’ Xiao Lin had said.

And now Juno could imagine how it happened; of course the tightly knit group of astronauts, sharing space, sharing food, united against the hostile environment outside, would come to identify with each other, come to rely on and love one another to the exclusion of everything else in the universe. ‘For all we know, they could all be dead,’ said the cynical spokespeople when the ship went silent. But this speculation was squashed once the government picked up video feeds of smiling people in flight suits, their faces reflected in the glassy torus of the deck. At their feet were bouncing children with free access to education, healthcare, food, everyone working to give back to each other. It sounded like a utopia to Juno.

‘But we could find them, theoretically,’ she pushed, not prepared to abandon the notion.

‘I don’t know,’ Eliot said. ‘The mission was suspended after they declared independence.’

‘And in a year or so, their space agency will probably try again. Maybe with a faster engine this time,’ Astrid said. ‘One that might reach Terra-Two sooner.’

‘But not faster than us,’ Eliot said with a gap-toothed smile. ‘This is a “race” after all. We have to get there first. And anyway, if the Shēngmìng is out there somewhere, if they’re still on the course set by their flight engineers, they’d be somewhere just beyond Jupiter by now. Maybe.’

So, theoretically, we could see them? Juno thought, but she didn’t have time to voice her question before the sound of feet came thudding up the ladder. When she turned around she was face to face with Harry, who smelt like coffee and menthol.

‘Hey there,’ he said. ‘Having a little party on the comms deck?’

‘I’m doing the software update,’ Astrid said. ‘Eliot’s teaching me.’

Juno remembered why she’d come to the comms deck in the first place. ‘Poppy’s supposed to be doing that.’ She frowned.

‘Can’t you leave off it today, at least?’ Harry said.

‘I’m just saying—’

‘Today is her birthday. So she probably wants to lie in bed and cry or something.’

‘Oh,’ Juno said, guiltily.

Astrid smacked her hands over her eyes and groaned. ‘I forgot!’

They all had. They’d been on the ship for two months and already the lightless days had taken on a strange uniformity. Juno found it difficult to believe that on Earth it was summer. In London, the sun was rising at 5 a.m. and setting at 10 p.m. In just under two weeks the Olympic games would begin. But here there was no change in temperature to mark the passing of the seasons, no marigold leaves or humid, impossibly long twilight.

They gathered a few minutes later with the senior crew in the kitchen for Sunday breakfast, which was normally an hour later, and began the one day they did not have to attend lessons or do many chores.

The calendar next to the fridge was divided into ten columns. Juno ran her finger down Poppy’s, found that day’s date. The words ‘Poppy is twenty’ burst from its borders, the tails of the Ys trailing into curlicues.