Sci-Fi | Romance

# Cantari: Prologue

I once witnessed a lifeless body drift past my observation window.

> My father's research team at Star Point Three (SP3) unveiled the first habitable 'Goldilocks' planet suitable for human colonization, registered in the year 2462 AD.

This planet was dubbed Cantari and resided in a cluster situated ten light years away from Earth.

During that time, my brother Lars and I were young, residing at SP3 with our parents, who were deeply engrossed in their scientific endeavors.

In those days, sluggish spacecraft, capable of only a quarter of light speed, hampered deep space exploration. The Star Point initiative had reached its two hundred and thirtieth year, initially established to address the limitations of human space travel.

Originally, the massive, industrialized Star Point stations served as logistics and mining hubs, aimed at resource extraction, with the goal of transporting those materials back to Earth.

As resources dwindled and demand fell, SP3 transitioned into a modest scientific research base. We left our earthly home to live among the stars.

Dad's team was small and had to work in a secluded, secure area of SP3, which our parents often referred to as the 'wild west.'

When SP3 was first launched, it attracted numerous privateers, entrepreneurs, and corporate entities eager to strike it rich. Most of these individuals were hardcore miners, focusing on minerals that had been depleted on Earth.

The high traffic, coupled with the poor condition of many ships and rampant lawlessness, made the vicinity around SP3 resemble a graveyard in space. Bandits repurposed derelict vessels as hideouts, ambush sites, and practice targets. As I learned about the history of our new home in school, I felt fortunate not to have been among its early pioneers.

Over the years, advancements in technology led to reduced resource consumption and improved recycling, causing the original Star Point mission to fade as demand waned.

SP3 was the farthest station in the program, close to Pluto, and was the first to be converted into a scientific outpost focused on the search for extraterrestrial life.

During its refurbishment, SP3 transformed into a hybrid space, where scientists competed for living space alongside bars, strip clubs, and sex workers reluctantly catering to the needs of grubby, intoxicated miners.

Brutal law enforcement units were swift to respond to incidents, and the number of incidents became alarming.

> I once saw a dead guy float past my viewing window. The vacant expression in his eyes as he departed taught me a profound lesson about the value of life and the cruelty of humanity.

After the discovery, Dad was tasked with developing enhanced propulsion systems. Progress was slow and steady at first. Without insights into Cantari's potential, my parents' work stagnated due to a lack of resources.

At the time of Cantari's discovery, the journey from Earth took forty years. Humans couldn't endure four decades in space, and there was no cryogenic technology to facilitate such a voyage.

As long as deep-space miners could extract and transport materials within reasonable timeframes, there was no urgency to accelerate their ships.

Dad proposed that speeds ten times or more could be achievable, but he couldn't provide a clear plan without funding. During dinner, he often discussed theoretical work he had undertaken with Dr. Norizuma, a colleague back on Earth. They had devised a method to fold space and utilize wormholes, but were concerned about their technology falling into the wrong hands.

"I can't believe I have to go to school while you don't, Aisla." Lars had sulked for weeks. Our parents assumed his moodiness was due to jealousy since I had come of age, passed my exams, and would soon join the science team apprenticeship program. I understood better; Lars was a kind-hearted soul.

He was also a frustrating four years my junior, as he saw it.

"Don't worry, Lars. I'll be there after your studies to walk you back to our quarters."

"Thanks, sis. Just don't be late, okay?"

"Have I ever been?"

"Well, no. Are you going to the launch today?"

"Only as an observer. It's Mom and Dad's day."

Lars felt it unnecessary to explain to our parents that he would miss me at school. They were hardly present, consumed by their work.

Since my tenth birthday, I had been looking after Lars. He was a wonderful brother, never a burden, and I cherished him deeply.

After I accompanied Lars to his class, I headed to the expansive science facility, swiping through security while ignoring the admiring gazes of the guards. I joined the rest of the team on the main observation deck, relieved that such a momentous event was overshadowing my first day.

The probe launched seamlessly, and the scientific community at SP3 quickly redirected its focus back to developing propulsion technology.

The probes would deliver data about Cantari in ten years. Only then would we ascertain the planet's potential.

Life on Earth continued as usual, much like on SP3. Cantari was intriguing but too far away to become an obsession.

Everything shifted the day the probes returned images and data from Cantari, confirming that the planet was teeming with life. Lars had joined me in working with our parents, and we were entering exhilarating times at breakneck speed.

Our parents analyzed the data, concluding that the new planet lacked a humanoid species or any other intelligent life forms. Long-range images from the planet's surface revealed a beauty reminiscent of Earth in its prime. After dinner, Lars and I would spend hours sprawled across my bed, marveling at high-definition images of Cantari.

"We must visit there, Aisla. Please take me there, sis."

"Absolutely, Lars. One day, we'll all go."

A frantic race to develop faster, larger vessels commenced.

The SP3 team swiftly tackled the theoretical challenges of ship propulsion three years after the probes began transmitting. They anticipated achieving 'Faster Than Light' speed within a few years.

The race to Cantari escalated eleven years after we discovered the planet, utterly consuming my parents.

> It was just the beginning.

> And the beginning of the end.

Cantari and its perceived riches ignited the need for faster propulsion technology, but that was not its only consequence.

Within a year, scientists cut the transit time down to ten years. They believed they could achieve even better results with adequate resources, predicting a one-year timeframe was feasible.

A pilgrimage to Cantari appeared increasingly plausible.

Before its discovery, humanity had largely eradicated diseases and viruses that had plagued our ancestors for centuries. Revolutionary advancements in medicine, improved diets, and prenatal genetic interventions contributed to increased lifespans, now averaging two hundred and five years.

Individuals with exceptional DNA and robust health management systems lived even longer.

Over their lifetimes, humans accumulated greater wisdom and experience, attributes that had become highly valued. Modern society cultivated its intellectuals in academic institutions, libraries, and laboratories. Scientific advancements continually improved the quality of life and empowered individuals to contribute to societal progress.

While we became intellectually robust, we also grew inherently fragile. Our stability began to tremble as old human traits resurfaced.

Artificial Intelligence-driven surgical implants were used to dispense medication. Algorithms regulated dosages, monitored health, and made diagnoses, customizing medication flows according to each individual's needs.

Our leaders approved the addition of medication to drinking water, food, and even breathable air.

Humanity was at peace, ignorant of its vulnerabilities and oblivious to the potential ramifications of discovering another habitable planet.

The affluent shared their fortunes through generous investments in academia, infrastructure, healthcare, and community initiatives. There wasn't a street, building, or hospital bed that didn't bear the name of a wealthy benefactor. Just a century earlier, boasting at social gatherings would have brought immense shame.

Society learned to manage pollution, minimizing the destructive practices that had nearly devastated the planet. Hundred-mile-long scars from excessive consumption marred the Earth's surface like furrows in a tilled field.

Earth was healing, but it would require millennia to fully recover. A dedicated workforce was employed to sift, sort, and reprocess mountains of waste.

Earth had reached a critical point when its population surpassed twenty-five billion, and resources became critically scarce. A moment of realization dawned on humanity: either everyone would survive together, or none would.

Despite their best efforts, Earth was no longer the beautiful realm described in ancient texts. There was no Eden filled with forests, mountains, savannas, and oceans brimming with life. The idyllic days had vanished centuries prior, replaced by gray skies looming over barren landscapes.

> Cantari's potential transformed everything.

New opportunities sparked a spirit of adventure and a desire to explore. Unsurprisingly, a new Cantari ideology emerged, seized by the wealthy and politicians eager to maintain power.

Charismatic opportunists proclaimed that humanity would encounter their divine savior among the stars, asserting that Cantari was the first step on that journey.

> They had fired the starting gun.

With newfound understanding of its potential, a pilgrimage to Cantari became the primary ambition for billions, guided by the wealthy who controlled the resources necessary to make that dream a reality.

Philanthropy and altruism gradually gave way to greed, retracing humanity's steps. Mercantilism stalled progress and ultimately shattered a societal system that had fostered centuries of peace.

Many believed the military had already explored Cantari, but no crews or ships capable of such endeavors were ever seen, and no firsthand accounts were offered. Conspiracy theories pushed wealthy pilgrims to extremes, each determined to reach the planet first.

They diverted wealth and resources to facilitate interstellar travel, commissioning colossal ships powered by emerging drive technologies. Designs advanced rapidly from proof of concept to production, while quality of life diminished at a similar pace.

Fleets of starships were under construction, and passage to Cantari sold out within minutes of being announced. What began as an exploratory mission evolved into a wealthy exodus. They prioritized passenger lists based on wealth, while others offered their skills and intellect in exchange for a seat.

The impoverished were left to inherit a dying planet, fully aware of their abandonment, which sowed discontent and social unrest.

The global economy weakened swiftly as rioting became commonplace. The devastating impact of the Cantari quest was measured by acres of barren land, abandoned hospitals, and repurposed factories, where beggars and criminals lurked.

Like a black hole, the pilgrimage consumed resources, draining everything beyond the event horizon of hope, depriving the impoverished of life's essentials.

The black market thrived, offering counterfeit medical products with dubious ingredients. Users frequently fell ill and died. Trust in our institutions evaporated as law and order, welfare, and social care crumbled.

Lifespans for most shortened significantly in a fraction of the time it took to create them.

Affluent pilgrims constructed fortified compounds informally dubbed 'Wealth Enclaves.' They maintained a quality of life for those who could afford it, providing only basic sustenance for indentured workers.

Outside these enclaves, conditions deteriorated at an unprecedented rate, eclipsing any other period in history. Health declined, and quality of life slipped through the fingers of billions, like grains of sand returning to the desert floor.

Criminal organizations flourished. Addiction to expensive drugs spread like a cancer, laying the groundwork for exploitation and abuse by the morally bankrupt.

We felt safe at SP3 until my parents' work required them to return to Earth. Lars and I remained until Dad decided we needed to reunite and confront the impending storm.

"We're going back to Earth, sis. We'll join Mom and Dad soon."

Lars was excited; I was less so. We were leaving relative safety to return to a planet in turmoil. Mom and Dad had left weeks earlier, bought off by the pilgrimage council, commandeered for their various innovations.

"Don't look so down, Aisla. We're assigned to a secure enclave."

"Jasper Ironjuice's."

"Yeah, he's the first to ascend, and he's in charge of the entire fleet. They say he's the wealthiest."

"Is it okay with you that he leaves people to starve outside his fortress?"

"No."

He looked disheartened, hating my disapproval. My brother was naive and easily persuaded, ready to trust the politicians who claimed everyone would be taken care of.

In our sparse quarters, I held him close at the dining table, kissing the top of his head. The four-year gap between us was inconsequential, yet our sibling hierarchy was strong, and Lars sought my approval over our parents'.

"Don't trust the media and politicians blindly, Lars. We are a species rooted in greed."

Communities of indentured workers in the enclaves gradually expanded to include hairdressers, doctors, sanitation workers, crew members, chefs, sex workers, and more. These fortified enclaves became self-sufficient, and those fortunate enough to enter by skill rather than wealth provided resources for communities in the new world.

Outside the enclaves, men were killed, or they joined gangs that targeted women and children for exploitation. Sex camps emerged where anything or anyone could be purchased for any purpose. Criminals introduced slavery, transferring ownership of people from one increasingly vile master to another.

The wealthy lost all moral compass, even traveling in armored vehicles to indulge their depravity at exclusive