The Hycean Solstice

'Hycean is a world that began as concept; a theoretical coined two millennia ago, over thirteen parsecs away. A 'hycean' planet described a celestial body near-wholly comprised of liquid water nestled in a hydrogen-rich atmosphere. While not rare on a cosmic scale, the first confirmation of this hypothetical was seen as a great milestone. It was so great, in fact, that this first planet was subsequently named after the classification it pioneered. To that end, hycean has become quite a multifaceted word, referring to either the trait, the planet, or those who live upon it.'

'The Hycean Research Populace (HRP) arrived on September 4th, 3820, before our star even had a name. The ship contained five-hundred volunteers whose life work would be the creation of the outpost now known as Demilune, a crescent-shaped city fashioned around a nearby mountain. The crew was supplied with enough cryogenically preserved gametes to sustain a genetically diverse populace. Yet, even with this ever-increasing manpower, it still took three generations for the project to reach completion. May 9th, 3895 was the day we re-established contact with the human race, and learned of Earth's fate.'

'On August 20th, 3799, the remote probe 'Daedalus' was sent to Sol with the intention of artificially 'skipping' the upcoming phases of its stellar evolution. We had billions of years before the sun would begin its expansion, but we wanted to get ahead. There was no urgent rush, or conceited hubris, just misplaced confidence that overlooked the human condition.'

'One missed warning, one simple mistake, one failsafe's malfunction, one planet's folly. What began as an induced helium flash escalated into a runaway carbon detonation that spread through the sun in a matter of moments. Those on Earth had eight minutes and twenty seconds to come to terms with their fate before the supernova reached them.'

'In an instant, all life under Sol's gaze was sterilized from the face of the Earth. Those in darkness lived for perhaps a half-minute longer, before the shockwave reduced Gaia to a sea of molten rock. Trillions died, but their legacies live on. We named our star Enceladus in honor of the lost moon whose likeness was not unlike Hycean. Most other colonies adopted one or two names from our old solar system.'

'Centauri now serves as mankind's capital, and the destination of our research.'

'Hycean was chosen as our ancestor's destination not for its habitability, but for its uniqueness. Enceladus is a class Y brown dwarf, barely perceivable during the day, and providing nearly no heat to its three orbiting bodies. Still, Hycean maintains an average surface temperature of -250°F, far above absolute zero. This is achieved by a thick greenhouse effect locking in heat produced by hydrothermal activity deep below the surface.'

'While Hycean's formation is a separate subject in it of itself, it is also a concept easily summarized. Our homeworld's surface is comprised of a twenty-mile thick ice sheet that insulates a vast ocean of boiling saltwater. It exists as an abiogenic cradle, a snapshot of the origin of life, locked forever in infancy. For the first time since immemorial, humanity has access to the same primordial soup that birthed us all those eons ago.'

'Though our research is invaluable, the hurdles our predecessors overcame to get us this far cannot be overstated. To achieve true self-sustainment the first Hyceans developed an advanced biosuit still in use today. The invention centralizes around a ruthenium fuel cell that self-charges by 'cracking' atmospheric ammonia back down into nitrogen and hydrogen. This exchange provides both a buffer gas and power to our exchange membrane, a device that uses electrolysis to harvest oxygen from water or ice. This combined with carbon filters allow for us to 'recycle' one breath for the same length it takes to create ten more.'

'Hycean may be the youngest of the colonies, but we are also the first specialized outpost since Mars. Our populace will never reach the heights of Gliese, Lacaille, Tau-Ceti or Centauri- but we still perform an crucial role in the future expansion of mankind.'

Looking over the document, I smile, satisfied with my work. Without much mental fanfare, I attach the file, and press submit. An upload bar appears for a brief moment, before being promptly obscured by a popup.

'Thank you: Wren, for your submission to the Cross-Colony Awareness Program. Your paper, pending approval, will be sent a classroom in: Lacaille! Before you go, students at this colony have submitted a few questions for you. If you are comfortable, they would love to hear from you! If you wish, at the bottom of the Q&A there is space to attach your own questions-'

I stop reading, my mood a bit dampened by my essay's destination. I would have had actual questions for a cetian or gliesish class, but I see lacailliq folk every two years at the supply drop. It is admittedly interesting to read other colonies' perception on Earth's destruction, but that is a period of time most papers touch on anyway. Regardless, I don't mind humoring some school class of our stellar neighbors.

Q1: 'Do you really wear your suits all the time?'

This is always the first thing foreigners ask, I even remember my centaurian penpal asking it in our initial correspondence. Without delay, I began typing. 'It depends on the person, our suits are modular so they come off in pieces. Most people take off their helmets indoors, and some take off their legs so they can wear pants. I personally remove everything but my cuirass when indoors unless I'm showering.

Q2: 'Do you have special shoes for going outside?'

This question made me chuckle, it was definitely asked by a child. I wondered how wide the demographic of students were. 'At temperatures this low ice acts more like rock and stops being slippery, our shoes are normal.'

Q3: 'How do you maintain genetic diversity with such a low populace?'

It was nice to know that my writing had captured at least a few of the most common inquiries people had about us. It admittedly felt really good to simply write: 'See above.'

Q4: 'Why do hyceans look the way they do?'

That one annoyed me a bit. I don't know why our phenotype is so damn strange to outsiders, but if I overheard one more mention of 'hycean fishfolk' I was going to lose it... Still- I decided to operate under the presumption that the question was made in good faith. 'It is dark here and our indoor lighting is dim. Our eyes are only slightly larger than normal, they only look big because our pupils are always dilated. Without exposure to proper sunlight, our skin began to lose pigment, some are paler than others. Lastly, we only look androgynous because of our suits, their model is made to minimize surface area, and while they grow with us, they are still form-fitting to that mold.'

I stand from the terminal as a chime rings through the halls, signifying the hours end. Others will stay an hour or two, but not me, my classes were finished by lunch. While I do enjoy writing of my homeworld, my submission to C-CAP was not made out of faith to their mission statement. No- campus offers class credit for participation. Its a decent system, there are only five-hundred or so college-age hyceans at any given time, so our letters are in comparatively high demand.

From the corner of my eye I watch the upload complete. Although it will take six months for my file to reach its destination, the fruits of my labor were much quicker to manifest. My account updated within the minute, a soft buzz emanating from just above my right ear. One step closer to a complete education, one step closer to the career of my dreams, one step further from youthful ignorance and one step deeper into mundane adulthood.

I know not everyone goes to college because they're afraid to 'grow up'. But I also know I can't be alone in that motivation- at least I'm honest about it. I'm overly dependent on others telling me what to do, and I'm terrified of being the sole person responsible for myself. It's not like I'm trying to avoid independence entirely, I'm just buying myself a little more time is all.

The excised segments of my suit hang listlessly within my locker, keeping watch over a small mound of textbooks and my class supplies. Most here carry backpacks, but when your study tools consist of microscopes, autoclaves, and vortex mixers, plenty of students have adopted an 'as-needed' system of retrieval.

I pick up my sleeves by the joint-clasps, one of the few inflexible components of my biosuit. Sliding the coverings on is as easy as slipping into a pair of evening gloves. A layer of synthetic mesh encircles my skin, their bonds growing taught as my arm stretches the apparatus to its exact limit. This porous membrane of faux-flesh is delicate enough to melt on contact with body heat, liquidizing into a potent bioactive adhesive. Gluing yourself into a skinsuit sounds unpleasant, but really we are simply adding another layer atop our skin- an exodermis, if you will.

The process is much the same for my legs, the entire endeavor takes about the same time it does to get dressed in the morning. Soon enough four metal couplers are pressed against their counterparts along my shoulders and hips. And, with a simple press of a button, the magnets are aligned. The galvanized 'snap' of metal forming an airtight seal is nearly as satisfying as the rush of wind past my neck.

My helmet comes last, snapping into place and humming to life with a subtle ambient drone. Only then, with all that set in place, do I step into the airlock, the singular antechamber separating home from Hycean.