The Furthest Planet

by James Ross Wilks

  A few minutes later, as the meeting broke up, Staples pulled Jordan aside so that they could speak quietly.

  “I’m not sure you know what you just promised that girl,” Staples said.

  “Let me guess: she killed her abuser.” Jordan asked.

  Staples regarded her for a moment, trying to decide whether Jordan knew or was guessing.

  “Come on, Clea,” she said. “The trauma is obvious a mile away. Someone close to her?”

  “If she’s not going to tell you, I’m not sure I should,” Staples countered.

  Jordan shrugged. “Eh, as you like. I can find out anyway.”

  Her flippant tone annoyed Staples. “And I’m not sure what you think you’re doing, getting involved with that girl.”

  “Woman,” Jordan corrected, suddenly serious. “She’s a woman, Clea. She may be young and small and quiet, but she’s no child. There’s steel in her. I’m not surprised she’s killed someone.”

  Staples heard some admiration in Jordan’s voice, and for the first time she considered that Jordan might be interested in more than a fling with her pilot. “She’s damaged, Jordan.”

  “Then she can join the club, Clea,” she replied, somewhat mocking. “She’s not the only person on this boat who’s killed someone. Overton’s obviously served, and Dinah,” she blew out a sigh that was equal parts respect and fear. “That woman’s a stone-cold killer. In fact,” she put her hands on her hips. “I seem to remember you doing the moral-murder tap dance just four days ago. You may not have literal blood on your hands, but you were more than a little all right with Burr being torn apart by his robots.”

  “That was to stop him from building another AI that could threaten humanity!” Staples objected. Her voice was louder than she had meant it to be, but the room was fortunately clear, and they were alone.

  Jordan looked at her levelly. “You weigh the fate of humanity on one hand and the desperation of a girl defending herself against some sick bastard on the other and see which one tips the scales.”

  “I… I’m not trying to accuse… I’m not saying that what Bethany did was wrong.”

  “The only thing she did wrong was get caught,” Jordan replied. “Look, yes, she’s damaged. My point is, we’re all damaged. Let’s be real here. I wouldn’t do what I do if I didn’t have some axe to grind. I punish companies who pollute, break people who break others. I’m looking for something to save… to protect. And Bethany is looking for someone to look out for her, someone who won’t take advantage of her. That’s why she looks to you, trusts you so much. What I’m telling you,” and here she took Staples by the shoulders and gripped her tightly, “is that I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her. Your turn at watch is over.”

  A wealth of emotion rose up in Staples, and suddenly she found that she was teary. She shrugged off Jordan’s hands, not unkindly, and wiped her eyes. “This… this crew is over. Everyone’s going to go their own way, and even though I know Victor is gone, I just… I want them to be okay. Charis and John and Gwen, they’ll be happy. They’ll get themselves a picket fence somewhere. But I just didn’t know what to do about Bethany.”

  “She’s a damned good pilot,” Jordan said. “You’d be smart to keep her. You let her pilot this bitch; trust me, she’ll stay with you forever.”

  Staples shook her head and wiped away another tear. “That… that’s not going to happen. Trust me, she’s going to move on. I’m glad you’ll be there for her.”

  Suspicion crept into Jordan’s face. “What are you up to, Clea?”

  “Nothing,” Staples said. When it was obvious that she wasn’t fooling her friend in the least, she added, “Nothing I can tell you about now.”

  When Gringolet settled down onto the electromagnetic pads that kept it aloft on the outskirts of Portland, the crew discovered that Jordan Fecks was as good as her word. It had taken them another four days of travel, but they had finally returned to where at least some of them had started. When Brutus transmitted their request to land and gave the ship’s name and registration number without any attempt at subterfuge, they were cleared almost immediately. Whatever strings Jordan had pulled in the four days since their mess hall meeting, whatever people she had contacted, it seemed to have worked. Much of the crew had spent the previous two months worried that even if they had defeated Victor, they could never go home again. Now, here they were.

  The fact that Bethany Miller was wanted for murder, however, was not so easy to sweep under the rug. Jordan explained that a trial was the best she could do, and it was one she was sure they could win, but it would take time, lawyers, and money, things she hinted would be little impediment. In the meantime, it was clear that the law-enforcement agencies of Earth had much bigger fish to fry than finding justice for a corpse six years cold. As long as Bethany kept a low profile, Jordan assured her that she could walk around a free woman.

  Using funds that Brutus was kind enough to procure but vague about the origins of, the entire crew checked into a hotel in downtown Portland. Brutus, for obvious reasons, remained on the ship. Two weeks ago he might have walked around Portland and passed for another soulless automaton like all of the others, but things had changed. All automatons, regardless of their participation in the uprising, had been shut down. They would remain so until the public felt safe around their robotic servitors again, and that would no doubt take a long time. On the bright side, employment opportunities in fields such as nursing, manufacturing, dog-walking, and personal shopping had seen significant upturns.

  As an urban center, Portland had seen its share of the carnage, and there were places on the sidewalk where the blood had literally not yet been washed away. Despite the fact that the city was dozens of miles from the coast, the rivers had swelled, and some areas had flooded thanks to the moon’s new position in the sky. Even so, humanity had always had a habit of finding equilibrium. Shops had reopened, restaurants were serving, and now that the tens of thousands of funerals were over, life was returning to normal. People had to work and eat, so society shuffled on.

  To the crew of Gringolet, a luxury hotel seemed like heaven. Staples had thought that the crew might scatter to the winds at the first opportunity, but they were bound by their shared experience. It became clear that the following night everyone wanted to have a party, and Gwen had a very specific idea of what sort of party that should be. Her ninth birthday had slipped by a few days prior with little fanfare, but now that they had time, money, and energy, she had stated that she found this unacceptable. Plans were made to meet at a local combination pizza bar and roller rink. Gwen had chosen the establishment with great care. It had, she insisted, something for everyone.

  An hour before the party was scheduled to begin, there was a knock on Charis and John’s suite door. Charis, her wavy hair pinned at the back of her neck and still in flannel pajamas, answered the door. John stood a few feet behind her and peered over her shoulder. Gwen was in her adjoining room going over the party details. Overton stood outside, and he did not look happy.

  “What is it, Carl?” Charis asked. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

  Overton lifted a surface. On it was displayed the option to play a video. “I think you need to see this. Everyone needs to see this.”

  “Now?” Charis asked. She was so sick of crises that she found that she had no energy for this one. She had never been so excited to be bored by life.

  “I think… now, yes,” Overton said.

  “Where’s Dinah?” John asked.

  Overton did not answer. Instead, he entered the room and closed the door. They got three minutes into the video before Charis paused it and began making calls.

  Fifteen minutes later, Evelyn, Jabir, Jordan, and Bethany had joined them. They looked curious, worried, and confused, all except Jordan. Charis set up the surface on a table so that they could watch it together, pressed play, and stepped back.

  The face that greeted them was that of Clea Staples, their former captain.

/>   “My crew,” Staples began. “I’m so sorry to do things this way. Perhaps you’ll understand and forgive me when I’m done. I need to tell you some things.”

  Evelyn darted forward and paused the video. “Call her,” she said to Overton. When he didn’t respond, she looked at Jabir. “Someone call her. Call Gringolet.”

  John shook his head. “Don’t bother. I already called berth control. Gingolet is gone. He left three hours ago.”

  Evelyn stared at John incredulously. “Why? Where to?”

  Jabir stepped forward and took Evelyn’s hands. “Let us watch the video and perhaps she will supply us with the answers. She has done so very well at that in the past.”

  Evelyn visibly fought to calm herself, won, and then tapped the screen.

  “I don’t pretend to understand everything,” the recording of Staples continued, “but I’ll tell you what I know. Most of it Brutus learned when he hacked and killed Victor.” Staples paused a moment. “Victor… that name. I feel as if I can barely remember a time when that name didn’t haunt us. Victor falsely reported his translation of the encoded alien message he was given. No one’s coming to conquer us. At least, no alien empires. The message contained plans for an engine, something that allows faster-than-light travel via wormhole. It was an invitation, one meant for us, for humanity, when we were ready. Victor stole it. He built the engine and tested it on the moon.”

  The six people stared intently at the screen, riveted. “Victor copied himself, just like Brutus did. He wanted to stay here and conquer humanity, but he wanted to go explore the galaxy with his new engine too. That’s an advantage to being an AI, I guess. He can do both. Brutus learned that Victor has another base orbiting the furthest planet, Eris.”

  “Eris?” Evelyn asked. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  Charis paused the video again so that she could answer. “It’s in the Kuiper belt. It’s a dwarf planet, actually. They didn’t even discover it until the early 2000s, I think. It’s… God, I think it’s over ten billion kilometers away from the sun right now.”

  “Tell me they’re not…” Evelyn said.

  Rather than answer, Charis resumed the video.

  “Victor’s been building a ship there,” Staples said. “One outfitted with the second engine he built. With it, he could go anywhere.” Here Staples smiled a bit. “I can hear what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘so what? Let him go. Why should we care?’ I wish it were that easy. Victor tried to destroy us, as a people. He did that even though he had the ability to leave anytime he wanted. I don’t believe that just because he’s planning on gallivanting around the galaxy that he’ll leave us alone forever. True, it might be a century or a millennium before he returns, but I’m not willing to kick the can down the road to future generations. We can’t leave this mess we made for our children to clean up. As a species, we’ve done enough of that.

  “So yes, Dinah, Brutus, and I are going. We’re going to try to stop him. We know it’s a long shot. Gringolet might not even make the journey. Even if he does, it will take weeks to get there, and it will burn up every bit of fuel we can carry. In short, this is a one-way trip.”

  Evelyn, the only one among them not familiar enough with their solar system and their former spaceship to have done the math already, steepled her hands over her face and gasped. Overton was very still, but his hands were fists and his jaw was clenched.

  Staples smiled wanly. “I have to tell you, I really don’t want to go, but sometimes you have to do the best thing. The right thing. I’m sorry to tell you like this. I’m sorry to miss Gwen’s birthday. If I had stayed for it, I’m not sure I could have ever brought myself to leave. And if I’d told you in person, well… I couldn’t let any of you come with us. I know I took that choice away from you. It’s an impossible choice: send your friends off to die alone, or go with them. I would spare you that choice. Really, it’s the best gift I can think to give you, a thanks for all you’ve done. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Staples drew herself up, and it was clear she had almost finished. “Thank you all for carrying me through the last six months. A few years ago, when I left Earth on my own spaceship, it was because I was disgusted with humanity. You… you helped me see that it’s worth fighting for. I love you all.” Abruptly, the video ended.

  A resonant silence filled the room. Finally, Evelyn said, “We can get another ship. We can catch her, turn them around. Carl,” she looked at Overton, “I know you want Dinah back. We can do it. We have an engineer and a pilot and a navigator…”

  Charis shook her head. “There’s too much space, Evelyn. There are billions of kilometers between here and Eris. Unless they’re flashing their transponder, which I don’t believe Dinah would do for a second, or they left us their flight plan, we’d never find them. Besides…” she looked at John, and her hand twitched protectively towards her abdomen.

  “Besides,” John finished. “We’re not leaving Earth anytime soon.”

  “Okay, that’s reasonable,” Evelyn nodded at her. “But the rest of us-”

  “Evelyn,” Jabir said. “I have known Clea Staples for over two years. Please trust me when I say that even if you had the good fortune to catch her, she would refuse your request. Or do you intend to force her from her ship at gunpoint?”

  Evelyn faltered. “No…”

  “It is her choice, my dear.” His eyes flicked to Overton for a second. “It is her choice,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, she’d rather die on the edge of the system than date me,” Overton snapped. “I don’t need you to spell it out for me, Doc.”

  Before Jabir could say anything else, Overton turned and left the room.

  “Jesus,” Jordan whistled, throwing a glance at her wide-eyed and silent partner. “This crew. So if we’re not going after them, what do we do?”

  Charis looked to the door that joined her room to Gwen’s. “We go to a birthday party.” She smiled at her husband and then at the rest of them. “We’ve earned it.”

  Back in his room, Overton sat on his expensive bed with its satin sheets and looked at his surface. A tiny alert in the top right corner informed him that he had another video message waiting. Somehow he knew who had sent it, and yet anger and resentment made him hesitate. For ten minutes he watched the notice flash. Then he tapped it.

  Dinah’s face appeared. “Overton,” she said flatly. “Carl,” more softly. “We both know I would have left anyway, once the adrenaline wore off. I’m no good at this, but you are. You’ve been…” she looked around for a moment as if pondering. “The best.” She nodded. “Thanks for that.” The video file ended.

  Overton watched the twenty second video three more times. He showered and then watched it again. After her got dressed, he watched it another three times. Then he deleted it, picked up a small present wrapped in colorful paper, and headed for the roller rink.

  Chapter 19

  With a crew this small, there was no point in meeting in the mess hall. Instead, Staples and Brutus stood in Reactor Control, the small room that overlooked Gringolet’s reactor and commonly known as Dinah’s usual haunt. As they were currently under thrust, they were able to stand. The pulse of the engines vibrated their feet lightly, and there was an omnipresent dull roar barely contained by the windows which allowed a view of the small nuclear reactor that propelled the ship. Dinah stood uneasily on a hastily acquired prosthetic leg that did not quite fit her.

  Staples faced her chief engineer. “So how do we do this? We’re as fueled up as we can possibly get, but Eris is a long way out.”

  “Suggest we dump everything we don’t need, sir. I mean everything. If we thrust at one G for a week, assuming the engines will take it, that will get us up to .02 C.”

  “C,” Staples said. “You’re talking two percent the speed of light.”

  Brutus nodded once. “Approximately six thousand kilometers per second, yes.”

  “That’s bound to screw up our clocks,” Staples quipped, but s
he was talking to the two members of her crew least likely to laugh at her jokes, so she pressed on. “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then we drift for twelve days,” Dinah answered.

  Staples pursed her lips. “Then another week of deceleration at one G. Can the engines take it?”

  Dinah glanced through the window near her feet and down at the cylindrical reactor. “Can’t promise it, sir. Half a G acceleration and deceleration would be better.”

  “That would add at least another week to the journey, Captain. Victor’s best predictions said that he could be ready to depart in thirty days, perhaps sooner.”

  “I don’t know… if the engines break down and we can’t fix them, we’ll not only freeze and die out here, we’ll have done it for nothing.” Staples shook her head as she considered. “But not much point in making the trip if we get there late.”

  “It would be easier if I had John here, sir. Without him, I can keep them running, but we’ll probably damage them permanently.”

  “Not like we have the fuel to return anyway,” Staples said. “Might as well give it everything we’ve got.”

  Brutus nodded again. “Just so, Captain. It is possible that we may find fuel at Victor’s base.”

  “I don’t know how many long shots we can pile on top of one another.” She looked up at him and smiled, forcing hope she didn’t feel into her voice. “Sure, we might find enough fuel to carry us home.” She blew out a sigh. “All right, let’s start clearing out the ship. We’ll put everything we don’t need in the shuttle bay and then vent it.”

  The three of them spent the next several days moving chairs, beds, tables, weapons, and anything else not essential or bolted down into the shuttle bay. It was exhausting work, especially since they had to constantly monitor ship functions as well. Gringolet could operate under thrust for hours without direct human intervention, but there were a dozen functions that required at least semi-regular maintenance and monitoring. The need to do so was made doubly important by the fact that if something broke down, it would be exceedingly difficult if not impossible to repair it. Staples and Dinah slept infrequently and only for short stints. Brutus, who of course did not require sleep, split his time between the cockpit and moving the heavier objects in preparation for disposal.