by In Churl Yo
Instead, Zoah was attacked, knocked over by an assailant hard into the nearby operations station. The blow cracked the protective glass of her faceplate by impacting it against a panel and sent a burst of stars into her vision. Unprotected, Zoah’s head would have fared far worse, though she was still dazed by the collision. It took a moment for her head to clear, but Zoah wasn’t surprised by who she saw standing over her.
Ogden.
His face shiny with blood, the Ceres CEO’s eyes nonetheless blazed white-hot, wide open and fueled by fury. A grin full of smeared teeth gave an unaffected, almost silent laugh. He looked around the cockpit then, studied the machinery Zoah had assembled. You could see his mind working as he pieced it all together. Without a word, he picked up the cables Zoah had dropped and carried them back to the ship’s rear section, leaving her behind.
“Dad?” Zoah whispered. “Are you there? Mom?”
Great, she must have damaged the com system when she hit the panel.
“Gaia, can you read me? Over.”
No response. Zoah righted herself and pushed off toward the Syrinx’s stern. When she reached the doorway, Zoah peered inside, careful to keep from drawing attention to herself, though Ogden wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He was busy in the far corner bludgeoning a metal plate with a heavy pipe wrench. She watched as he tore the cover off, exposing the large steel tubing and valve-work within. It took a half second later for her to see the nearby warning stickers marked with big red letters that read ‘Flammable.’
Ogden tossed the wrench. He picked up the cables, still live with current from the backup battery and moved forward. Another half second passed before Zoah realized what he was trying to do.
She braced her body across the threshold, bent her legs and aimed, then kicked as hard as she could, propelling herself forward. Leading with her helmet, Zoah managed to deliver a kidney strike that derailed Ogden. She grabbed at his collar, the force of her inertia twirling them around in the gravity-free environment, drawing him with her and away from the threat.
Mindful not to get electrocuted, Zoah pulled on one of Ogden’s arms, reaching for the cable in his hand. Now upside-down, she felt the ceiling under her boot and drove her heel down, hoping to gain some leverage in their struggle.
“You’re not…blowing this ship up!” she growled.
He growled back louder, trying to spin his way out of her grasp. Ogden then leaned into her, raised his hands and tried to contact both wires, but she resisted, grappling his limbs back and away from her.
They sailed across the room, traveling faster now. The long cables floated in spirals around them, the slack threatening to ensnare the pair. With her hands full, Zoah tried a knee to his stomach. She kicked at his hip. But her foe was unfazed, possessed even. Nothing swayed him.
Ogden found the far wall as they approached it and pushed off, sending them back toward the open panel. A hard elbow in her side put Zoah out of position. She could only hold on and continue struggling against him, but the CEO was stronger than her. The EVA suit’s thick padded gloves made it hard for Zoah to maintain her grip on him.
Then the live cable tips grazed each other, showering them both in sparks. Zoah panicked. Her breathing quickened. Her helmet fogged, obscuring her vision. As Ogden reached toward the exposed fuel lines, she tried redirecting their trajectory using her weight, but it wasn’t enough. Only a few meters separated them from disaster. Zoah thought of the antidote, her family and friends, and how the Zombie Flu might just cause the end of the world after all.
A glint of metal flashed in the corner of her eye, and she grabbed at it. Zoah took the nearby floating pipe wrench and thrusted it into Ogden’s path. He registered what was happening too late. The wires connected with the large metal tool, closing the loop, just as Zoah let go.
An electrical discharge crackled across the room, catching Ogden in its web. The burst was sudden and blinding in intensity, its energy violent if brief.
When the gray light returned, Ogden was floating like a drowned man with his limbs free and lifeless. The cable’s insulation had somehow saved him, though his breathing was shallow and arms charred by severe burns. Zoah wasn’t sure whether Ogden would survive the ordeal but decided not to take any chances and tied him up while he was still unconscious, finding some spare wire for the job.
She took a moment to collect herself. The ship was safe. Zoah tried accessing the com system through her cufflink—again, nothing. She followed the cabling back to the battery and found its cells devoid of power, which presented her with a new problem: a choice that was really no choice at all.
Zoah did not hesitate. She unhooked the last good battery from the backup systems, and everything inside the ship went dark. Lights on her helmet illuminated the area around her, allowing her to work. She loosened the connecting points from the burned-out cell with a screwdriver, freed the cables and transferred them to the other battery.
It was hard to ignore the cold that was already creeping in around her. With the life support system down, there was nothing to replace what little warmth remained inside the ship from bleeding out into space. Zoah noticed her shoulders begin to shiver as she made her way back to the cockpit, the live cables in tow.
When she reached the containment unit, Zoah connected the wires to each terminal, positive to positive, negative to negative, just as her mother had told her, then powered the makeshift device on. A series of lights cycled through a startup sequence. A beep confirmed its operation.
The cure was safe.
Zoah should have felt elation, but instead there was only exhaustion. The zero-G environment allowed her to relax, as she let go her handhold and floated into the air. She felt like sleeping in it, a fat cloud casting all-day shadows across an open, rolling field, but that would be a mistake. For one, Zoah might not wake up again—that scared her to no end. If she succumbed, it would be impossible to help the rescue team if something went wrong, let alone tell them where she was. She’d be lost, helpless, out of control.
But someone was coming, Zoah was certain, so she fought her fatigue, tried to keep her eyes open and alert. Her dad wouldn’t let her die out here alone. Her dad would save her, and they would all be together again, watching movies, making dinner. Thomas would pick the film out. Milton would bring the dessert. They’d get into a massive popcorn fight, kernels flying everywhere…
All in all, quite the lovely dream. Until it wasn’t.
CHAPTER 38
Darkness. Infinite and eternal.
Zoah acknowledged it, and in doing so came to a sudden realization.
I can still acknowledge and realize things!
If this was death, she at least had that. Her mind, whatever else may come, was still intact, and that brought her no small amount of comfort. For as alone and scared as she was, Zoah would take all the comfort she could get.
She felt herself descending through the black, the sudden pull of gravity a welcome sensation. Down she fell, from nothing into nothing, for what could have been minutes or days, years even. It was all the same to her: darkness, infinite and eternal. Despite this, Zoah hoped there would be something more.
Then on cue, she slowed. Her feet touched ground.
Illumination, first fuzzy at her periphery, increased throughout the space around her. Details of Zoah’s surroundings began to materialize like drops of watercolor paint, spreading out in globules everywhere. Shades became forms. A still life emerged somewhere between her subconscious and reality, both welcome and unbearable because she knew it couldn’t be true no matter how much she wished it to be.
Zoah was in her bedroom.
From the posters on her walls to her messy desk, the sequined pillows and even Heelo resting in his cradle, everything seemed right. She stepped to her bed, picked up a stuffed ostrich and squeezed it, eyes welling with tears.
“What is all this?” she asked. “Am I dead?”
“No.”
Zoah jumped up from her mattress, twirled i
n the direction of the voice. There in the doorway stood a little girl. Zoah didn’t know her, but something about her seemed familiar. Maybe it was her infectious smile or the pretty, ruffled white dress she wore. The girl hopped into the room, and as her head bobbed, Zoah saw her braided locks fall onto her shoulders, sparking an odd sensation somewhere between a once forgotten memory and déjà vu.
Zoah had seen her before, but that wasn’t real, was it?
“You’re the little girl with the pigtails,” Zoah said.
She nodded a response, then giggled, hiding her mouth with her hand. The girl finished the move by wiping her nose with the side of her index finger.
“From my dream.”
“Yes,” the girl replied.
“So, I must be dreaming now,” said Zoah.
“Yes. And no.”
Zoah offered the little girl her ostrich, who squealed as she took it, then ran out of the bedroom. Zoah followed her and expected to be running down her family’s hallway but ended up someplace else altogether. She had to turn herself around in a circle to make sure, but Zoah established she was indeed standing inside one of her college classrooms.
“You had a question, Ms. Lightsea?”
Zoah looked toward the podium. “Professor Chandra?”
Chandra smoothed out the fabric on her kurta tunic, then smiled at her student. “A question—I know you must have one. You’re very bright.”
“I guess I’d like to know who you are. I mean, aside from the obvious. I assume you aren’t really my professor.”
“Ah, but in this instance, you can indeed consider me a kind of teacher,” Chandra replied, “and friend. Would you like that?”
“Of course,” said Zoah. “I’d like to be friends.”
Chandra motioned for Zoah to join her, and they sat down together in the front row of the small auditorium. “It has been difficult, I’m afraid, to understand. There has been much confusion,” the professor said.
“Well, I’m sorry about that.”
Chandra waved her off. “It was expected. We are as different as we are alike.”
“How can I help?”
The floor fell out from under them, and once again Zoah plunged into the darkness. This time her landing was abrupt, and she found herself in the isolation ward of an ICU. A bedridden woman beneath a plastic tent turned her head to face Zoah and whispered, “Explain.”
“You’re Susan Miller,” Zoah said, “from Belham’s lecture. Are we in the Virt? Is this a simulation?”
Susan’s dry, cracked lips smiled as blood seeped from her eyes. “Yes. And no,” she answered, her voice weak, the sound a hoarse rattle.
“What do you want me to explain? I don’t understand.”
“Explain…why…so many had to die.”
Zoah looked away, though not out of discomfort even though the end stages of the Zombie Flu were unkind. “This was all a mistake,” Zoah answered, “a terrible decision made a long time ago. They thought the pandemic would save us. Give us the time we needed.”
“Unnecessary,” Susan croaked. “Wrong.”
Zoah nodded and felt shame, as if she herself were somehow responsible for infecting Susan Miller. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
A black shroud fell over everything, blotting out the light. A moment later, it resurfaced, a low glow revealing a haze of dust over a pile of rubble with a man in uniform standing on top. Zoah whispered his name: “Taan!”
“You think you’re worthy of saving?” he asked.
“We’re human,” she said, “imperfect, but we learn. We evolve. The virus may have almost destroyed us, but it united us as well. Look at what we’ve achieved in a short amount of time—the Ceres cities, the Virt, the Gaia.”
Taan laughed. “You believe you did these things on your own?”
“We didn’t?”
“Egocentric. Ignorant,” Taan dismissed. “Ungrateful, all.”
“Then spell it out for me. Help me understand.”
He turned his back toward her, crossed his arms in defiance.
“Hey, I’ll admit we can be all those things,” Zoah said, “but we’re selfless, brilliant and appreciative too. By focusing on our faults, you miss a lot of what makes humanity amazing and worth saving. We have art, philosophy, literature and music. We have science and technology.”
“What was it you said before?” Taan replied. “Look on my works...?”
His words stung a little. Zoah bit her lip, walked across the room and around the rubble while she gathered her thoughts, until she stood face-to-face with him again.
“We’re compassionate,” she said. “We dream. Our minds are an endless fountain of imagination and creativity. We’re hopeful. We love.”
Taan looked at Zoah and considered her words. Then he lunged at her, a full guttural yell in his throat, and it was as if his entire body wrapped around hers, blinding her in obscure shadow, filling her with dread.
A beat later, she woke up.
Back in her bedroom, Zoah sat up feeling refreshed and quite content despite the image of what just happened to her still in her memory.
“Hello!” The little girl in pigtails appeared at the foot of her bed and waved. She stepped around, jumped onto the mattress and sat next to Zoah, still hugging the stuffed ostrich in her arms.
“Hi,” Zoah responded, her voice warm and reassuring.
“I’m gonna to tell you.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“We live far away from here. We used to be like you.”
Zoah smiled. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Me too. It’s been hard finding someone to talk to. You’re the only one so far.”
“I am? I feel so special!”
The girl with pigtails giggled. “Your Virt is primitive. It’s like baby talk.”
“The Virt?” Zoah said.
“Yeah, that’s how we found you. We live in the Virt.”
“You do?” Zoah felt a little out of sorts but very happy to the point of giddiness. It was a good sensation, nevertheless she tried to fight against it and regain some of her focus and concentration. “How is that possible?”
“We expanded, became more than we were. Now we live in an existence of our own creation.”
“That’s amazing,” Zoah exclaimed.
“Your world is dying. We’ve been trying to help, but it’s been hard. Before you, we could only send ideas, inspiration through the Virt. We have offered you our conceptions, impressions, for the ship. For the Gaia.”
“So very generous of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the pigtailed girl replied, as if it were nothing.
“Now that we can talk, what’s next?”
“We meet. You’ll come to us.”
“Inside the Virt.”
“No, yours is primitive. You’ll come to us, in space.”
Zoah shook her head. “That would take many decades. Too many. I’d be dead long before the Gaia even reached the nearest star system.”
The little girl offered Zoah her ostrich back. “We will show you how.”
When she received the stuffed toy, Zoah became dizzy and fell back, and the black consumed her again. This time she spiraled the entire way down, her mind flashing a million images on the way, so much that Zoah felt she might lose herself and her sanity to it. The ground came up from the abyss, a cold hard thing. It sapped all the life from her, a chill that tore right through her, and she whimpered. There was nothing else left in her except to wait for the pain and haunting gloom to overtake her.
“Zoah! She’s here!”
Lights converged on her, and arms lifted her up. A gloved hand scraped across her helmet, wiping the frozen condensation from the glass. Zoah looked through the narrow, curved view and saw a face illuminated inside another helmet. She swore it had been Caleb, her friend, but why was there so much fear in his eyes, so much concern?
“We have to get her to the shuttle. Now! Now!”
Zoah wa
nted to stand and walk with him. She wanted to share everything she had experienced, tell them all she’d learned. Instead, tired and hollowed-out, Zoah succumbed to the infinite and eternal darkness once more, praying at the end with all her might that someone would again be waiting for her on the other side.
CHAPTER 39
Dr. Lightsea left the command center confident that, for the moment at least, the Gaia was safe. Repair crews had been dispatched to the areas of the ship that required the most immediate attention, and with communications working again, news from the section heads was steady and promising. The old girl had weathered the storm well, all things considered. Estimates and a final prognosis were still to come, but he was optimistic they’d be able to right her and get the ship ready for her long journey ahead.
All hands had been accounted for, save three, and unless he heard otherwise, Dr. Lightsea would consider his best friend missing in action. He couldn’t bear the alternative. Not yet anyway—maybe never. Three casualties given the scope of damage was a bit of a miracle, and he expected Nox had something to do with it, which only made him miss his friend even more.
The only bit of good news that mitigated any of this was hearing that Zoah was safe and responding well to treatment—far better than Ogden had fared, the Ceres CEO lost inside a deep, unresponsive coma. Aside from overseeing the Zombie Flu’s antidote production and administration to everyone onboard, Madeline hadn’t left their daughter’s bedside since she was rescued and brought back to the Gaia.
He would have been right there with them both if he hadn’t had a ship to restore, a responsibility he could not take lightly. But today, after working hard through three straight days of patches and overhauls, Dr. Lightsea felt the crew had turned a corner, and likewise, his wife informed him Zoah had recovered well enough to receive visitors.
He was to be the first on her list.
The main medical bay was in the Gaia’s forward dome section, two levels below the command center. As such, it was equipped with artificial gravity plating, which was necessary for delicate things like open-heart surgery, pharmacological manufacturing or organ printing. While each ring had its own clinic with several doctors on staff, all serious illness and injury were treated here in the med bay. The intensive care unit where Zoah was recovering sat at its rear, behind the primary emergency center.