by Martin Tays
“I don’t care! I don’t want to be here, and you can go… well, you can go wherever you please, I suppose.” She yanked the datatab and tossed it to Sandar, who caught it and squeezed it in a fist. “Your services are apparently no longer required. Boy, did you piss someone off.”
“Well, well, well.” Came a new voice from the entryway. “What have we here?” Mason must have run to get here so fast. He nonchalantly leaned against the doorway, panting heavily.
Sandar screamed in frustration. “What have we here? My replacement, that’s what. Mason, meet…” She leaned over and read the orders, still displayed on the screen. “… Arlena DuBoise. She has orders to take over for me. And I, apparently, have orders to go fuck myself.”
“See?” Mason glanced at her, cocking his head. “Told you.”
She threw the datatab at him. “Eat me, you little prick.”
“Ooo… sorry, dear. You’ve lost that opportunity.” He turned back to the new girl and smiled. “Arlena, huh? That’s a nice name.”
Sandar snorted, then turned to the console to began gathering up her stuff. She was grimly determined that they would not see her cry… that she would be able to leave with at least that pathetic shred of her dignity intact.
Sandar reached out and touched the console, saying goodbye, then turned briskly. “Okay, then. I’m going to have to go…” She looked over to where Mason was standing very close to his new target and speaking in low tones. They both laughed and looked back at her. She sighed and continued. “… I’m going to have to go get very drunk. You kids have fun.”
She squared her shoulders and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, though, she paused and addressed the new girl. “Oh, Arlena? Hope you like fish.”
Arlena looked startled, a bit, then tentatively sniffed the air. Her nose wrinkled as she looked around, confused. “What is that?”
“A match made in heaven.” She turned to her former coworker. “Mason, sweetie? I’ve got something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long, long time.”
Mason turned and looked at her sardonically. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Goodbye.” Head held high, she turned and walked away.
“It’s called ‘the law of unintended consequences’, and it has unknowingly regulated most of human history. Any invention, any trend, any new societal endeavour, produces effects completely different and vastly farther reaching than its creator originally expected. Or desired, for that matter.
For instance… once upon a time, man invented fire. Fire drew a line between the light and the darkness, giving him a place that was safe, and a place that, well, wasn’t. In the dark place was the unknown… and fear, and campfire stories, and heaven and hell, were all created, born of that initial meeting of fire, and wood, and imagination.
Later, of course, we also created s’mores.”
Gustav Lynn Wei, from “An Unexpected History”
Chapter 2
“Some folks as they grow older grow wise, but most folks simply grow stubborner.”
Josh Billings
“Quite a view, isn’t it?”
Moses was getting a bit tired of people sneaking up behind him, then declaiming wildly. He was going to have to give up windows. Or at least staring pensively out of them.
He turned from the admittedly stunning view toward his benefactor, who had kept him waiting in this conference room for nearly an hour while he ‘took care of a couple of things’.
“Rafe.” Moses stuck out his hand. Rafe grasped Moses’ hand and briskly shook it while gripping his upper arm. Moses half expected a request for a vote.
“Moses.” Rafe gestured toward the seats at the conference table. “How have you been?”
“Drunk, mainly.” Moses replied. “You?”
“Sober.”
Moses grinned a bit. “You know, I’m not horribly surprised.”
Raphael E. Deppner was one of those men who was… precise. His clothes were orderly and neat, his face cleanly shaven, his movements concise and controlled. Short black hair with just a touch of artfully chosen gray was brushed neatly back over an unsmiling face and dark gray, almost colorless, eyes.
Rafe, Moses knew, was the type of person who organized his sock drawer by color, left to right. He knew this because he’d shared a claustrophobically tiny compartment with him all the way to Alpha Centauri all those many years ago.
Moses shook his head and turned back toward the window. “You’re right, though. Hell of a view.”
Humanity sprawled toward the horizon in the expansive view from near the top of the admin building. Haven, a slightly denser version of Mars, was the first planet outside of the solar system colonized by humans. It had an urban population density matched only by Earth itself.
The capital had originally been named Unity. However, when the first Captain of the Endeavour died rather ingloriously in a traffic accident back on Earth, it was ― by overwhelming demand ― changed to the rather unfortunate ‘Winkermann City’.
Moses leaned his head against the window and looked down. He could just barely see the top of the ten meter tall bronze statue of the captain in the square below. Her foot was planted on a model of the newly conquered planet, and her arm was flung out dramatically to point toward the horizon. The heroic effect was only somewhat diminished by the diligently grooming pigeon, perched contentedly on her extended finger.
Moses was relatively certain that Annette Winkermann would have been utterly appalled at having a city named after her.
He knew he was, anyway.
It had become a trend that spread throughout the newly settled planet. Cities and towns and tiny little burgs all fell over themselves changing their names to honor the rest of the original exploration vessel’s crew. Dunnville — Moses still couldn’t get over the name ― was one of the last, a bleak little mining town nestled up against the New Denali range down on the ass end of the planet.
Moses visited his namesake town only once. After all, it’s one thing to name your city after an historical figure, and another thing entirely to see that historical figure throwing up in the punchbowl at his reception. The appalled town fathers reduced two additional days of festivities to a brisk statue unveiling ― “It doesn’t look like him!” shouted a wag in the crowd, “There’s no vomit!” ― and an unceremonious escort to the shuttle port.
Moses looked back out at the gleaming city. “No flying cars, though.” He sighed, then continued wistfully. “Why didn’t we ever get flying cars?”
“I have no idea what you mean by that.” Rafe replied, distracted, as he stepped over to the window. He used his sleeve to wipe away the small spot left by Moses’ forehead.
Moses snorted. “Rafe, you’ll make someone a fine wife one of these days.”
“Old joke, Moses.”
“Yeah? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re old men.” He shrugged. “And I guess that’s kind of my point.” He gestured at Rafe. “You’re almost as old as I am. I grew up — we grew up ― knowing that there would be flying cars in our future. John W. Campbell promised us. But look…” He pointed out toward the city. “No flying cars. No teleport booths. No aliens with goofy foreheads and suspiciously humanoid physiology. What happened?”
Deppner sighed. “You just said it, Moses. We. Grew. Up.” He started counting off on his fingers. “Okay, one, flying cars over a metropolitan area? This, from a society that outlawed Frisbees as a public hazard? I don’t think so. Two, teleportation. It’s not only physically impossible, it’s… it’s gauche.”
“You know, if someone on Earth had asked me the source of that quote I could have pegged it on first guess.”
Rafe ignored the interruption. “And three… three, just don’t get me started on aliens. Mankind has explored twenty two star systems since he first left the Earth
, Moses. Twenty. TWO. We’ve settled seven. And how many alien civilizations have we discovered? Hmmm? For that matter, how many alien life forms?”
Moses jammed his hands into his pockets and spoke sullenly to the ground. “It’s not fair.”
Rafe paused. “You wanted to meet Spock, didn’t you?” He finally replied, softly.
Moses nodded jerkily. “I would have settled for a tribble.”
Rafe shook his head. “Sorry, Moses. Not going to happen.” He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you get it? We’re alone. There’s no Krull. There’s no Vulcans, no Lensmen, no vast Galactic empire, no little green men, no Klaatu, no Barata, no Nickto. Nothing. We’re alone in the Universe.”
“Bullshit!” Moses shrugged off the hand and turned to glare at him. “Just because there’s been no life found so far…”
“Twenty two systems, Moses.” Rafe’s voice was flat and hard. “Twenty two random gropes at the interstellar haystack. And what did we come up with? Twenty two dead systems, a hundred and forty some odd dead planets, nearly a thousand dead moons. But no needles, Moses. No people, no plants, no bacteria, no viruses, no nothing. Not even any fossils.” He sighed, then continued quietly. “There is no other life in the universe. Earth is the anomaly.”
“Fine. Now why don’t you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?”
Rafe snorted. “Moses, you are such a schmuck.”
“Yeah? Well, you can kiss my surprisingly firm ass. So.” He turned, abruptly changing the subject. “Tell me about this here job.”
Rafe stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and walked over to the conference table. He picked up a datatab and slotted it into the table’s control panel. Columns of figures and cascading groups of images sprang to three-dimensional life over its glossy surface. He gestured at the displays. “Your new command.”
Moses, hands still in his pockets, walked over himself and studied them for a moment. “Its all pretty much automated, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, who wants to work in a junkyard?”
“I don’t know. A loser, I suppose.”
Rafe nodded. “Exactly.”
Moses sighed and sat on the edge of the table. The data fields scuttled back and rearranged themselves to accommodate him. “So.” He looked through the displays at Rafe. “Why me?”
“Because I owe you, you jackass.” Deppner didn’t put his feet up on the table ― he just wasn’t that sort of person ― but he did lean back a bit and cross his arms as he studied Moses. “Because I’ve known you for two hundred years.” He glanced away, to continue in a quieter tone of voice. “Because you used to be a useful human being.”
“And because no one else wanted the job?”
“Well, yeah. That, too.”
“Well, at least you’re honest about it.” Moses looked down at his hands. “You know, I should probably be offended by all of this.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Rafe shrugged. “Are you?”
Without looking up, he replied in a flat, tired tone of voice. “No.”
“Okay, then.” Rafe skimmed a card down the table to Moses. “Here’s your gate pass. It’s keyed to unlock everything at the site. You have one employee. And good luck with him ― he’s crazier than you. I don’t need daily updates, I don’t need reports, I don’t need recommendations. I’ll be perfectly happy if I just hear from you once a year during the Christmas party.”
“Fair enough, I guess.” He hopped off the table and grabbed the key, then turned toward Rafe. “So, you give all of your employees this pep talk?”
“Okay, right, it’s a stupid job. I know it. But.” Rafe sighed heavily, then looked up. “We need to have a person in the slot. There’s nothing pretty about it, but then…”
“But then…” Moses managed a ghost of a smile. “There’s nothing pretty about me, either.”
“You said it.” Rafe stood abruptly. He walked over to Moses, a serious expression on his face. “Look, Moses. You know the Endeavour is there, don’t you?”
Moses winced. “Yeah, I know. What the hell, Rafe?” He looked back down and fiddled with the gate key. “I mean, what the hell? She’s a piece of history, you know.”
“Yes, she is.” Rafe nodded. “And that’s the problem. No one much likes history anymore, or the Exploratory Corps.” He shrugged. “Especially the Exploratory Corps. It’s a reminder that it’s a big, empty universe out there. All dressed up and no reason to go.” Rafe shook his head. “Moses, they’re just a reminder of failure.”
“No!” Moses spun around, voice angry. “I won’t buy that! We didn’t fail. We…” he stopped, then pointed to Rafe and himself, “… we just didn’t look hard enough. Far enough. Long enough. We just… we just quit. Quit too soon.”
“Give it up, Moses. It’s over.” Rafe looked away, uncomfortable. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…”
“Oh, crap. I don’t want to hear this, do I?”
“Nope. And I don’t want to say it, and guess what ― I’m going to say it, anyway.” He looked back at Moses. “They’re scrapping her.”
Moses’ head shot around. “You’re shitting me.”
“Technically, I guess…” Rafe continued, leveling a finger at Moses, “You’re scrapping her.”
“I am.” Moses finally managed to get out. He scrubbed his face angrily, then drew a deep breath and looked Rafe in the eye. “You unutterable bastard.” His voice held a quiet intensity. “How can you ask me to do that?”
Rafe shrugged, uncomfortable. “You’d rather someone else shot your dog, then?”
“It’s your dog too, Rafe.”
“I know.” His voice was dry and a bit scratchy. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.” There was an almost indiscernible emphasis on the ‘I’, but Moses was too distracted to notice.
Rafe waved at the dry columns of figures in the displays around them. “It’s all the non-essentials, Moses. All the Corp assets, really. They’ve decided we’re done exploring. They’ve decided we’re through.” The display vanished as he angrily jerked the datatab from its socket, then sailed it across the table to Moses.
Moses fielded the tab absently. He looked down at it, turning it idly in his hand, then walked back over to stare out at the city. “You know…” He finally said, speaking quietly. “I think I miss the flying cars most of all. They would have been… cool.”
Behind him, Rafe paused while gathering his things. He looked over at the figure silhouetted against the late afternoon light. “Moses, I…”
“It’s okay.” Moses waved his hand dismissively without looking back. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
Rafe nodded, then moved to the door. Just as he reached it Moses spoke again, quietly.
“And, Rafe?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Rafe hesitated. “Yeah.” There was nothing else he could say.
“I mean it.”
“I know.” Rafe stared at him for a moment, then just shook his head and left. After a long time Moses did, too.
And in the broad, sprawling city beyond the window, no cars flew.
☼
The pressure suit’s work light was the only source of illumination in the airlock. Pushing a battered bundle of maintenance tools through the opening, the wearer turned back to survey the silent, dark ship.
Nothing moved in the hull the figure was leaving. No air circulated, no lights, no life. As far as it was possible in zero-g, the suited figure slumped.
It then reached up and gently, tenderly touched the hull by the outgoing hatch. Patted it fondly. Silently mouthed a few useless words. Left.
Darkness returned, and silence. And the ever present cold of space.
☼
&
nbsp; “Moses!!” Ami hurled herself across the restaurant like a small pastel rocket. They collided with a significant transfer of energy, rocking the ex-spacer back on his heels and drawing stares and more than a few smirks from the other patrons.
Moses looked down at her madly grinning face. “Ow?”
Ami stepped back and looked back up at him mischievously. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Yes.” He grinned a bit, himself. Around Ami it was difficult not to. “But I really mean it.”
She reached out and took his hand, pulling him back toward the rear of the restaurant. “So.” She asked, a bit diffidently. “How’d it go?”
Moses reached up with his free hand to fish the gate pass out of his pocket. “Ta-da.” He waggled the card theatrically. “The keys to the kingdom. My sad, shabby, junkyard of the stars, kingdom. You may bow before me now, wench.”
“When pigs fly, we’ll talk.” She replied, dryly. “Oh, and speaking of pigs! Come on, you’ve got to see the menu. They’ve got real meat!”
“You mean real vat meat, right?” Moses asked, surprised.
“No!” She took his hand and led him over toward a group of people waiting in the corner as she continued. “I mean real, honest to God, once walked on feet, meat. Makes me feel positively evil.”
“All redheads are evil. Thought you knew that. And isn’t it still illegal to butcher an animal for consumption?” He examined Ami’s friends as he approached them. There was a half dozen, and they all looked… young. Fresh faced. Squeakily clean. Moses was mildly surprised there was no troop leader.
“Nope. Oh, it’s still illegal on Earth, of course…” Ami answered as she pulled out a chair and sat. “But it had been outlawed so long there that it just didn’t seem to occur to them to make it illegal here. The owners saw a loophole and a niche and started serving real meat last year ― chicken, pork and beef. All from 'ethically harvested animals'.”