by James Martin
Captain Nathan, you are the only one aboard with cardiac arrhythmia. It must be concluded that this condition saved your life when reanimation occurred.
Funny how shit works out, I was almost denied assignment as captain of that ship because of my heart condition. How fucking ironic.
Red flashes consumed my vision with that persistent oscillating siren—insanity beckoned to take hold of me—while the ship’s computer tried to navigate me to the bridge to help ‘fix the problem.’ I forced myself to breathe, in-and-out—knew what I had to do. I had to fucking live. Can’t go stone cold with the rest of them. A nasty way out. I punched the metal hull to let it know I was serious about living, the ship returned with an echo of a sound. Hollow. Just like me.
I ran to the bridge. I had to go through the panels of three hallways to open the sealed doors to the bridge. The ship may have been pristine to the touch, all tippity-top, but the sucker’s innards were decomposing, functionality sparse. The computer did not have control of the ship anymore. It was a flying tomb. Mine. And my crew.
I finally made it to the bridge and turned off the alarms.
“How long have these been alarms been on?” When I took another breath, I noticed the force it took to get a full one. I clicked with the top of my tongue on the roof of my mouth, blowing some air too. Everything appeared to be in the shitter. The situation graver and graver.
Thirty-five years.
“Thirty-five years?”
Yes, Captain Nathan.
“Why did it take so long to get me out?”
The crew members I tried to awake were non-responsive. Because of data lost, it took a while to get to your section of cryostasis chambers.
I shook my head to rid myself of some demons percolating. The whole thing was a horror we never predicted. We operated under the assumption that we would be found by another intelligent species, a space-faring one. The more unlikely, morbid possibility was that the ship’s computer would eventually find a planet to land on; it would use the DNA from a dead crew member to replicate, reproduce and start society anew. You know, good old fashioned farming.
That’s when I gained the courage to ask the question I never wanted an answer to.
“What year is it?”
I cannot give an exact answer.
“Estimate!”
The oldest restore point suggests that we have been in space for hundreds of thousands of years. But the restore point is incomplete, it may have been longer. I cannot say what year it currently is based on the incomplete information.
I grabbed the bridge’s console, letting my body slip to the floor. How could it be that long? I looked to the side and saw a crack running along the main viewing port.
“What’s the ship’s integrity?”
That I cannot say. There may be a slight drop in air pressure which can be attributed to a spreading crack.
I jumped up. Clicking the keyboard, trying to find out where we were, then I saw to the right of the main viewing port, a big ole space rock.
“What’s that?”
That is a planet.
“No shit. Atmospheric conditions?”
My deep space measuring equipment has been damaged. I’ve calculated the distance between the planet and sun.
“And?”
It appears to have the distance and conditions that qualify for possible life.
Can you direct an escape pod?”
I shall ready escape pod one.
I flew past the bridge, down the corridors as a door slammed shut behind me, barring my way back to the bridge forever. I hoped the computer had enough juice to let me crash land on the planet.
Life was never the same afterward.
∞∞∞∞∞∞
A tear rolled down Nate’s face, and he wiped it off solemnly looking through the bridge’s main viewing port out at the stars, reminiscing of a past he could never touch again.
Astraos said, “What the hell kind of a story is that?”
“Huh?”
Kat said, “I understand that was a great loss and hurt for you, Nate. But none of us know anything about you, and I don’t believe I am alone when I say I feel like I know even less.”
Macellus said, “More mystery, captain. Is this to be a trilogy?”
“What?”
Macellus repeated, “Do we get it in parts?”
“You asked for a story. I gave you a story.”
“You gave us a morsel that presents more questions.”
“Some stories do that.”
“Not satisfying ones.”
“Well, no one said I had to satisfy you.”
Astraos said, “I don’t care to see that.”
The bridge filled with laughter. Lauren saw trickles of what she could only describe as humanity in all of them.
Nate chose to remember Astraos’s remark and nothing else. This was his crew, his family and they proved once again able to get him out of any dark place he found himself in.
“What’s your take. . . What’s your name?” He looked to her then Astraos.
Astraos said, “Oh right, introductions, I forgot about that. She is. . . uh. . . Lauren—Lauren. Sorry, Lauren.”
She shook her head. Really? I can’t believe he forgot my name again. . . Then she realized there was a stutter there, he was nervous, fidgety like a nerdy college freshman finding himself alone with a gal. She looked down and smiled. More and more, she liked the thought of him and her cheeks reddened to a new shade.
Kat chuckled and rest her hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him. He’s young. What did you think?”
She looked at Kat. “I—”
“You’re safe with us. Maybe not with Astraos.”
“Hey!”
“I thought Captain Nathan was trying to hide within the story. There are hints and assumptions, even within the smidgen of a tale.”
Astraos said, “She’s saying your story is crap.”
They all laughed again. Lauren looked to Kat, seeing her pink skin and scales on her cheeks for the first time—she did not truly notice when they met in the middle of the last tumultuous crisis. “Wow. . .”
Interrupting the revelation, Nate said, “How’d she tag along?”
Kat scolded Astraos, “You didn’t go and bring her into this, right?”
Astraos took a step back. “Hey, I didn’t give the kalack story here. She was where I crash landed. I couldn’t leave her there.”
Lauren thought back to the gargantuan spaceship hovering over her planet. How could I have forgotten? She berated herself for not being more concerned about Earth. “What will happen to Earth?”
The crew’s faces were grave and terrible and that would have told Lauren all if her head had been up. Astraos spoke up, feeling responsible for her, “They’ll gut the area. After that, I don’t know. . . What have you heard, Nate?”
“They’ve been advertising, hyping up the commodities. But no one really knows what they’ll do and when they’ll do it. The Family Klan controls that sector, a highly contentious bunch.”
Lauren felt despair choking her. “Gut? Commodities? Katros?”
Kat scolded them again, “Boys! Respect.”
Nate hushed up and gave Astraos a look to do so too; he did not see it nor pay heed to Kat. “The katros are an odd species. They’re all slave traders that dabble in war games. They are comprised of powerful families that control sectors of space. Alliances are made and broken continuously in order for one family to gain power over another.”
“I don’t care. What do you mean by gut?”
Astraos gave an uneasy look to Nate which was responded with a look of his own saying, ‘you’re an idiot.’ He finally got the hint, the epiphany dawning on him well after the damage was done. Hindsight rearing its ugly head, turning his stomach into nuts, he thought, How could I be so stupid?
“Gut. . .” Astraos hesitated to go on.
“Out with it,” Lauren said, more forcibly than she had meant to, her an
ger teetering over the edge, drenching her words.
Astraos took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly out. I hope she can forgive me. “How far away is home from where I crashed?”
“About thirty miles. Why?”
Astraos said with words as soft as a feather, “It should be—”
Lauren marched up to him. “Should be?”
“Uh. . .” He looked around for help, gazing into her seaweed eyes, he was reminded of the last conversation he had with Wooshuda. I am terrible at all conversations that involve feelings or mean more than I perceive. Crap. “I—I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you said?” Indignation slathered over every word.
The rest of the crew was silent. Astraos looked around, seeking a way out and finding himself cornered.
Lauren said, “Out with it.”
“Is there a city close by?”
“There isn’t much close by. Say it Astraos. Say that my mom will be dead or worse.”
With eyes downcast, Astraos sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lauren. I don’t want—”
“Just say it! You jackass.”
“All right. Thirty mile radius could be safe. But if there isn’t that many people to deal with and they’ve already made their presence known, they could go further.”
Lauren hit him in the stomach, turned around as tears ran streaked her cheeks—a drop hitting his shoes that were caked with Arizona dirt. She ran off the bridge and down the left hallway.
Kat marched up to Astraos and gave him a right hook to the shoulder. He flinched and said, “I’m sorry. . . I didn’t mean—”
“Look what you did.”
He said, defeated. “I know.”
“Are you an idiot?”
“What could I do?”
“Anything besides that. That was terrible.”
“I know.”
“Foolish boy, she didn’t want any of that. She wanted you to commiserate, to console her.”
“I—”
She tapped him in the chest with her finger. “I’m not going to fix this. I have shields to repair. You boys fix this. You got me?” She turned her attention towards Nate.
Nate shocked, said, “What did I do?”
“Oh, you forgot? You joined in. . . Foolish boys everywhere.” She said while shaking her head and stammering off.
Macellus got up from his chair.
Nate said, “Where are you going?”
“To get something to eat before docking.”
“You want to help us out here?”
He scoffed. “You think I’m going to help you, captain? Ha-ha, not a chance. Do you want to know the most famous saying my people have?”
Nate fuming at being dragged into a situation he didn’t care to be in, said, “Enlighten me.”
“I am sorry, my dear.”
Nate and Astraos met this with silence.
“Do you want to know the second most famous saying?”
Astraos said, “Sure.” But it sounded more like ‘here we go.’
“What would you like, my dear? This can also be turned into: What would have me do, my dear?”
Macellus left the bridge to the gawking of Astraos and Nathan.
“Pilox, you going somewhere?”
“I must eat too.” He vanished, rushing over to Macellus.
Astraos laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“That’s Pilox way of saying exactly what Macellus said.”
“Hmmm”—Nate pinched the bridge of his nose—“I got it.”
“You got it?”
“Oh. . .? You’re going to get it?”
Astraos shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. . .”
“I know you don’t got it.”
“Well that’s true.”
“You better start though if you want a shot.”
“Eh?” A slight blush entered his bronze skin. He scratched his head and stared at the floor.
“Don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve never been that concerned about anybody.”
He nodded. “She’s my type. She seems sincere, and she held herself together in a crazy mess until I screwed it up.” He shrugged. “It’s hard not to feel for her. And she’s human! This might be the jackpot, the”—he scratched the side of his head and looked back up at Nate—“I guess I’m saying, I don’t want to mess it up before—”
“I know,” Nate said, “Besides your considerable ineptness at this, you do worry me.”
“How so?”
“That you’re going to do something really stupid.”
Astraos gestured with both palms out. “Come on, I do stupid things all the time.”
“Yeah. . . I know. You cut it really close back there.”
“I made it.”
Nathan ignored the comment. “Meet her at cabin five, that’ll be hers. Bring her bag.”
“Good thinking.”
“Yeah, I’m the brains around here, huh?”
“Kat is the brains. You’re more like the maverick. I saw this show—”
“Don’t start with the Earth TV again.”
Astraos said, slightly snappish to hide his hurt, “They’re good shows.”
Nathan started walking off as Astraos continued, “There’s one with a crew on a transport ship. It didn’t last long, but it was right on.”
Astraos said to a distant figure, “Nate?”
Nate did not have to walk far to find Lauren curled up next to the first airlock in the left hallway passage. He had not disengaged them yet, only his crew and Astraos (essentially part of the crew) knew the codes to manually unlock them.
He saw some gears and wires exposed and strung over the metal grates. The ship never looked pristine or even entirely functional. It had this beat-up quality that he loved. He sat down next to her.
“Hi.”
She looked over at him, eyes still watery. “Hey,” she said, barely audible.
“I’m going to tell you something.” He gestured with his left hand. “It better not get back to the crew, you hear me?” No one said he was great at consoling, either.
She met the statement with steely silence. Nate knew he was treading water already.
“Sorry, I’m not good”—he let his hand move side-to-side—“with this. You know, anyway, you’re right. . . I didn’t tell the whole story.”
He looked over as she rubbed her eyes and peered up at him. He looked down, not sure if he should hold her gaze, or put his arm around, or say a few ‘there there’s.’ He opted to do nothing.
“Um, anyway, Lieutenant Vesilla was my wife.”
Lauren arched her head slightly toward him, staring at him while he bore into the ground. She was befuddled by his confession and her own emotional chaos that wrecked havoc. She wanted to console him but lacked the ability to at the moment.
For all his strengths, he could not bear to look at another person while speaking about his wife. “I saw her like that and I broke. I know it. I don’t think I’m the same man that got on that spaceship all those years ago. I cried when I was alone for a very long time, more than I’d like to admit to myself.
“You know, she was just this amazing person. I could never beat her in a game of tenga. My best friend. My life. I signed up so that we could be together, then it all came crashing down. But here I am, not with her, on a ship living life thousands of years later. But that’s life, Lauren, I don’t know what to say. That pain you feel will probably never go away. But you know what?”
She raised her eyebrows in response.
He shrugged and sighed, gesturing with his right hand. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“What would your mom want for you?”
She laughed hysterically, taking a minute before stopping. “That might be the funniest thing you could ever say to me.”
“You know, I don’t remember too much about my mom. I can’t recall most conversations. But I do remembe
r this wicked smile she would give me when she would prank my father. She loved pranks.”
“I don’t know what my mom loved, honestly. There was just so much negativity.”
“She loved you.”
“Did she?” Lauren sniffled, taking a deep inhale to steady her breathing. “I felt like sometimes she hated me for being there, for making everything difficult. . . And that’s what makes this so hard. I feel like I should feel worse and that I am a terrible person for not.”
“That’s stupid.”
“What?”
“What you said, that’s stupid.”
She scoffed. “You’re really bad at this. Are all galactic men like this?”
He shook his head and raised it, looking at a black wire dangling, a piece of string for them to bat at. “No, hear me out. Where are you?”
“On a spaceship.”
“Who do you know on this ship?”
“Astraos.”
“Oh come on, you don’t know him. Who do you know?”
“No one.” She sniffled again, feeling the uncanny depth of her loneliness and despair raging in her heart.
“How many times could you have died today?”
She cut off a short guffaw. “A lot.”
“And who are you thinking about?”
Lauren paused before responding, digesting what he was clearly doing. “I get it. I get it. . . My mom.”
“Right. So you are in this fascinating new world with all these new things and dangers and you’re worrying about your mother.”
“Yeah. . .”
“Sounds like a pretty-damn-good person to me.” He got up and disabled the airlock. “Let me take you to your cabin so you can see where you’ll be staying.”
“My cabin?”
“I can’t have you sleeping in the bay. This isn’t a galactic starship for the homeless.”
Lauren walked behind him taking in nothing. She reminded herself that after a little rest in the cabin, she would explore every nook and cranny of this spaceship.
“We’re almost there.”
“Do you think about them, about your wife. . . still?”
As they arrived to her cabin with Astraos standing there, he said, “Less and less, I feel guilty about that too.”
“Are you afraid of letting go?”
“Absolutely”—he nodded—“how about we make a promise?”
“What’s that?”