by James Wilks
“Jesus,” Ian said. “Crazy bi-”
“Hey,” Dinah shouted, and then Ian was very silent.
Staples waited a minute for the room to settle. Most people looked around awkwardly while Dinah passed the crying pilot off to Evelyn, who held her tightly and whispered soft things to calm her.
“So you ruined our lives for hers,” Yoli said. “You made us fugitives.”
“We were already fugitives,” Templeton replied.
“There’s a difference between being hunted by Victor and being unable to go home again,” John said.
“Really?” Staples asked. “Would you have been able to relax on Earth? Would you have sat down in a restaurant with an old friend or your mother after what happened on Titan Prime? In Vegas? We haven’t been safe anywhere for a while. And yes,” she nodded, “I admit I made it worse. But,” she looked around the room and tried to make eye-contact with as many people as she could, “not a single one of us would be here if not for Bethany. No offense, Charis. You’re a good pilot, but-”
“I’m not fighting you on that, Captain,” Charis said levelly. “She’s saved our lives several times over.” She smiled over at Bethany, who was still in Evelyn’s arms. Her gaze turned to her daughter sitting across from her. “I can live with what Bethany’s done in the past, especially because I think I know why she did it.” She looked sympathetically at Bethany again. “My daughter and my husband are alive because of her. I would have helped you break her out of jail.” Her eyes moved to Staples. “I went to break you out of jail, if you remember. My problem is that you just decided, for all of us, like you always do.”
Staples took in a breath, then let it out. Templeton opened his mouth to reply, but then she put a hand lightly on his forearm to silence him. “I’ve been thinking about that. When I put this crew together, it was with the promise of work. You,” her eyes swept the room, “all worked for me. I got the jobs, I got paid, and then I paid your salaries. That’s changed. We’re not working anymore; we’re trying to survive. I can’t really afford to pay you, and while Brutus,” she raised a hand to indicate the automaton rather pointlessly, “can move numbers around and give us all the money we need, we can’t really use it on anything other than staying alive.
“So it’s time for another arrangement. The circumstances have changed, which means the way we do things needs to change as well. You don’t work for me anymore. We’re all equal in that we’re all just people stuck in this situation together. The only things keeping me in charge have been tradition and the fact that this is my ship. It’s time I stepped down as captain.”
Once again, there was silence in the room. Even Bethany had stopped her hitching and was staring at Staples in shock. Templeton looked stricken.
“I will say,” Staples continued when no one spoke, “that I think that there needs to be a captain. Someone needs to make decisions quickly, but when it comes to the larger choices, like what to do next, well, I think that we should put that to a vote. And the first thing we should vote on is a new captain. It is my ship, but I’ll accept whomever you choose.”
“Captain,” Jabir began, then laughed at himself lightly, “it is rarely prudent to change leadership in the midst of a crisis situation.” He raised his voice slightly to make it clear that he was speaking to the entire room. “It is true that we are alive because of Ms. Miller’s efforts. We also continue to draw breath because of Mrs. MacDonnell’s navigation, and Ms. Hazra’s and Mr. Park’s work on the engines. Each member of this crew has performed amazing feats to bring us to this point, and your decisions have unquestionably been chief among them. I may not always agree with your choices or your methods, but the results are incontrovertible. If you would like us to hold this vote, we will, but let me remind all of us, myself included, that a leader is not one who necessarily makes popular decisions, but one who makes the right ones.”
“Great speech, Doc,” Templeton said. “You got my vote.” His humor brought a few smiles, and it did much to alleviate the tension in the room.
Staples grinned wanly. “How about this then? Think about it. There are a lot of things we need to think about. I want you to have all of the information before you decide, and at the risk of sounding overly-dramatic, what Brutus learned in Texas is going to change everything.”
It took only five minutes for Brutus to relay what he had told Staples earlier, and another five minutes to assure everyone that he was serious and that there was no misunderstanding. In the contemplative silence that followed, Jabir spoke up again.
“It seems quite a stretch to believe that we received a message from a would-be alien empire within a quarter century of humanity obtaining the ability to understand it. Time at the galactic level is measured in millions of years. It takes the Milky Way Galaxy 225 million years to rotate just once, for example. The odds that we would receive this message at this point in our history are difficult to credit.”
“Is that seriously what bothers you about this?” Charis asked incredulously.
Jabir looked defensive. “It’s a fair question.”
Brutus took a short step forward, and the gentle whine of his servos drew everyone’s attention. “I cannot say for certain, but according to the data I retrieved, the prevailing theory is that the signal predates our discovery of it by many years, possibly centuries or millennia. It did not come with a galactic time-stamp, but its references to certain systems and the distances between them implies that it is less than three thousand years old. Although SETI first separated the signal from the background noise of the universe in 2099, they believe that they had simply failed to notice it previously due to its complexity. Imagine a word written on a wall a thousand miles high and a thousand miles wide. Standing two feet from the wall, it would be illegible until one thought to step back and examine the whole picture. Strangely, it also seems to have an omni-directional quality that makes placing its origin impossible.”
“I suppose that serves-” Jabir began.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Jabir,” John interrupted. “But the real question is: what are we going to do here? I mean, great, we’ve got rock-hard evidence of alien life. My mind is blown, but how does it help us?”
“We tell people,” Staples said boldly. “It’s our only play.”
“How is that a play?” Charis asked.
Staples continued. “Up until now, Victor has been desperate to hide his fleet from the rest of the system. His attention has been on us because of what we know. If we let everyone know, we take away his primary reason for killing us.”
“Except that’s only part of why he wants us dead,” Overton spoke for the first time. “Unless you’re saying we should tell people about Victor too.”
Staples shook her head regretfully. “All the problems with that still exist. None of our evidence points to the existence of Victor, unless you count Teletrans Corporation’s ability to break the alien signal encryption. No one would believe us, and even if they did, we’d be putting Brutus at risk.”
“That argument’s getting pretty thin,” Ian said. He looked at the automaton. “No offense, I think you’re great and all, but I’m not sure you’re worth all our lives.”
“I’m still not willing to trade one life for others,” Staples said. “This isn’t a numbers game unless we make it one. I know I said we would vote on these things, but we had this discussion when Brutus first came on board, and I can’t believe that there is anyone here who would hand a member of this crew over to certain death. We’re not like that. We don’t do that.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Ian grumbled.
Templeton reinforced Staples’ statement. “There ain’t much point in living if we have to buy it with our friend’s lives.”
“So if we make this public,” John broke in, bringing them back to the original topic, “What does that buy us? Victor will still want us dead because we know he exists.”
“People have a right to know the truth,” Evelyn said from where she leaned
against the wall by the door.
“People don’t always do the right thing with the truth,” Jabir countered.
Evelyn shrugged. “No, they don’t, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve the chance.” She cocked an eyebrow as she looked at the doctor. “I’m a glass half-full kind of girl.”
Kojo shook his head morosely. “Some will panic. Some will commit suicide. Others will rob, murder, and rape. Do you want to be responsible for that?” His question seemed addressed to the crew at large, but his gaze was directed at Evelyn.
“That’s their choice,” she countered evenly. “People are responsible for their own actions, never mind the circumstances. Sure, some people will do all of that. Some people will do all of that whether you tell them aliens are coming or not, but others will support people, rise to the challenge.”
“And,” John broke in, “It’s worth noting that if some alien invasion is coming, it would be nice if people were prepared.”
“There’s also the people’s right to know that the US government has been building a secret armada of warships,” Evelyn pressed.
“And hiding the message from every other country on the planet,” John added.
Overton broke in. “Jesus Christ, we might be talking about starting a war here. I mean a war on Earth, never mind the aliens.”
“Undoubtedly some governments will be very upset,” Jabir reflected.
“That’s their choice too,” Evelyn’s rhetoric was consistent. “If the US government has hidden this from the rest of the world, they’ve made a bed they need to sleep in. It’s not our responsibility to lie to cover their lies.”
“I know I mentioned this before, but giving away state secrets: that’s probably treason.” To his credit, Ian did not look smug when he said this, just concerned.
“Very well,” Jabir said, “Let’s take a moment and consider what will happen if we do not release this information. How long will it be before Victor hunts us down? How many more narrow escapes does Ms. Miller have in her? How many times can we count on Ms. Hazra to perform miracles of military prowess to rescue us from danger? How long until a member of our crew is injured beyond my ability to treat?” He looked around the room. “I do not mean to belittle the remarkable skill of this crew when I say that we are living on borrowed time. We have been waiting for a break, for some information to come to light that will allow us to gain some advantage over Victor. Now we have it. People have died, and we have worked long and hard to gain this advantage. I cannot imagine we will find another soon.”
“You make a good point, Doc,” Templeton said.
“Actually, that was the preamble,” Jabir said. “If we die, we die. I’ve no doubt it will be valiant and noble, but in the long run, it will perhaps gain us a footnote on a police blotter somewhere. The problem is that, if we die, the vital information we have dies with us.”
Staples nodded in understanding. Everyone in the room was giving Jabir their full attention, even Gwen. Staples didn’t think that the girl was following all of the doctor’s points, but the tension in the room had not driven her to tears as it might have three months earlier.
“I grant that if this information comes to light, many may die. Wars may be fought. That is a possibility. What is certain is that if we do not act, Victor will continue to gain power. We know his aims, and if he is not stopped, it is quite possible that humanity will become servile or extinct.” He sighed. “I wish I could say that I was being melodramatic, but this is a very real possibility.”
“Or, option three,” Ian said, “We find him and take the bastard down.”
“Again, I do not mean to disparage the crew of this fine ship, but you are talking about resting the continued survival of the human race squarely on our shoulders. I, for one, would rather forego that responsibility.”
“Look at it this way,” Evelyn said, stepping forward. “Give people the chance to do the right thing. If humanity blows it, well, maybe we didn’t deserve to keep going anyway.”
“That’s a hell of a judgment to make,” Charis said.
“We’re talking about changing everything. Forever.” Templeton said clearly, and that resonated in the mess hall for a moment.
For the first time in several minutes, Staples spoke. “We could go around and around like this for hours, but we’ve got a decision to make and a ship to run. So take an hour and we’ll meet back here at,” she looked at her watch, “thirteen-thirty. I think we should start with a no-confidence vote. If the majority wants a shift in leadership, we’ll move onto nominations and further voting. We’ll also vote on whether to release the information that Brutus retrieved to the public. Talk to whomever you want. Think, pray, whatever you need.”
Staples did not mention the third topic that had been a possibility for voting: turning Brutus over to the authorities. She was relieved that no one called attention to her omission.
It was a stressful hour. Staples checked in with the cockpit crew to ensure that they were headed for Mars. If they were going to release the information, that would be the best place to do it, especially considering their recent conflict with the law on Earth. Once she was satisfied that everything was in order, she made her way down the length of the ship and into the aft dorsal observation room. She was surprised at how far away Earth looked already. It felt even further.
After a few minutes of silent contemplation passed, she was roused from her reverie by the sound of the hatch opening above her. She looked up to see Brutus’ blank face staring down at her.
“May I join you, Captain?” he asked.
She nodded silently and then shifted her gaze back to the still shrinking planet of her birth. The light clicking of the automaton’s hands and feet on the recessed ladder rungs sounded behind her, broken briefly by the closing of the hatch above them, and then the robotic form was standing beside her.
“I must say, I was surprised at your choice to step down as captain,” he said convivially.
“Why?” she asked without looking at him.
“It is your ship, as you said. This is also not the best time for a change in leadership.”
“Probably not,” she granted, closing her eyes briefly. “But it’s the right thing to do. I hired them, so they were willing to do what I said because if they didn’t like me, they could leave. Now they can’t leave, and that means that they need to choose whoever makes the decisions. Even if they choose me, it’s something they will have had volition over. So much of what we’ve been doing lately has been reacting; doing what we do because we have to. People need to feel like they have control over their lives.”
“And if they make the wrong decision?” Brutus’ camera-eyes focused on her quizzically.
“Then they do. Better to die master of your own fate and all that.”
“I believe I understand.” Several moments passed in silence, and Brutus turned to watch the small blue dot recede as well. Finally, he spoke again. “I have been working on the surface we retrieved from AR-559. It is encoded and highly complex. I continue to worry that it is a trap.”
“You mentioned that before,” she replied, somewhat annoyed. “How can you be sure?”
If he minded her tone, he did not show it. “I will need to move slowly. It will take some time. I may also have need of some help.”
Staples’ brow furrowed. “You’re joking. Who on this ship could possibly help you hack a computer?”
“On this ship? Doctor Schilling, perhaps. I do have friends, however, in various places across the solar system. I told you before that I have made… certain alliances, anonymously of course, amongst the computer and hacking communities.”
“Like the man you used to hire Piotr to sabotage the ship,” she said tersely.
“Precisely,” he replied, still seemingly unaffected by her tone.
“It seems hard to imagine that a human hacker could compete with you or even lend you hand.”
“Sometimes numbers count, Captain, even in hacking. Additio
nally, humans have a tendency to display non-linear thinking and adaptability that I find I sometimes lack. It’s also nice to have a friend by your side when attempting something dangerous.”
Staples looked at the inscrutable face and judged that he was serious, so she said, “Fair enough.”
“I should also tell you that if I can fashion the data we retrieved into a weapon, I suspect that it will be usable only once.”
“Why?”
“It is complicated. I believe the surface contains a map of my father’s neural structure. If so, I should be able to identify and exploit weaknesses in it, pathways that will allow me access the next time we interface with one another. I believe it will be useful only once because after it has been used, the weaknesses will be apparent to him.”
She nodded in understanding and grunted. “Makes sense, I suppose. If someone sneaks in through the basement, you put a lock on the door. I guess that means that we’ll have to make it count. If you interface with him, can you use the weapon to,” she hesitated for a second, “to kill him?”
“I believe so, but I will not know until I decrypt the surface. I should warn you that once the weapon is created, I will need to use it directly. It cannot be done remotely.”
Staples shook her head in disbelief and consternation. “You mean you’ve got to be in the same room with him?”
Brutus nodded. “If I attempt to connect to him remotely and he becomes aware of the attack, he will simply sever the connection. He needs to be trapped.”
“Do you even know where he is?” she asked.
“I know where he was. He was in a Teletrans research laboratory on Mars. Whether his primary program still resides there I cannot say. I would assume not. He knows I am his enemy. He will have taken precautions.”
Staples sighed, exasperated. “It never ends. And here I thought we were close to some sort of resolution.” In a flat tone, she droned, “‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.’”
“Macbeth might be a little maudlin, even for our situation, Captain.”