He had fought to be allotted space for a lab, but once he convinced the Billionaire that it was imperative to be able to grow seeding crops as soon as possible once they had landed, he was allowed a small metal cube in the ass end of the ship. Of course, he was not alone in using the lab. The Russian woman, Nadia, also had her crates and bowls full of specimens. Whereas his contained rows upon rows of plants, hers were crawling with insects of various sizes and colors.
So he had been forced to find other places to burn through his invaluable cargo. The solution turned out to be the small tubes connecting each globe. It was brilliant really, since the ship was laid out so that the most trafficked globes were clustered in the middle. All he had to do was traverse the ship until he was between two globes containing cargo that would not be needed until they had actually landed, and he was guaranteed that nobody would ever disturb him. He took a long drag on the joint and let the smoke swirl slowly out of his mouth and nostrils. Once out of his mouth it formed a shapeless globe that slowly twisted in the still air, moved only by his breath and the stir in the air caused by his wafting arms.
Roger was happy.
He smiled as colors intruded on his universe—green, blue, purple, and red, dancing across the sky in front of him. He knew the weed was good when he bought it, but not this good. Based on a business relationship that had lasted for years, he had managed to get the entire load on credit. And why not, it wasn’t as though he would ever be called upon to pay it back. For that matter, he could’ve just sold the house to pay for it, but there was something fundamentally wrong about selling your house to buy drugs. He took another long drag, and the colors vanished as abruptly as they had appeared. Pity, he had rather liked them. Slowly he let his body drift from one end of the tube to the other, twisting slightly as he did. He could see the contours of the other globes through the windows as he turned, and if the orange flicker emanating from the now-darkened globes caused him any consternation, it was quickly lost in a haze of smoke.
◆◆◆
The ship was in a bad shape, and I knew it. It was getting colder by the second, there was no shield to protect us from radiation or any future solar flares, and the fire had devastated several of the globes. The general procedure for fighting fire was to issue an emergency ten-second warning, then vent the entire globe to space. Sure, it would wreak havoc on those affected, but it was better than burning to death. After the flare hit, none of the automatic systems had engaged. Fires were left unchecked, ravaging habitats. Crucial supplies went up in flames, the very air burned, and the crew burned with it. Some managed to fight the fires, as Johanson and I did, some donned their spacesuits and manually opened their globes to space, some were unaffected, and some died in the flames. The biggest killer, though, was asphyxiation.
A final report in the aftermath concluded that over twenty people had died in between globes or in their quarters when the air had run out. Most had sought refuge in the tubes when it was clear they only had seconds to act, and there were only ten emergency suits in each tube. What do you do when there are twenty of you crammed together, you only have ten or twelve suits to go around, and the very air you are breathing will kill you in minutes? You draw lots. You pull the longest straw, or the shortest. You fight, you panic, you die. Or in one instance, you vote. The stories afterward told of noble sacrifices, of watching friends and colleagues dying not two inches from your face, of logic and reason prevailing in the face of death. Stories which later brought forth memories of tears and hardship, of friends who did not get to see the infamous end of the rainbow.
My story from that day had a happy ending, at least for me. And let’s face it, that’s all that mattered.
◆◆◆
Anna took hold of the final case and pushed it gently toward the airlock. It floated serenely through the air and into the hands of the waiting Billionaire. The momentum pushed him back against the bulkhead, but after the first one had pushed him head over heels through the room, he had found a technique to shuffle it along without incident. They had over twenty of the cases through now, each containing reserve circuit boards intended for use on the surface. Or, in emergencies, on the ship itself. If this wasn’t an emergency big enough to crack them prematurely, she would have some harsh words from the master of supplies. Which was herself. She’d have to give herself a stern talking-to later on, for breaching procedure. But for now, they were ready to fix the ship.
“The last one, right?” The Billionaire wiped his brow with a small soot-covered towel and glanced back at her. His broken arm was taped to his chest to get it out of the way, and he was popping morphine every now and then to keep the pain at bay.
“Yeah, that was the last one. There’s more of them in the next globe over, but it’s open to space. In any case, I don’t think we need any more to get the ship-critical systems back online. What we really need right now is somebody who knows what they are doing.”
A ruffled head with singed hair and a manic grin poked out from the hatch, seeming to be hanging upside down from her perspective. “What, you doubt my prowess as the house electrician and master of the universe?” Johanson winked at her and pulled back, dragging the crate after him.
“I only doubt your ability not to set yourself on fire,” Anna called after him, pulling the straps tight against the remaining crates. Faintly she heard his reply, “Shit just happens around me!” before his voice was lost as he cycled the tube. They were in one of the sections unaffected by the burn, having traversed through smoke, bodies, and crying crew along the way. Having waited as long as they dared for anybody to come and help, some of the crew had tried to help their non-suited friends by opening the hatches to the damaged globes and rushing out to seal the leaks in the walls before space could invade their little habitat.
None made it. Most just waited, holding their friends until their eyelids drooped and the carbon dioxide took its toll, hoping against reason that somebody would come. As they started the job of replacing damaged circuit boards and restoring heat and air, she counted the dead with the same grim determination she had once not long ago counted her options in life following the loss of her team, her job, and her home.
◆◆◆
Captain Reinholts was in bad shape, and he knew it. He was fairly sure they were traveling in the right direction, but it was hard to tell. They had passed some debris floating the other way, and he had extrapolated their trajectory as best as he could. But the radio was dead. The beacon that was supposed to be pinging away merrily on channel seven was ominously silent. No radio chatter from any of the crew, no glorious lights in the darkness except for the steady burn of the stars. No hand of God picking them up and dropping them safely back on Earth with a pat on the back and a resounding “Well done!” At least he was not alone in his misery, although he sincerely wished his partner in floating would stop being so maddeningly cheerful. He could almost feel the positive energy permeating his carefully constructed ice wall. It almost felt good, but he could do without the distraction of her chatter right now.
“You know, there ought to be a general beacon put out here somewhere. A signal, just for the purpose of letting stray wanderers know that “You are not alone.” It wouldn’t help much, but it would distract any dying spacemen from the fact that they were, in fact, dying.”
Nadia was scared, and her natural reaction was to fill the silence instead of brooding in it. He listened with half an ear, putting in an “Mmm,” or a “Really,” in what he hoped were appropriate places. He tried another channel on the radio and strained his eyes looking for a glimmer of light in the darkness, or a patch of missing stars marking the outline of the Wayfinder.
◆◆◆
Roger was cold. More than that, he was freezing. He had dozed off in his private heaven, and now the temperature had dropped to an uncomfortable degree. He swirled around a bit, lightly touching the walls and bouncing back, finally finding the main control for the lights. He had disconnected the system before lighting
up, not wanting anybody to open the adjoining hatch and interfering with his buzz. Not to mention discovering that he actually had a buzz. He had turned off the environment system as well, preventing the smoke being circulated to the rest of the ship. An oxygen canister set to low dispersal provided what little circulation he needed with his laboratory behind him, and it was still hissing along merrily. He replaced the wires connecting the circuit boards to the system, and initiated the reboot. Time to flush the smoke out to outer space and rejoin the rest of the human race. He giggled a bit in a post-weed burst of logic as he imagined his little cloud of marijuana smoke drifting through the solar system for the rest of eternity. The reboot finished, and the lights flickered back to life.
◆◆◆
The light flared to life in front of Nadia like the beacon of safety she had imagined just a few minutes earlier. She pulled on the cord connecting her to the captain, making the both of them tumble around each other. “Lights! I see lights, down there. No, up, to the right, over there!” In their tumbling, the lights flitted erratically from one side of their vision to the other.
“I see it! Stop pulling on the cord, we’ll just tangle up and make it worse than it is!” The captain cursed, held her fast, and with a few short, controlled bursts brought their tumbling to a halt, facing the lights. “We’re close, but not straight on. Hang on, I’ll try to adjust our course. Just a few more minutes there, and we would’ve moved past it without noticing it. I guess you’re lucky after all.” She could see his grin through the visor, and felt herself grinning back.
◆◆◆
Roger did not understand what was happening. The temperature steadfastly refused to rise, and he could not make contact with the rest of the ship. The hatch connecting to the tube next to his refused to open, stating that it was hard vacuum on the other side. Which was ridiculous, he had just been over there. He checked the main computer in his lab and was surprised to find a blank screen staring back at him. Something else was troubling him as well, and he was startled to find the ever-present hum of the environmental system missing. Surely he had not shut down the system to the entire globe earlier. He had pulled himself back into the hatch with the intention of donning an emergency suit when a tap on the window caused him to recoil from the wall with a violent jerk. He caught himself on the far wall with a practiced slap of the hand and turned just in time to see a gloved hand insert the hard connection to the controls outside. A metallic voice reverberated through the tube, and his incredulousness rose when a mass of blonde hair behind a visor and a huge grin shoved itself just outside.
“Knock, knock, Roger! Permission to enter your domain?”
Baffled, Roger donned a suit and cycled the airlock to allow the captain and Nadia back home.
12. The Gathering
The Arizona desert. One hundred and twenty-two souls. Engineers, volunteers, cooks, a small media crew, medical personnel, and a host of other subspecialized titles among them. And myself. I was the only one in the room not mission-critical. I had no skills to contribute. I could not devise a patch for faulty software, I could not weld, I had no clue how to run the oxygen generators or the water recyclers. I was helpless in the kitchen, and I had no idea how to manage a garden on another planet. For that matter, neither did anyone else. It was mostly educated guesses, but other guesses than mine was where I would have put my money if asked. But I was not asked, and neither did I need any of those skills. I did not need to be able to fly the ship or set a bone. I did not need to know the specifics, because I had others who did.
I took a sip from the water bag strapped to my back and took in the view. The room was cramped. The architect who designed it had envisioned about forty people in the room at most, and I had stuffed it with over triple that when I called the meeting. Each and every one of them was dressed in a bright blue and yellow jumpsuit, with a black water bag strapped to their backs. They all carried a utility belt with the standard complement of tools, as well as any specialized tool they might need in their day-to-day jobs while on board the Wayfinder. There was careful shuffling and muted excuses as people bumped into each other trying to squeeze in the last few arrivals so the doors could be closed.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and began my prepared speech.
“Good evening. Some of you know me, and some of you don’t. I’ve even overheard some of you referring to me as ‘The Billionaire.’ I can understand that my name might be difficult to remember, but if you are ever in doubt, just take a look at the bottom of your pay check.” I flashed them a smile and continued. “You have now been here in the lovely Arizona desert for three months, and you will stay here for another two. I’m sure you are all wondering why I have called this meeting, and why you have not seen me before. After all, am I not joining you in this fantastic adventure? I can assure you that I would have liked nothing more than to have been here with you the entire time.”
Yeah, right.
“I know it must be frustrating to be locked up in these cramped quarters, but you have all volunteered for it, and so you know the necessity of it. You started out two hundred strong, but only one hundred and twenty-two remain. Seventy-eight men and women either could not handle the rigors of prolonged confinement, or they were not medically fit for the mission. No one else will be sent home, no one else will be told, “You are not good enough.” You are what remains. The best of the best. You are the crew that will man the Wayfinder, the crew that will take her to Mars, where you will be immortalized as the first human beings on another planet!” Cheers erupted around me at this, and I scanned the room, smiling, searching for familiar faces. Captain Reinholts, short, powerful, his dark brown skin broken by the facial scar and a scowl. Anna Stokes, also short, almost stocky, brown hair and quiet, but light on her feet and her head held high. Roger Wells, receding hairline, scrawny, nervous. Johanson, powerful and strong, but too cocky, too loud, with an undertone of uncertainty.
And Nadia.
I finished the lap of the room and returned my gaze to the crowd at large. “Even though I do not have an official rank on this mission, I like to consider myself as being in charge. I know that this will not sit well with some of you former military guys, but think of me as a figurehead, one who does not take active charge of any of the day-to-day happenings on the ship but who is essential to break crashing waves. It might make my humble inclusion on this trip easier to swallow, especially if you remember to take your anti-nausea medication.” Low laughter at this as I smiled at my own joke.
“But all joking aside, I hope that I will be an asset on this mission, and remember: my door is always open. I like to think of this as one big democracy, with a few people having veto powers. I will always care about what you think, and your opinions are always valuable to me.”
Polite applause at this, and a few cheers. Fools.
“I leave you in the capable hands of Captain Reinholts, whom you have all met. He will instruct you on what remains of your courses here on Earth, and the plans for the coming months. I hope you’ll find him easier to stomach than my carefully planned jokes.”
Relieved smiles and cheerful conversation broke out as they realized that they had actually made it. They were on the crew, and in a few months they would be in space, heading for Mars.
I left the room and went to do something useful.
◆◆◆
Rebekka watched the receding silhouette of their elusive backer as he quietly exited the room through a back door. As chief medical officer of the mission, she thought she had met and examined every single one of the crew. She had personally vetoed over fifty potential astronauts and Mars dwellers, and she did not like that this one had escaped her scrutiny. The crew was now in okay shape, nothing spectacular, and nowhere near what she was used to during her stint in the army. But you worked with what you had, and after five months of strict diets and a daily physical regimen, most of the crew could pass as “fit enough for space.” None of the remaining crew had any medical c
onditions that could not be easily managed, but she knew nothing of this man other than the fact that he had recruited her through Johanson. Troubled, she turned her attention back to what the captain was telling them.
“After that, you will all have one last trip on the zero g simulator plane. Remember, even though you get two weeks off now to say your goodbyes to your families and such, don’t do anything stupid. You will get shitcanned if you come back with some weird infectious disease that we can’t rid you of within eight weeks. Ten weeks from now that sweet countdown will commence, and we will be in space and ready to go. Or rather, you will be. I will be up there waiting for you with a cup of coffee, because I’m leaving in a couple of days. The perks of high rank have me up there ahead of schedule to oversee the loading of the final supplies. Remember what we have taught you down here, remember to take care of your crew and your friends, and remember: think. Do not do anything rash, and you will be fine and on the surface of the red planet in another twelve months. Now, open that door and get out, I’m suffocating in here. See you in orbit!”
A loud cheer went up at that, and the people nearest the exit managed to get the door open and started filing out. Rebekka figured she knew why the Billionaire had scheduled the meeting in such a small room—acclimatization. The same reason they were working, sleeping, eating, and shitting in a series of connected half domes in the middle of the desert. The crew needed to get used to living in cramped quarters, and as the head of the medical team, as well as a former military officer, she had made a few suggestions as to the conditions of their training. After enough of those suggestions had been recognized by Captain Reinholts as being excellent advice, she had been put in charge of preflight conditioning and physical training instead of being just an advisor.
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