REAP 23

by J J Perry

  Four days later, the giant propulsion engine stopped. Weightlessness followed. All items in the seven-story ship had been stowed or secured. With the very low hum of the engine gone, it was perfectly silent. The capsule chamber began to turn, creating centrifugal force that simulated gravity so that the bones of the crew would not turn to mush. All capsules displayed five degrees Celsius until all the light dimmed and went out. Everywhere but Medical, the capsule chamber, the temperature fell to between five degrees and ten degrees Kelvin, -263 degrees C. The nose of spacecraft was warm from friction even in the rarified interstellar space. This heat drove a small generator so that the nuclear power plant could be shut down by separation of bars of plutonium. At this cold temperature, there was almost no electrical resistance, and very little voltage was needed to keep the computers running.

  To maximize their durability, Ivanna and Lola alternated duty in taking care of the crew. They electrically exercised the muscles and manually moved their joints. They provided skin care, scant nutrition, excretion removal, and a variety of other tasks including centennial haircuts. They assessed for medical problems. They could not move away from the capsules, since power cords tethered them. Their batteries were discharged and stored.

  During the five-thousand-year run, the ion engine would need to be fired up infrequently to maintain speed and make minimal course corrections if needed. Otherwise, silence and cold would reign.

  Inside each of the four occupied capsules, there was a sense of nothingness, a perfect void.

  9.0

  LAUNCH +

  APPROXIMATELY

  8,000 YEARS

  Calendar Reset

  Beginning - 255 Days Beginning

  This timeless vacuum was interrupted by a sound, indefinable, almost imperceptible. It happened again. With repetition, a perception started. Savanna was rising in darkness as it sounded another time. It became a voice, far distant and incomprehensible. She continued to rise slowly in perfect blackness. When it sounded the next time, there were indistinct words. A light slowly wedged open the long night.

  “Are you OK?” the voice intoned from above the well of nonexistence.

  She tried to respond but found no air. She took the first deep breath. “Yes,” she whispered.

  She felt a hand, warm and gentle, stroke her brow and her cheek. It dabbed gel to her lips. She opened her eyes to blurred shadows of slate and gray. She lifted her hand. It was met by another that squeezed. “Savanna,” the voice said.

  “Yes, I’m OK.”

  “Do you hurt?”

  “I can’t see.”

  “You will not have good vision for a while. Don’t worry, your sight will return. Keep your eyes closed.”

  Savanna began to be aware of her body and slowly, foggily took inventory and assessment. She moved her feet one at a time and then each arm. They were heavy. She felt saliva and swallowed. Hunger. No pain. She took another gulp of air, which triggered a cough. A plug of mucous arose.

  “Here, spit it out.” The hand turned her head and placed a cloth over her mouth, and she spat.

  “Thank you,” Savanna croaked. She opened her eyes to colors, faded; indistinct and run together like a weak watercolor. The hand caressed her lids closed. The head of her couch was raised, and her consciousness increased. “When will I be able to see?”

  “Your vision will improve quickly over the next hour, but it will not be perfect for a few days. Do you want a drink?”

  “I am hungry.”

  “I’ll get you some food later.”

  She was cold. She reached for something to pull over her and found a silky sheet. The covering was good. She felt the rim of a cup pressed to her lips and took a swallow. Warm chicken broth soothed her mouth and warmed her chest as it hit the acid pit that was demanding more than a little trickle. Over a vague period, she sipped and warmed without thought. Soon, she was able to take the cup and serve herself. She sat a little higher.

  She reopened her eyes after draining the cup.

  “Hello, Savanna,” the voice said. The Scandinavian tinged voice now had a body with long blond hair. Two blue dots floated in a palate of dull light-drab green.

  “Ivanna?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see colors, but they’re off.”

  “My face is green. Is that what you see?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “It has been a long time in too much nitrogen. All the gases should have been inert. I don’t think the engineers predicted what changes would occur to our skin hue.”

  Savanna tried to focus but could not. She looked around. She was in Medical. It looked the same except the colors were different. She saw someone green standing a couple of bays down. “Who is that?” she asked while gesturing with her left hand.

  “That is Lola.”

  “Is anyone else awake?”

  “She is taking care of Maricia.”

  There was the beginning of a feeling high up in her nose that went down the back of her head and made her think she was going to vomit. She turned to face forward and took in a couple of breaths deeply through her nostrils and out her mouth as if to wash the unpleasant feeling away. She looked around for a container, but the sensation subsided quickly. “Is there any tea, Ivanna?”

  “Yes. It is a bit stale.”

  “So am I.”

  Savanna slept off and on for the rest of the day. She was able to eat solid foods but remained ravenously hungry. She got out of bed and moved like an arthritic, decrepit old woman. Ivanna had a hold on her upper arm with one hand. Her other hand was on a web belt that was around Savanna’s waist. “It’s amazing I can walk at all,” she said.

  “You had physical therapy.” The pods were spacious enough to allow for range of motion exercises as well as bathing. “However, your muscles are weak, and your bones are thin. This will improve with exercise.”

  They turned and walked toward the bay with Maricia. Lola greeted them. She had a dark, drab, green complexion, and her hair that had been dark, lustrous brown was a lighter dull taupe. Maricia appeared no longer young. She was asleep with a sonorous breathing pattern. Savanna did not speak to her. She looked at Ivanna. “I need a mirror.”

  They shuffled off to the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw a middle-aged black woman, lean and tight with streaks of gray in her long, curly hair. She bent closer, but squinting would not resolve the blur. “My hair is too long.” After a pause on the commode, they left the bathroom and returned to bed. The nausea returned. “I feel sick.”

  “It is probably morning sickness, Commander.”

  “Oh. That’s right. I’m pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, dear.”

  “No, ma’am, it’s human.”

  Savanna looked at her for some sign of humor. Finding none, she nestled in her bed, facing away from everyone. The lights dimmed, and it was night.

  9.1

  BEGINNING

  -254 DAYS

  Early next morning, she was a lot steadier but grateful for the hand on her arm. She decided it was going to be a painful month or two ahead as she tried to regain strength. She walked to Maricia’s bed. She was the same.

  “She is still asleep. Did she go to bed late?”

  “No,” Lola answered. Savanna’s vision had improved. Lola’s skin looked leathery. Savanna reached out and felt it firm and warm.

  “What time do you think she will wake up?”

  Jekyll was positioned at her head and had sensors on her scalp.

  “It is not certain that she will awaken,” he intoned. “She has suffered neurological damage. I am reassessing her functionality. Her brain wave pattern is abnormal, different than a sleep pattern. If she wakes up, I predict she will be impaired to some extent.”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “Yes,” said Lola. “She has a boy
.”

  “What do I have?”

  “A girl,” said Ivanna.

  “Is Lucinda pregnant?”

  “No,” said Ivanna.

  Savanna looked again around Medical and struggled to remember. She moved away from Maricia and toward the center core. “Weren’t the pods, the capsules, in the middle of this room?”

  “They were.”

  “Where are Raul and Lucinda, then?”

  “Perhaps you should sit,” Ivanna said in her silky tones after a short pause. Lola slowly joined the pair. Savanna saw their clothing was faded and worn, small holes in the knees, holes in some of the creases of the tunic. The midnight blue that Ivanna wore was a light gray. Lola’s pale green fabric was now a dirty pale of uncertain color.

  “Why?” She looked around Medical and saw only one person. There were two beds, one occupied and hers. Empty space. A vacuum began to form deep inside her chest. She felt a stinging in her eyes followed by welling of tears. “No. Don’t tell me. Please, no.” Savanna wanted to run away, but her head began to swim. Her vision failed. She felt two pairs of arms gently lift her, tilting her supine before she lost consciousness. She watched the ceiling move as they placed her in her bed. Saline streamed down her face into her ears. “Please, no,” she muttered repeatedly.

  “What has happened?” she finally said.

  Ivanna answered, “Raul died of encephalitis in the seventy-second year of hibernation. He had a viral infection in his brain. We have no treatment for an ultraslow virus. Lucinda aged too fast. She died as a very old woman about fifty years ago without waking. The human response to the hibernation cocktail is variable, and hers was not compatible for a journey of this length.”

  “Was there a problem with the temperature of her pod?”

  “It was set at the upper limit.”

  “Was her capsule programmed differently than the others?”

  “It was programmed at that temperature, the same as Dr. Parambi’s.”

  “But higher than mine and Maricia’s?”

  “Yes, by 1.5 degrees.”

  “What was Parambi thinking?” Ivanna did not answer. “He killed her.”

  “He did not do the programming of the temperature of those two devices. Because of your last concerns, the premature aging of Lucinda and minor discrepancies in temperatures, the computers analyzed all programming changes made by the crew. It was Commander Chen who altered the thermal parameters before the mission started. Lucinda’s pod was cooled to the original settings, but it was too late. Unfortunately, it was not detected when the other changes were found prior to hyper-hibernation. It was outside the search criteria.”

  “Oh god. When did Chen start to have an affair with Leila?” Savanna asked herself out loud. She tried to remember if she noticed any clue.

  “They spent time alone in Commander Chen’s quarters on many occasions prior to departure,” Ivanna offered.

  “This is insane.” Savanna fought through the mental haze, trying to collate the data. “One or two degrees made the difference in aging, is that the conclusion?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I can’t believe he tried to kill them.” There was no response from Ivanna.

  “I guess that is why they send eight of us on these escapades.”

  “That is logical.”

  “I am alone.”

  “In a sense, you are. Lola and I are with you. Maricia may improve. We project you will do well.”

  Savanna turned and curled up in a fetal position and wept for an hour or so, until tears, like blood from a wound, eventually stopped. The only sound was an almost-imperceptible hum from the LBS slowing the ship as it approached a new solar system.

  A week later, Savanna’s vision was normal. She had been able to walk around the ship without assistance or a chaperone for several days. She finished a painful thirty-three minutes on a treadmill and walked into Medical. Lola was in virtual constant attendance at the bedside where Maricia lay in troubled sleep. Savanna patted Maricia’s cheek repeatedly. “Come on, Mar, wake up!”

  This time, her eyes fluttered, her breathing pattern changed, and her mouth started moving. “Maricia, wake up. Wake up.” Savanna’s voice was strong and loud, full of excitement and hope.

  Her eyes opened, blinking and roving.

  Jekyll approached. Lola leaned in and repeated, “Are you OK?”

  9.2

  Within half an hour, Jekyll had pronounced that the coma was over. Maricia attempted to speak but only offered gurgles and grunts. Savanna left to permit Lola to work without competition or conflict. She struggled up the flights of stairs to CAC. Bitelzebub was in control of the ship and would remain in total control for at least one more week, until the hibernation haze was completely gone according to results of psychometric testing. They had started deceleration at 0.7 g eighteen days ago. They were now at 0.9 g and would reach 1.05 g in another week. This matched the gravity of the planet they were approaching. The ship was traveling backward, thrusters first. Savanna called up imaging. The star pattern was completely different than that from home. The ship had passed hundreds of stars with their own peculiar solar systems and was entering the outer reaches of the target. It would be seven months before the ship was close enough to the planet to conduct a decent survey and send the message back to Earth.

  Savanna and Maricia held the record, as far as she knew, for humans achieving the greatest distance from Earth. Paradoxically, all she could see with her own eyes was the seven levels of ship hell. She looked at the screen again at the bright star dead ahead. She saw several bright “stars” ahead as well and focused and magnified the view. Two of these were gaseous giant planets. She then made certain that Bitelzebub was conducting a constant search for comet debris and other hazards.

  One flight down, in Communication was a locked door. It had been locked since departure and could not be unlocked until they were in orbit around the target, a planet heretofore known by numbers and letters. She would be the one to name it. Not that it mattered. No one else would know.

  Most of the dead are forgotten in three generations, maybe eighty years. Very few are remembered after a hundred years. REAP 23 received a few messages after hibernation started. The content was both brief and unintelligible. Savanna had no data about over two hundred generations that had lived and died as she slept. It felt as if she were preserved inside a pyramid, a tomb, waiting to be discovered. She feared to ask if she and the mission were remembered at all in this year of ten thousand and something.

  Feeling lonely, she went to the five cents booth. She wished she still had some REBs, diethylamide pills. She had none and would not use them if she had, since her little Miss Muffet would get a dose as well. She perused the files and decided to listen to General McBain’s little speech. She cued it up. There he was, long face, pale eyes, cropped hair, and military bearing. His gravelly voice started.

  “The few of us here and the millions on the planet who join us by conference all know pretty much what I am going to say. Our program is intended to find a needle in a haystack. There are about one hundred million solar systems in our galaxy. Less than 1 percent of them are within our reach, about half a million stars. Astronomers have identified twenty-five planets or moons among these stars that have characteristics of liquid water and an atmosphere. These young pioneers follow 176 others we have already sent to twenty-two locations. Each crew consists of eight genetically diverse individuals, well above average in intelligence and conditioning and psychologically ready for the arduous journey ahead. They represent the hope of all the world, the best aspirations and ideals. We who remain will never see them again.”

  Savanna paused the speech. It reminded her of growing up. Fine words, good sentiment, great intentions followed by the truth. The fallibility, frailty, and self-interest of man often, though not always, weakened or destroyed the healthy ideals ext
olled. It was almost invariably disappointing; the source of her skepticism. She thought of the malice of Chen, Suresh, and Cyrus that stained the vision that General McBain was projecting. She restarted the recording. “We will hear from them for about eight months until they enter silence. REAP 22 is still communicating with us six months after their departure. The crew is well. Families of many crew members starting with REAP 1 are with us by conference.” General McBain pointed to large screens situated around the room that showed family and friends waving or wiping tears away.

  She saw her mother and paused the indistinct frame so she could see the wrinkled familiar face. She paused at a later frame that showed her father and her sister, arms around each other, waving and happy in a crowd of her friends. In the meeting hall, small cameras panned and zoomed to crew 23 for cameos of each of the eight broadcasted to each specific group. There was her crew. She and Cyrus were standing together, waving, smiling and excited, eager to begin the adventure. She smiled sadly as she realized how their bright hopes contrasted the dark reality. McBain continued. “For REAP 23, it will be eight thousand years before we have any chance of getting a signal. It will be less time for them, thanks to Dr. Einstein. The hope of all mankind is that planet”—he paused to look at his notes—“K-70 EDN 7 is habitable and that the crew and their children yet to be conceived thrive there.

  “This is a one-way trip. We have no illusions about the risks of this program. It is a certainty that some of the twenty-five crews will perish.” Damn right, she thought. “Some shall die in transit. Space is a hostile and chaotic place. Most, we fear, will not find a habitable environment, even if they survive the trip. There are hazards unpredictable in solar systems so far away that limited information of the planets, moons, asteroids, radiation belts, particulate clouds, and fields exists. Crews must then execute a successful landing in an acceptable location.

  “Despite these daunting probabilities, many thousands of highly qualified applicants volunteered. The selection process is difficult despite accurate and sophisticated physical and psychometric testing.” Did Parambi bribe or manipulate the psychiatrists and psychologists to get accepted? Cyrus lied. What else went on? “We hope those who were not selected, who remain on Earth to live out their days in the normal course of humanity, will help the rest of the world long remember the two hundred who were sent, including these eight. These have chosen to give their time of living to save mankind thousands of years hence, our descendants as well as theirs. At this point, we traditionally give the departing crew a chance to be heard.” She turned it off, not wanting to see her speech. She sat thinking for a few minutes.