by Holly Ice
The rain clouds had long drifted over the ocean by the time I finished. I put on a jacket, shouldered an equipment backpack, ran through safety procedures, and headed outside.
Distantly, I wondered if I looked okay on the outside, because inside my mind was a mess. A deep cold had settled in my bones even as my stomach zapped with nerves. I didn’t want to see the dead bodies of my friends, or even my enemies, yet I didn’t know where they lay. Wind ripped through my hair, and the salt air whipped my nose and landed on my tongue, harsh and biting. How had I become the last team member?
* * *
I crumpled the covers into a hot, sweaty ball at the bottom of my makeshift bunk and donned my outdoor gear, again. It was the middle of the night, but organic samples were needed through the hours to check for variations, and there were a dozen other things best measured at night, like the local flora and fauna, many of which changed their behaviour after dark.
The airlock window showed my haggard face as I opened the inner doors. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair was a twisted, greasy mess, but measurements were getting to the Courage in good time, and the techies there were making sure this place was habitable. So far, we were in the green. That was all that mattered now.
My team seemed to watch it happen. Quinn’s amber eyes and bright smile haunted my sleep and propelled me out of bed each testing cycle. He featured in my dreams, showcasing various violent ends. Siti made appearances too, sometimes friendly, sometimes mean.
I’d seen the ship’s farewells to my team but still couldn’t bring myself to look up what happened to them. My bloodshot eyes were proof of the awful ends my mind created, but I was afraid the truth was worse. What if it was my fault?
Enough. I shook my head and stepped outside.
* * *
The days ran into each other, longer than the ship’s Earth hours, twilight dragging in moonlight and moonlight blearing into daylight. I wasn’t always sure if it was morning or afternoon. Instead I was ruled by night and day. I made sure each test was done to the specifications and checked the results twice before I sent data back to the Courage. I wouldn’t allow myself any mistakes, not when the data had come at such great cost.
I lived in my head a lot, imagined a makeshift shelter on the beach or roaming further inland to discover lakes and waterfalls, but procedure forbade it.
The good news was, the techies were running out of ideas for their long lists of tests. With the positive results, that meant the Courage would soon land. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Company would be welcome, but also intrusive. This coastal grassland felt like it was mine, the whispers of wind flowing through my hair and the mist over the water on a cold morning like fingers on my cheeks.
Smiling, I closed my eyes to imagine another night like that or, better, another night on the ship, but when I opened them, a faint blur surrounded my vision. A white blur. I frowned, my mind working furiously to think of any other explanation, but I couldn’t find one. This whole story, this mental torture, was a test. I was in a sim.
I blinked, my vision turning white. I couldn’t see a thing, but I heard things. People screaming, wailing, shouting and swearing. It was a cacophony of noise, like the last months on Earth. What was going on?
Finally, my vision cleared. I was in the simulation room in my pyjamas. The other applicants surrounded me in various stages of shock, anger, and despair, their eyes staring into nothing. I was the only one that was self aware.
The air smelt barbaric – a mixture of urine, sweat, and strong, salty body odour. I needed to put a stop to this. I stalked to the door and jabbed the button. It opened on command, unlocked.
Sabine met me, flushed. She must have run from the observation room.
‘How did you get out? The sim wasn’t done.’
‘I realised it was a sim.’ I glanced over my shoulder. Siti had either been placed in or had shuffled into a corner, where she rocked back and forth, arms tight around her knees. Quinn stood straight and stiff but his eyes were red and puffy. ‘How long are you going to let this go on?’
‘Until the committee has the data they need for selections.’
My eyebrows shot up. ‘They’re here? They condoned this?’
A door opened onto the landing and Rima stepped out. ‘Yes, we condoned it. We need to know who’ll perform best under the most extreme circumstances.’
I pursed my lips. ‘They look like they’ve had enough.’
Rima looked to Sabine and back at the applicants. ‘If we could do this another way, we would.’
‘I was in there for days.’
‘Hours,’ Sabine corrected. ‘The nanites running the sim made it feel like days, the way a dream can warp time, but you weren’t in there longer than four hours. You’d be alone with the team for far longer on Ristar.’
I checked my comm. We were almost at first shift, but that told me nothing, since I didn’t know when they’d grabbed me from my room and transported me down here. Had they drugged me? I glared at Sabine and pushed back my sleeve to check for needle marks, finding one on my right arm.
‘You invaded my room, drugged me, and brought me here.’
‘It was necessary,’ Sabine said. ‘In fact, you should still be in there. We need to test to the emotional extremes. Clearly, we’ve not found your boundary yet.’
I gritted my teeth, my blood boiling with anger. ‘So I did better than you expected. That annoys you, doesn’t it, that I did better than your trained protégés? You’d rather say the test was flawed than admit I beat it.’
She pursed her lips, about to say something, but Rima interrupted. ‘She’s right. She beat the test, and coped well. It’s clear she’d survive for weeks alone, perhaps even months.’
I turned my glare on Rima. Her soft smile was sympathetic, but I could see I wouldn’t get an apology.
‘Go to health and get checked over,’ she said. ‘The others will join you soon.’
I glanced between the two of them. Neither budged, and I couldn’t stand to watch my friends rock and wail in pain, so I left.
* * *
Two or three hours later, the others arrived in stumbling waves. I jumped off the bed and went to Quinn. He was guiding Siti into the room. I hurried to take her free elbow. She shook worse than the rumbles through the lander during thunder, her chin tucked into her chest. Tears trailed down her cheeks in a constant flow, each breath interrupted by a sob. What had they done to her?
‘I’m sorry,’ Siti said, sniffing between words. ‘It was all my fault.’ She cried into her hands, her words unintelligible.
They’d traumatised her.
We led her to a bed and set her down. A nurse was quick to intervene, checking her vitals and tucking her under the covers. She even brought her a chocolate-flavoured drink loaded with natural sugars. Siti placed it on the side table and went back to rocking, unresponsive.
Quinn shakily bent to sit in a bedside chair. His eyes were red and bloodshot.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
He shook his head and rubbed warmth into his legs. ‘It felt so real.’
‘For me too.’ I smiled, noting the amber flashes in his eyes, and then my smile dropped when I remembered all the ways I saw him die. ‘It’s just a sim, though.’
He looked up at me, his frown anguished. ‘Is it?’
I walked over and pulled him into a hug, my eyes welling with tears. The shake of his chest told me he was just as emotional.
‘I missed you,’ I said.
He nodded against my neck. ‘I wanted to talk to you but you were gone.’
I pulled back. ‘I’m here now.’
He hesitated, licked his lips. ‘You refused to talk before, after what happened.’
‘In the sim?’
He shook his head. He meant after we’d broken up, when I’d overheard him talking to the tank kids about us, about private moments.
‘I didn’t want to hear excuses.’
‘How about an apology?’ His fie
ry eyes met mine, his mouth a thin line, his hands still around my waist, strong and immovable. He meant it.
We lapsed into quiet, Siti’s soft sniffles the only accompaniment to our moment. I let myself drift the tiniest bit closer to him and nodded. ‘I’d accept one now.’
He swallowed, his voice a pained whisper. ‘I’m so sorry, Errai. I was an idiot. I should never have shared what I did.’ He raised a hand to my cheek and stroked it.
I leant into his fingers, like I had the wind when I’d thought he was gone. ‘Thank you.’
* * *
The nurses had done all they could. Almost everyone had gone back to their cabins, but Siti was barely more responsive than when Quinn had brought her in.
I perched on the edge of her bed and placed a hand on her knee. She ignored it. ‘I hear they’re keeping you for observation.’
Quinn pulled up a chair on her other side. ‘You can talk to us, Siti.’
She pulled her hair out of her habitual hair band and draped it around her face, blocking us out.
I pushed the left side behind her ear. ‘Enough of that. Talk to us. We can help.’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘The same thing happened to us,’ Quinn said. ‘First waking in the cockpit, then learning we were responsible for the deaths of our team.’
I didn’t correct him, didn’t admit I’d never had the courage to look up why the team had perished. Siti didn’t need to know that, not in her current state.
Siti sniffed. ‘You don’t know what I did. It was awful.’
‘I have a very good idea,’ Quinn said. ‘Sabine had access to our records. She knew which faults to use as knives.’
‘I wasn’t strong enough. I hesitated and made the wrong decision and then… I lost you. Both of you.’
I went to the tap and wet a tissue. ‘Here, let’s clean you up.’ Her cheeks were red and her eyes were puffy from all the crying. I wiped at her face until she sat up. Whatever they’d said to her cut deep. ‘I’ll stay as long as you need.’
‘I’m okay here.’ Her soft sniffs suggested otherwise. I knew the state she was in well. Being alone would only make things worse, cycle the black thoughts until her mind was as dark as empty space.
I glanced at Quinn. ‘Help me get her out of here.’
‘They want her to stay.’
‘It’s a precaution, not an order. She’s not hurting herself, and we’ll be with her. She can go.’
‘How do you know that’s why they kept her?’
‘I’ve been in that bed often enough to know.’
He swallowed and offered Siti a hand.
She wiped her eyes. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We’ll watch an old film, one of your favourites.’
‘I’d rather sleep.’
‘I know, but you’ll feel better if you do something, get your mind off it. You’re hurting, but it will pass and you’ll be stronger next time.’
We shared a smile, hers wobbly and mine sure, and then she pulled back the covers and got to her feet, waving off Quinn’s arm.
‘My place okay?’ Quinn asked.
‘Sure,’ Siti said.
Halfway across the room, I signalled for them to go ahead. I’d spotted Ludis through a window to a private room, talking to a senior counsellor. I knocked on the glass and waved. The counsellor stiffened and pursed her lips, almost a leer. I tried not to take it personally.
Their conversation turned snappy, her waving her hands around, him calm. Then he left and met me by the door.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked, glancing at the rigid back of the counsellor.
‘She doesn’t like cutting things short.’ He looked me over, almost clinically. ‘I’m glad to see you looking well.’
That formal awkwardness lingered, but I was so pleased to see him addressing his issues without his paranoid friends, I almost didn’t care. ‘Did you talk to the counsellor about your video?’
‘Among other things. She’s helping me address the grief, and find positive ways to act on it.’
I frowned, wondering why she’d been so hostile if she was aiming for positivity, but what he’d discussed with her was better left private, especially if it brought something of the old Ludis back. ‘That’s great.’ I smiled. ‘How about the nanites?’
His arms crossed so fast it could have been a flinch. Still a sensitive topic, clearly, but he should be able to feel safe with me. ‘This isn’t a lecture. I even agreed with some of what you said, before.’
‘Oh?’
I nodded. ‘I’m not saying we needed a ship-wide vote, but the crew should have had more input than whispers to sector heads.’
‘Like what?’
‘Maybe a public debate before the committee vote, something to bring it into the open.’
Ludis nodded slowly. ‘They could have dealt with it in so many better ways. What they did was authoritarian.’
I faltered. They’d only done what generations of committees had done before. As it wasn’t a close vote, they weren’t required to do more. It was short-sighted to think the crew wouldn’t react, but authoritarian went too far. But then, he had almost been laughed out of their audience for his concerns. I couldn’t just tell him he was wrong, not when he was opening up.
‘They could have been more sensitive,’ I said.
‘At least.’ He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have put so much emphasis on your decision. It was them that decided nanites should go ahead. I’m sorry about how I…’
‘That’s okay.’ I could only imagine how torn he must have felt at the time. Still, he seemed to be coming to terms with it. ‘You can talk to me or Ashoka whenever you need.’
His cheek twitched as he nodded. ‘I know.’
Perhaps he found it difficult to talk to us considering how he’d acted, but that was fine. The counsellor would make sure he was on the right track, so long as he engaged. I glanced to the door. Siti and Quinn should have almost reached Quinn’s cabin by now.
‘Do you need to go?’ he asked.
‘I should. Siti is really upset.’ And I was her self-appointed counsellor.
‘I saw her. I should get back too. It’s good to see you.’
I hesitated as he turned. Should I have tried for a hug? No. Time. That was what he needed. He’d get back to normal, eventually. ‘You too.’
* * *
An hour into the second film, I’d truly settled in and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open. The space between blinks grew shorter, until Siti’s loud chuckle jerked me to attention. Roseanne was in the middle of a heart-wrenching choice between the much older Juan and the annoyingly outgoing Reed. I glanced at Quinn to share an eye roll, but he was as attached to the player as Siti. Shame. And my popcorn bowl was empty.
I padded into the mini food prep area and opened stuffed cupboards, rooting around until I found Quinn’s popcorn. I put a salted packet in the heater and wondered what the pop of natural kernels would have been like. The woman who made the similar-tasting snack from algae was a genius and a hero among the food sector. We didn’t make them like her anymore, but even she couldn’t get algae to pop.
‘That smells good.’
The door to Ashoka’s bedroom hung open, his bed covers a rumpled mess, yet Ashoka looked like he’d had no sleep in a week. His hair was pulled every which way and his eyes were run through with red.
‘Was the challenge that bad or should I blame Ludis for this?’
‘Definitely Ludis.’
He made himself a hot chocolate, what I always thought of as my comfort drink. From the way he held the mug and rubbed the sides, it seemed to have the same comfort for him.
‘I talked to him today. He seemed improved. He hasn’t spoken to you?’
‘Not since he gave me an ultimatum: nanites or him.’
I winced. That gem must have come out before he had seen the counsellor. ‘He’ll apologise.’
‘Maybe.’ He blew on the drink. ‘I tracked him down yesterday,
but he asked me to leave. He wasn’t angry, though. More sad, like I’d disappointed him. I doubt he’s changed his mind so drastically in a day.’
I wasn’t so sure. Embarrassment or confusion could prolong an apology, and so could pride. I knew that all too well.
‘Have you spoken to Aina?’ I asked.
‘He was in her cabin at the time. Barred the door.’
‘He didn’t.’
‘Yeah.’ He sipped his drink. ‘I’m not sure what else I can do. Maybe I should leave him be.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I hated to see Ashoka hurting. He was making himself sick over this. If Ludis didn’t apologise, he was an idiot.
‘Me too.’ He shook his head. ‘The frustrating thing was, he kept checking his comm like he was in the middle of a conversation.’
‘Not me.’ I frowned, remembering the mission dropouts and how quickly they had taken him under their wing. ‘Do you think he’s still talking to those dropouts?’
Ashoka shrugged. ‘Maybe. I honestly don’t know. If he’s reasonable with you, maybe you can get something out of him.’
I could try, but there was something special between Ashoka and Ludis. He couldn’t give up on him yet. ‘We’ll keep an eye on him together.’
He nodded and retreated to his room.
My heart ached for him. Ludis had thought the video would change him, but he couldn’t have known the change would be this drastic. How could an estranged parent cause all this?
I sent Ludis a quick prompt, asking how things were with Ashoka, and retrieved my popcorn. Quinn and Siti were both belly laughing at a lame joke, loud enough to hear them down the hall. It helped, having two new people want to spend time with me, even if they did have an awful sense of humour.
‘Don’t just stand there!’ Siti waved me over. ‘Give me! I’m hungry.’
Quinn laughed. ‘She knows what she wants! Come on, we saved your place.’
‘Okay, okay.’ I vaulted the sofa and guarded the bowl. ‘But the popcorn’s mine.’