by Tracy Lauren
“Very easily. I have been up all night and all day carrying you through the forest. I could sleep for a full rotation. But for you, I will only sleep a few hours.” He smiles roguishly, as if he’s doing me some kind of big favor.
“You can’t possibly expect me to drive this thing! This is a joke, right?”
“Not at all, Vivian. I will need to sleep sometimes and eat, too, if that is alright with you?”
“Oh my god, oh my god…” I breathe out. My hands tremble as I take the joystick in my grasp.
Bloop. Bloop. The computer signals me.
“Straighten out, make the lights align…” Dax coaches.
I white-knuckle the stick and stare unblinking at the lights, not daring to look out the viewing window in front of me.
“You will do fine,” Dax assures me with a pat to my head, before he makes his way over to his discarded rucksack, fishing around inside. I hear him rip open a protein ration and take a ravenous bite from it. He tosses me one, and when it lands in my lap I flinch.
“Eat,” he says, throwing himself into another chair, adjusting it so it reclines.
“You didn’t open it…” I mumble, annoyed. He pops up quickly at my words. When I glance over he’s looking at me with a cocked brow, laughing again—like always. Still, he jumps to his feet and crouches before me. My heart races and I’m unsure of his intentions. He’s eyeing me mischievously and one of his big hands slides up my calf—
Bloop, bloop, bloop! the computer warns, jolting me as much as his hand had.
He grabs the protein ration from my lap and tears it open for me. “Would you like me to feed it to you?” he prods. I’d say there was an eager look in his eye if I didn’t already know he was making me the butt of a joke. I grab the bar, frowning hard at him. Wordlessly he heads back to his seat and sprawls out. Only a few short seconds pass before I hear his breath even out and I know he is sleeping.
Suddenly I feel very alone and weighted down by the responsibility of steering the pod. Even though I’m hungry, I can’t bring myself to leave only one hand on the joystick. So, my food lies neglected, but not forgotten, in my lap. Though time begins to pass, I never let my grip on the joystick lessen.
Begrudgingly, I acknowledge Dax truly did need to rest, especially since he had to carry me out of the Elysian rainforest. But that doesn’t stop me from resenting him for it. I hate being alone. I hate the silence. I hate having to be responsible for driving this thing. I have no business steering a UFO. A Toyota Corolla, yes…but an honest-to-goodness flying saucer? How did I get myself into this mess?
Dax lets out a snore, and I jump like a rabbit in my seat, struggling to keep the steering just right. I wish someone else were here to do this. The thought instantly brings up everyone we left behind on the crashed cargo ship.
I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t know if we were followed by the UPC and they were all caught and taken captive, or if wild animals broke into the ship and ripped everyone to shreds, or if the air filtration system failed, suffocating them all. In any case, it seems like only Dax and I are left, and he hasn’t brought it up, so that must mean it’s really bad and he doesn’t think I can handle it.
Whatever happened, I find that I don’t care. I don’t even feel guilty about it anymore. The only thing that matters is protecting myself and escaping all this. I’m not going to try and kid myself or mold my cowardly behavior into something I can more easily accept. I know who I am: a horrible coward who has no business being in outer space.
Kate, Reagan, and probably even Allison…they’d demand to know what happened to the others. They’d find a way to save everyone. I just want to save me.
Beep. Beep.
I jump again and look closely at the lights on the dash. Everything is lined up perfectly.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The computer insists.
Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. I try to move the stick to correct our direction. But the computer protests my efforts. Ehhh…maybe the other way?
Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop…comes a rapid succession of ambiguous notices.
“Bah! What do you want?” I complain.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep… BEEEEEEE—
Then, the notice shifts…into an alarm.
Simultaneously the ship begins to shake violently and I finally shoot my gaze up to the window in front of me. I can see we’re driving through…a rock storm?
Before I can blink, Dax is lifting me out of the pilot’s seat and taking control of our craft. I stand next to him gripping the armrest, not wanting to stray as far as the next seat.
“You had the entirety of space to navigate and you choose to steer us into the path of a comet,” he laughs.
“Me? You set our course!”
Small rocks pelt the window. It reminds me of hail, if only a little larger, so I’m not that worried. I mean, we’re in a high-tech spaceship, right? I’m sure there are shields, and since we know what the problem is we can just turn around and go the other way.
“Ohhhh! Look at this! You chose quite the comet, Vivian!” Dax leans back, practically ogling the darn thing. He claps his hands on his knees and actually seems excited by this development.
I shift my gaze out the viewing window and stare out at the gargantuan, icy rock spiraling through space just ahead of us. Jets of gas and debris puff out, causing bits of the mass to crumble and break away. They hurtle toward us, and I suck in my breath.
“What do you say we get a closer look?” he says, eyeing me.
“Don’t you dare!” I command. But with a swift motion he grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him. I lose my footing and topple onto his lap, outraged and terrified.
“Dax, I swear to God. This isn’t funny!”
“Are you going to watch or close your eyes?” he taunts.
“Stop it right now, do you hear me?”
“Here are your choices: eyes shut and I see how close we can get. Eyes open and I will only cut through the debris trail.”
“No! No, no, no, no, no!”
“Your decision in five, four, three, two…”
“This is a bad joke. I refuse to acknowledge any of this by choosing—” I begin.
“Hold on tight.” He smiles.
“Ahhh!” I scream and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him for dear life. The pod dips and weaves, and even though I’m not looking, I can imagine the dangers he moves to avoid.
“That was a close one!” He rumbles with laughter. “You are missing the fun, Vivian!”
“Make it stop! Make it stop!” I screech.
“Open your eyes,” he counters.
I whimper, trying to gain courage. “You are such a jerk. A mean, cruel jerk!” I tell him. But I just want it to be over, so I turn my head and face the window, keeping my eyes shut tight. “There! Happy now?”
“I know you are not looking, you deceitful thing!”
“Oh yeah? How can you tell?”
“Because if your eyes were open you’d see—”
My eyes shoot open involuntarily and I see a massive rock careening towards us. “Move! Move the ship!” I scream.
But instead he leans back in our shared seat. Folding his hands behind his head…farther away from the controls.
“Dax! Do something!”
“Perhaps I should encourage you to pilot the pod again…” he ponders aloud casually, as if trying to come to a decision. Sitting up, he wraps his arms around my middle in a lazy embrace. “Or maybe, if we wait long enough—”
“Jesus!” I exclaim as I grab the joystick and turn it hard to the side. We go shooting off in the other direction. Our view screen clears, save for the small hail-sized stones and ice trailing the comet. “That wasn’t funny!” I shout as I throw my hands away from the joystick.
“How brave you were, Vivian!” He beams proudly at me.
“That wasn’t bravery, you idiot, that was a survival instinct. Something you obviously don’t possess, and having one doesn’t make me brave, i
t just makes me human.”
I pull myself free from his grasp, desperate to storm away, but with nowhere to go. I make my way to the other seat and begin buckling myself in.
“Do not be so cross, my Vivian! You should be proud of yourself!” he happily insists.
“Proud? I almost threw up!”
“But you did not! Is that not something to be proud of?”
“No, not really!”
“You just need more practice to become used to the experience, that way you will not be so scared—”
“More practice? This is your job, Dax, not mine. You’re supposed to take care of this stuff,” I tell him.
He jumps out of his seat and prowls over, only to crouch before me. In this position we are eye level, and I can’t escape his gaze. “And what is your job then?”
“My job? My job? I’m a librarian! Heck, I’m not even a real librarian yet! I still have two more semesters of my master’s program!”
“I am not talking about your old life, Vivian.”
“What other life is there?” I scream out, hysterical.
“This one!” he shouts, finally raising his voice. And even though he yells, his tone isn’t angry…it’s eager and filled with hope. The look in his eyes reflects his sincere concern for me…
Now, I’m not completely unsympathetic to his optimistic and earnest way of being, but I mean come on, how naïve can a person be? There is no life for me here.
His eyes, though, they soften me, and I find myself searching for something to give him. Some way to meet him in the middle. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment reflected in those expectant eyes.
Beep, beep, beep, BEEEEE—the sensors blare for a short second before the alarm roars back to life. Dax scarcely has time to jump to his feet when the ship collides with something big. The lights flicker out and we’re spinning so hard I can’t even draw in the air to scream. I’m suddenly flooded with the memory of being 13 and taking my first ride in the Gravitron at the carnival, the ride that spins you so fast it presses you to the wall, leaving you frozen by the centrifugal force.
The sound of crunching metal brings me back to the present, and the entire ship convulses. This is it, I think to myself. It’s horrible, but it’s quick. Not the worst way to go.
But the alarms cut out and dim lights blink on. I don’t know if we are on some sort of emergency or auxiliary power, nor do I know the extent of our damage. I struggle to catch my breath. Based on the view from the window we are still spinning, but the ship’s artificial gravity seems to be compensating, because up is still up and down is still—
Looking down I see Dax. The sight of his body sprawled out on the metal floor interrupts my train of thought. A cold chill runs over me. He’s just lying there…painfully still. My life line, the only person who knows how to fly this ship and traverse this hellscape I’ve found myself in. And this is all because he wasn’t wearing a freaking seatbelt! Idiot!
I can hear the sound of comet hail pelting the exterior of the ship again. Oh my god, we’re still within range of this thing. With shaking hands, I unlatch my seatbelt. While gripping my armrest, I reach trepidatiously towards the captain’s seat. When my fingertips graze it, I make a daring leap from one seat to the next and hastily buckle myself back in, feeling a great sense of relief when I hear the final click of my restraints.
Panic-stricken, I grab onto the ship’s controls and point us away from the mess of debris we are floating in. I’ve got to get away, I’ve just got to get away, I keep thinking.
A braver person, a better person, might have thought to secure Dax in some way before trying to navigate through this dangerous path, but me…I just have to run.
I don’t understand the pod’s sensors, so I have to utilize the view window for direction. All I can see is a small rectangle of space. My palms sweat when I think of every other angle I’m blind to right now.
It’s a blessing that the rock and ice laid out before me is all small in size. Well, some of it is basketball sized, but I just press the ship through the debris field regardless. I mean, it’s the only way out, so it’s not like I have a choice. My heart pounds like a jackhammer as I urge the ship forward. Then, just as I think I’m about to make it clear—
Beep. Beep.
A foreboding sound… I visually scan the open space to the front of our ship. Nothing. There’s nothing—
But just then, a huge chunk of comet spirals ahead of us, blocking our path. “Whoa nelly!” I cry out, swerving out of the way just in time. I breathe a deep sigh of relief. That is, until I realize I just turned us back towards the main body of the comet. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh…”
A massive chunk of it has split off and pieces the size of houses careen haphazardly in our vicinity. “Eeekkk! Turn, turn, turn!” I mutter, swiveling the joystick around to put us back in what I hope is a complete U-turn. But every direction I face seems to be filled with obstacles.
Another rock blocks our path toward safety and escape. I turn hard to avoid it, and Dax’s dead or unconscious body rolls to hit the wall. My anger at him flares. How could he leave me alone like this?
I dodge rock after rock after rock, swerving hard to the left before pitching the ship straight up. Dax tumbles like a forgotten coffee mug under the seat of a car. Up, up, up we go, narrowly avoiding death at every turn. Have I said I’m not cut out for this?
Slowly, the artificial gravity catches up and it doesn’t feel like I’m climbing the hump of a rollercoaster anymore. A clear path laid out before us. I lean the joystick forward, trying to accelerate towards safety, but that’s not how the controls work and we suddenly dip down hard.
“Oops!” I say, righting the controls, and finally deliver us to safety. I breathe out a long sigh of relief. I’m still alive.
I continue flying the ship like that for some time, ignoring Dax’s state so I can selfishly remain buckled in. I have to take us farther away from that comet, but I don’t know how far is far enough.
I don’t bother trying to decipher the sensor readings the control panels incessantly spit out. I just keep flying. If I were being honest with myself I’m not scared the comet might catch up with us. I’m scared to check on Dax. I worry that if I do I’ll realize he’s dead and I’ll be all alone out here. So, I don’t even look at him. I keep my eyes trained on the window ahead of me and sit with my back rigid, white-knuckling the controls, taking us far away from this place.
It isn’t until I hear him groan that I finally relax my shoulders and let the sobs escape me. I fumble to unlatch my seatbelt. My legs are weak as I go to him. I let myself collapse and crawl over to where he lies. I’m so relieved that I’m not alone I actually dive against him for a hug. Then I let out all my ugly snot, sobs, and tears all over his chest. Absently he works to comfort me with gentle strokes to my back as he comes to.
“Are you well?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and trying to pry me away from him so he can check to see if I’m wounded. I push his hands away and remain glued to his chest.
“Computer, damage report?” he calls out over my head.
“Exterior hull damage 12%. Interior lighting system fuse rupture, requiring manual service.”
“That is it? Feels like it should be worse, eh?” he says, rubbing his head. “Computer, how far have we traveled since impact?”
“Eleven solar units traversed since point of impact.”
“Eleven solars? How long have I been out?” he asks me, shocked. I ignore him, too busy crying and still too mad at him for leaving me. Eventually he gets to his feet and pulls me up too. Already knowing me so well, Dax scoops me into his arms and hobbles over to the control panels. He reads the computer logs with no small amount of surprise reflecting in his features, before he finally looks down at me.
“You did all this?” he asks.
I turn away. Now that my tears have diminished I’m determined to ignore him again.
“Just what is a librarian anyway?”
I swipe at my tears and let out a long sigh—a mixture of both pain and relief. Finally, raising my head to meet his gaze. “You don’t want to know…” I tell him.
Chapter 9
Dax
My plan is already working and all it took was a head injury and some minor hull damage. Yes, I admit I placed us in the path of the comet. But it was not supposed to have been as much of a danger as it turned out to be. The comet was unstable and began to fracture. A minor oversight, but a major success for my Vivian in the end.
Of course, she sulks now, latched into her own seat, feigning sleep again. But that is alright. She is still acclimating to this life and has now had her first success in the long line to come.