The Pathfinder Trilogy

by Todd Stockert

  “I’ll bet you’re having fun with all of this endless new territory to explore,” Mary teased, watching the expression on Julie’s face. “Wasn’t Bravo Point close enough? Did you need the Pathfinder to transit closer to those smaller galaxies?”

  “Not at all,” responded Julie. “Without the normal star shine we’re used to dealing with, our telescopes are giving us a tremendous view out here. So now that we’ve surveyed those smaller two clusters – along with the famous first three: M31, M32, and our home ‘Milky Way’ Galaxy – I wanted to move us within range of the final two of the seven major galaxies that comprise our ‘Local Group’. Since we now have the ability to go anywhere we want…” She paused, watching the expressions on their faces, “…I suggested to the Captain that we travel all the way to the other side of the Milky Way so we could begin an immediate analysis of M81 and M82.”

  “The Canary probe worked like a charm again,” Glen informed them proudly. “It gave us a good preview of our next planned transit, and after reviewing its data the Captain gave us the go ahead earlier this morning. We traveled almost twice as far as our initial leap out of the Milky Way.”

  Adam glanced up from his lazily sketched artwork. “The Milky Way?”

  “That’s where we’re from… Earth’s star is located within the Orion arm of the Milky Way galaxy.”

  Adam tried as hard as he could to resist, but in the end he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “So how far did we travel this time?” he asked inquisitively.

  “The computer estimates the distance to be at least 12.64 million light…”

  “No, no, wait a minute,” Adam said, interrupting Glen before he could finish. “You software people are all the same – you just love to use decimals. Floating point, fixed point… I don’t care about the decimal stuff. Estimate, please. Just say 12 and a half million light years or something, but no decimals – okay?”

  “Fine,” Glen replied. “We traveled 180 degrees backwards to the original three Galaxies and then continued on for half the distance between the Milky Way and the other two clusters in our local group.” He paused dramatically, watching the expression on Adam’s face. “Total distance is estimated at 12,642,522 light years.”

  “That’s incredible,” Mary said, astonished. “It’s hard to believe that we’ve been able to rely on the CAS technology so quickly and make those kinds of long-distance transits. For years we’ve been thinking that a simple transit between planets in our solar system was impressive!”

  “This has all been possible because of the protocol that allows us to send a Canary probe ahead first,” pointed out Glen as the door behind him opened and Dr. Simmons entered the room. “If we didn’t have the capability to send a probe ahead to preview the destination area, our ability to leap so far in one transit wouldn’t do us much good. We wouldn’t dare travel that far without knowing what was on the other end. Every time we did so, we’d be risking the entire ship.”

  “The ability to just as precisely control and execute so many quick shorter transits is what impressed me,” Mary replied. “The way we used the CAS Drive against the Brotherhood in that battle the other day was so unexpected.”

  “No one else has the capability to transit that fast as quickly and precisely,” Glen observed.

  Dr. Simmons took a seat at the table and smiled reassuringly at Adam. The elder Roh hadn’t planned on speaking with her about Thomas until after the meeting, so her subtle gesture significantly eased the tension he was feeling. He knew that she wouldn’t just sit down and say nothing if his kid brother wasn’t happily tucked away in his quarters, sound asleep. He quickly checked his watch and noted that the time was 0659, one minute before the meeting was scheduled to begin. At almost the same instant, the door behind Glen opened again and Captain Kaufield entered, followed closely by Colonel Neeland. Each of them grabbed an empty chair and Adam tossed two white foam cups at them and passed along the hot pot of coffee.

  “It’s good to see that everyone is ready to go,” the Captain commented, pointing almost immediately at the donut box. He grinned as the baked goods landed in front of him and selected the only remaining chocolate donut, then poured himself and the Colonel a cup of coffee. “We have two basic but important items to discuss today: Deciding where to go next and appointing a governing Council.” He looked around the table with enthusiasm. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  *

  Thomas was lying flat on his back on the bed in his quarters, staring at the ceiling. He had woken up almost an hour ago, but was unable to move. He knew he was awake because his eyes were wide open and he could hear people passing by out in the corridor.

  What was in that last shot, Doc? He thought idly to himself.

  Overall he felt better, but he still was not convinced that his sleep had ended. If he wasn’t currently asleep and dreaming then how come he couldn’t move? He tried as hard as he could but nothing – not even a finger – would twitch. The voices of people passing by continued to drift in to him through the closed cabin door… sometimes there were adults conversing, sometimes he heard the high-pitched voice of a child. Several times he thought that he could hear an infant crying but he could not be certain.

  The ceiling began to spin and blur, then reshaped into super-sharp focus. He imagined he could see the texture at its cellular level… then the room spun again and he was all the way down to the atomic and then the subatomic. Everything had such a neat pattern to it, he thought quietly to himself. The next thing he tried was to look off to his left and right, still unable to move his body. He also noticed it was really getting hot in the room. Had he left the heat turned on last night? His eyes caught the colored stripes on the wallpaper border at the top of one wall, and he watched them wiggle and dance like giddy circus performers.

  He had failed, he knew that much.

  They were telling him that his health was more important than his job, that others could cover for him and he didn’t have to push so hard… but he knew the truth. He had let them down! He thought of the military people on board, or the firefighters and law enforcement people back home that had been given no choice but to face the Brotherhood of the Dragon and deal with them. Most of them were probably dead… had given their lives in sacrifice to try and protect the safety of others. And Thomas Roh? Well, he couldn’t even sit quietly at a desk each day and make sure his numbers crunched properly without getting his emotions so twisted together that he was on the verge of an emotional collapse.

  Was this a nervous breakdown? Was this depression?

  Having always considered himself normal and in good health he couldn’t tell for certain, just knew deep down inside that he had completely failed. How could he go back to his job after what happened and look people in the face? He sobbed quietly to himself and felt anger building in the room around him – the sum of anger from everyone on board that had been relying on him to continue succeeding. They were probably all laughing at him, but he could tell that beneath the laughter was nothing but anger.

  His skin felt parched to the point of burning, and he suddenly had the sensation that hot, molten metal was being slowly poured over him. That’s it, he thought fearfully – they’re encasing me in a coffin of melted ore. It felt as if his entire body was dripping with some sort of liquid metal – but without the pain. Then the outer layer would harden as it cooled and the process would repeat, layer after layer. For crying out loud, he tried to scream, do I deserve to become a STATUE? No wonder I can’t move or say anything!

  In his mind, Thomas decided that he knew what they were planning. First they were going to display him, site to site, all over the ship. People could walk by and point and laugh, swear at him, or spit. It was their choice. He was going to be the poster boy for failure. Better get your work done, children, the parents would say insistently, or you’ll end up just like THAT.

  When they were done with him, they’d find a planet and bury him deep inside to strand him there forever. No one would ever find hi
m. He’d sit there at the bottom of some tunnel, getting hotter and hotter as he burned his way deeper toward the planet’s core and then they’d simply fill the passageway with dirt and pat it level on the surface. What the hell kind of way was that to deal with somebody who had simply stopped sleeping – he had no control over that for God’s sake? He felt angry most of all because with this kind of permanent solution there was no chance for redemption… they just wanted to cast him off as a confirmed failure and leave him to rot inside his metal shell for all time. He began to imagine that there were bugs trapped inside with him, slowly walking casually across his body, pausing occasionally to give him a quick bite. He hoped none of them were poisonous… or, he decided, maybe he should hope that there would be some venom in their bites so the situation would end that much more quickly.

  He absolutely couldn’t move any part of his body and it was starting to scare him. The soft nighttime lights overhead seemed to dim, and suddenly he sensed evil in the room… something so dark and so deep that it terrified him horribly. He was trapped and the evil was on its way to claim him… he could sense its approach from outside in the corridor as it moved closer to the door to his quarters. Frantic, his eyes bored into the door as he tried to mentally keep it from opening. What was coming? Was it something dark and magical that would capture his soul for all eternity, or was it simply something that wanted to kill him slowly and then feast gleefully on his flesh and blood?

  Thomas could feel his pulse pounding and still he could not move. He struggled to sit up and felt very close to success but it was still a no go. He tried again, his mind warning him that his time to escape was quickly running out. Something hideously evil was about to walk through that door and he did not want to be here when it arrived. Fits of panic began to overwhelm him, and unexpectedly he sat almost fully upright in bed. It took every bit of effort he had and lasted only a second or two before he felt what seemed like an invisible hand press forcefully on his chest and push him back onto the bed. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes and he forced his body upward again, this time swinging his feet out over the floor. Again something he could not see seemed to grab him and force him back onto the bed.

  A silent scream echoed in his mind as he forced himself to sit up again – the evil was SO close now. He landed feet first on the floor and ran for the door. Was it out there? To the left or to the right? Thomas slapped the button to open the door and ran quickly into the corridor, covered only in his pajamas. He turned to the right and ran rapidly down the corridor and noticed another closed door ahead of him. THAT’S where the evil is – he knew immediately that he had chosen the wrong way to run!

  Reversing his course he noticed two people he did not immediately recognize,, even though they were dressed in light blue medical outfits. They were watching from outside his door and had started down the corridor after him. He could not tell inside his thoughts whether he considered them evil or not but right now his impulse was to run away – anywhere – just get away from them. They caught him before he could start running again and held him firmly as he struggled the entire way. He felt his newfound ability to move fading away and they practically carried him back to his bed. Something cool and wet touched his arm and then he felt the stick of yet another needle piercing the flesh of his arm – they were medicating him again!

  Thomas had never felt so pathetic in his life. There’s nothing wrong with me, you fools!

  He tried to shout the words out loud but found he could not. Although he had momentarily solved his inability to move he suddenly had no desire to try and run away again. It was obvious to him that the medical personnel were standing watch outside his door to make certain that he didn’t wander out into the passenger section while his system was affected by prescription medication. He also wasn’t so frightened any more… the utter terror he had felt for a moment was suddenly beginning to fade, so he let his body begin to relax again. He noticed one of the medical people adjusting the heat setting on the room’s thermostat and tried to express his gratitude but still could not speak. When sweat is running down your forehead in great big droplets – he thought silently to himself – then it’s definitely time that someone turns the heat down.

  A few minutes later he was peacefully sleeping again.

  *

  “So…” Dennis said carefully, carefully picking apart his second donut slowly and eating it a piece at a time. “We’ve thoroughly discussed the issue of where we might travel to, and I think we should place that item on the back burner for now. Let’s allow everyone to think about it and we’ll revisit the topic at the conclusion of our meeting today.”

  “Which brings us to this ‘Council’ we’re supposed to set up?” inquired Adam.

  “That’s correct, Mr. Roh. Our ship’s charter was written as a supplement to our U.S. Constitution and automatically appoints me – as acting Captain – to the Presidency. But I’ll tell you right now that I am not eager to fill that role… not under conditions such as we’ve found ourselves left with. I would be more content to serve as a member of the new Council. So I’ll begin as your President, with the intention of handing off that job to someone else down the line.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Twelve is a traditional biblical number, so let’s start out with a total of twelve Council members. Are there any objections to that approach?”

  No one said a word. They all just sat there and respected his decisions on the matter.

  “I’ve read the ship’s charter. It appears as though some of the key positions from around the ship are automatic appointments,” ventured Mary finally.

  “That’s correct. Adam and Glen are in, representing the Hardware and Software Specialists from the Lab wing. I’ve also got…” Kaufield paused to review the notes in front of him… “Julie from the Observatory wing, Mary as Navy and command representative, Karen from our Medical Ward, Jeff from the Garden and Livestock wings, and Colonel Neeland as our Marine go-between.”

  “That’s seven total,” pointed out Mary as she tapped the information into an active laptop. She was the person responsible for meeting notes this go around.

  “The automatics we just named have the option to appoint two, possibly three more people,” continued the Captain. “Which leaves at minimum two – possibly three – positions available to be filled by civilians. Those people will speak for our passengers.” He nodded to Mary. “Please make a note in the meeting transcript that the department heads on each passenger deck should begin holding meetings and nominating potential candidates. We will want those vacant positions filled by the end of next week.”

  “How about we select someone from the hangar bay to fill one of our remaining positions?” Glen suggested. “We could pick Nori or Mad Dog.”

  “Mad Dog. Do you mean Andy?” the Captain chuckled. “Now there’s a thought. No…” he said slowly, “With Mary and me on the Council we’ve already got the Navy well represented. Let’s leave Andy to run his hangar bay and Nori to keep the pilots revved and ready for action… as soon as we’ve got fighters and longer-range shuttles back, anyway.”

  “How about Father Dixon, the Chaplain?” said Dr. Simmons.

  “That’s a great idea, Karen.” Kaufield responded. “We’ve all seen what the Pathfinder can do and I’m not in a hurry to start ignoring people’s faith just because we’ve got a lot of scientific study to do. I think having a spiritual presence on the Council will greatly assist us in our decision making process.”

  “So that’s eight. Do we tap one more and make it nine?” wondered Julie. “Now that the CAS Drive is working, we’ll be traveling further and much of the workload for exploration will shift to the Observatory.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You should take a look at just how much data we’ve collected, just in the short time we’ve been out here. It’s really quite astonishing, Captain.” She shrugged. “If you want, I could ask Kari if she wants to help out.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Dennis, car
efully thinking the matter over for a moment. “Like you said, the bulk of our exploratory effort will shift to you and I’d like Kari available to double for you in those instances when your schedule is full.” He glanced over at Dr. Simmons. “Karen, I got an E-Note from Thomas saying that you’ve taken him off duty for a while. Do you have an estimate as to how long that will be?”

  The Doctor sat quietly, thinking carefully as to how much to say. “As you know, he’s been diagnosed with a sleeping disorder and stress-related issues,” she said. “Doctor-Patient confidentiality prevents me from giving you all the details, but I can tell you that we’re setting up a treatment plan for him since this is no short term incident. He’s been burying stress deep down inside of him for years without any way to let it out… it finally reached out and bit him.”

  “So he’s going to need some time to get himself back together, followed by a lighter duty assignment?” guessed the Captain.

  “Yes sir. Once someone develops this kind of sensitivity to anxiety it can easily recur. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if he has to take a permanent lighter workload.” She shook her head and looked across the table at Adam. “He wants to be as successful as his big brother and he’s been working toward that goal his entire life, so I don’t think he completely realizes yet how much happier he’d be if he just throttled back his work schedule a notch or two.”

  “Then I nominate Thomas Roh for the ninth position,” the Captain said. “I know he’s a software technician like Glen, but we’ve got lots of computers in both the Lab and Observatory wings… not to mention the rest of the systems all over the ship. We’re going to need someone to act as a liaison, and this would also allow us to more directly control how much we throw on his platter. If he starts having a tough time again we’ll just lighten his workload accordingly or assign him some extra help.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Karen agreed cautiously. “But he may not be able to assume that role for a couple of weeks yet. Perhaps even a month or two. Right now the lack of scheduled activities is more important and will be healthier for him in the long-term than having deadlines and to-do lists assigned.”