“Yes sir.”
He rose and motioned with his hand to the rear of the bridge. “Gentlemen, let’s give them an hour. They have a hard road ahead of them.”
He walked around the couples and off of the bridge with Quinn, Miller, and Marks on his heels. Darius brought up the rear, and the quintet exited the bridge section and into the gallery. Lighting had been brought up from the minimal levels, and the eerie shadows that once dominated the desolate expanse were no more. In their place, Darius could see every inch of the dull, steel inner structure of the massive sleeper ship. He had never before realized just how industrial looking the interior of Gabriel was. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but the time he had spent awake was more focused on duty rather than aesthetics.
“Lieutenant Owens, a moment please,” called Eriksen as he beckoned from beyond the group. Darius walked over as Eriksen moved out of earshot of the other three men. “I want to make it explicitly clear that I will not tolerate any more incidents of you questioning my orders in front of others. Do you read me?”
He paused for a moment. His initial inclination was to nod, but an idea swelled within him, filling him with an almost arrogant confidence. Instead of the nod, a wry grin crossed his face.
“I read you, but I don’t care. My enlistment expired decades ago, Colonel. I’m only as bound to you as a civilian, and that gives me the right to speak my mind whether or not you like it.”
He turned on his heels and stormed off toward the rear of the ship. He expected Eriksen to yell at him or send Captain Quinn after him, but all he heard as he moved off was incoherent stammering.
Calvin McLaughlin
23 March, Year of Landing, 17:43
Michael
Cal stared into the soft glow of the lantern in the center of the circle of sleeping bags. Its small propane canister assured a steady flow of fuel that produced a stable light when burned, though Cal could swear that the light danced and played tricks in sync with the softly plucked guitar. One of his legs started to cramp up, so he uncrossed them, stretched, and crossed them again the other way. He swiveled his back each way, releasing the pressure with a satisfying series of pops.
“You okay?” Alexis asked as she rubbed his leg.
“Yeah, just getting a bit tired.”
Cameron Drisko, directly across the circle from Cal, paused for a moment to tweak the tuning of his acoustic guitar. “Well, we’ve had a hell of a day today. I can’t say that I’m not a bit worn out myself.”
Cal looked around the ring at the faces of his friends. Alexis sat to his right, alternating her gaze between Cal and Cameron. To his left lay Hunter Ceretti. The lieutenant had already crawled into his sleeping bag and had his hands folded behind his head. Vince Hartley, the acting chief engineer, was between Hunter and Cameron. His attention was fixed on the lantern; it seemed that he had been in his own world for the last fifteen minutes. One spot in the circle remained empty, between Cameron and Alexis. Cal had originally thought that Dr. Taylor might be joining them, but Hunter had reminded him that she wanted to spend the first night on the planet with her family, in the sleeper pods above them.
Her son and his wife. Her grandson. Asleep the whole way.
Hunter had let the group decide as a whole how to spend night, and they chose to pass the evening in the lower gallery near the rear airlock. Almost two thousand people occupied the upper gallery and sleeper pods, and a measure of solitude was too much for Cal to resist. Alexis was quick to join in when she caught wind of the excursion to the lower floor.
Cameron plucked at a couple strings, testing their tone. Apparently satisfied with the results, he resumed playing. Cal could not help but notice the precision with which his friend could pick individual notes. Cal had tried to learn to play the guitar when he was a teenager, but could never get past strumming a chord that sounded like a strangled cat.
Cameron’s really good, he thought. Cal stretched again and leaned back, planting his hands on the floor to keep him upright. Alexis found his hand, and soon his fingers were locked with hers. A smile bubbled up, and despite the lack of heating in the lower gallery, Cal felt warm. A dim light in the distance bobbed and swayed. Cal watched it as it grew larger and larger.
“Hey, I think someone’s coming, guys.”
Hunter looked up, and Cameron craned his neck around to see. Out of the darkness emerged one of the crew, holding a lantern in one hand and cradling another object in the crook of his other arm. The light made it difficult for Cal to make out what the item was. By contrast, the man’s inky skin and shining white smile gave his identity away immediately.
Hunter rose up and gave a sweeping, flourished salute. “Captain Gibbins, sir. How fine it is to see you.”
Captain Donnell Gibbins smiled and snapped his own salute in return. “Lieutenant Ceretti. It’s my pleasure.”
“If you please,” Hunter said, gesturing to the unclaimed sleeping bag as he took a seat on his own.
“Of course. First things first, though.” The man’s coal black eyes met Cal’s. “I presume you’re the Calvin that everyone’s been talking about?”
Cal could feel himself blush. “I guess that’s me.”
“Doctor Taylor wanted me to give this to you. She said you’d know what to do with it.”
He stretched out his arm and handed Cal the item that he had tucked under his arm. Cal looked at the leather bag with the valve at one end, and his fingers tightened, causing the liquid within to give way and distort the shape of the leather.
“What is it?” Alexis asked, leaning over to get a peek.
Cal twisted the valve open and took a sniff. The vapors of alcohol made his nose burn ever so slightly as he inhaled. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Alexis prodded.
“Captain, did she say why?”
“She said it was a present to celebrate the landing.”
“C’mon, Cal,” Alexis begged.
“It’s alcohol,” he said, a little shocked. “From her private stash.”
Hunter laughed. “Well don’t just sit there, have a drink!”
“I’m underage, Hunter!”
“So? We just finished traveling over four light years and touched down on an alien planet with this bucket. Live a little,” his friend smiled. “And if you don’t, I’m going to live a little for you.”
Cal looked at the skin of alcohol. The brown leather reminded him of the belt he wore when he walked off the ship earlier in the day. Memories rushed back of the grasses, shrubs, trees, and strange birds he had seen earlier. The significance of the day’s events thrust themselves into the forefront of his mind. He smiled, and started to draw the skin up to his lips, but then paused.
“Wait, this isn’t right,” he said.
“Of course it is. I’m not saying you should drink every night, but this is definitely an occasion where bending the rules is a no-brainer.”
“That’s not what I mean. It’s not right that I should go first.” Cal climbed to his feet. “Captain Gibbins, sir.”
“Please, call me Donnell.”
“Maybe later,” Cal said with a grin. “Captain, I know you were at nav through the whole landing process. Without your skilled hands and quick wits, we’d be in a million pieces or so. Sir, it would be my honor if you took the first drink.”
Donnell nodded and took the pouch from Cal. He drew a deep sip of its contents, then wiped his mouth as he handed it back to Cal.
“Whoo, boy. Doc’s got some good taste,” he said as he laughed.
Huh? She said the selection on Earth wasn’t very good.
“Captain Vince Hartley. Thank you very much for making sure that all of the ship’s systems were kept in working form, so that we were able to get here.”
“Cheers,” Vince said as he took a drink from the skin. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.”
“To Sergeant Cameron Drisko. You were our eyes and ears for the voyage. Not only that, but you have provided so much for our ears to
listen to. I look forward to hearing much more from that six-string of yours once the colony is set up.”
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” Cameron shook Cal’s hand before taking the drink. As he swallowed, he exhaled audibly. “Wow. The doctor must really like you to give you that as a present.”
Cal looked around at the others, puzzled. “Ok, that’s just weird. The last time Doc and I sat down for a drink, she apologized for giving me the cheap stuff. What gives?”
Donnell, Vince, and Cameron exchanged glances. “Maybe you should try some. That tastes like well-aged scotch to me. I’m talking single malt, probably at least eighteen years,” Vince said.
“It’s probably more than fifty years by now,” retorted Donnell, eliciting a laugh from the men.
Doc, you sneaky little…
“Wow. I… I don’t know what to say about that.” He paused, then shook his head and hoisted the skin toward Hunter. “Lieutenant Hunter Ceretti, my friend. Thank you for teaching me so much along the voyage, not to mention saving my bacon a time or two.”
Hunter nodded and took his sip. Cal looked down at Alexis, and extended his hand to her. She looked at it, and then up at his eyes. She took his hand, and he gently helped her to her feet. He spoke no words, but simply offered up a drink. She took the skin from his hand and put it to her lips, drawing in a long swig. She winced as she swallowed, and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a cough. Cal smiled at her.
She’s not used to drinking.
“Alexis,” he whispered. “Thank you for being there for me. You always were, even when I was asleep. I hope you always will be.”
She returned a gentle smile that threatened to turn Cal into a puddle. “I will. Thank you for showing me the stars. Thank you for finding a way to show me the world before anyone else.”
She leaned in slightly, and Cal brushed the hair away from her ear with the back of his hand. “I love you, Alexis.”
Her eyes widened as they drew into a kiss. At first she was a little tense, but her hesitation melted away after a fraction of a moment. Cal could taste a hint of alcohol on her breath as the passion intensified. Then, from behind them, a chorus of whistles rose up from their companions.
“Way to go, Cal,” Hunter cheered.
He broke away from Alexis and turned his head. “Shut it, Hunter. You’re not helping.”
Hunter laughed from deep within his belly, and Cameron smiled broadly as he began to pluck at his guitar strings. Cal felt the warm hand of Alexis brush along his cheek, turning him to face her again. Her eyes twinkled in the dim light with an unusual brilliance.
“I love you too,” she whispered, and drew him in for another kiss. She grabbed the skin of scotch from his hand and took a step back. She cleared her throat and said, “To Calvin McLaughlin. Sweet, brave, and determined Calvin.”
“To Calvin,” the men toasted in chorus.
Cal put the valve to his lips and drew a long sip from the skin. The scotch tickled his throat, which gave way to a slight burning as it went down. There was no doubt that Doctor Taylor had gifted a high quality drink; there was a night and day difference in smoothness from the last drink she had given him. He sat down. Alexis joined him, tucking her arm under his and stroking his leg.
“A toast to Michael and Gabriel for safely transporting us all to our new home,” he said.
Cal took another drink and passed the skin around, starting with Alexis. A silence fell in the great hallway as each person had their share of the toast. Even the guitar fell silent. When Hunter’s turn came, he raised the pouch with his head bowed slightly and his eyes cast down at the light.
“To the lives lost on Raphael. May they find eternal peace.”
“Amen,” Cal and Donnell muttered.
The skin was passed around in silence for the solemn toast to those lost in the tragedy. When it came back into his possession, Cal found that little remained. He swallowed the last of the scotch and set the skin aside. Cameron’s guitar came back to life, but his earlier upbeat music was replaced by a strummed dirge. Alexis repositioned herself to lay with her head on Cal’s lap.
“So what happens now?” Cal asked after a few minutes of silence, stroking Alexis’s hair.
Hunter cleared his throat. “So now we build.”
“Right, but how? I mean, what do I do?”
Only music answered him. His friends appeared lost in the pale glow of the lantern on the floor. Hunter chewed on his lip, while Vince lay down and pulled his sleeping bag over his body.
“No one knows what I’m supposed to do, do they?” he asked, releasing a long sigh.
“I’m sure we’ll have jobs for you to do,” Hunter replied. “There’s going to be all kinds of work that needs to be done. Maybe you could help set up and maintain the power equipment, or join an exploration team.”
“I’m sure there will be something available in construction,” Donnell added.
A great chasm of doubt began to slowly open within him. He truly did not know what he could do to be of immediate help. He had been studying how to make biodiesel, but knew that would require the colony to be at least somewhat set up for him to start. Cal needed something to do in the meantime, but his lack of skills left him with great apprehension.
“Whatever the case is, you’re needed now more than ever,” said Vince. “With Colonel Eriksen deciding not to join with us, we’re probably going to have lots of holes in our workforce. I’m sure you will be plenty busy.”
“What the hell is up with that, anyway?” asked Cameron.
“I don’t know. I’ve been racking my brain on it all day. Has anyone managed to talk to any of their crew since landing?”
“I talked to one of their ops guys a while back,” Cameron said. “But nothing since we entered atmo. Colonel Dayton had all the coms shut down after we landed, so I don’t think I’ll get to talk to him again.”
“Damn. I’d love to know just what is going on inside that ship.”
“Just let them be. We’ll be fine.”
“I know. We’re equipped to be fully self sufficient. Still doesn’t mean that we couldn’t use the help.”
Cameron smirked. “So let it be known that this is where the angels fell. This is where we rose as men.”
The conversation stalled out as each person seemed to get lost in their thoughts. Alexis yawned and fidgeted. Cal looked down and watched as her eyelids began to droop in fatigue. He closed his eyes and put himself back in his dream where Raphael lay broken and scattered on a hillside. The eulogy that Dayton presented ran through his mind over and over.
“Concordia,” he said as he opened his eyes. The gaze of all present lifted in unison from the light to his face. Cameron’s fingers stopped and he squelched the guitar by placing his hand across the strings. “Concordia. That’s the name of this place in my dreams.”
“What are you talking about?” Hunter asked.
“In my stasis dreams. I kept dreaming over and over of Michael landing, and of a crashed sleeper ship just beyond. Every time, Dayton gives a speech to the citizens of Concordia, who marched off of our ship. It was always a remembrance of Raphael.”
“Raphael burned up or exploded, Cal. There’s no wreckage here.”
“But the plants and the hills… I remember them so vividly. I know Raphael isn’t here, but the message was clear. A ship was destroyed, and we made a place for ourselves here. We called it Concordia.”
Hunter nodded and stared off again. Alexis looked up and said, “That’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?”
“Place of agreement,” Hunter replied. “Kind of an ironic name, don’t you think?”
Cal sighed and nodded at Alexis, who slipped from his lap and curled up in her bag. He wrapped his own bag around his body and sighed. “I don’t know. I guess. That’s just the way it was in my dreams.”
“Well, dreams take work. Tomorrow, work is our reality.” Hunter leaned across and shut off the fuel valve on the lantern, and the circle became dark.
Columbus: Demeter
Project Columbus, Book 3
By J.C. Rainier
Original Publication: 10 September 2013
Gabrielle Serrano
Civilian
25 March, Year of Landing, late morning
Camp Eight
Dr. Petrovsky’s feet made a muffled scraping noise as he shuffled them across the packed dirt floor of the modest hut. His body was clothed in a clean blue coverall suit like those that the colony’s soldiers wore, every detail immaculate, right down to the American flag sewn into the left shoulder. He lowered his frame onto a stout chunk of palm trunk that Gabi liked to use as a table, though he had scolded her several times and told her it was his chair. His eyes were half open, and he groaned as he took the weight off of his legs. Gabi popped up from her woven play mat – a gift from Jeanette Vandemark – and skipped over to the doctor with a sweet grin on her face, dragging her dusty, matted stuffed cat, Pelusina, with her. She flung her arms around his belly and squeezed.
“Oof. Good morning, Gabi,” he grunted.
“Good morning! Have you seen Mama?”
Dr. Petrovsky nodded as he yawned.
“Where?”
“She’s here, but she just woke up, dear. Give her a minute.”
“Why won’t she hurry? I’m hungry,” she whined.
Petrovsky let out a long sigh and scratched at his stomach with one hand. His belly had shrunk a lot since Gabi had met him, and his eyes seemed to get sadder with every passing day. At one time, Gabi thought that he looked a lot like Santa Claus. When his beard first grew in, he had ruddy cheeks and a laugh that would shake his belly. The beard he sported then was not white, but she did not care. He used to make her laugh with his jokes. Now his long shaggy beard was marred with streaks of white and gray, his face had taken on the color of ash, and he no longer laughed. All Gabi ever saw him do was tend to her mother, as well as the other colonists who came to the clinic when they were hurt or sick.
“You’re not the only one.” He looked down at her with a gaze that suddenly flared with intensity. “You promise me you’ll stay here while I get breakfast, okay? You don’t leave the clinic without me or your mom, got it?”
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