Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  Cal nodded. He thought it over again, and decided that wouldn’t be reason enough for Eriksen to cause such a rift. Then a seed of doubt crept in, and Cal got the worrisome feeling that Dayton was still holding back.

  “What’s the real reason, Colonel?”

  Silence answered him.

  That’s it. There’s another reason.

  “What are you afraid of, Colonel?” he prodded, turning to face him. “Eriksen is dead. Fox and her first officer are dead. Kintney’s gone, too. No one can question that you’re now at the top of the chain. Everyone will be looking to you for leadership. So what reason can be so horrible that you can’t say it?”

  Dayton lowered his head and ran his hands through his thick, brown hair. Cal could tell that he was grabbing at it; the tendons on the backs of his hands strained.

  “Because Eriksen was right about being a sympathizer.”

  “What?” Cal gasped.

  The man’s hands clasped together in front of his mouth, as if he was praying. He then glanced up at Cal, meeting Cal’s stare with his own sad eyes.

  “I knew about Doctor Benedict and Doctor Kimura’s intentions for most of the year before launch,” he confessed. “David didn’t think that Tadashi would have the nerves to keep quiet during the whole journey, so he wanted someone up there watching over his interests. Someone who could fade into the background and claim deniability if the shit hit the fan. I was always supposed to take control of the colony if the conspiracy was uncovered or if David, Tadashi, and Jonathan were killed.”

  “Jonathan?”

  “Doctor Fairweather,” he corrected. “The problem was that David couldn’t just put me directly in command; Charlie and Marissa had huge egos, and they wanted that position. David knew this. He hoped that I could convince them to put me in command as a contingency.” Dayton let out a heavy sigh and slumped back into the chair.

  “But you couldn’t, could you?”

  “And now my failure has cost lives. Lives of men better than me.”

  Cal shook his head. He took five long strides to the command chair and placed his hand on the colonel’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze with his hand. “No, Eriksen’s arrogance did that. And you’re a good man, sir. You’ve done just what Doctor Benedict asked of you, in the best way you could.”

  The colonel’s left hand rose to his shoulder and clamped down lightly on Cal’s. “It wasn’t all a failure. I got this right.”

  Cal paused for a moment, confused as to what Dayton might be referring to. “Got what right?”

  “Kept my promise to your father,” he replied.

  “My… my father?” Cal gulped.

  “His hands were full with his role in the War. Shortly after I found out about the plan to repopulate the ships with the rightful balance of passengers, I also found out that you were in danger of being drafted. Your number was going to be up not long after you graduated, Mr. McLaughlin. Your father was desperate. He didn’t want you to go to war. He knew we were losing, and he couldn’t bear the idea of you marching in a column to your death.”

  “Y-y-you…”

  “He didn’t even have to ask me,” Dayton continued. “I had Jonathan add your name to the passenger manifest. By the time your father knew what I had done for him, you were already on your way to Laramie. His last words to me were ‘I can’t repay you for this, Tom. Tell him that I love him, and that I’m sorry.’ That was the day before he was killed in combat.”

  Cal’s lips began to tremble and a tear streamed down his cheek. He had always felt that his father cared, even under his gruff exterior. The affirmation that Thomas Dayton provided gave him the closure he needed, even if the memory of his loss was painful. He took a moment to reflect on the last time he saw his father, dressed in fatigues and climbing into the back of a personnel carrier. The salute that he gave Cal, he now realized, was a symbol of his love and his willingness to sacrifice everything for his only child.

  “I’m sorry,” Dayton said as he squeezed Cal’s hand again.

  Cal wiped the tear away. “No, no. Thank you. I had no idea.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you. From the moment you woke up from stasis, I wanted to let you know what happened. I just… I couldn’t. The stakes were too high.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” There was a hint of urgency in the colonel’s voice. “You can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you tonight. If someone were to find out…”

  “Find out what?” Cal interrupted. “The only person who could really do something nasty to either of us is dead. Your entire crew is completely loyal to you. As for Gabriel’s crew, I don’t think you have to worry about Owens, Quinn, or Miller. When I was talking to Darius I was also approached by a couple civilians from over there.”

  “About what?”

  “Negotiations. For the unification of the colony.”

  Colonel Dayton’s demeanor quickly changed to that of complete surprise. “Unification?”

  Cal nodded. “The two guys I talked to were both lawyers. Both the prosecutor and the defender in Doctor Kimura’s case. They think this has all been blown way out of hand, and they want to sit down with us and talk it out.”

  “W-when?” the commander stammered.

  “As soon as possible. Tomorrow if you’d like.”

  “Tomorrow is… that’s a bit rushed, I’d like a day to prepare. Can you have them meet with us the day after tomorrow?”

  Again Cal nodded. “Just tell me when and where. I know they’ll be okay with it.”

  “The bridge of Michael. Zero eight hundred hours.”

  “I’ll go tell them tomorrow.” Cal started to walk away, and his nerves tingled as he took each step away. It had been a very taxing conversation, but the results were beyond anything he could have hoped for.

  “Mr. McLaughlin,” Dayton called out as Cal neared the end of the bridge.

  “Yes sir?”

  “We write history every day we’re here. History that will be passed down to each generation to come, including those who will reach for Persephone and land on her surface.”

  “Sir?” Cal asked, puzzled.

  “They’re going to write about you, you know that? Everything you have done for us. It’s going to be written down and passed along. The name McLaughlin is going to be revered.”

  Cal couldn’t form a response. He nodded curtly, which hoped the colonel could see, before he departed the bridge with his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or to throw up.

  Darius Owens

  3 May, Year of Landing, 07:55

  Michael

  “You fellas are here right on time,” Lieutenant Ceretti remarked cheerfully.

  The representative from Michael smiled broadly and extended his hand as they approached the crew pod. Don Abernathy was the first to shake it, followed by his colleague Fred Hausner. Darius then took his turn exchanging pleasantries with the lieutenant, leaving Rory Baines as the last of Gabriel’s contingent to receive his welcome.

  “Please, come in. We just got done setting up, and Colonel Dayton is expecting you.” Ceretti dismissed the two sergeants that had escorted them onto the ship, then beckoned to the group as he passed through the airlock into the crew pod.

  The delegation was led up a set of familiar looking stairs that Darius knew led to the bridge. He drew in a deep breath as they walked.

  Identically built ships, yet they smell different, he noted. It took Darius a moment to figure out what the difference was, and determined that Michael had a slightly musty smell to it, whereas the ship that carried him across the expanse of space smelled more clinical, more sterile.

  As Darius mounted the command platform he found that a pair of small portable tables had been set up and pushed together, and they were ringed with the station chairs from the perimeter of the bridge; Darius could see that all but one had been unbolted and dragged to the command platform.

  At least we get to
sit in comfy chairs, he mused to himself.

  Two of the chairs on the right side were already occupied. Calvin McLaughlin was situated at the far right end of the table. To his left, on the near right end, was an older woman with tightly braided gray hair and small, circular glasses dangling on a plain silver necklace around her neck. It took a moment for Darius to recognize her as Dr. Heidi Taylor, who was part of the training staff that helped the flight crews prepare for zero-G back on Earth.

  Lieutenant Ceretti took a seat to the left of the doctor, along the near edge. Opposite him, hovering over the seat next to Calvin, stood Colonel Dayton. He looked as if he had seen better days; his beard was unkempt, his hair was a matted mess, and thick black rings under his eyes were visible from where Darius stood.

  “Thank you for coming,” the colonel greeted. He swept his arm toward the empty seats. “If you please, we can get started.”

  Darius escorted his companions to the left side of the table. He selected the chair directly across from Calvin, which put him between the two attorneys from Gabriel, and left Rory to sit at the foot of the table next to Ceretti. Dayton went to the command chair for a moment to retrieve a stack of notepads and pens, which he then distributed to all present before joining the table.

  Dayton cleared his throat and clicked his pen into the open position. “We’re here to discuss the unification of the two autonomous colonies formed when the two ships landed on opposite sides of the river.”

  Not placing blame. Smart man.

  “Each colony has its own ship, crew, and passenger manifest. To prevent further misunderstanding between the colonies, we should agree in the majority on several key points. These include, but are not limited to, resource distribution, workforce composition and distribution, and disposition of colonists who wish to move between the two halves. Before we begin, I just want to be sure that the delegation from Gabriel speaks with the authority of their crew and population.”

  “We speak with the authority of the population,” Don replied quickly. “The crew is divided. As Darius Owens, Roger Miller, and Tyler Quinn were officially dismissed from service, they were counted with the populace, not the crew.”

  “I see. And if their votes were counted as crew?”

  “Then we also speak for the crew.”

  “Very well. We will proceed under the understanding that the delegation from Michael will present the resulting recommendations to its crew for consideration.”

  That won’t be a problem. They’re just sitting back and watching anyway, since just about all the command rank officers were either relieved or killed.

  “Let us first start with resource distribution.” Colonel Dayton began to scribble on his pad in shorthand. Several others around the table, including both of the attorneys, did the same. Darius held his pen over the pad, but as he stared at the blank page, realized that he had no clue what he was doing or why.

  The group had been sent to negotiate, and he had been approached by several concerned citizens with specific concerns or demands they had for the bargaining table. Many were so minute that, while Darius promised to address them, he dismissed them mentally. Others were rooted in a pervasive fear that seemed to be running through some circles in the Gabriel camp that the other side was itching for revenge after the death of one of their officers.

  Darius knew that he wouldn’t be bringing up a single concern that he had been given prior to the negotiation. He had one agenda that was his singular focus; he would let the other representatives negotiate all of the other details.

  With unification we need leadership. There is only one way the people will accept that. Darius chewed at his thumbnail and pretended to listen to Fred Hausner’s speech about fair distribution of timber harvest resources. He tried to gauge Colonel Dayton’s reaction as the details for this issue were laid out, but the man’s expressions gave no hint of emotion at all. And he’s the one who’s standing in the way of it all.

  “I think there’s a good deal of work to be done before we can simply haul logs from one side of the river to the other like that,” Dayton added, interrupting Fred’s dissertation. “Namely, a bridge across the river.”

  “Would you like to make a counter proposal?”

  Dayton pursed his lips and paused for a moment. “Moving people and tools is easier right now than moving resources. Perhaps all we need is a way to share the workforce dynamically between sides of the river as needs be.”

  Rory spoke next. “We know you’ve got a couple of rafts over there, but those can move what, six people at a time? And what if the rafts get stuck on the wrong side of the river?”

  “I’m sure we could work out some sort of ferry system,” Ceretti said.

  Don nodded in agreement. “That would have other uses besides moving personnel across the river. Communications. Lighter supplies as needed.”

  “And give citizens a bit of flexibility to travel,” Dayton noted as he scribbled on his pad.

  Darius leaned back in his chair and drifted off into thought about the prospect of civilians being able to cross the river, even as the negotiations continued around him. The idea of crossing to the Michael side without repercussions was satisfying, though he bore a slight hesitation when he considered how members of the two crews might react if they came face to face. While civilians would easily and openly embrace each other, Darius had to wonder if any of Eriksen’s remaining loyalists would cause trouble. It was even possible that these men could suffer discrimination at the hands of their Michael counterparts.

  Too many issues. That’s why it all needs to go away.

  “Mister Owens?” Dayton’s voice called him back to attention.

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Do you have a preference as to what we name the river?”

  He felt the weight of the delegations’ collective stares as he looked around the table. He quickly formed a response that he hoped would cover his absent-mindedness.

  “Not really. Maybe we should let the people vote, since this is everyone’s home.”

  The attorneys nodded in agreement and jotted some notes down.

  “Very well,” Dayton continued. “Let the people decide by a simple vote between the proposed names.”

  Darius glanced to his right at Don Abernathy’s pad. Several names were scribbled near the bottom; three had been scratched out, three had been circled.

  Fairweather, Benedict, and Raphael. The destroyed ship and two of the senior research staff, he thought. Both accused of treason, both dead.

  “If I may bring up the next item, Colonel?” Don asked politely. Dayton nodded and gestured in deference. “I hate to burden you with this, but it seems that colonial management has not gone very… ah… smoothly over here for a while. I was just informed yesterday of some agricultural concerns we have.”

  The air filled with a brief, awkward pause. “Go on,” the colonel prompted.

  “It appears there was heavier focus on exploring for mineral and building resources, and I’ve had reports from some farmers that Colonel Eriksen didn’t make time for them or give instructions for where or what to cultivate. Some of the citizens took matters into their own hands and began planting anyway, but we’re quite far behind.”

  Too busy with his crusade to lead, Darius thought bitterly.

  “How far behind?”

  “Hard to tell, but our best guess is that we’ve only got about a third of our fields planted. I know it’s late in the season and we could only plant short-cycle crops at this point, but we could really use the help.”

  “I know without needing to be reminded that at this point the whole colony lives and dies as one. You don’t even need to ask. Help will be there in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Don said as he rose to shake Dayton’s hand. “Thank you very much.”

  “My pleasure. Are there any other concerns that you wish to address before our delegation brings its issues to the table?”
<
br />   “I have one, sir,” Darius interjected without hesitation. He grabbed the pen in front of him and clicked it nervously.

  All in, Darius. All in.

  “Very well, Mr. Owens. Go ahead.”

  He cleared his throat and adjusted the notepad in front of him. He was unsure if this gesture was meant to calm his own nerves or to put on a show of confidence for the other negotiators.

  “We’re talking about a lot of short term goals here. What about the long term goals that were established in the Operational Guidelines? Specifically about governance.”

  A confused look crossed Dayton’s face for a few seconds before his lines hardened into a scowl. “Under the circumstances, I think that the OG’s will have to bend a bit for us. We’re down a ship and a few officers, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “That’s exactly why we need to press forward. Eliminate confusion.”

  Darius could feel breath in his right ear as Don leaned over and whispered. “What are you doing? What are these guidelines?”

  “None of the research staff are here to enact the governance provisions,” Dayton grumbled. “So the point is moot.”

  Doctor Kimura is. Well, if you’d let him out of stasis.

  “I propose a change. Let the people decide.”

  “What?” the colonel gasped.

  “Decide what?” Fred asked.

  “No,” Dayton growled. “You can’t possibly think of bringing up governance at this meeting. We’re trying to unify, not tear apart.”

  “Exactly,” Darius continued, standing his ground. “Just hear me out, and you’ll understand why it will bring the colonies together.”

  He stared directly in the colonel’s eyes. Dayton’s jaw clenched, and his stare was as fiery as the sun, but he slowly backed down into his seat. “I’m listening.”

  “As soon as is feasible, we should hold open elections for new colonial leadership. A governor. Maybe a couple other positions as well. If all parties approve, we can have candidates sorted out within a month or so, and the elections a month or so after.”

  “Two months?” Cal asked. “That’s a short time.”