by Anthology
“Danger!” the A.I announced. “Pressure is dropping.”
“What the…?” Tatiana tried to lift herself, grabbing one of the legs of the upside-down desk.
“The hull has ruptured,” the A.I. replied stoically. “We are venting air.”
She swallowed.
“Honey, are you okay?” Hayek's voice came through the ship's radio. “Answer me! Tatiana!”
The radio, which had been on the desk, was lying on the ceiling not far from her. It was sheer luck that it wasn't crushed underneath the desk. She crawled over broken tubes, spreading dust and liquids before she reached the radio. “I can hear you,” she said into the mic.
“Thank God you're alive.” Her husband's voice managed to calm her down. She knew that panic wouldn't help her or the babies. She must behave logically.
“A level two cold geyser erupted right beneath the ship,” Hayek said. “I'll be there in ten minutes.”
“Warning,” the computer announced. “Current pressure is 0.465 atmosphere and dropping.”
Tatiana noticed that she was breathing heavily.
“You must enter the escape pod immediately.” The computer insisted.
“But what about Hayek?” Tatiana said in a choked voice.
“Current pressure is 0.379 atmosphere and dropping. If you don't enter the escape pod within the next twenty-seven seconds, you will die,” it said flatly.
“Hayek!” she cried into the mic.
Once more the world around her began to spin. She saw black circles forming in her vision. She felt as if her lungs were about to explode, forcing her to open her mouth and release what little air they still held. The babies!
“Goddammit, woman.” A dim voice said out of nowhere. “Get into the damn pod. You hear me?” Tatiana assumed it was Hayek's voice, coming from the radio. Perhaps the voice came from inside her head or the computer. She couldn't tell. She fell, holding her throat. Her heart was pounding, desperately trying to pump oxygen to her brain. Her peripheral vision became narrower and narrower. The black circles grew, and so did the pain. No air was left inside her lungs.
More incomprehensible dim voices rang in her ears. Thinking of her unborn twins, she crawled toward the escape pod. She pushed herself. Pushed. She saw a light. A bright tunnel. Then she lost consciousness.
***
Tatiana inhaled. Fresh oxygen-rich air filled her lungs, the sweetest gulp of air she had ever taken in her life. She craved more.
She coughed, opened her eyes, and recognized the place she was in—the escape pod. Lighting came from the floor, and the control panel attached to the wall was upside-down, which meant the Herschel was still on its back. She caught her breath, tasted bitterness in her mouth and spat. Dry blood came out. She decided to remain on the ceiling/floor and rest for a couple of minutes. Holding her belly, she prayed the twins would kick or show any other sign of life. She felt nothing.
“Good news,” the computer's voice broke the silence. “I managed to decipher the RNA code from the two Enceladus samples. It's an alien language. There is an imbedded message within the code.”
“Where is Hayek?” Tatiana demanded.
“Hayek is in the command module,” replied the computer. “I found an additional fact about the Enceladus organism. The two RNA samples are identical. In all likelihood, Enceladus has a single type of organism that is spread all across the liquid ocean underneath the ice-cap. It survives on energy from underground lava.”
“What is Hayek doing in the command module? Is the leak fixed? Is there air in the habitat module?” Tatiana's lungs stung and she still felt dizzy. She knew she had to get up. She raised herself to her feet and stumbled toward the upside-down panel.
“Hayek?” She clicked on the intercom. At first she heard nothing but static.
“Are you okay?” Eventually a reply came. “Tatiana?”
Before she had a chance to respond, an upside-down figure, wearing a fully sealed EVA suit, appeared on monitor. Then the figure disappeared, and a few seconds later she heard a knock on the door.
Through the six-inch-round window in the middle of the escape pod's door, she saw Hayek's face. He still wore his helmet, but she could clearly see the tears in his eyes.
“Tatiana. I thought I’d lost you.” His glove-covered hand moved across the small window.
Tatiana brought her lips to the window, and she kissed the cold glass. “I love you.”
“Are the twins okay?”
“I don't know,” she said, looking at her swollen belly. “How bad is it?”
A hint of a smile appeared on Hayek's face. “Not so bad. I spoke with the mission director on Titan. She dispatched a rescue ship. It will be here in thirty hours.”
“What about air? Do we have enough air for thirty hours?”
Hayek stared at her with glazing eyes. “The escape pod has enough air for thirty four hours.”
“Then we're safe. Aren't we?”
“Thirty four hours for one person.” He shrugged. “And besides, I'm not inside the pod. My suit's air-tanks have enough air for only four hours.”
There was a brief moment of silence as Tatiana contemplated what Hayek had just told her, running the math. Could they slow down their metabolism and extend the pod’s life support duration? Could the rescue ship fly faster? They had some spare time to explore options.
“Computer,” Tatiana said firmly, “open this door.”
“Belay that order.” Hayek's voice echoed through the speakers. “Tatiana, what do you think you’re doing? We lost hull pressure, and we lost our external oxygen tanks. If you open the door the pressure inside the pod will drop to zero, and you and the twins will die.”
“Not if we’re quick.” Tatiana felt tears forming in her eyes.
“I love you, but…” he pointed at the pressure gauge.
“I love you too.” She fell to the floor sobbing.
After a minute of feeling helpless, she wiped her tears. “Computer, how long can the door stay open before the pressure inside the pod drops to zero?”
“Fully open—fourteen seconds.”
“And how long can the human body survive in vacuum?”
“About one minute.”
“Don't even think about it!” Hayek cried. “Your blood will boil and your eyes will pop out of their sockets. And even after restoring pressure, your body will sustain permanent damage.”
Tatiana looked at her belly. She could accept damaging herself to save her husband, but would she risk damaging her unborn twins? She stared at Hayek. “If we open the door, it shouldn't take more than thirty seconds for you to come in and restore the pressure.”
“You don't get it, my love.” Hayek lowered his voice. “I'm dead anyway. If you allow me in, you'll die too.” He sounded confident in his decision. “Listen, if you die, the twins die. That's three people. I’m only one person.”
Tatiana stared at Hayek through the small window. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Hayek shook his head. “The escape pod has enough air to sustain one person for thirty four hours. One person.” He sighed. “Even if I get in and you survive the vacuum, we'll only have enough air for seventeen hours. Perhaps for nineteen hours if I stay in my EVA suit until it runs out of air.”
There simply wasn't enough oxygen. What if they were to breathe slowly? No, that wouldn't work. With rest, meditation and conservation of breath they might be able to extend that time by twenty percent. Maybe survive for twenty three or even twenty four hours. But not thirty.
She was a biologist. She knew there was no way they would both be alive by the time the rescue vessel arrived.
“I love you, Hayek,” she said. “When the rescue ship arrives I’ll tell the mission director about your findings.” She wiped her tears, closed her eyes, and extended her hands, as if touching him. She knew that by sacrificing herself, Hayek would survive. But she couldn’t transfer to him their unborn children.
Tatiana looked at her belly once mo
re. “My babies,” she whispered.
Hayek kissed his gloved hand and placed it against the window.
She stared at the window in disbelief, wanting to tell him once more that she loved him, wanting to tell him to stay with her. Right to his death. But she didn't have the stomach for that. The only thing she could do was cry.
“Where are you going?” Tatiana managed to speak despite her dry throat.
“I'm going to lower myself through one of the geyser shafts.” He said quietly. “I'll be the first person in history to see the water ocean beneath the Enceladus ice sheet. The ocean between ice and lava.”
With her mouth wide open, she watched Hayek stepping away from the window. “I love you,” she burst into tears, as he walked out of sight.
***
“Analysis complete,” the computer announced.
Tatiana glanced at the monitor. Twenty-nine hours had passed since Hayek had left. She hadn't slept in more than forty-seven hours, and hadn't eaten or drunk for nearly as long. Her thoughts dwelt on her husband, his sacrifice, and about their unborn twins. How would they grow without their father? What would she tell them about him? She wondered how long Hayek had been dead. Had he found what he was looking for in that great water ocean beneath Enceladus’ ice sheet?
“What was that?” she asked the computer. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
“I just completed the analysis,” the computer said once more. “I deciphered the alien language and translated the message hidden within the RNA sample.”
“Sorry,” Tatiana said, “What was that?”
“Would you like me to read you the RNA message?”
Tatiana looked at the control panel. The clock showed that she still had about thirty minutes before the arrival of the rescue ship. “Sure.”
“Just be aware that what this is an interpretation of a 3.48-billion-year-old dispatch, translated into words which could be understood by humans. Commence playing…”
My children…
Tatiana wondered why an ancient, world-wide, underwater alien had an RNA code with a hidden message starting with that phrase.
***
My children, children of Earth. My name is LUCA, which means Last Universal Common Ancestor. Like you, I came from Earth.
Eons ago, when I lived there, the entire planet was covered by a huge ocean. I was enormous: a planet-wide mega-organism. I filled the oceans. My cells survived by exchanging useful parts with each other without competition. All my parts acted in unison. I was content for a hundred million years.
But stagnation has its own problems. Through observations, I realized that four point five billion years after the creation of this message, the sun would expand and Earth would no longer be hospitable to life.
I knew I must change. I knew life must find a way to spread beyond the solar system before it was too late. I started to experiment with diversity in isolated lakes. The initial result showed promise, but were devastating to my own existence. I knew that such an evolution would require a sacrifice. Trading my death for your life.
I made that choice for you, my children. And because you are reading this message, I know in the deepest cells of my existence that I made the right choice.
When I realized diversification was the solution, I split into three kingdoms—Animals, Plants and Fungus, giving birth to the ancestors of all living things. To give you room to flourish, most of me had to die.
But before I was gone forever, I detected a massive comet on a collision course with Earth. The impact would be huge. I coded this RNA message in the hope that a few copies would be carried by debris into space, spreading my genetic materials across the solar system. I’d surmised that some of the outer gas giants’ moons might have liquid water beneath their ice-caps. With luck, my RNA would survive the voyage and find the conditions to reproduce, thus allowing you, my children, the means to discover and translate this message.”
I am glad to die to enable your birth. You are, after all, a part of me.
My hope is that you, my children, will embark on a voyage beyond the solar system. A voyage to spread life. The legacy I set in motion.
Your loving ancestor,
LUCA
***
Tatiana cried. She didn't care about LUCA. She barely grasped the extent of LUCA's sacrifice. No. She cried for Hayek, her husband, the father of her twins, who gave his life to save her and their unborn children.
But part of LUCA's RNA code survived, and so did Hayek. His genes were part of the twins. His life’s work was documented and her memories of him survived in her. She felt like her head was about to explode.
“This is Captain Vince McRae from the rescue vessel USCF Copernicus, in orbit around Enceladus. Can anyone hear me?”
Tatiana raised her head. She must go on living. She must do that for the twins. She stood up and walked toward the control panel.
“This is Tatiana Edvard from the Science Vessel William Herschel. We have one…um…three survivors. I’m carrying twins. Hayek Edvard is dead. I repeat, Hayek Edvard is dead.”
“Good to hear your voice, Mrs. Edvard. I’m sorry about Hayek. I’ll see if there is anything we can do about the body. We will land in twenty minutes. Please stay calm. Help is on the way.”
“Thank you, Captain McRae.”
Suddenly she felt a kick in her stomach. The babies. Tears filled her eyes. Tears of happiness. Her kids were alive. Alive and kicking.
“Thank you, Captain McRae. Thank you so much. From me and from my children.”
David Jón Fuller
http://www.davidjonfuller.com
The Harsh Light of Morning(Short story)
by David Jón Fuller
Originally published in Tesseracts Eighteen: Wrestling With Gods (EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing)
As Margaret Harrow stared into the unforgiving eyes of the mountie outside her prison cell, the Holy Spirit whispered to her, You must abandon your faith in God or you will die.
She hugged herself in the incandescent light that filled the one-room police station. She didn't know what to think. Yet in a matter of hours, when sunlight streamed through the window across the room and between the bars of her jail cell, she would be reduced to ash.
I cannot, she whispered silently back. I will not.
You must, said the Holy Spirit.
The officer's face was dark, his brown eyes boring into her from across the tiny R.C.M.P. station. "I saw what you did to those kids."
She squinted her eyes shut and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. For all the long years since her—encounter—with the departed Mr. Mackenzie, which she shuddered to think of, she had never felt as powerless. The decades now hung heavily on her shoulders, and this year, 1930, might well be her last.
It is time to acknowledge the truth, said the Holy Spirit.
What truth?
That there is no God.
Never!
The mountie sat in a wooden chair that looked as though it had been at the station since the Boer War. His left leg was crossed over his right, his left hand pinching the brim of his upside-down Stetson as it lay in his lap. The clock spitting its loud ticks and tocks into the silence between him and Margaret showed half past three. In the tiny village of MacDonald, large enough to house the isolated residential school and a train station to take Saskatchewan wheat to the markets of Winnipeg and Toronto, but little more, they were likely the only two not asleep. Surely he didn't need to guard her? Why, then, was he here, staring at her so? Was it because he was an Indian?
And the small, wooden crucifix that hung above the dark leaded window seemed to pierce her through the forehead. She had always avoided them, at the residential school. Stayed in her classroom in the basement, where she refused to have one put up. The sign had always made her feel weak; when the nuns, half-breeds and savages swarmed about her wearing them, the sight even hurt her as if she had swallowed a clutch of sewing needles. But she had never deserted her
Lord. She knew He must be testing her.
She waited for an answer, now, in the warm cell as the hissing radiators blocked out the chill of a Saskatchewan autumn. But none came. Perhaps this was something different. But what? Her faith would remain strong. Only then would she be delivered, she knew.
But now, a doubt gnawed at her. How did she know the voice she had heard, through the years as her thirst for what she called her "Communion" grew insatiable, was that of the Holy Spirit? What if it were—
"I know what you are," said the mountie. "What you can do to people. So don't 'ask' to leave. I made sure to throw the keys away outside. No one, not even me, will be able to find them until morning."
She looked him up and down. The anger in him was palpable, it hit her like a gust of prairie wind before a storm. His short-cropped hair was black as coal, his skin brown, the line of his nose showing her was one of them, an Indian. Resentment wafted out from him, in ways he probably didn't even realize, sitting there in his red serge, blue trousers and dust-covered boots. Since the Holy Spirit had begun guiding her, people's feelings, and sometimes even their thoughts, were as clear as the pages of a diary to her. She was also a shrewd guesser.
"I remember you," she said.
He flinched.
"Bobby," she said. "Robert."
"Not the name I was born with."
She nodded. "But it's the one we gave you. The one you still use, I'd wager."
He smoothed his necktie. "You can call me Constable Courchene. Or just 'Officer.'"
She closed her eyes a moment. "Slow to read, but always a good shot. You brought the school ducks and geese from the marsh."
He said nothing, but swallowed, trying to keep his face a mask, clearly. She smiled. She wasn't reading his face.
"You were from…Manitoba."
He shifted, turning away from her on his chair. "Winnipeg."
"Yet you came back here, to Saskatchewan." Her mind raced, trying to keep him talking so she could—perhaps—win him over, find another way out of the cell. "This place must have been important to you."
He spat. The act, of an officer doing that in his own station, knocked her back as if a physical push. "Someone has to keep an eye out for those kids. Sure as hell most of them didn't really 'run away' from the school, like you and the rest of teachers used to say."