by E. M. Peters
She shook her head, “You are the strangest monk I have ever met.”
“How many have you met?” He wanted to know, the question seeming to be sincere.
Her mouth opened to give an answer, but she didn’t have one. In fact, to see a monk was incredibly rare. It was one of the reasons she had thought she was hallucinating on boarding day. The only reason their way of life had survived the religious purge was because they were not involved in the war of 2040. Even then, they were not permitted to frame their beliefs in the context of religion. The end result was very few practicing monks and even less seen outside of their communities.
“None,” Alexa finally answered, sipping on her whiskey. She looked at the bottle and reminded herself that she would need to pace her consumption of it so it could last the journey. It was difficult, however, when the warm feelings were already stirring in her and she felt the sweet release of troubling thoughts as they melted away. “What’s your story, anyhow?” she asked and gestured to the man. “How did you end up here?”
“I will share my story if you share yours,” Anivashak offered.
Alexa looked away with a dull look in her eyes, “I’m drinking to forget about my story, not relive it.”
“I’ll go first,” Anivashak answered. “To put it simply, my life had just gotten too comfortable.”
Her dull look faded as she laughed, returning her attention to the man; “I should have become a monk, then.”
“In the community where I lived, we lived well. We grew food, slept in peace, enjoyed relatively fresh air… but we did not share it. The community felt if they shared the way of life, it would become corrupted and overrun and eventually ruined, much like the rest of the Earth. I disagreed, I thought we had an obligation to share the simple tenants of our lives so that others could flourish. Instead, the community became exclusive and xenophobic. Eventually,” he said, taking a sip of his honey wine, “I was asked to leave.”
“Where did you go?” Alexa wanted to know.
The monk shrugged, “All over. I tried to teach people how to grow their own food and look inward instead of outward at a viewer. I was accused of committing religious acts and run out of many cities.”
Alexa took another sip of whiskey, contemplating his words, “After seeing all that, do you think the other monks were right?”
He shook his head, “Many people approached our community asking for inclusion. Those people deserved to learn what we had to teach. My mistake was trying to teach the unwilling.”
“So you decided to start over, from scratch?” She gestured to the ship.
“In a way,” he admitted. “I am more curious to observe how we decide to live life on this path.”
“You’re not going to try to spread your beliefs?” She wondered. In truth, Alexa had purposefully avoided Anivashak to prevent any such moralizing or fortune cookie like idioms. She had been so successful, she wasn’t sure what kind of conversations he had chosen to have with the others.
“I learned my lesson, young lady. I do not try to teach what I know to the unwilling.” He sipped the wine, making a contented noise, “And I have found that when I talk less, others talk more. I have learned many things as a result.”
“So if you’re not going to philosophize at people, why is it you still wear those robes?”
“They are comfortable,” he answered without missing a beat and they both laughed. When it subsided, he asked, “Why do you still dress like you are in the military?” He put the question back to her.
She made a face and answered back that it, too, was comfortable. She reached up and undid the bun from its place and let her hair fall over her shoulders. “I suppose you just get used to being a certain way.” She added.
Anivashak nodded, “Perhaps that is my reason, as well.”
“How long were you a monk?” Alexa asked.
He contemplated the question, “Since I was 15 years. I was caught stealing apples from the orchard and made to do chores in the community to make up for the food I had successfully stolen before I had been caught. I didn’t mind the chores if it meant I could eat at the end of the day, and I so I simply did not leave. Not until much later.”
Alexa ran her thumb along the neck of her bottle, “I was only in the military for four years. One tour.” She said quietly.
“It was not what you expected.” Anivashak said. It was not a question – it was a statement of fact.
She nodded, eyes turning distant when she had the sudden realization that she was no longer on Earth. She was no longer bound by the gag order she had been forced to sign. She was mentally free. Free to talk about what had plagued and festered in her mind. She refocused her eyes on Anivashak and hesitated. Was this a burden she really wanted to share? “Do you really want to hear my story?” She asked aloud. She felt her chest tighten as she hoped that he did. In that moment, she desperately wanted to say the words aloud; to talk about what had happened in Old Egypt, just now on Colony One – and about how she felt like she didn’t deserve to live.
Anivashak nodded once – his expression clear that he was ready to listen without reserve.
And so she told him. She told him everything. She told him more than she had told any other person and things that she had even lied to herself about. She had abandoned the whiskey early on in her story and found herself speaking through tears.
All the while, Anivashak listened with a quiet intensity. When she was done, he didn’t speak. He merely reached out and took her hand in the firm grip of his leathery palm. They sat in a healing silence until they were both ready and able to return to their bunks.
Alexa lay in her bunk feeling lighter – as if the vice grip that had been tightening around her for years had finally relented. Telling Bob about all the forbidden things she had locked inside of her was like drawing venom from her blood. Her fingers tingled with the sensation of it as she drifted to a welcome and warm darkness.
09
Hyperion, Mission Day 23
Charlie strode onto the bridge and relieved the ship’s autopilot. He was becoming restless letting the ship do all the piloting, and he had made up his mind the night before that he would take the time to monitor progress and make any minor course corrections that were needed manually.
Full on morning eggs and coffee, he tapped the console and read over the evening reports with undivided attention. When he finished, he fixed his attention on the projections for the next marker point given by the buoys they had been following. He noticed something was wrong immediately. His brow furrowed and he leaned in closer to the console as if it might help to provide clarity. He opened additional applications to double check his findings.
His face felt hot as his heart raced with the realization. He keyed on the audio system. “Captain to the bridge,” he spoke into it with a clipped tone. Niko arrived before Captain Avery, though she was not far behind him.
“What’s going on, Charlie Foxtrot?” She wanted to know. She looked as if she was not exactly a morning person – though she was dressed with her side arm, which she was rarely seen without. Behind her, Makenna, Finn and the doctor filtered onto the deck. She glanced at the recent arrivals – particularly Finn with the camera that never seemed to be far from around her neck – and commented gruffly, “Captain to the bridge does not mean ‘all hands report.’”
Finn moved off to the briefing room to watch and the doctor followed as if to say – ‘we’ll stay out of the way.’ Makenna and Niko went to their stations so they could pretend to work.
Everyone noticed Charlie’s anxiety. He was still tapping away at the console and he had dropped the ship off the long range engines. “There is no sign of the next communication’s buoy, Captain.”
“So vector in on the next one,” Avery suggested with a put upon look.
“No,” Charlie shook his head and turned in his chair to face her. “You don’t understand. There is no sign of any communications buoys from this point and beyond.”
&nbs
p; Upon hearing this, Niko went from pretending to work to actually working. He hunched over his console and brought up the relevant star charts and engaged signal scanning on several frequencies.
“Are you sure you didn’t program the autopilot incorrectly?” Avery asked, “Even a slight variation would set us off course.”
Charlie fixed her with a frustrated look, “Yes, I’m sure. Look,” He keyed the console to project his readouts into the space above the console so she could see it. “This is us,” he pointed at a marker. “These are the buoys behind us, trailing back to earth. We are on the correct trajectory.”
“Isn’t this around the same region Colony One lost verbal communication capability?” Finn asked from the door of the briefing room.
“Yes,” Niko answered without looking up from his console, and continued, “but the buoys should be uninterrupted until we reach Colony Alpha. The reason for verbal communication black out is the signal gets degraded when it is relayed too many times. Mr. Foster is correct. The trail ends here.”
“An asteroid probably took a few out,” Avery said, gesturing dismissively. “We have the coordinates for the colony. Point us in that direction and fly.” She advised.
Niko’s hands were flying over his console. He was discovering what Charlie obviously had – what had caused him to panic and call the Captain to the bridge. “Long range sensors are not reading a planet at the coordinates we were given,” he said before Charlie could. There was shock and horror in his voice.
“That can’t be right,” Finn said with some alarm.
“The sensors must be wrong,” Avery agreed. “We will use the coordinates given to us, regardless of what the sensors say.”
“Why would they give us coordinates to nowhere?” Finn asked, the unease in her tone growing.
“They are not coordinates to nowhere,” Avery answered slowly, dropping her tone to indicate she was losing patience. “Now continue your course, Mr. Foster.”
With a frustrated sigh, Charlie started the process of reinitializing the long range engines. Uncomfortable and tense silence filled the bridge as he worked. Avery began to relax as he followed her orders.
A sudden and shrill beeping rose up from Niko’s console. He leaned over it and magnified the application to identify the source. “Wait a minute,” he called out. “I’m picking something up.”
“A buoy?” Charlie asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Avery cut in. “We are following our coordinates.”
“The signal is not like the buoys we’ve been following. It’s just… space debris. Looks like a large cargo container, approximately 958 kilometers out.” Niko reported.
“Anything else?” Charlie asked, ignoring the agitation building in Avery.
“There is a series of them,” Niko keyed his console to project for the others crowded around the bridge. It simulated the image of space and the cube-like objects that lined up, making what looked like a straight line. “It’s a trail,” he asserted.
“It leads away from our prescribed destination coordinates,” Avery pointed out.
“Breadcrumbs,” Charlie said with renewed enthusiasm. “They left breadcrumbs when they ran out of buoys.”
Niko was nodding, “That has to be it.”
“Send the coordinates of the first container to my console.” Charlie clipped. Niko complied immediately.
“No, absolutely not!” Avery took a step closer to both men, “We do not have the time or the fuel to run off on wild goose chases. Mr. Foster, maintain your heading.”
“There’s nothing at the coordinates the confederation gave us,” Charlie insisted without looking up from his console. “It’s not worth our time or our fuel to continue that course.” He keyed in the new coordinates and engaged the long range engines.
Captain Avery’s eyes widened at his disobedience, and her body tensed as she warned, “Mr. Foster, I am giving you a direct order to change course back to the approved coordinates. If we run out of fuel out here, we’re all dead.”
“We’ll be fine.” Charlie dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.
At his response and in one swift and abrupt moment, Captain Avery drew her side arm and circled Charlie to stand to his left, barrel trained at his head. He glanced over and, realizing what was happening, jumped slightly in his seat with a muffled curse. He took his hands off the console and raised them slightly. She walked forward and pressed the cool tip of the gun to the side of his head. The atmosphere in the bridge immediately transformed. Makenna and Niko were on their feet in seconds, but stood still to avoid any accidents on the Captain’s part.
“Hey!” Niko exclaimed with his hands out, “There’s no need for this level of response.” Charlie was quiet as he stared ahead, refusing to touch the console. It was difficult to know, but Niko suspected if their roles were reversed, his main emotion would be fear of a mad woman shooting him.
“I gave you an order,” her voice trembled with restraint. “Change. Your. Heading.”
Charlie slowly lowered his hands to grip the sides of the glass interface. A warning alarm began to chime from the ship’s audio system, indicating the override had been engaged for autopilot. No one was keying in commands and the ship recognized the potential danger. Unwilling to chance being shot, Charlie continued to look straight ahead through the viewscreen, acutely aware of the gun pressed against his temple.
“I said change it!” The woman yelled, applying pressure to his temple.
“I will not.” He held his ground, grinding his teeth as his eyes darted from the viewscreen to the console and back.
“Izvinite,” Makenna’s voice cut in from behind them. Her social skills may have needed work, but her survival instinct was alive and well, “Here is idea. Let us not kill only pilot.”
“He is going to kill us all if he doesn’t change course.” Avery countered.
“Charlie?” Another voice sounded – it was Finn trying to defuse the situation. “What are you doing?”
“I am completing this mission.”
“I don’t think so,” the woman changed her grip on the pistol and used her thumb to pull back the hammer.
“Captain! No!” Niko took a step towards the two with raised hands. It was enough for Avery to hesitate. “I’ll mark our fuel reserves to indicate when we’ll need to turn around. That way we’ll have enough to get back to earth if we all agree that we will turn back when the alert sounds.”
She looked conflicted. She did not want to back down; she did not want her orders disobeyed in any way. But with Niko’s compromise, she had no plausible, respectable alternative. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, “I don’t know, Charlie Foxtrot. Can you agree to those terms?”
Charlie nodded and swallowed hard.
“Good. You two can take the fall when this mission fails and both the Confederation and Citizens United wants to know why.” Avery uncocked the pistol, holstered the firearm and stalked off the bridge.
Charlie immediately keyed commands into the console, calming the warning alarms. A sigh of relief was felt in the entire cabin.
“Why are there no more buoys?” Finn stepped onto the bridge now that Avery was gone. “You said Colony One ran out? I thought they were supposed to be placed before the colony ship left?”
“They were,” Niko answered. “Apparently, that plan was not completed. The colonists seem to have improvised. The ship, or ships that placed the buoys up to this point are not compatible with the placement of these indicators. Those ships were too small to have this many large containers aboard.”
“And the coordinates we were given…” Finn trailed off – she was saying what everyone was already thinking. “Something is not right.”
“I’m hoping this is just a case of bureaucratic incompetence.” Charlie breathed and wiped his brow. His voice sounded shaky despite his efforts to hide it.
“This would not surprise me,” Makenna spoke. “In Russia of century ago, government official can barely fin
d bathroom.” That broke the tension. Mak looked mystified as to why people were laughing – she was being serious.
Winston stepped out from the briefing room and joined Charlie at the pilot’s console, “Are you alright, son?” he asked softly.
Charlie nodded, “Right as rain.” He smiled, and then laughed with a slight nervous tinge.
Winston squeezed his shoulder, “Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”
“Sure, Doc.”
Winston left, looking slightly shaken at the whole ordeal himself. Niko leaned towards Charlie from where he sat nearby at his own console, “Thank you.”
“Autopilot is engaged until we reach the first marker. We can investigate more when we get there.” Charlie said, refocusing to avoid a nervous breakdown. On his list of life achievements, having a gun pointed at him was nowhere to be found – up until now. “What’s our fuel situation?”
Niko double checked the calculations he had entered into the system, “We have more than sufficient quantities. I believe the Captain was overreacting a small amount.”
Charlie huffed and shook his head, “You have a gift for understatement.”
ɸ ɸ ɸ
Avery slammed the door to her quarters and paced the small open space between the desk and the bunk. She wasn’t sure how, but she had to prevent this excursion. She had expected Charlie to back down immediately at the first sign of force. She was most upset because she might have had an easier time convincing him to stay on course if the entire ship hadn’t decided to take audience.
She felt her head begin to throb as she tried to consider her options. She was too angry to think and had to take several minutes to calm herself. The Confederation had cursed her with a civilian crew – how did they expect her to get anything done? In her line of work, people took orders and those who disagreed with you were shot. Life was simpler that way. It was one of the few benefits of overpopulation – employers didn’t get touchy-feely about body count so long as the job got done.