by E. M. Peters
Margret Avery was the person the world government called in when they couldn’t ask their regular soldiers to get their hands dirtier than usual – same for corporations around the globe. Back home, she had a handful of trusted partners she worked jobs with and between them, they had seen and done more questionable things than an average person could imagine.
If they had sent her professional colleagues with her on this mission, she would not be having this dilemma.
That reminder made her anger flair. She should have been able to control the situation easily. Was she losing it? It was not often the case that she was confined to a small space with people she might eventually need to… her thoughts trailed off. She was not supposed to get attached to any of these people. She had gone out of her way to avoid it and yet – something had gone wrong. With this non-prescribed deviation, she was beginning to think that she was the weak link.
Despite all her efforts to learn nothing about these people, she knew Finn’s laugh was infectious, Makenna was so earnest it was funny to everyone else watching, Charlie was reliable and thoughtful, Winston was quiet while comforting to the rest of the crew, and Niko was loyal to the point of self-sacrifice. She had observed all this by just the briefest encounters with them. It had humanized them and that wasn’t an option.
Avery sat down at her desk and keyed on her glass tablet. She secured a channel back to Earth, bouncing off one of the last communications buoys and activated the projection setting. Once the line was connected, a ghostly face hovered over the tablet.
“What is it?” The holographic man asked.
“We’ve got a problem,” Avery explained.
The ghost of a man listened to her report but did not respond immediately. He contemplated what she had said finally settled on an order, “Do not interfere with the new course.”
“What?” Avery exclaimed. “The mission was clear with no room for variation. That was not part of the plan,” she reminded him.
“We are curious to see the outcome. Relay anything that you find and report back to receive new orders.” He said and him image disappeared as he disconnected the channel.
That was one way to prevent a debate, Avery thought as she angrily keyed off her tablet.
10
Present Day, EMP Headquarters, Earth
“What do you expect they’ll find if they do find Colony One?” asked an older man with thin black hair of Richardson, who was seated at his desk. The office was opulent only in that it was large – space being one of the most sought after commodities on Earth. It was so large that Richardson often preferred it to even his own home, which was only slightly above average in size. He knew he would be able to afford better soon, however, as he planned to climb the ranks of the Expansion Manifest Partnership. He was surprised it wasn’t happening faster, frankly, considering the colony missions were his brainchildren.
He had warned that there might be public backlash – though even he did not anticipate just how much and how quickly. He, as many others, assumed that the remaining population of Earth would appreciate the extra breathing room that the colony missions provided.
“For the last time,” Richardson sighed. “They won’t find anything, Thomas.” He answered with confidence.
“We don’t know that,” Tom insisted. “We can’t know that. The only colony ship that ever returned was Three.” As they spoke, the empty returned ship was being upgraded to accommodate the fifth colony mission.
Richardson flashed the man a defiant look, “I do know. And you’re just going to have to trust me.”
“Have you read the transcript of Avery’s last report?” Tom asked. “One of those colony ships left a damn breadcrumb trail.”
“Listen, Thomas,” Richardson stood as he spoke harshly. He put his hands on his desk and leaned down to address the man, “I have bigger things to worry about than the Hyperion mission. Avery will contain it. It’s what we hired her to do. Have you seen the news lately?” He keyed on the viewer from his OMNI and images of riots filled the screen. He tapped more commands into the handheld and the images shifted to a map of the world with red flashing dots on areas that were experiencing conflict. They peppered every continent. “This is the issue we should be focusing on.”
“They’re two aspects of the same problem,” Tom persisted. “What will make this all worse, “ he indicated with a sweeping arm toward the viewer, “is if the Hyperion comes back with a negative report.”
“That won’t happen,” Richardson repeated and rubbed his forehead. “Worst case scenario, we make sure they don’t come back at all.” He waved his hand to dismiss the line of thought, “What we need is a distraction. A mutual threat. Maybe a bombing or coordinated attack on a civilian location.”
“That could escalate things just as likely as it will calm them,” Tom pointed out.
“It has proven effective in the past,” Richardson snapped.
Thomas shook his head, “Not anymore, Lance. People are seeing through it, or are desensitized to it – I’m not even sure anymore. What is evident is they’re not afraid to engage in violence or vandalism. Production zones are reporting catastrophic returns. War has been raging for two years now. You know better than anyone what a failed endeavor that has been – it’s barely put a dent in population and it’s only accelerating the planet’s demise.”
“Yes, which is why the guy who proposed war as a quelling technique is now missing.” Richardson shifted his thoughts to accommodate the reality he knew to be true, “We’ll hold contests for lifetime supplies of candy bars, then. Or stage spontaneous food charities.”
“They’re not upset about being hungry this time.”
Point, counterpoint – all exhausting. “Then,” Richardson threw up his hands, “All passengers for the next colony ship will have money given to their families who stay.”
Thomas simply shook his head, “It will be seen as nothing more than a pay-off.”
“I don’t hear you coming up with any bright ideas,” Richardson grumbled. Like the war effort, the three colony ships previously launched had only made a small dent in the population troubles of Earth. With time, it would all but solve the population question – but only with the support and cooperation of the people to fill them. There was a moment of silence from Tom, and then a look crossed his face that somehow simultaneously lit it up and sobered him. Richardson took note. “Well?”
“You wouldn’t like it.” Tom warned.
“I’d be willing to try just about anything at this point.” He said and paced away from his desk to a window that wasn’t really a window in the traditional sense. It was glass, but it projected an artificial image of a green landscape with trees as seen from the 30th floor he was on. It even simulated a soft breeze that made the trees and long grass sway.
“Sign up for the next colony ship.” Tom said plainly.
“Me?” Richardson spun on his heel and pointed to his chest, a look of pure incredulousness on his face.
“Yes,” Tom asserted.
“You jest,” Richardson laughed and shook his head.
“You don’t have to be aboard when it launches,” Tom pointed out. “Just make a public announcement that you’ll be joining the next colony, based on reports of success from the other missions.”
“And then credibility is destroyed and we have to do this all over again when everyone realizes I backed out.” Richardson dismissed the idea.
Tom shrugged, “Not if your mother or some other loved one becomes ill and you needed to be there with her during her last moments of life.”
Richardson pondered the thought, surprised by how much it seemed to make sense. Much of the outrage manifesting into violence was directed at the EMP for not being able to provide more of an indication that the colonial missions were thriving. If one of the key members of EMP agreed to go… it would speak volumes.
“That might just work, Tommy.”
“We’ll have to get permission from the Board,” Tom pointed o
ut.
“You leave them to me.” Richardson assured. “I’ve been spoon feeding them this long, it shouldn’t be difficult to sell them on this.”
“I hope so. The United Confederation Army is already spread as thin as it ever has been.”
Richardson was nodding, “You know what would be even more convincing?” He asked with a designing look in his eye. Tom gave him a questioning look. “If a whole team of government officials signed up for Colony Five.”
Tom considered the idea, “It has potential. So long as we made it clear we were not setting up another world government. One of our selling points was complete autonomy.”
“Sure,” Richardson shrugged, not caring to consider the details. That was Tom’s job. “Get a list together. Create incentives – whatever you need to do.” He laughed, “It’s probably a good time to settle any political scores you may have.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Tom joked, though there was a tinge of sincerity in his voice. “I’ll schedule you for a press conference once everything is arranged. Try to avoid making any long term plans.” He winked at Richardson and left him to his spacious office.
11
Hyperion, Mission Day 30
Piloting had become a full time job for Charlie since the initial course correction. For a week after the discovery, he spent much of his time tracking the cargo boxes and making adjustments for drift. The course they were following did not turn out to be a straight line and to avoid losing the trail, Charlie had to keep constant vigilance. Niko helped, but at the end of the day, it was up to him to make sure the ship was pointed in the right direction.
Dark circles were beginning to develop under his eyes and he found himself sleeping at the pilot’s console more than he did in his bunk.
According to the ship’s clocks, it was three in the morning and Charlie was making yet another calculation when a pleasant smell hit him. It was the enticing smell of coffee, which preceded him hearing the footfalls at the entrance of the bridge. With the smell alone, he felt instantly more energized.
Finn had made it a little tradition to deliver him coffee when he was working for particularly long stretches of time, which was almost every day since they’d changed courses.
“You’re a cool breeze on a sweltering Atlanta day,” Charlie breathed and swiveled in his chair to face the entryway to the bridge. When he locked eyes on the visitor, color drained from this face instantaneously.
Captain Avery was standing in the entrance way holding two cups of coffee. “I thought it was time we had a little chat.” She overlooked his comment and cut right to it. She continued onto the bridge and held out one of the cups to him. He took it cautiously and watched her with interest as she sat in Niko’s chair.
She set her own cup down on the console. Charlie followed suit, wary of the offering.
“Finn normally brings me coffee,” He said because she hadn’t started talking yet. He found her gaze to be penetrating.
“I told her I could handle it this time.”
Well, Charlie thought grimly, at least someone knew he was alone with the Captain if anything happened to him.
“Let me ask you something, Mr. Foster,” Avery braced her forearms on her knees to lean forward. “Who do you think is in charge here?”
“Obviously you are. You’re the one with ‘Captain’ in her name.” He responded earnestly.
“Evidently that doesn’t mean much.” Avery pointed out in an oddly rational and calm voice.
“What do you want me to say?” Charlie asked with narrowed eyes, her passive-aggressive behavior making him bold. “Do you want me to apologize? I’m sorry things didn’t go according to plan, alright?” Between the sleep deprivation and the real aggravation he felt towards the captain, he lost it – “And, I think you owe me an apology for holding a gun to my head!” He exclaimed, feeling completely justified.
Avery smiled, and the look took the wind out of Charlie’s sails instantaneously. His face was changing from one of anger to caution when her hand shot out like a striking cobra, grabbing a handful of his hair. His face smashed into the console, confusing the interface, which made noises of disapproval as a result.
“I don’t want an apology, Charlie Foxtrot. I want to know you will never disobey me again.” She explained in a low growl.
“What the…!” Charlie started, but Avery increased the force in which she pushed his face into the glass console. He worried about it breaking and his face taking the brunt of the destruction. The hot coffee he had set down on his console was in sight and visions of it spilling and burning his face kept him from struggling.
“So let me be clear,” Avery leaned down to speak into Charlie’s ear, “Whatever we find, we are to observe and report, not help. Limited interaction. We go out, see how things are progressing, give them a bag of oranges, and come back to a pretty paycheck. Nothing more. That was the plan, and we are sticking to the plan. You got that?” She asked, twisting her grip on his hair.
He grunted in frustration and pain, “Yea, I got it.”
And with his words, she released him just as quickly as she had grabbed him.
He sat up, rubbing the tuft of hair she had sunk her talons into. “I never said we should do otherwise.” He explained with some offense in his tone.
“Good,” she straightened her clothing. “Because going forward, I want you to remember how I handle people who cannot follow the chain of command.”
Charlie was still in shock with the suddenness of her attack when she left. Just like that, he was by himself on the bridge, sitting in the kind of absolute silence that is only achievable in space. Suddenly, Charlie felt very far away from home.
If it wasn’t for the very real pain he felt, he would have thought he had hallucinated the encounter, or dreamed it up after falling asleep at the console again.
He was smoothing down his hair when Finn joined him, “Hey!” She smiled and plopped down in Niko’s chair. “How’d it go?”
Still half-dazed, Charlie asked, “What do you mean?”
“The Captain said she wanted to make things right with you. I was real surprised when she said so because I didn’t take her for the type to apologize. How’d it go?” She repeated, genuine interest in her voice and features.
Charlie glanced at the entranceway to the bridge and thought that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to make matters worse by alarming the rest of the crew. Who would they have to appeal to, anyhow? Avery was the highest ranking official on the boat, not to mention the only one with a gun. “Fine,” he finally answered. “Hopefully we won’t have any more… disagreements.”
“Oh, good. To be honest I think everyone’s real shaken up by the fact she pulled a gun on you,” Finn confessed.
“She’s not one to cross,” Charlie said, still sounding somewhat withdrawn.
Finn noticed his distant look and was about to comment when something else caught her attention. She leaned to the side and pointed at Charlie’s console, “Hey, what’s that?” She asked.
Charlie turned to look. The interface was still garbled from the encounter it had with his face. Finn was pointing to a blinking alert. He tapped it, then put his index fingers to the glass and slid them in opposite directions to magnify the readout. “It’s a sensor alert.”
“Another cargo box?” Finn asked. She knew from her late night visits with Charlie that he was always on high alert for the next breadcrumb.
He shook his head and furrowed his brow, “No. It’s reading organic.”
“As in… lifeform?” Finn asked with trepidation.
“Go find Niko for me, would you?” He asked, eyes still locked on the console. Finn nodded and hopped up to leave when Charlie finally looked away, “But… keep it quiet, okay?”
Finn saluted and rushed off the bridge. Within minutes, she returned with Niko.
“What’d you find?” He asked immediately, moving to stand over Charlie to read the data scrolling on his console.
>
Charlie magnified it again and let Niko’s eyes run over the scrolling light. “What do you make of this?”
“Based on the rate of drift and the composition, nothing good.” Niko assessed with a frown and moved to his own console, keying in commands in an attempt to gather more data. “Is it in line with the trajectory of our cargo boxes?”
Charlie shook his head, “No. There’s a several hundred kilometer difference, but that could just be attributed to drift.”
“I think it’s worth checking out.” Niko said, turning towards Charlie. When Charlie didn’t move to key in new coordinates, he became more direct. “It will help to have a visual. Can you change course?”
“Only if you run it by the Captain first.” The throbbing on the back of Charlie’s head was still very real. Niko gave him an apprising look but must have come to the conclusion it was his turn to take some heat for yet another course change.
“Alright. I’ll be back in five. If not… assume the worst.” He said and flashed a smile. Charlie returned it with a weak smile of his own.
“Why doesn’t he think it’s good?” Finn asked in Niko’s wake.
Charlie shrugged, “We may know soon.”
“What are you waiting for, Mr. Foster?” Avery asked, surprising them both. She hopped the small step that led up to the bridge and gestured out the viewscreen. “I hear we have another clue to investigate.”
Niko followed the Captain in with a pleased look on his face.
Charlie looked monumentally confused, “You mean you want us to check this out?” He asked in way of clarification.
“Of course. It’s what we’re out here for, after all.” Avery explained.
Charlie gave her a wary look and strongly considered the fact she had dedicated her waking moments to messing with him. “Alright,” he finally said. “Setting a new course, Captain.”
“How long before we’ll have a visual?” Niko asked.
“Not long,” Charlie turned his attention to the console. “An hour at most. Better get Makenna up here to help identify whatever this is.”