Heart of the Nebula

by Joe Vasicek

  “So the same debate they had on the rebel ships,” he said, folding his arms. “Why didn’t you do what they did?”

  “Because of what you said when you rescued those girls on the pirate’s station. You said that no one gets left behind. That became our guiding mantra—no one gets left behind, ever. Those who suggested that we vent the cryotanks were soundly rejected, and you became a symbol of hope that it would all work out if we just stuck together.”

  “So that’s my legacy,” he muttered.

  He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, clearly deep in thought. Deirdre sat down next to him and began to rub his back.

  “I’m so, so sorry about what happened,” she said softly. “We all are.”

  James sighed. “You woke me up because you wanted me to save you, but now it turns out that I’m the thing that’s driving you apart.”

  “That’s not true, James. You’ve done more to unify us than anyone else in our history.”

  “As a person, perhaps, but as a symbol? No.”

  “Don’t say that about yourself, James. Don’t put yourself down.”

  He smiled and took her hands in his own. They felt calloused and rough, completely unlike her hands, which were soft and delicate. Still, his touch was not unpleasant. Their eyes met, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Do you see me as a symbol or a person, Deirdre?”

  “As a person, of course.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said, squeezing his hands. “You were a person to me from the moment I saw you climb out of that cryotank.”

  “Thanks,” he said softly. “I’m glad that someone on this ship sees me that way.”

  For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed that he was about to lean forward and kiss her. But then, a cloud came over his face and he let go.

  “Lars was right,” he said, turning to stare at the wall. “The people aren’t sheep, and there’s not much difference between the sheepdogs and the wolves. I’m sure the rebels felt they were doing the right thing when they vented those cryotanks. To them, that makes me a wolf.”

  What is he saying? Deirdre thought. She wanted to stop him from denigrating himself—it hurt her every time to hear it. He was trapped in a self-destructive cycle, and she had to break him out of it.

  “Let’s talk about it later,” she said. “We’ve had enough for one dayshift.”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. “We certainly have.”

  * * * * *

  The next two weeks passed rather uneventfully. The rebel colony ships once again fell out of radio contact, but with the hostages safely returned and the ships too far ahead of them to intercept, there was nothing to do but let them continue on their way. A vigorous discussion of the rebel atrocities all but consumed the forums of the Chiran Spirit, but James had no stomach for debate—not when the victims had been his friends.

  Captain Carlson was more than capable of handling the final approach to Chira V. If anything, James played only an ancillary role. A reunion gala was planned for the four allied colony ships once they were safely in orbit, but the various diplomatic committees handled the organization of that. James wasn’t needed anymore, which was quite all right with him.

  With few responsibilities to keep him busy, he withdrew. Deirdre seemed worried about him, but she gave him his space, probably because she felt he needed it—and maybe he did. But with nothing to do, his thoughts became consumed with Sara. He felt her loss a hundred times more keenly than that of the other colonists.

  At length, the day of the reunion gala came. The four colony ships linked together in orbit to form an ad hoc space station, from which the settlement effort would be launched. With the observation decks all conveniently conjoined, the leadership of the four ships gathered for the gala event.

  “Ah, Commander McCoy!” said the captain of the Lady of Karduna, a portly middle-aged man with a goatee and a double-chin. “May I be the first thank you in person for your heroic leadership in the late crisis!”

  James smiled and offered his hand, but the enthusiastic captain embraced him with a warm hug, practically squeezing the air out of him.

  “Oomph! Thanks.”

  One by one, the diplomats from the other ships came forward. After more than twenty minutes of greeting them all, James felt as if the smile on his face had been pasted on.

  The reunion gala on the observation deck of the Chiran Spirit was even more lavish than the conference at Gaia Nova had been. Heaping trays of gourmet delicacies covered the serving table on the inner wall, while the uniforms of the visiting dignitaries were crisp and colorful. Even more striking, though, was the wild variation of accents and dialects between ships. The guests from the Starhope chattered so quickly he could barely keep up with them, while the twangy drawl of the Lady of Karduna sounded as if it were best spoken through a mouthful of syrup.

  This is more of a first-time meeting than a reunion, James thought as he drifted through the crowd. The only contact that these people had previously had with each other was through radio transmissions, and the only thing they had in common was their distant ancestry. The first generation colonists were still all frozen in cryo—they wouldn’t be woken until settlement was well underway.

  The officers and diplomats from the various ships all glanced at James sidelong, eagerly awaiting his keynote address, but he kept himself aloof from all of them. Instead, he stared down at the magnificent vista of Chira V below.

  Great verdant swaths of thickly forested jungle covered entire continents, while the brown veins of mighty rivers emptied into the vast blue ocean. Down the eastern side of the main continent, a giant ridge of black-brown mountains ran like the coiled spine of a sleeping beast. Higher up in the atmosphere, wispy white clouds mingled with giant mats of floating blue-green biomass. It was a raw, virgin world down there—a place untouched by humanity, full of unexplored wonders and untapped riches. A place wide enough for a man to leave his old life behind and rewrite his destiny.

  “Commander McCoy? We would be honored if you would sit with us.”

  James sighed and returned to the gala. The man who had addressed him was some dignitary from the Starhope, or maybe the Lady of Karduna—it was impossible to keep track of them all. The guests had retired to their tables for the dinner, but even though James wasn’t hungry, he took a plate. When he sat down, a lively conversation was already in progress.

  “Once we’ve unloaded the colonists,” said the captain of the Lady of Karduna from across the table, “we should refit the colony ships as orbital platforms at once. We can’t take any chances in matters of security.”

  “But surely you don’t mean all of the ships,” said a young diplomat from the Chiran Spirit. “If you ask me, we could put them to much better use as cargo haulers—this system is practically teeming with rare and heavy metals.”

  “Security first, my boy. There’s nothing easier to bombard than an undefended gravity well.”

  “You do realize,” said a young female diplomat from the Starhope, “that the peaceful release of the hostages renders this entire discussion pointless?”

  “Of course it doesn’t!” said the captain, hastily swallowing a bite of food. “So long as there has been human society, there has been war. Am I right, Commander?”

  James stared and said nothing. A democracy of wolves.

  “I don’t think we’re in danger at all,” said the woman, ignoring James.

  “No danger? What do you mean?”

  “Interplanetary travel is an expensive venture requiring a great investment of resources. To launch an attack, they would have to divert resources away from their colonization and settlement effort to build their own fleet. It might be generations before they do anything like that, if ever.”

  “Ah, but you’ve discounted the threat from unmanned probes,” said the captain, taking up the debate with unabashed glee. “It would only take a handful of laser-stars to lay siege to this planet and cut us off from space. The
rebels could build up a fleet of them in only a matter of years.”

  “No, I believe Dalya is right,” said another young man to James’s left. “Why would the rebels want to launch an attack?”

  “Because—”

  Thankfully, the conversation was cut short by the master of ceremonies, who rose to the podium at the head of the room and called for attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, dignitaries and distinguished guests, it is my privilege to be here with you at this, the culmination of our generations-long voyage. When our forefathers set out from Zeta Nabat, they were barely more than a band of refugees, leaving a war-torn territory in the hopes of building a new world. Today, that dream has come to pass.”

  The room filled quickly with applause. James couldn’t help but wonder what Sara would think if she were there. This dream belonged to her just as much as it did to him.

  “In the coming days and weeks, we have a great deal of work to perform,” the master of ceremonies continued. “Those of the first generation will soon be woken from their long, cold sleep, and it will be a great pleasure to welcome them to that future to which they looked forward for so long.

  “But one of them is already here among us, one who did more for the cause than anyone else of his time. He needs no introduction, for his name has long been revered by us all. Please join me in welcoming Commander James McCoy!”

  Blood rushed to James’s cheeks as the crowd applauded again, this time noticeably louder than before. Sara did more for this cause than I ever did, he thought as he walked up to the podium. He turned to face the crowd, and the applause died down to silence.

  “Uh, hello,” he began, a wave of anxiety hitting him as he looked out at the hundreds of eager faces that now beamed at him. “Thank you very much for bringing me—for bringing all of us—here. We—”

  There were a lot more people in the crowd than he’d expected. Sweat began to form on the back of his neck as he looked out at them, until his eyes met Deirdre’s out near the back. They had agreed to attend the event separately, just to quell any rumors about them being in a relationship. But when he saw her smile at him, he could feel her sincere support.

  “I’m not much of a public speaker, so sorry if I stammer a bit. But what I lack in grace, I try to make up for in action. People tend to remember deeds a lot longer than words, and—well, I guess you’re all a testament to that.”

  The room broke out in spontaneous applause, cutting him short. He nodded and held up his hand, and the noise gradually died down.

  “We worked for this dream for so long, it’s actually kind of strange to see you all here right now. I wasn’t the only one of course—in fact, I probably wasn’t the most important one. We all made sacrifices, and yours were just as great as any of ours.

  “This day doesn’t belong to me, or to any one woman or man,” he continued. “And while I know that you look to me as some sort of legendary leader, the truth is that my work is already done. My place in history was only to bring you here. Now that you’ve arrived, the responsibility has fallen to you.”

  This time, the applause was more scattered. A few of the smiles were starting to turn to frowns. James searched the crowd for Deirdre’s face, but couldn’t quite pick her out.

  “So much has changed since I went into cryo. This time in history belongs to you, not to me. And while all of you look to me as a hero, there are others who see me as a villain—a wolf. So long as I’m your leader, this colony will never know peace. Therefore, I wish to announce my resignation as your commander.”

  An audible gasp went up around the room. Less than a second later, the roar of commotion was almost as loud as the applause from before. Where once the crowd had hung on his every word, now the room had fallen into chaos. James’s eyes finally picked out Deirdre in the back, and with a start he realized that she was crying.

  Did I disappoint her? he wondered. He’d never thought that his announcement would make her cry. His gut knotted, and for a very brief moment, a seed of doubt took hold in his heart.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please!” the master of ceremonies announced, rising quickly to the podium. “I’m sure that the commander wasn’t being serious—”

  “No,” said James, taking the podium back, “I meant every word.” He glanced out at the crowd, hoping that Deirdre was listening. For her sake, he needed to explain himself.

  “When I led my people into the nebula, we were surrounded by enemies in a constant state of war. The people needed someone who would fight for them—someone who would keep them safe. But here at Chira, our only enemies are the ones we make among ourselves. We don’t need fighters anymore. We need peacemakers who can reach out and make reconciliation possible.”

  Some in the crowd broke out in applause, but it was quickly drowned out in the chaos. A few scattered people even began to jeer. Disgusted, James raised his voice even louder.

  “You think this is our dream? Well, it’s not. You’re free agents—free to do as you like. Don’t let me or anyone else take that away from you.”

  Sara wouldn’t have wanted me to say that, he thought as he stormed out the door. People were calling out to him not to leave, but he ignored them. With the possible exception of Deirdre, though, no one in that crowd mattered to him. He just wanted to get away from them all.

  His thoughts strayed to the virgin world just outside the ship’s windows. The lush green landscape and wispy white clouds beckoned to him like no planetscape had ever beckoned to him before. Down there, he was no legend—down there, he wasn’t any different from anyone. He could shed all the baggage that he’d carried for so long and lose all the ghosts that now haunted him. More than anything else, that was what he wanted—a chance to start over.

  Though perhaps he would be better off ending it all than to try to start over alone.

  * * * * *

  The moment James left the gala, Deirdre ran after him. Her heart was still crushed and her mind a whirlwind of questions and confusion, but one thing stood out through it all: she was the only one who could reach out to him in this moment, and that he needed her more than he knew.

  He had a good start on her, though, and the crowd certainly didn’t make it easier. By the time she reached their quarters, she found him already rummaging through his personal belongings. There wasn’t much for him to go through.

  “Hey,” she said, bracing herself in the open doorway. She wasn’t going to let him go until they’d had a good talk.

  “Hi,” he muttered, not looking up.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You, uh, kind of lost it back there. When—”

  “I don’t care,” said James, his forcefulness surprising her. “I’m through with politics for good.”

  “But James—we need you.”

  He stopped and looked her in the eye. “No, you don’t. I’m a man out of time, Deirdre—a man from a bygone age. I did my part to make peace possible, but my time is finished. Someone else needs to pick up where I left off. I can’t lead this people any more than—than you can write a history that hasn’t happened yet.”

  But I need you, Deirdre wanted to say. Are you going to leave me just the same as everyone else?

  “What are you going to do?” she asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” James admitted. “Go down to the surface, join the settlement effort there. Find a place where I can leave the past behind and reinvent myself.”

  “Alone?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll find out when I get there.”

  Deirdre knew that if he went alone, he would never recover from the pain he carried now. She could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the lines of his face just as clearly as if it were written in a book. The thought of him living out the rest of his days as a long-forgotten hermit, barely eking out a life on some distant, lonely mountain all but broke her heart.

  “You still miss Sara, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  He hasn
’t read her letter yet, Deirdre realized. She could see that in his face, too. This wasn’t the man she’d read about in Kyla’s journal. This was a man stuck in limbo, unable to move on with his life.

  “How often do you think of her?” she asked.

  “All the time.” He sighed and shook his head. “She would have handled the crisis much better than I did—she might have even gotten the rebels to reunify.”

  “I doubt that. They decided to secede from us long before we revived you.”

  Deirdre stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. She looked into his face until he met her gaze.

  “You haven’t read her letter, have you?”

  He stared at her a moment, then looked away. “No,” he whispered. “I haven’t.”

  “You need to find closure, James. If you don’t, the pain will kill you.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She took a deep breath, her skin tingling. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Should I tell him?

  Her heart throbbed in her chest like a nuclear engine, and sweat began to form on the back of her neck. She tried to keep her hands from shaking, but she couldn’t help it.

  Yes, I should.

  “After you first woke up,” she began, “you asked me if I knew what it felt like to lose someone I loved after saying something stupid and careless. I didn’t answer you then, but the truth is that I do.”

  She paused, hands trembling. James stopped to listen.

  “When I was seventeen standard years old,” she continued, “I loved a boy—an engineer, one of the fast-trackers for ship-wide maintenance. He was young and handsome and absolutely brilliant, and we fell head over heels for each other. Our genetic mapping and pedigrees forbade us from having children, but we had friends who were willing to let us adopt.

  “We were married on my eighteenth birthday,” she continued, “and for a little over a standard year, we were happy together. Our friends became pregnant with a boy that would be ours. I took on an apprenticeship with the ship’s chief historian, and he became a line operator for the main ramjet engine. Everything was so…”