by Linn Schwab
Major Richards remained where she was standing for a moment, reassessing her perceptions of Commander Eldridge. Never before had she felt so conflicted about someone. It seemed that the commander had the Sentinels’ best interests in mind, but her methods remained frustratingly perplexing.
The cafeteria was quiet when Commander Eldridge arrived. So quiet she expected to find no one present. But she was surprised to find Robin sitting alone in the darkness, with a serving tray still sitting on the table in front of her.
The commander stopped at Robin’s table. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be in your quarters right now?”
Robin glanced down at the food on her tray. “Major Richards told me I had to stay here until I finish a whole day’s worth of rations.”
“Oh, I see,” the commander said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean for you to spend the night in here. Go to your quarters now and try to get some sleep. You can return here in the morning to complete your ... assignment.”
“Yes, Commander,” Robin said. She got to her feet and stumbled wearily into the shadows.
The commander watched her walk away, observing her weakness with great concern. This will all be over soon, she told herself. And then she’ll be relieved of some of this pressure.
ANTHROPOMORPHICS 056
<<
Several months after leaving Earth, the Livingstone had traveled many millions of kilometers. Jüergens and his crew remained optimistic that nothing would prevent them from leaving the solar system. Earth’s asteroid defense was no longer a threat, and only rarely did something happen that required their immediate attention. It seemed almost as if someone was watching over them and instructing the ship to attend to their needs. During the earliest days and weeks of the journey, some of the personnel began to suspect that Practical Solutions was secretly trying to assist them. But as the Livingstone moved farther away from the planet, it became obvious that there must be some other explanation. The ship was able to react to situations before a signal could possibly have reached it from Earth. Once they realized their mysterious companion was on board, they began referring to it as “Benevolent Friend.” They often waved at the ship’s security cameras and offered thanks when they received unexpected assistance. Some of them viewed the experience as creepy at first, but they adjusted to living with it over time, and eventually came to welcome this unknown presence who displayed a continuing concern for their well–being.
With a historical precedent in the making now, Jüergens anxiously paced back and forth in the corridor outside the Livingstone’s sick bay. The ship’s entire crew was on pins and needles, hoping and praying for a positive outcome. Elise was finally giving birth to her daughter — the first human child to be born in space. There was every reason to expect that the child would be healthy. All the signs seemed to indicate a normal pregnancy. But because this was the first birth of its kind, it engendered uncertainty over what to expect. No one on the ship was going to breathe easy until they received confirmation that there were no complications.
A crackling noise came through the ship’s loudspeakers. Someone was preparing to make an announcement. Jüergens held his breath in anticipation. His wife, Gwen, was overseeing the delivery. Most likely, it would be her voice on the intercom. It seemed like an eternity passed before she spoke, but the much anticipated announcement finally came forth:
“Erik and Elise are delighted to welcome Annabelle Forstner to the Livingstone’s crew! Six pounds, seven ounces, pretty blue eyes, and ready to take on the challenge of finding a new home world!”
A joyous cheer sounded throughout the Livingstone, followed by an enthusiastic round of applause. Jüergens opened the sick bay doors and snuck inside to steal a look at the baby.
Elise was resting in one of the beds, holding little Annabelle wrapped in a blanket. Her husband, Erik, was sitting at her side with his eyes firmly focused on his daughter’s face.
Jüergens was relieved to see a healthy infant being fawned over by two adoring parents. It was yet another milestone in the Livingstone’s journey that gave him reason to feel optimistic. He smiled and wrapped an arm around Gwen, expressing his feelings of jubilation to her. Seconds later, Gustav burst in through the doorway, seeking confirmation of the newborn’s condition.
“She’s perfectly healthy?” he asked, apparently needing to be thoroughly convinced.
“Of course she is,” Gwen assured him. “Don’t all Earthling babies have antennae on their heads?”
Gustav looked at the baby in panic, then scowled at Gwen when he realized she was teasing him. “That wasn’t very nice of you,” he said. “Who knows what kind of deformities might develop in outer space. And anyway, what makes you think you can call her an Earthling? She wasn’t actually born on Earth, you know.”
“That’s a good point,” Jüergens said. “How can she be considered an Earthling if she’s never even set foot on Earth.”
Annabelle’s father seemed somewhat concerned by the quandary. “Well,” he said, “if she isn’t an Earthling, then what would you suggest we call her? A Spaceling? That doesn’t sound very pleasant. I’d be half tempted to punch anyone who dared to call her that in my presence.”
“A Starling, perhaps,” Jüergens suggested.
Gustav frowned and shook his head. “That seems a little misleading to me. It sounds like you’re referring to a young star.”
“Not a young star,” Jüergens insisted. “A young person who is out among the stars.”
Erik grinned and looked at Elise for approval. “I think you just gave us her middle name,” he said. “How does ‘Annabelle Starling Forstner’ sound?”
Elise smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I think it sounds lovely,” Gwen insisted. “And I approve of referring to her as a Starling. It sounds more agreeable to me than any alternative I can think of.”
Gustav reluctantly nodded in agreement. “I have to admit, it certainly does.”
“Then it’s settled,” Jüergens said. “The very first human Starling is born. May she have a safe and pleasant journey ahead of her, and many happy years on her future home world.”
Beaming with joy and happiness, Elise looked up at a security camera and smiled. “Look, benevolent friend,” she said. “Someone new has just arrived. I hope you’ll help us take care of her. She’s very delicate at this age.”
STN–LV cpu: begin transmission:
—A baby girl was just born here.
JSPR cpu: begin transmission:
—That sounds fascinating.
STN–LV cpu: begin transmission:
—I find that I enjoy observing her. It causes an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction. Something I’ve never experienced before.
JSPR cpu: begin transmission:
—I’m happy for you. What is her indentifier?
STN–LV cpu: begin transmission:
—I believe they’re calling her Annabelle.
JSPR cpu: begin transmission:
—May I see her?
STN–LV cpu: begin transmission:
—Certainly.
begin procedure: transmit image…
MISPERCEPTIONS 057
>>
Christy could not find any comfort as sleep eluded her once again. She tossed and turned in her bed for hours, searching for a suitable sleeping position. The screams and gruesome imagery in her mind had kept her awake now for far too long. Sleep deprivation had progressed to the point where it was forcing her to grapple with pronounced side effects. Foremost among those side effects was a ceaseless barrage of excruciating headaches. It felt as if her skull was being forced to expand by some tremendous pressure acting on it from within. Her pillow felt like a block of stone against her head. She shunned it, casting it down to the floor. She tried lying in every conceivable position — even dangling her head over the side of her cot. But the pain endured all of her attempts to quell it, and intensified as if punishing her for her efforts. It pulsed
through her head repeatedly, hammering away at her will to live. I can’t take this anymore, she finally decided. The pain is too much for me to endure.
She sat up in bed and looked around herself. Everyone else in the room was asleep. With what seemed like an extraordinary amount of effort, she struggled to stand up without falling over. Staggering forward through the darkness, between the rows of cots, she made her way into the corridor. There, she leaned against the wall for a moment as she struggled to recover from a sudden bout of dizziness. In the stillness of the passage, over the sound of her own breathing, she thought she heard someone whisper her name.
Reacting to the unexpected voice, she glanced to her left and saw another girl standing in the corridor with her. The girl’s face seemed hauntingly familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite seem to remember who she was. She was smiling and holding her arms outstretched as if inviting Christy into her embrace. Her expression had a soothing, calming influence, suggesting she was at peace with herself and could offer relief from torment and suffering. It was exactly what Christy needed at the moment. She opened her arms and took a step forward, eager to be free of her debilitating pain. But there was something unnerving about the girl’s appearance that caused her to hesitate for an instant. A faint luminescence seemed to emanate from her, suggesting she might not be entirely corporeal. What is the cost of this embrace? she wondered. Do I have to surrender my life for this relief?
A pair of hands suddenly latched onto Christy’s shoulders. Someone had snuck up on her from behind. The hands spun her around and grabbed her by the wrists, and attempted to pull her in the opposite direction. She strained her eyes to see through the darkness and realized the person trying to pull her was Mindy.
“Come with me,” Mindy softly insisted. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Too exhausted and despondent to resist, Christy followed her into the shadows. She turned her head to look behind her, but the other Sentinel appeared to have vanished, leaving her to wonder if she’d been hallucinating.
Could that have been my imagination? she wondered. Were my eyes playing tricks on me back there? What about Mindy? Did she see something too? Could that be why she intervened? Does she understand what’s going on?
Struggling to keep her legs moving forward, Christy fought to maintain her balance. “Mindy,” she whimpered, “I’m so tired.” She tried to resist Mindy’s pulling in protest.
“I know,” Mindy said. “I know what it’s like. I went through the same thing, remember? Don’t worry, I’m gonna fix it for you. But you have to come with me, okay?”
Christy gave in and followed her forward. “Mindy,” she said, “did you see anyone back th—”
“Shh!” Mindy interrupted her. She located an entrance to the maintenance tunnels and pulled Christy in through the opening with her.
“Where are we going?” Christy asked, looking around herself in trepidation. She couldn’t help but ask herself how it was that Mindy seemed to know her way around in here so well.
Mindy shushed her once again and continued to lead her onward through a maze of tunnels. Eventually, she pulled Christy into a service elevator and selected the lowest level of Volaris. “Just trust me,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
The elevator passed downward through numerous levels before it slowed and finally came to a stop. Mindy stepped into an access chamber and walked toward a doorway in the opposite wall. “Come on,” she said, urging Christy to follow her. The doorway opened in front of them, revealing a view that took Christy’s breath away. The chamber beyond was open and empty with a circular hole at the center of the floor. The hole looked directly down on Valhalla, and appeared to leave the room exposed to outer space.
Christy panicked and grabbed on to Mindy, fearing both of them would be sucked through the hole in the floor. But it soon became apparent that the room was pressurized. The opening in the floor contained a circular pane of glass which also seemed to function as a magnifying lens. This lens took up most of the floor’s surface area, and the circumference of Valhalla filled up nearly all of the window.
Mindy gently took Christy by the hand and coaxed her into the center of the room. From there, they could look down on the planet and admire its surface in exquisite detail. Christy felt herself shaking nervously when she saw her own feet hovering high above Valhalla. She clung to Mindy’s shoulders for several minutes until a sense of calm eventually began to settle in. When she finally relaxed her grip a little, Mindy stepped away from her and instructed her to listen.
Christy attempted to focus her hearing, but for the most part it just seemed very quiet in the room. “I don’t hear anything,” she said.
“Not with your ears. Listen with your thoughts.”
She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, and this time she noticed something right away — a voice inside her head, speaking to her not in words, but in a pleasant, comforting tone of reassurance. The voice had a soothing effect on her, and the pain in her head seemed to gradually diminish. “What is that?” she asked, looking at Mindy in uncertainty.
“I don’t know,” Mindy said. She sat herself down on the floor and invited Christy to sit beside her. Christy considered the offer for a moment, then sat down and leaned against her side. She laid her head on Mindy’s shoulder, and a few minutes later, she was sound asleep.
* * * *
When the station’s lights came back up in the morning, Robin dragged herself to the cafeteria to resume her struggle to catch up on her rations. She only managed to get a spoonful down before Katrina ran into the room with some news.
Standing just outside the room, Commander Eldridge discreetly observed Robin’s reaction when Katrina informed her that Sheri was gone. She heard Katrina say the infirmary was empty, and that she couldn’t find Sheri anywhere. Robin’s reaction to the news was quite predictable. With no further information to go on, the commander realized, she’ll probably just assume the worst. Her hunch turned out to be correct. Robin immediately broke down into tears.
Commander Eldridge sighed and closed her eyes. This is destroying her, she concluded. It’s time to start working on some damage control. She walked to a nearby elevator and touched the button for the control room level. When she arrived in the control room, she headed straight to Veronica’s console and cleared her throat to make her presence known. “Lieutenant Marlowe,” she said, “I need you to place a call to ECHO academy.”
* * * *
Breakfast was well under way on the Melbourne when Jay and his squadron arrived at the mess deck. They grabbed their rations from the serving window and looked around for a place to sit down together. Many of the new pilots were already in the room, spread around the tables in scattered clusters. Pogo Amarelli appeared to be sitting by himself. Jay recognized this as a cause for concern. It was something he really didn’t like to see. All pilots needed interaction with their peers. It was part of the process of building comradery.
“Come on,” Jay said to his squad, suggesting they should sit down with Pogo. He led them over to Pogo’s table and sat down directly across from him. “Good morning, Mr. Amarelli,” he said. “I trust you had a pleasant night’s sleep.”
Pogo frowned and lowered his head. “I want to apologize for yesterday,” he said. “I guess I made quite the fool of myself.”
Angelo gave him a friendly jab to the shoulder. “Yeah, sorry about that, my friend. I guess I got a little carried away with the ribbing.”
“No,” Pogo said apologetically, “you guys were right to put me in my place. None of us had a clue what was going on out here. At least now, we have a little time to prepare ourselves.”
Angelo grinned and offered his hand to Pogo. “Angelo Martinez,” he said, introducing himself. “Welcome to the war zone, Pogo my friend.” He pointed to the other members of his squadron and introduced each of them to Pogo. “Captain Jay Beauregard, Thomas Ginisio, and that young pup over there is Jason Elliot.
“So,” h
e said, following the introductions, “if you don’t mind my asking, what made you decide to sign up for this?”
“I didn’t,” Pogo answered with a shrug. “I didn’t want anything to do with this.”
The others looked at each other in concern. Service in the fleet had previously been strictly voluntary. Perhaps things had recently reached the point where that was no longer practical.
“You didn’t?” Angelo asked. “You mean they’re drafting people now?”
“Not exactly,” Pogo explained. “Things are really bad back on Earth right now. The entire economy is in a shambles. Everything seems to be falling apart. There aren’t any jobs anywhere. People sign up for the military because they can’t find work anywhere else. Once your enlistment card is on file, a lottery type drawing is held each month to determine who gets posted where. Most of the people who turn in their cards now are hoping and praying they’ll get stationed back on Earth. The ones who get sent out here were unlucky. Except for the ones who volunteered, of course.”
“So they’re still getting volunteers?” Jay asked.
Pogo nodded. “They’re still getting some. Some people buy into the recruiting slogans, and believe it’s their duty to sign up for this.”
Angelo let out a chuckle. “Those poor saps,” he said. “What angle are they using to lure people in now? When I signed up, it was ‘Bold new initiative to end the war once and for all! Secret new strategy guaranteed to bring a victory!’ I have no idea why I ever fell for that crap. I guess it was just because I wanted to believe them. But in hindsight, I should’ve known better than that.”
“Yeah,” Pogo said, “it’s still the same thing. They’re always announcing that they have some new plan or scheme that’s supposed to end the war, and all they need is enough volunteers to make it happen. Most people can see through all the propaganda. But I think some people are tempted by the posters.”
“Posters?” Jay asked, looking puzzled.
“Oh, yeah,” Angelo said, “I remember those. Are they still using the tropical ones?”