Through the Never

by J. A. Culican

  His mission was to conduct surveys of an assigned section within the asteroid belt. He had two months to fix his ship before arriving on station. If the ship wasn’t fixed by then, he’d crash into an asteroid and die. If he was lucky enough not to hit anything, he’d follow his ballistic trajectory into deep space and then die.

  “Life support,” Benny said. “If I can’t breathe or have water to drink, everything else is moot, isn’t it?”

  Silence.

  “I was talking to you, stupid computer. What’s your name anyway?”

  “The occupant of the ship is to give me a name. It makes it easier for the crew if they get to name me. I don’t care what I’m called as long as it makes you comfortable.”

  “How many ‘crew’ have you had?” Benny wondered aloud.

  “You will make the seventeenth pilot and crew of this ship.”

  “Sixteen other convicts? Maybe instead of crew, we call them convictims. A little bit of both, criminal and victim.”

  Silence.

  “Fine. Your name is Butthole. First order of business, Butthole, show me the life support systems, starting with atmosphere.”

  The screen flashed through a complex series of primary and secondary systems.

  “I don’t know what half this stuff means,” Benny conceded.

  “Then we start at the beginning. Your crash course in environmental engineering begins now. Maybe you would be more comfortable in the pilot’s seat?”

  Benny looked at the spaghetti mess of wiring. “I think so.” He climbed to his feet and made himself comfortable. “What happened to the other sixteen?”

  “Thirteen of them completed their mission successfully, returned to the station, and resumed normal lives. Three jettisoned themselves from the airlock.”

  “Am I more like the thirteen or the three?” Benny scratched his chin. He could see why they’d do it, why they’d space themselves.

  “I am not programmed to answer that.”

  “That is a big steaming pile of crap. You’re programmed for more than you let on. No matter. Time will tell, won’t it?”

  “Time will tell, Master Benny,” the computer replied. “Lesson One…”

  Day 9

  “What do you think, Butthole?” Benny asked.

  “About what, Master Benny?”

  “The air. Are we good? Lifelong supply and all that.”

  “The system is now operating within normal parameters. Status board shows green for primary and sub-systems.”

  “Farging A!” Benny exclaimed. “Beer for my belly. Serve it up ice cold, Butthole.”

  “Your one beer, Master Benny.” The food system panel popped open. Inside sat the standard cup in which all beverages were served. It was recyclable, which meant that if Benny took too long, the cup would self-destruct and he’d end up wearing his drink.

  It had only happened once, but Benny considered himself to be a quick learner.

  He took the beer and downed half of it right away. “That is gods awful, Butthole. Can’t you replicate a nice dark beer? It’s the least you can do for your old buddy.”

  “It surely is not the least I can do,” the computer replied without elaborating.

  Benny drained the last of his beer and put the cup back into the dispenser. The cover closed and a slight hum indicated that the cup had been reprocessed. “Fill ‘er up again, Butthole!” Benny called joyously.

  “No can do. The regulations say only one beer per day. Despite your mistreatment of the ship, it is a highly technical vehicle that requires you to be at your most alert at all times.”

  “Ten days and no beer! I should have a kitty built up. Give me one of those beers, you intransigent piece of garbage!”

  “I like your improved vocabulary. Thank you. But no. There is no kitty.”

  Benny raised his arm, ready to throw his spanner, but the muscle-memory hit him. He remembered it all, far too clearly.

  A bolt that didn’t want to come free. He was behind schedule. Everyone was looking at him. He stood, reared back, and launched the spanner. A man stepped from around the corner. The spanner hit him in the head.

  It was a big spanner.

  The man died on the spot. From that moment forward, Benny had not breathed free air. He’d been a ward of the state until they launched him into space.

  Should have launched me into the sun, he thought. He put the spanner in the toolbox. The box was a mess. Each tool had its own place, but they were thrown in together. They had been that way when he woke up on board.

  He emptied the box and carefully put the tools back, one by one, into their designated spots. When he finished, he looked at the screen made to look like a front window. The ship was sealed. There were no windows, only sensors that translated the outside and brought it inside.

  “What starfield am I looking at?” he asked.

  “Capricorn, Master Benny.”

  “Can you show me, please? Highlight the stars in the constellation.”

  An overlay appeared instantly, detailing the sea-goat. The computer started to explain the various stars and clusters, Deneb, Messier 30, and the spiral galaxy known by its group designation, NGC 6907.

  Benny listened and partially watched as he cleaned up from finishing work on the air-handling system. Benny climbed into the pilot’s chair and leaned it backward so he could best relax while listening. The pilot’s seat also served as the dining chair, the bed, the couch, or whatever Benny needed it for. He lived and worked within thirty-four square feet.

  His entire world was contained in that small space.

  Beyond, a universe awaited. All he had to do was fix propulsion next. The computer suggested that environmental control was child’s play compared to propulsion.

  “We’ll start on it in the morning, Butthole.” Benny pulled the blanket over his shoulder as he rolled to his side.

  “I’ll never see the rain,” he muttered. “Can you play the sound of a summer rain?”

  “Of course, Master Benny.” The pitter-patter of raindrops splashing on the ground filled the cabin. Benny closed his eyes and disappeared into his own mind, the only escape available to him.

  Day 34

  Benny buttoned the panel and collapsed on the floor.

  He thought that he had been prepared for the marathon session that was the final fuel system check. Once started, he wasn’t able to stop. There was no way to prevent a cascade failure had he tried to interrupt the process. The computer did much of the work, but he had to open and shut micro-valves at exact moments. He had to disconnect and reconnect systems when ordered to. He had studied enough to know what would happen had he fallen asleep.

  “How many of the others made it through this process?”

  “Master Benny. Why would you think the others had the same issue?”

  “I’m a mechanic by trade. I can see the marks on the access and the systems. If I were to guess, I’d say sixteen different people tore into this. Two were lefthanded. Three or four couldn’t get the spanner on the nut correctly. And the rounding of the corners tell me that ten others loosened and tightened this. About sixteen. How many made it?”

  “The station’s mechanics have worked on this ship over the decades. Only four of the others had an issue with the engines. All four made it through successfully. Only one made it to the captain’s seat before falling asleep.”

  “Make that two, Butthole.” Benny put his tools away, where they belonged, and then put the toolbox away. “Water, please. No, belay that. A beer, ice cold.”

  The dispenser panel opened. Benny stood on shaky legs, leaning against the bulkhead as he put the cup to his lips. He started to guzzle it before stopping, pulling the cup away, and looking at the dark brown liquid within.

  “Dark beer?” he wondered.

  “You looked like you could use it.”

  “Thank you. Can I rename you?”

  “Whatever makes you most comfortable, Master Benny.”

  “I formally proclaim that
from this moment forward, you shall be known as Edelweiss, the purveyor of a fine stout. To you, my friend!” Benny held the cup high before slowly drinking the remainder. He put the cup back into the dispenser and shuffled the short distance to the seat.

  Ergonomic design of the ship. He couldn’t access the food dispenser while in the captain’s seat. He had to get up if he wanted to eat or drink. The bathroom was in the rear of the ship, a small alcove with nothing besides a tiny bowl.

  If he wanted to bathe, he had to use a washcloth. It was a small space in which he was constrained.

  Incarcerated.

  He curled up in his seat and pulled the blanket tightly around him. The seat seemed to have gotten bigger. “Am I losing weight?” Benny said. He rarely kept his thoughts to himself. He simply talked.

  Otherwise, the computer would remain silent, and the weight of being the lone human in all the galaxy would crush him.

  Without having to ask, the rain started to fall. Thunder sounded in the distance. Benny smiled at the normalcy of the absurd. His heartbeat slowed as he calmed and fell fast asleep.

  Day 57

  “When will we arrive at the first waypoint, Eddie?” Benny saved the computer’s full name for special occasions.

  “We will arrive in five days. One if we maintain our current speed.”

  “Maintain our current speed? Is that a joke, Eddie? If I say nothing, you’ll fly the ship headlong into the asteroid field?”

  The computer didn’t answer. Benny watched the viewscreen intently, but couldn’t see anything different. “Magnify our entry point into the asteroid field, please.”

  The screens optics blurred before re-sharpening. Benny whistled as he looked at the field. Most of the asteroids looked static, but some were moving. The closer the image appeared, the less space seemed to exist between the rocks.

  “I think we should slow down, don’t you?” Benny suggested.

  “Rightly so, Master Benny.” The asteroid field moved beyond the right side of the screen as the ship rotated away to fire the engines. Slowing down using thrusters was ineffective. Only the mains could stop their forward momentum.

  Benny was tossed forward as the engines fired incrementally, in the most fuel efficient manner as the computer took over to bring them to a stop over the next five days.

  “Once we hit that waypoint, then what do we do?” Benny asked.

  “We fly parallel to the main part of the field, looking for a way in. It’ll be best if we find a spot without wayward asteroids flying through. Then we’ll maneuver in and start scanning the rocks. I am optimistic that we’ll find mineable resources.”

  “You’re optimistic?” Benny asked. “A computer with high hopes. Well then, Master Edelweiss, I too shall be optimistic. Except for, what’s this? What’s the red light on the board for, Eddie?”

  “The fresh water system has failed, Master Benny. You will have to facilitate repairs immediately.”

  “Immediately? Maybe after a short nap,” Benny offered.

  “Every minute wasted is one minute closer to fatal dehydration. I calculate that it will take three days to repair. That is three days without a single drink. Without water, the cabin air will not have added humidity. It will pull that from you, reducing the amount of time you can go without water. No, Master Benny, you must start immediately.”

  “Since you put it that way,” Benny replied, nodding. “Show me the schematic. We’ll start at the beginning…”

  Day 61

  Benny’s head throbbed. The pain radiated through his eyes, making his whole face hurt. His lips were dry and cracked. His fingers shook. He had been hurrying for a while, for the last four hours.

  But the faster he hurried, the more mistakes he made, and the slower he went. Benny crawled toward the finish line. Once he connected the last valve and it passed the pressure check, he dropped his pliers.

  “Water, please,” he croaked.

  “Beginning the flush of the system. Fifteen more minutes, Master Benny,” Edelweiss replied.

  Benny fell over, his eyes rolling back in his head. The next thing he heard was the ship’s proximity alarm. He struggled to open his eyes. His eyelashes were plastered together. His body weighed a million pounds.

  He tried to speak but couldn’t.

  “The system is flushed. Fresh water is in the dispenser. All you have to do is reach up and take it,” Eddie said encouragingly.

  Benny’s head rolled around his shoulders as he rocked back and forth on the deck. His arm flopped against the bulkhead. His fingers found a control handle. He pulled on it, levering his body upward until he slammed into the cold metal. He reached a shaky hand over his head and found the dispenser panel open.

  The cup rested inside. He tried to wrap his fingers around it, but the angle was awkward. He pulled and the cup tipped. Water dumped onto his shoulder and down his chest. He tapped the cup back into the dispenser.

  His head fell to the side as he grabbed the loose fabric of his ship’s coverall in his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the moist clothing. His tongue was like a chunk of dry wood. He pulled the material toward him. Getting as much as he could from it.

  The panel popped up with a new cup inside. He hadn’t heard it close.

  Benny rolled to his side until he was on his hands and knees. He pulled himself up the bulkhead. He spread his knees farther apart for better balance. With one hand on the bulkhead, he reached the other inside, taking care to get a good grip on the cup. He pulled it out.

  Drips splashed from the cup as he brought it toward his mouth. In the entirety of his life, he had never known such focus as he had at that moment. Nothing existed but the cup of water.

  Agonizingly slowly, it moved. With two hands and Benny sitting on the floor, no idea how he got there, the cup reached his lips and the lifesaving water poured in. Slowly, Benny thought.

  He finished it and slouched on the floor until he had the energy to return the cup to the dispenser. Without having been asked, Eddie refilled it. Benny drank the second glass.

  “Thank the gods,” he stammered as he returned the cup.

  “Only you are to be thanked, Master Benny. You did the work. You did it right. You have water and will survive.”

  “At least one more day, Eddie. At least one more day.” Benny curled up on the floor and fell asleep to the sound of a light rain.

  Day 62

  “It’s not beautiful,” Benny said, looking at the asteroid field on the viewscreen. The old scout ship had come to a complete stop. Benny and Eddie had maneuvered the ship to a holding position outside the belt. Small rocks bounced off the hull with light pings.

  “We’re not going to get a puncture, are we? I don’t think I’m up for another marathon repair session. At least not for a while.”

  “The closer we get, the more debris there will be, Master Benny. We could turn around and go back to the station.”

  “How would we do that? This is a long-haul mission. What happens to convicts who return early?”

  “I’m sure I can’t say, but it is an option. I thought you’d like to hear your available options in order to make the best decision possible, for both our sakes.”

  “Going back early isn’t an option, Eddie. I’m still a convict. I’m still angry at the world.” Benny looked down. “I’m still me.”

  “Who else would you be?” the computer probed.

  “Someone who doesn’t kill people.”

  “Isn’t that who you are now?”

  “Only because I’m out here all alone. I’m sorry. It’s just out here. It’s probably safer for everyone on the station as long as I’m here, but that’s enough of the remorseful crap. We have a job to do, Eddie. Clockwise or counterclockwise? Which way do you recommend we go to find a way in?”

  “The field rotates counterclockwise, Master Benny. The micro-asteroid impacts will be lessened if we head in that direction.”

  “Mind if I take the wheel for a bit?” Benny asked.

 
“I find it disturbing that you refer to a wheel when there is no such device as part of the helm. If you require assistance, I am here to help. It is what I do, after all.”

  Benny smiled and manually adjusted the settings. He thumbed the controls, and the thrusters tipped the nose away from the asteroid field. He nudged the main engines, and the ship slowly gained speed.

  “Not too fast,” he told himself, but kept tickling the mains, driving the ship forward faster.

  He crashed through a cloud of small rocks, covering his ears with his hands at the sound. Benny quickly touched the thrusters, but it wasn’t slowing the ship quickly enough. He turned the ship around and touched the mains. He slammed backward into his seat, but the small ship responded.

  “Sorry about that, Edelweiss. How is the ship?”

  “Running diagnostics now,” Eddie replied. After a few moments, the status panel flashed green. Primary and sub-systems were nominal.

  “Sorry, Eddie. That was a close one. I may not be good to live with humanity, but I’m not quite ready to die yet, either. Come on, buddy. We have a mission and we’re the only ones out here to do it. Let’s find a way out and go survey some rocks.”

  “As you wish, Master Benny.”

  Day 75

  “You think that’s it?” Benny asked. His skepticism seemed to be lost on Edelweiss.

  “Of course.” The computer’s tone was neutral as it always was, even when it was ribbing the human.

  “Looks small, so I’ll leave our fate in your capable circuits,” Benny said. He sat back in the pilot’s chair and watched as the ship headed toward the gap. They’d seen hundreds, but this one had the least amount of small debris beyond it. Larger asteroids orbited the sun in harmony with each other.

  As they closed on the opening, Benny found himself looking away, unsure that they’d fly through without hitting anything. He winced until he ended up closing his eyes completely and clenched his teeth, waiting for the impact that never came.