Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  Aimee felt acid sear a path down her esophagus. Latching onto Zak’s hand she followed the trio out of the transport chamber into the familiar opalescent corridors of the Horus. Their boots and her sneakers squealed a bizarre chorus in the cylindrical hallway.

  “Gordeelum,” Raja called out, “let’s stop in the Bio Ward first. I am sure Aimee will feel better once we’ve checked on the baby.”

  Relief surged through Aimee.

  “Sure,” Gordy agreed amiably.

  Well, that was a good sign. Gordy didn’t insist that they proceed to whatever glimpse of Hell he was about to disclose. Whatever was waiting for them couldn’t be that bad if it could wait.

  “Aimee just needs the uniform,” Craig suggested with a dip in his dark eyebrow. “Then she’d light up like Times Square and reveal how she is feeling.”

  “I sense you’re not keen on the whole organ-chronicling textiles,” she quipped.

  It was strange to have someone from Earth up here making jokes about Times Square. Zak might have recognized the term, but she was sure it went over Gordy and Raja’s heads.

  “I like my private parts to be private,” Craig declared.

  Aimee chuckled. “If we had this garment on Earth you wouldn’t complain. Imagine what it would do to health insurance companies.”

  “Health insurance companies,” Zak repeated. “Isn’t that the whole reason we’re up here?”

  “Well, I do trust Raja’s care, and she’s a lot cheaper.”

  It was good to be surrounded by friends, the core group that she cherished and trusted.

  Aimee drew to a halt. She stepped up to an unmarked wall and flicked her wrist before it. The wall slipped open to reveal a series of unoccupied beds. The Bio Ward.

  “How did you remember the Bio Ward was here?” Craig marveled. “There are no symbols on this wall—no indicators.”

  “It’s as clear as day,” Aimee smiled, pleased that she still had the knack for seeing through the walls of the Horus. “You’ll learn to manage it. I had the best teacher.” She beamed up at Zak who wrapped his hand around her shoulder.

  “Raja,” he said, “please put us both at ease. I know Aimee is concerned about the effects of the teleportation.”

  “Of course. Come this way.”

  It had been five years since she was aboard the Horus, but Aimee found few changes. Raja walked them through to the private rooms at the back of the dorm-like chamber. Fortunately, the need for all those beds was long gone. Aimee prayed it never returned. She stood now in a room that was familiar to her with its oval windows displaying the innards of the Horus at work. One of them revealed the spacious bridge, active with personnel busily guiding the guardianship. Another window exposed the bay where a group of Warriors were polishing up a terra angel. She leaned in for a closer inspection of the enhanced style of the solo-manned spacecraft. It was sleeker—triangular–with the tiniest bulge atop it for the pilot.

  Aimee felt Zak lean in beside her. “Why didn’t they come up with that model when I was here? Gordeelum, what are the chances—”

  Her elbow cut off Zak’s request to try it out. It was selfish, but she didn’t want to chance anything happening to him.

  Turning towards the next window, Aimee blinked in surprise when Raja bent forward to click the screen closed, erasing the image before she could pinpoint it.

  “Hop up on here,” she ordered.

  Aimee climbed up onto the glass examination table, somewhat uncomfortable with the three men in the room. Raja acknowledged that discomfort with a soft smile. She preoccupied Aimee with a device that looked like a cell phone, holding it above Aimee’s stomach. A full three-dimensional image of the baby formed atop the device. With her breath held, Aimee studied the tiny figure, her finger reaching out to stroke the portrayal. Zak squeezed her shoulder.

  After several seconds, they watched in fascination as a miniature arm flailed as if it was shaking its fist at them.

  “It would appear your little one doesn’t like us disturbing him.”

  Aimee felt tears build up behind her eyes. “Him?” she asked hopefully. Visions of a small version of Zak danced in her head.

  Raja shifted the device, offering a different angle.

  “Oh,” Aimee exclaimed. “It is a him.”

  “That it is,” Zak chuckled and reached around her with both arms, clutching her to his chest. She pressed her face into that wide vista, still smelling whiffs of Earth, grass, humidity, and Zak’s piney soap. She loved this man so much, and now she was going to bring his child into the world. It gave her a sense of pride and fulfillment.

  “He is very healthy,” Raja reported, “but I would like to see you change into one of the thermal tracking uniforms as soon as possible.”

  “But, Craig gets to wear jeans,” she protested into Zak’s chest.

  Raja crossed her arms and frowned. “I’ll see what sort of compromise I can come up with.” She looked above Aimee’s head. “Am I going to have a problem with you too?”

  Aimee could feel Zak’s laugh. “I’ve been in a Warrior uniform for most of my life. It’s not that much different from what they call Under Armor on Earth.”

  Climbing off the pedestal, Aimee eyed the three dark windows suspiciously. “Why did you turn them off?” she asked.

  Again, Raja’s cerulean eyes slid towards Gordy. He definitely did not look to be his old amiable, audacious self. There was clearly something troubling the man. Man. She still had to wrap her mind around that one. If she was to try and gauge his age in Earth years he had to be close to mid-twenties. As a Warrior, he had already manned his own craft to Earth, defying the technology that previously prohibited such attempts. Hah, she wondered where he learned such recklessness from. The fact that he was wearing the dark uniform, similar to the one Zak had worn, she guessed he had jumped up in the ranks and now held an esteemed title—perhaps even that of First Class Warrior, a title Zak once possessed.

  “What is it Gordy?” she asked, unable to stand the tension on his face. “What were you going to show us?”

  With head held high, Gordy pulled back his shoulders and took a deep breath.

  “Right,” he nodded. “The sooner you know, the easier it will be to get you back.”

  Back?

  She cast a curious peek at Zak.

  “What do you mean by that, Gordeelum?” Zak probed in his deep, this is no time for games voice.

  “Come with us.” Gordy beckoned.

  Hopping aboard the linear transport, an elevator that traveled horizontally at excessive speed, Aimee gazed out at the black vista of space. A sprinkle of stars contrasted against the tableau, and in the distance, she glimpsed a portion of Saturn’s bands. Rings comprised of billions of dust and ice particles hugged the huge planet. It was a marvel to witness and she stood slack-jawed, with her palm against the glass.

  A bout of queasiness hit her at the abrupt halt of the chamber. Discreetly, she settled her palm over her stomach as they exited. Only a few steps down the corridor, a sturdy rampart blocked the passage, a door that looked like something you would find on a submarine. No ordinary snap of the hand dissolved this barricade. Gordy grabbed the spokes affixed to it and spun with his arms flexing.

  Shoving the panel open, he peered inside before stepping back to allow them to pass. This ship was so large there was bound to be acres that she hadn’t traveled through, but Aimee didn’t recognize this type of threshold.

  Curiosity mounting, she followed through to see that the hallway was no different on the other side. Okay, so someone had stuck a massive industrial doorway in the middle of the corridor. Why?

  At the first intersection they reached, she was surprised to recognize the string of symbols on the wall above. Had they taken an alternate trek to a place that was so familiar? Not just familiar–it was special. It was her sanctuary. Her atrium.

  Eagerly, she stepped forward.

  “I wonder if your tree has grown,” Zak whispered in her ear.
r />   “Do you remember the combination?” Gordy quirked a bronzed eyebrow in challenge.

  Aimee’s chin inched up. She stepped up to the doorway and molded her hand into the shape of the first symbol. She moved counter-clockwise to the next symbol, fitting her hand into it. She then proceeded in a sequence that returned like it was just yesterday.

  The panel dissolved and the dark archway to the tunnel appeared. She wanted to charge through that short channel to the beauty that lie beyond it, but Gordy’s towering frame barred the entryway. His brooding expression stole some of her zeal.

  “Zak,” he spoke over her head. “You might want to hold onto her.”

  Even now she noticed Craig reaching for Raja’s hand, clasping it tightly.

  “That sounds ominous,” Zak replied, but his arm looped around her waist, his palm cupping her side protectively.

  “It sounds dramatic,” Aimee chided and started forward, pulling Zak with her.

  Usually the far end of the tunnel grew brighter as you approached it, but the shadows clung to the length like tar. Aimee’s steps slowed in that visual muck. She finally caught a glimpse of Gordy’s shoulders ahead. Light, although muted formed around his silhouette.

  “Be careful,” he warned as he stepped aside.

  Aimee took a hesitant step and then gulped for air. She drew in another long breath, but it didn’t satisfy her lungs. Another gulp and she started to hyperventilate.

  “Easy,” Zak’s grip tightened. “Just breathe.”

  “But—I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Aimee sucked in a huge breath. Her lungs filled, which shaved some of the edge off of her panic. She tried to inhale through her nose–this time successfully.

  Finally, with macabre fascination she took in the vision before her. Rows and rows of diverse plant life were now only charred reflections of once vibrant fauna. Ash churned in spiral trails down each alley. She stepped up to a black stalk, recalling its original splendor as an eggplant-hued tree with fuzzy leaves. Beyond it she saw the dry wedge of rock that used to produce a waterfall.

  The horror of acknowledging that everything in the atrium was dead set her to trembling. Angry, she glared up at the culprit. Years ago, when she had first entered this atrium she could not even detect the protective dome over it. It looked simply like the night sky. Now, visible signs of damage revealed that the surface was not completely clear. The sealant was now scarred with jagged cracks, a web of debilitating lacerations. The crown itself was missing, and the gaping chasm of space seeped into this fertile park, sucking the life out of it.

  “What happened here?” Zak voiced her unspoken words.

  Gordy’s profile looked edgy.

  “Two sensors were damaged in a Koron battle.”

  “The Korons came back for more?” Zak barked. Aimee could feel the tension in his grip around her waist.

  “An old battle,” Gordy quickly corrected. “This damage went unnoticed for a long time. We’re talking two sensors out of a near million.”

  “Still—” Zak’s head tipped back, revealing a slow bob in his windpipe. “How can two small sensors result in this much damage?”

  “With the two sensors inoperable it left a microscopic point of vulnerability. It went undetected because any space debris that we encountered was deflected with shields on the bow of the Horus. Recently, however, we ran into a circumstellar disc—”

  “I know what that is,” Aimee interrupted. “It’s like a ring of asteroids, or collision fragments that are in orbit around a star.”

  Gordy nodded brusquely. “It wasn’t something to cause us concern. We’ve been through such assaults from matter before, but without being aware of those inoperable sensors, we didn’t detect the strikes against the hull. The engineers suspect that we traveled with cracks for nearly half a ren. Eventually those cracks spread and this ensued.” He waved his hand above them.

  “How are we breathing?” Aimee asked.

  “The same as the launch bay. We’ve piped in a vaporous barrier trapping the oxygen in, but as the hole grows, the integrity of that barrier becomes compromised.” He glanced at Raja. “And this is just one hole.”

  Aimee gasped and clutched her abdomen.

  “What are you saying, Gordy?”

  “Aimee,” he paused, his expression solemn, “—the Horus has a cancer, and she’s not going to survive it.”

  Zak supported her shoulders. “That’s impossible,” he uttered.

  Of course, it’s impossible, she thought. This is the Guardianship Horus. It’s the size of a city. It is indestructible.

  “This ship is large enough that you can shut down the affected areas and resume undisturbed.” The engineer in her reared its combative head.

  They said the Titanic was indestructible, she reminded herself.

  “Which is what we have done,” Raja stepped out of the shadows, her face blue in the ambient light. “That sealed door that we passed through—that is just one of many locking off the portside bow of the ship.”

  “How extensive is the damage back there?” Zak asked, his frown evident even in the dim light.

  “It’s been a slow aggression, but—”

  “Go ahead,” Gordy nodded. “Tell him.”

  Raja blanched. “We’ve—we’ve lost two of the satellite wings. The Jay-seven and the Jay-nine.”

  “Lost it?” Aimee ran a trembling hand through her hair. “The Jay-nine is the size of JFK airport. How do you lose it?”

  Even as she protested, her mind calculated the vulnerabilities of the spindly legs that connected the satellite wings to the main assembly of the Horus. Although the Jay-nine was a large complex, it was affixed to the ship via a single spoke. If there was to be a vulnerability on this great ship, those spoke-like tunnels to the satellites were definitely contenders.

  “Fissures have crept through the fuselage, extending out into the satellite corridors. By the time our detectors caught signs of the damage it was too late. We cordoned off the access to those tunnels in an attempt to contain the spread of the cracks, not to mention the breach in oxygen, but eventually the two satellite wings simply snapped off.”

  Aimee flinched.

  “And what are the engineers doing to stop this from spreading?” she asked.

  Gordy glanced at Raja, and then towards Craig. Craig rubbed his forehead, massaging an unseen pain.

  “They have done all they can. The sheer mass of the Horus is proving its own demise.” He gazed up through the void to where the solid dome used to be.

  “Aimee,” he said, “this ship can’t go on too much longer. It will start to break apart.” Sober eyes met hers as he declared, “We have to land the Horus.”

  Land the Horus!

  She reached for Zak’s hand and saw that he was inspecting the fissures snaking up the vaulted glass.

  “But—” Aimee held her stomach. “The Horus has been in space since before you were born. It’s the size of a city. Where can you land it?”

  Raja stepped forward and said with candor, “There is only one place. The spot that the Horus launched from to begin with.”

  Gordy nodded. “We’re going back to Anthum.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What do you want to do, Zer-shay?” Zak asked solemnly.

  He stood at the window of their chamber, looking imposing in the black uniform they had provided him.

  Aimee sneered at the outfit left folded atop the bed. She had yet to put it on.

  “We can still make it back to Earth,” he offered. “There are too many unknown variables for the Horus right now.”

  “This ship will be fine,” she snapped. Gauging his sympathetic smile, she added. “Okay, perhaps I’m a little defensive, but this ship can’t fail. The Horus is an engineering feat like none I’ll ever experience again. I can’t see anything destroying it.”

  “If you recall, it was built in relative haste.”

  “Not necessarily. Most of it was pre-constructed. T
he haste came when the virus kicked in.”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Aimee.” Zak reached for her shoulders, cupping them gently. “I just want you and our child to be safe.”

  “I know that, Zak.” She melted under his tender gaze. “And I agree with you.” Sighing, she pivoted to look out the window. “As much as I wanted to be here—to have our child safely amongst people who would not judge him—” Her head shook back and forth and her hand curled into a fist. “How long are we talking? How long until the Horus reaches Anthum? It could be a moot point. We could be parents already.”

  Zak’s dark eyebrow inched up.

  “Right,” she nodded. “I sound lame.”

  “Never,” he chuckled. “But why don’t we talk to Vodu first? To the public, he’ll portray that everything is going to be fine, but to me—to me, he’ll tell the truth. And according to Gordy, there’s still a little time for us to make a decision.”

  Aimee collapsed against his chest, winding her arms around him.

  “Wherever we are—”

  “—we’ll conquer it together.”

  She snorted against the sparkling black fabric. “When I was young I never imagined being so corny, and so in love.”

  Zak set her back so he could look into her eyes.

  “What is corny? You’re like a yellow vegetable?”

  The laugh that bubbled over her lips felt wonderful. “That I am, dear husband. That I am.” She clasped his hand and tugged towards the door. “Let’s go find Vodu.”

  ***

  Still regal in his silver uniform, Vodu stood near a glass wall with his hands clamped together behind his back. His frown was visible in the reflective pane. He was studying the protruding leg of a satellite wing. It looked like a broken finger poking at the eternal night.

  “Vodu,” Zak called quietly.

  Slim shoulders straightened. The thatch of white hair turned and Vodu faced them with a warm smile.

  “Zak. Aimee.” He unfurled his arms in welcome. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the transport chamber to greet you in person.”

  Aimee stepped forward to give him a hug and felt the strength of his embrace. Age chased this man tirelessly, but never seemed to catch up.