Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  Nestled in a bed of grooves, his smile seemed strained. Bright blue eyes and striking white hair separated him from the similar young faces that crowded the main operating deck of the Horus. He was clearly the leader, and with that title came the burden of accountability.

  “How bad is it?” Zak asked.

  Leave it to her husband to be so direct.

  Vodu grimaced. “We have the most vulnerable sectors of the ship barricaded to keep the populace of the Horus safe.”

  “The air-tight doors we saw before?” Zak inquired.

  The commander gave a brief nod.

  “But, Gordeelum took us through one of those doors to show us the damage. Do you monitor who can pass through those airlocks?”

  “Only a select few have access to the combinations. Gordy is one of them. Some of our engineering staff, of course.” Vodu shook his head. “You’re not going to have much more time,” he declared in a hushed tone so as not to be overheard. “As much as I’m happy to see you, you better prepare for your journey back to Earth. Gordy will need to leave soon.”

  Aimee met Zak’s glance. As much as she wanted to stay on the Horus, its fate was too uncertain.

  “I was hoping for a little more time, but I don’t want to delay Gordy’s return. I know you need him here. Is there another Warrior that can fly us back to Earth?”

  Vodu snorted. “I highly doubt Gordeelum would allow anyone other than himself to see you back.”

  She smiled. That was probably true.

  “If possible, I’d like to go back to the Atrium one last time.”

  It hurt to say those words. A place that was so special to her was fading away into space.

  “That’s outside the airlock.” Vodu frowned.

  “But, Gordy took us there. It was safe.”

  “Maybe it’s better to stay away, Aim,” Zak said.

  “No, no.” Vodu waved his hand. “She’s right. I’m being overly paranoid.”

  He glanced at her outfit and his bushy white eyebrows hefted. “You haven’t put your uniform on yet.”

  “No, not yet,” she mumbled ruefully.

  “JOH,” Vodu barked, “We need access to the C-wing airlock. Can you take Aimee and Zak there?”

  Aimee watched in fascination as a smile inched across Vodu’s cracked lips. “No,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been hiding them from you.”

  “JOH!” she cried, spinning to search the control deck. Nowhere could she find a sign of the energetic, bouncing tablet with the Cookie Monster face. “Where is he?”

  Vodu glimpsed over her shoulder. She turned to follow his gaze, but found only industrious navigators busily working on the Horus’ controls.

  “One will be along any minute now. If you had your suit on you could communicate with him through it. You’ll find that there are fewer of the old models floating around in the halls. Having access to JOH through our suits has solved the Where is a JOH when you need one? question that I’ve been assaulted with for the past few ren.”

  Hah. She had probably been accused of dropping that line a few times herself.

  “There he is,” Vodu sighed as a flat panel bobbed in the air, floating towards them as if it was tied to an invisible clothesline. Even from this awkward angle Aimee could distinguish the black crescent-shaped eyes nestled in the blue crystal face, the expression constantly evolving. First the crystals formed a circle, then an oval, and then the black scar that represented a mouth slipped into a congenial curve.

  “Aimeeeeee!” the computer squealed. “Zak!” The rectangular tablet bounced in the air before them to the point that Aimee wanted to reach for it to stabilize her view.

  “JOH!” She couldn’t contain her smile. “What’s this I hear that you’re lurking in the clothes now?”

  The black crystals cascaded and reformed in an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

  “I like that everyone can find me immediately, but I only get to talk to them. I don’t get to see them. And I don’t get to use any gadgets.”

  A slim stick of metal slid out of the panel and waved in the air. Aimee recognized it as an appliance used for opening locked doors and rudimentary tasks.

  “Raja tells me that you and Zak have reproduced. I can’t wait to see the little mecaw.”

  A blush stole over her cheeks as she swept a glance at Zak. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

  A mecaw. That is what the people on the Horus were. That is what Zak was. To her they all just seemed human, but there were subtle unseen dissimilarities. It was those intangible similes that had her anxious about having the doctors on Earth probe too closely.

  “JOH,” Vodu interrupted. “Enough dawdling. Please take them to the Atrium. Aimee wants to see it one last time before they return to Earth.”

  “Return?” JOH’s animated eyebrows formed a V. “They just got here. Ohhhh—” his black eyes rounded, “they’re not going to Anthum. They didn’t know about the condition of the Horus?”

  “Right.” The commander nodded.

  “Everything will be safe on the Horus,” JOH assured her.

  The graphics of his animated face did not mirror the tension etched on the faces of everyone on the deck.

  “JOH,” Vodu’s deep voice rumbled. “Now.”

  “Oh!” He bounced. “Yes. Right. Let’s go Zak and Aimeeee.”

  ***

  “I wish this wasn’t such a quick visit,” JOH babbled as they approached the intimidating airlock. He wobbled in midair in front of the portal and cast them a sheepish sidelong glance.

  “Hold on,” he said. “I don’t have clearance to go through here. I don’t breathe. I don’t need oxygen. You would think they would give me access, but no—”

  There was an awkward pause where Aimee suspected JOH was communicating with someone.

  “Okay,” he spun to face the door. “Gordeelum has given me a temporary combination. I can use it once. He can’t accompany you. There is a problem with the terra angel he was going to use.”

  “What problem?” Zak looked alarmed.

  JOH used his auxiliary arm to open a series of couplings for the air-locked door. “I don’t know,” he replied in affront. “Let me put you through.”

  After a moment, Gordy’s tense expression filled JOH’s screen.

  “Gordeelum,” Zak started in, “what’s the problem with the TA?”

  Gordy’s wide shoulders lifted and dropped with exasperation. “Nothing major. One of the guidance systems is acting quirky. I’ve never seen it do this before, but I’ve got some engineers working on it. We should be ready to go soon.”

  “Is it the Star Tracker?” Zak asked. “Is it showing in duplicate?”

  Gordy’s bronzed eyebrow dipped. “Yes. Actually, it is.” He shook his head. “But Zak, these TA’s have had a major overhaul since you last commanded one.”

  Zak crossed his arms, his expression resolved. “Even the Star Trackers?”

  “Yes, even the Star Trackers.” Gordy responded, although his conviction was waning.

  “Sometimes the vapors on the flight deck throw them off. You can’t see the gasses, but the algorithm doesn’t always analyze them correctly.” He hesitated, glancing at Aimee. “I can be down there shortly.”

  “Zak, just go ahead,” she encouraged. “I’ll catch up with you. I just want a few minutes in here.” Her hands spread, unable to fully translate her need.

  His understanding smile allayed her unease. “Alone?”

  “Well, no, not exactly, but the quicker you work with Gordy, the more confident we both will be with our transportation home.”

  He still looked dubious.

  “I can manage,” she assured.

  “I have no doubt about that. Let me just make sure you’re in safely. JOH, you’ll stay with Aimee.”

  JOH snapped to attention. “Of course.”

  Zak cupped her arms. “Don’t stay long. We want to be ready to move as soon as possible.”

  Urgency hung in the stark corridor, nearly as
stifling as the vacuum of space that lurked on the other side of the door.

  “Go ahead, JOH,” Zak instructed. “Let me just see for myself that everything is okay in there.”

  JOH used his metallic appendage, as the door opened with a protesting hiss. Crossing through the frame, they reached the entrance to the atrium still engulfed in the darkness of its demise.

  “I had to come here one more time,” she rationalized, looking overhead. “Too many memories.”

  Zak followed her gaze. “This place is special to me too. It is where I first kissed you.”

  Heat filled her cheeks and her chest felt like she’d swallowed a bird, it’s wings actively tickling her rib cage. That was how this man still made her feel.

  “Kiss me again, Zak,” she begged plaintively. “Kiss me here one last time.”

  In the limited light, she could only catch a flash of his eyes as he turned and cupped her face inside his wide palms.

  “I love you,” he whispered just before his lips met hers.

  The kiss evoked memories, and it offered glimpses of the future. Each long pass of his mouth against hers stoked a fire that only he could ignite. This man was bonded to her—for life. The connection she felt with him went far beyond any physical context. She reached up and linked her wrists behind his neck, sinking against his chest, feeling the swell of her belly connect with his solid abdomen. Soon they would be a family of three. The amount of love that poured into each of her kisses heralded a joy locked in her heart, and in her soul.

  Slowly, Zak withdrew his head. There was no glimpse of white teeth. He wasn’t smiling. He was his ever-serious self. Always worried about her.

  “I’ll see you shortly?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. I just need a few minutes.”

  He rubbed her arms and turned towards the hovering tablet, which had drifted away to offer privacy.

  “You take care of her, JOH.”

  JOH spun around so that now his bright blue face cast a glowing circle at their feet.

  “Certainly!” His black mouth curled up.

  Zak nodded meaningfully, and whispered. “See ya in a few.”

  Aimee smiled at the back of his head as he retreated through the airlock. Every day he sounded more and more like an American.

  Once that door hissed shut she felt her ears clog from the variation in air pressure. Using the glow from JOH’s screen she navigated around the debris, making her way down the third alley, dejected by the piles of ash where glorious plant life once thrived.

  “JOH, what about the Sumpum? Please don’t tell me they were killed.”

  JOH’s black orbs sliced sideways. “Some did, Aimee. The moment the shield was breached, some succumbed immediately.”

  Reading her somber expression, he quickly added, “But we have 23 surviving Sumpums in the E-1 satellite.”

  “Oh,” her shoulders sagged, “that’s good news. I was so worried that—”

  “Of course, the stability of all the satellites is suspect at best. If we don’t make it to Anthum soon, we may have to transfer the Sumpum to the main body of the ship. Won’t that be a mess? They get antsy around mecaws. They’ll be standing up on their rear paws, shedding hair all over the floor—”

  JOH stopped at her bemused expression.

  “What?”

  “JOH, you just stated that the ship is falling apart. Vodu didn’t paint such a grim picture.”

  “I did?” Black crystal eyebrows cascaded into a frown. “Well, statistics show that the integrity of the hull of each satellite channel is deteriorating at a rapid pace—”

  “Enough,” she interjected. “I get it.”

  Still frowning, JOH bobbed alongside her as she made her way to the very spot she had once stood rooted long ago. A spot where she had stared at Zak’s reflection in the glass.

  She touched her stomach and whispered, “We’ll be alright, little Zon.”

  “Aimee, are you okay? There is no one else here, and my name is JOH.”

  “Yes, JOH, I’m aware of your name. And I’m fine,” she smiled patiently. “I’m really fine,” she added to convince herself.

  One last glance up at the scarred roof of the atrium revealed an eternal night. It was beautiful. Black velvet and diamonds. Oh, how she would miss this ship, but she was grateful for this last opportunity to see it.

  “Okay, JOH, let’s get back.”

  JOH’s eyes and gaping mouth curled up in approval. He zipped ahead of her, through the entryway of the atrium and out to the airlock door. The thin mechanical arm jutted from his side to unlock the portal.

  “Do you still have models with legs, JOH?”

  Black eyes folded into solid lines and then snapped back into shape. “There were only a few made. It was an experiment. Distribution of the original model has been phased out as well. All my communication now passes through the uniforms.”

  “But that’s not the same,” Aimee argued. “What about cases like this, where you need to use your tools to open a door?”

  Even as she asked, JOH’s slim appendage snapped onto one of the door latches.

  “I do admit I miss the manual labor.”

  His arm whirred, paused, and whirred again.

  Animated eyebrows dipped into a frown. “Perhaps they replaced this old JOH model because it seems to be failing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I am having a problem opening this door.”

  “What?” Aimee ambled forward to stand beside the soaring tablet. “Was the combination revoked after its one-time use?”

  “Gordeelum said it applied one time in each direction.”

  “Well, just ask him to confirm.”

  JOH’s flat face swerved towards her. “I have been trying to, Aimee. He’s not answering me. On this side of the airlock, communications are sporadic at best, even for me.”

  Tiny tentacles of panic began to worm up her neck. A deep breath kept them at bay.

  “Okay, well, keep trying. Zak won’t go long without checking in on me, and if he doesn’t get a response, he’ll come straight back here.”

  JOH’s flat face registered relief. Animated eyebrows flexed in concentration as he made another attempt with his spindly arm.

  Aimee searched the walls around the airlock for any sort of release mechanism. The surface was bare and cold to the touch.

  JOH floated up to her eye level. “It’s not working, Aimee.”

  “No worries, JOH. They’ll be along any minute now.”

  She sank down into a crouch and leaned back against the curved wall. Each deep breath she took seemed less and less fulfilling.

  “What is the supply of oxygen like back here?”

  “Enough to last for a brief visit, but the gas feed is not at full force because it would be wasteful running it in an unoccupied area.”

  “Of course,” she agreed dejectedly.

  “Gordeelum,” JOH spoke out loud. “Gordeelum. Gordeelum. Gordeelum.”

  “I don’t think he hears you,” she suggested.

  Out of futility she rose and placed her hands on the crisscross bars that secured the door. Tugging on them, she couldn’t get them to budge. Exertion from the repeated attempts could not be tempered with a deep breath. Perspiration began to inch high up on her forehead.

  “Come on, Zak,” she pleaded quietly.

  A soft knock from the other side of the door startled her.

  “Zak?” she cried out.

  There was no answer and she began to doubt she had heard anything to begin with. Casting a quizzical glance at JOH she saw him staring intently at the hatch.

  Another muted tap echoed through the thick metal, followed by a muffled voice.

  “Aimee—” it taunted. “What’s the matter? Are you locked out?”

  Aimee’s blood turned cold at the familiar voice. She staggered back a step and splayed her palm on the wall for support. JOH bobbed up and down in agitation.

  “It’s not funny, Salvan,” she tri
ed to keep her tone banal. “Open the door.”

  A steady drum on the other side of the door sounded like he was tapping his fingers against it.

  “You should have stayed back on your planet.”

  Diluted by the thick barrier, his hushed tone sounded sinister.

  “This ship is not safe,” he warned, “and accidents can happen. This airlock security system was thrown together very hastily. From what I hear, it’s not very reliable.”

  “Salvan,” she took another deep breath, gauging its yield. “You have already been disciplined by the Horus administrative panel. I understand you have been stripped of any scientist credentials you possessed, and after disciplinary time in the detention satellite you’ve been relegated to sanitation duty. Do you really want to add more amendments to that?”

  A cynical snort sounded from the other side.

  “Did you just hear your litany? Is it no wonder that I might be a little bitter? Is it no wonder that I am not delighted to see you back here? Is it no wonder that I wish you would just stay away?”

  Aimee’s hand curled into a fist. “You brought me here in the first place.”

  “Yes, yes. I’m reminded of that every day.”

  “Salvan,” JOH floated up close to the door. “It is your duty to open this door, and to assure the safety of the citizens of the Horus.”

  The fingers still drummed a chaotic beat through the portal. “Well, Aimee is not a citizen of this ship, and you—you’re just a machine. No one will notice one missing JOH. Especially a relic such as yourself.”

  JOH snapped back from the door in affront. His eyebrows descended.

  “I will see to it that the panel convicts you of treason.”

  “Hah,” Salvan spat through the barrier. “They have condemned me for far worse, but I’m still here—still wandering the corridors freely. Their discipline is inadequate, and that lack of conviction will prove their demise. Who is going to punish me, anyway? The Horus is about to land, and chaos will reign afterwards.”

  Aimee wrapped her fingers around the crossbars again. “You’ve made your point,” she uttered. “Now just let us out of here. This is juvenile, Salvan.”

  “Perhaps, but it makes me smile.”