As Melody happily set off down the corridor, Jaz asked Zac to help her fold the examination bed down from the wall. Somehow, as they straightened up from lowering it to the ground, Zac straightened up too quickly and managed to bump Jaz’s chin with his shoulder. Later, he couldn’t quite remember how it all happened, but somehow, the subsequent apologies and laughter and concerned touches had ended in something else entirely. He had his hands around her waist, looking at her with concern while she rubbed the side of her jaw with one hand, with her other hand resting on his shoulder. Suddenly there was silence as they looked into each other’s eyes. Zac couldn’t help himself. He leant forward and kissed her, and she immediately responded, pressing up against him as he drew her closer. A minute later they were still kissing when one of the nurses came to replenish some supplies in the med cupboard. The couple broke apart hurriedly. Zac’s head was spinning as he made a quick exit, offering some feeble excuse about needing to check something in the shuttle, leaving behind a slightly embarrassed Jaz and a highly amused nurse.
At the dinner table later that evening, Jaz sat next to Zac, closer than usual, their thighs touching and their arms brushing as they ate. Zac found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation, and several times he felt Jaz’s hand rest on his thigh under the table. He was sure everyone else could see what was happening, as the entire group was present: Kit, Martinez, Boyd, Keo, Grizzle and Melody. Grizzle had begun to join them for the evening meal, as he had developed a soft spot for Melody, whom he called Possum for no apparent reason. In fact, Melody had grown very fond of the old-timer, and she could sometimes be found in the late afternoons being taught how to drive a loader by Grizzle. This amused everyone in the loading bay, because Grizzle was a stickler for ensuring that no one operated machinery that they weren’t fully trained for. Of course, no one was game to say anything to him about it, because he hadn’t lost his acerbic tongue.
The surprise package of the group was Keo. His warm, gregarious nature, together with his passion for surfing and rugby, gave the initial impression of a simple soul, but Keo was, in fact, a profound thinker. He had an honours degree in philosophy and was widely read in the classics. His favourite philosopher was the 16th century French philosopher Michel de Montaigne, whom he could quote at great length. Yesterday’s quote summed up Keo’s attitude to life generally: “Take joy in the present, because everything else is beyond your grasp.”
Boyd (no one called him by his first name, Andrew) had made a good recovery from his sudden decompression in the bug tug. Strangely, Martinez had maintained an almost continual bedside vigil for the first two days, at times even holding his hand, until it became apparent that he would make a full recovery. Once he was on his feet again, she reverted to treating him with callous indifference and sarcasm, which he seemed to accept with a certain fondness. Theirs was a truly puzzling relationship.
As the group chatted and bantered over the evening meal, Captain Christensen joined them, pulling up a chair and squeezing in between Zac and Kit. “Zac, I have a favour to ask,” he said. “We are forming a city council, a leadership body for the future colony, and I would like you to be part of it.”
“Me?” Zac seemed truly surprised.
“Yes. For a couple of reasons. Firstly, it will be good to have someone on the council who is not a scientist or directly associated with DANSA. Secondly, you showed resourcefulness and leadership in proposing the shuttle rescue mission. Your plan resulted in the saving of several hundred lives. We need that kind of clear thinking and compassion on the council. There are ...” he paused, searching for the right words, “certain elements within our current leadership who do not always see the humanitarian aspects of a given situation. Plus, I think having a historian on the council, someone who has studied the structure of previous societies and the antecedents of past conflicts, will give us a more balanced perspective on our current challenges.”
“OK ...” Zac seemed a little lost for words.
“We’ll have our first meeting tomorrow morning, at 0900, so you will be excused from the early training session. Are you willing to be involved?”
“Sure. I guess.”
“Good. See you tomorrow, in the conference room.” Captain Christensen stood up, nodded to the rest of the group, and walked back to the lifts.
“Cool!” said Melody, who, like the rest of the group, had unashamedly eavesdropped on the conversation. “You can vote for ice cream to be available at breakfast! It’s not fair that it’s only available at dinner.”
“Thus speaks the mind of a mathematical genius,” said Zac, and received a punch on the arm from the genius in return.
“Seriously, Zac, I think you will make a fine council member,” said Jaz, touching his arm affectionately. “You will bring balance and perspective to the group.”
“Yeh. Keep the bastards honest,” added Martinez.
“That’s assuming my opinions will be listened to at all,” said Zac.
Keo chimed in, ““Even those who are seated upon the highest of thrones are still seated upon their arses.””
“Montaigne?” asked Zac.
“Yes, my friend.”
“I’m starting to like this Montaigne guy,” said Kit.
“Yeh,” said Grizzle. “So don’t be afraid to apply the right boot of wisdom to the seat of learning.”
“Amen brother,” said Keo.
29
The first council meeting did not get off to a great start. It was apparent from the very beginning that there was tension between Wisecroft and Christensen. Both were nominated as Chairperson, and Wisecroft was soundly defeated. Only George Leonidis and Dr Francis Leibman voted for him. Christensen’s appointment was proposed by the former Command Centre Coordinator, Lance Catrell, wearing his ever-present 2001: A Space Odyssey baseball cap. Those who subsequently voted him in were the physicist, Dr Arno Manchester; the head of astronomy, Dr Carla Zangetti; Prisha Naroo, a psychologist and counsellor who had been rescued via the shuttle mission, and Zac. Wisecroft’s resentment at his defeat was obvious in his simmering countenance and by the way his comments throughout the ensuing meeting sought to subtly undermine Christensen’s authority. Captain Christensen, however, sailed over the waves of Wisecroft’s resentment with apparent ease, refusing to respond to his subtle innuendos, thus adding fuel to Wisecroft’s discontent.
Genesis had been in Mars orbit for two days now, transferring people to and from the surface, as well as taking on board additional supplies for their mission.
“Lance, how many passengers are we left with?” asked Wisecroft.
“I think it is better to refer to them as colonists from this point on,” said Christensen. “The passengers have disembarked. Those who remain are active participants in our mission.” He smiled benignly at Wisecroft, who was clearly not impressed at being corrected.
“After all the comings and goings,” answered Lance Catrell, consulting his data pad, “we are left with a total of 560 people on board.”
“Not as many as I had hoped, but better than I had feared,” said Christensen. He turned to the psychologist, Prisha Naroo, and asked, “Ms Naroo, what is your assessment of morale?”
“Please, call me Prisha,” she said, smiling. “After all, we are going to be friends and neighbours for many years to come.” She paused and pushed a thick strand of her long, curly dark hair out of her eyes. “Hope is a wonderful thing. Hope and purpose. The hope of a new world, and people’s commitment to this mission, has helped the vast majority to deal with their recent trauma very positively. Grief is still very strong, and will be for some time for all of us, but there is real healing already taking place. Apart from that, there are a couple of sociological issues to be aware of. Firstly, there are only 38 children on board, which is an unusually small percentage of a population of 560. A population of this size would normally have about 120 people aged under 18. It is extremely important that we create opportunities for socialisation among their own age-groups.
Play and interaction with their peers is important for a child’s development. To that end, I have already set aside a corner of the recreation deck as a kids’ zone from 1500 each afternoon. It is proving to be quite popular.”
Prisha paused and looked around at the rest of the council. “The second issue is related. If we are to flourish on the new world, we will need to have children—lots of them.” She raised her eyebrows. “We will all need to play our part in this. As far as I can tell, there are very few existing couples on board. Most people are here alone, having lost their partners and loved ones. Obviously, we all need time to grieve. But we can’t take too long about it. People need to be encouraged to ... well ... to pair up and, eventually, to have children. We have an adult population of 522. I don’t know the exact split between male and female, but it appears to me, from superficial observation, that it is fairly even.”
Captain Christensen interjected, “What are the figures, Genni?”
“The current population consists of 252 males and 270 females. Subtracting the males whose bioscans reveal that they are infertile, and the females who are too old to reproduce effectively, there are 238 males and 246 females who are able to reproduce. Allowing for the fact that not everyone will be heterosexually inclined, those tendencies should be fairly even among both genders, so the ratio of reproductive males to females should remain approximately the same.”
“That’s quite good, isn’t it?” said Christensen to Prisha.
“Yes. Actually, it’s very fortunate. It could have been a lot worse. This means that there will be minimal potential for conflict arising from competition for sexual partners. Obviously, the issue is not immediately pressing, but as we develop the new colony, we must provide plenty of opportunities for socialisation to occur. And the need for procreation must be impressed upon everyone.”
“OK,” said Zac. “Action Step 001. Breed like rabbits. Next?”
There were chuckles around the table.
“Yes,” said Christensen, smiling. “Let’s move on to more immediate concerns. Lance, how are we going in terms of readiness for departure?”
Lance had become the go-to man for logistics. “Life support and power systems are at 100 percent. In fact, they were completely ready prior to the attack. We were very fortunate. If it had been one week earlier, we would have been in trouble. The main challenge is equipment. We were scheduled to receive our mining and heavy industrial equipment via uplift rockets after docking at Kepler Station. There will be two more shuttle flights tomorrow, bringing up a few final supplies from the Mars base. After that, we will still only have about 60 percent of the equipment we had planned for. Our engineering department will be very busy for the first few years on the new world, manufacturing the equipment we are missing. For the moment, however, the most pressing need is clothing. Most people came on board with nothing but the clothes on their backs. The Genesis jumpsuits are helping, but having a ship load of people all wearing the same clothes makes us look like some kind of restrictive Orwellian society. Creating a viable textile industry will be a need once we reach our destination.”
“Action Step 002,” said Zac. “Make clothes to cover nakedness. But doesn’t that contradict Action Step 001?”
More chuckles ensued from most of the council, apart from Wisecroft, who had adopted a permanent scowl.
“OK,” said Christensen. “There appears to be nothing hindering our departure, based upon those issues. What about cryogenics?”
“Nine hundred pods, all fully functional,” answered Manchester, succinctly.
“That brings us to the key question, doesn’t it?” said Wisecroft. “When do we start putting people to sleep? I suggest we process the colonists in batches of 100 each day, commencing immediately upon departure.”
“I disagree,” said Prisha. “The colonists need more time to bond and to begin forming crucial relationships. These are people who have only recently been thrown together out of tragedy. The more time they can have to interact and form friendships, the better equipped for survival they will be on our new world.”
“I am inclined to agree,” said Christensen. “The colonists are also significantly under-skilled, compared to the original mission team. The more time they have for training, the better will be our chance for survival as a colony.”
“On the other hand,” contributed Carla Zangetti, the astronomer, “too long awake inside a tin can, even one this big, without sky and sunlight and a horizon, will eventually result in psychological distress—particularly among people who are untrained and unprepared for confinement in a space vessel.”
“That’s a good point,” said Prisha. “We need to find the right balance; enough time for further training and bonding, but not too much, so that we avoid the onset of space wobbles.”
“OK,” said Christensen. “Let’s allow the stipulated two weeks of further training indicated in the original mission protocol, with an optional additional two weeks for those who are coping well with shipboard life. After the initial two weeks, those who want to can choose cryogenic sleep voluntarily. After the additional two weeks, it will become mandatory.”
“That sounds about right,” said Prisha.
“Is everyone in agreement?” asked Christensen.
There were nods all around, except for Wisecroft and Leonidis. Wisecroft, in particular, looked particularly unimpressed that he had been contradicted yet again.
“Departure is set for 1800 tomorrow,” said Christensen. “Is there anything else we need to consider at this point?”
“What about a party?” said Zac. Everyone looked at him. “A Departure Party. Let’s make it a celebration. After all, the departure of just about every major exploratory expedition throughout history was marked by a celebration of some kind. The departure of Christopher Columbus was celebrated with a Spanish feast, and the departure of Captain James Cook’s exploratory expedition from the Thames was accompanied by brass bands and a dockside party. I think that setting sail for a completely new solar system warrants some form of celebration. We could certainly all do with some cheering up. And it could be a first step towards Action Step 001,” he said with a smile.
“What a wonderful idea, Zac!” said Prisha. “I love it! It’s just what we all need!”
“Thanks, Zac,” said Christensen. “This is precisely why I wanted you as part of this council. You bring a unique historical perspective to our deliberations. I don’t think we even need to vote on your proposal. Can I suggest that you and Prisha do the organising? Get as many people involved as you can. Feel free to conscript anyone who isn’t engaged in anything vital.” He looked around the table. “If there is nothing else, we will meet here again at the same time next week.”
The meeting broke up, with Prisha and Zac chatting animatedly as they left the room. Eventually, only Wisecroft, Leonidis and Christensen were left.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Dr. Wisecroft?” asked Christensen.
“I think you know what I want to say. You are undermining me at every opportunity. Anything I say, you contradict. You are using your position to reinforce your dominance over me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I assure you I take every suggestion on face value. I have no hidden agenda here, and I certainly have no personal vendetta against you.”
“I think you do! I think you planned to take control from the moment we left the moon! You have effectively mounted a coup, and I don’t acknowledge your authority as leader of this mission!” Wisecroft stood up, and Leonidis followed suit. He pointed aggressively towards Christensen and said, “I don’t intend to go away quietly! This is not over! Not by a long shot!” He turned and walked out of the room, with Leonidis in his wake, leaving Christensen stroking his beard contemplatively.
“Genni, do you acknowledge my authority as mission leader?”
“Yes, Captain. The committee vote was constitutional and unequivocal.”
“In that case, please rescind Dr. Wisecroft�
��s access to all essential ship systems. I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I.”
30
The party was a great success. It began at 1700 and was in full swing by launch time. People had been preparing for it all afternoon, and most afternoon training classes had been cancelled. A music committee had compiled a playlist, which involved significant debate, over a period of several hours. The food dispensers had been programmed to provide ‘party food’, which was basically ordinary food in slightly different shapes, produced in vibrant colours. It didn’t taste any better, but it looked fun. The dispensers could also produce alcoholic drinks—ethanol mixed with various sweet or bitter liquids. Biochip scans were required for these to ensure that children could not access them. In the absence of party clothes, many people had resorted to wearing small strips of brightly dyed cloth, scavenged from personal belongings, as head bands or waist bands, in an attempt to add a note of gaiety to their attire.
Melody had been in a state of mounting excitement all afternoon, and Zac and Jaz were both relieved when the party actually got under way, so that Melody could finally find some release for her pent-up energy. In fact, once the party commenced, Melody disappeared into Cinema 2 on the recreation deck, where there was a kids’ disco, complete with flashing lights.
Zac was also feeling particularly chuffed, as he had just that morning completed his first full flight, successfully piloting a shuttle from the Mars mining base to Genesis under Kit’s watchful gaze. As he was powering down the shuttle after a slightly bumpy touchdown in the shuttle bay, she said to him, “That’s not the worst first flight I’ve seen.”
“Really?” he asked, fishing for a further compliment.
“Yeh. Three years ago, I watched a guy completely flip a shuttle onto its back when he landed. That was even worse than yours.”
“Wow! Thanks a lot!” said Zac. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the gift of encouragement?”
The Stars That Beckon Page 14