The Stars That Beckon

by Kevin J Simington

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  Now, as the music blared and people were eating and drinking and laughing, Zac felt a warm glow and, for the first time since their recent tragedies, a sense of hope. Out of the ashes of despair, something good was starting to emerge.

  Keo came and stood beside Zac. ““In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.””

  “Montaigne again?”

  “No. Khalil Gibran.”

  “How do you remember all that stuff?”

  “I have a long-term eidetic memory.”

  “Photographic memory?”

  “Something like that. It’s not instantaneous. I have to consciously repeat something three or four times, and really focus. But once it’s in there, it’s in there for good.”

  “Wow! Impressive.”

  “It’s nothing to be impressed about. I did nothing to deserve this ability. It is a gift from God.”

  Zac sidestepped the religious reference. He had learned to accept his friend’s faith without feeling the need to comment. He said, “The curse of humanity is that most people remember what they should forget and forget what they should remember.”

  “Who said that? Descartes?” asked Keo.

  “No. Me. Just then. Pretty good, eh?”

  “Not bad, my friend, not bad. I’ll make a philosopher of you yet.”

  At 17:58, the music stopped, and Lars Christensen’s face appeared on the screens around the dining room and on other decks. “Friends, in two minutes we will fire our main propulsion drive and commence a burn that will start us on our journey. It is a momentous occasion, and one that is filled with mixed emotions. Undeniably, we have much to be sorrowful about, including the fact that we are leaving behind our world and our solar system, never to set foot in them again. But I hope you will agree with me that now is not the time for sorrow, but for hope and joy. This represents a new beginning for us and for humankind. We are making history today. We are forging a new destiny. We are blazing a new trail; one that will lead us to a better life for us and our children. Please charge your glasses and join me in a toast. As we leave here today, let’s not look backward on what we are leaving behind, but let us look forward, to the wonderful new possibilities that await us.” He raised his own glass and said, “To a bright, new future!”

  “To a bright, new future!” echoed everyone.

  Immediately the lights dimmed, and a 15-second countdown appeared on the screens, over the top of a live video feed of Mars. When the countdown reached 10, everyone started counting down with it, and, at zero, the dining room resounded with a loud cheer. The countdown timer disappeared from the screen and the view of Mars filled the whole screen. For the first second or two, nothing seemed to happen. Then an incandescent jet of flame could be seen at the very bottom edge of the screen, and at the same time music pulsed from the sound system. The music committee had chosen the hit song from over three decades ago, “Light A Candle To The Stars.” People cheered again and watched the screen, mesmerised. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then increasingly over the next few minutes, Mars diminished in size, as Genesis accelerated away at eight gravities, rapidly building up velocity. Inertial dampening ensured that they felt nothing, physically, but the same was not true emotionally. There were some tears of sadness, but the overwhelming majority of colonists were swept up in the euphoria of the moment. Captain Christensen’s well-timed words, together with liberal doses of alcohol, ensured that the predominant mood was one of optimism and celebration. There were hugs and kisses all around.

  “It’s like New Year’s Eve!” said Kit, coming up beside Zac and Keo.

  “More like New Life Eve,” said Zac.

  “In that case, happy New Life Eve,” said Kit, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. “You too, Keo,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss him as well. She appeared momentarily embarrassed after her display of affection, but quickly rallied, saying, “Well, are you two jugheads going to just stand there and leave a girl dance-less, or are you going help me celebrate?” So saying, she grabbed their hands and dragged them onto the dance floor in the cleared space in the middle of the room.

  The dancing and celebrations continued long into the night, with the screens around the room continuing to stream live video of the view aft. After just two hours, they were 1.2 million kilometres from Mars, and it was already just an orange dot against the background of stars.

  At some point, Zac felt the need to clear his head and take a break from the music and revelry. He took the lift up to the lounge deck above, having decided to find a quiet spot to sit and watch Mars shrink behind them. Several couples were occupying some of the lounges, apparently making significant progress towards Action Step 001. For a few moments, Zac stood looking at the image of Mars on the big screen.

  I will probably never see this solar system again, he thought. How am I supposed to feel? How did the Pilgrims leaving for America feel? Or the Israelites leaving Egypt? Hopeful? Frightened? Grieving? A mixture of all of those? And did their leaders squabble and fight? Were there unresolved tensions that they carried with them? And, most importantly, did they find what they were looking for? Were they able to leave the past behind and make a fresh start, without the ghosts of their past haunting them?

  He had not slept well the night before, thinking about his ill-fated marriage and what had started to develop between him and Jaz. How can I get romantically involved with someone so quickly after the death of my wife? It’s not right! As he watched the gradually shrinking image of the red planet, his mind once more swirled with conflicting emotions. He decided to forget about the party and try to sleep. Maybe he would be able to think better in the morning. As he walked towards the lifts, he heard a voice say, “It’s a great party, Zac.”

  In a quiet corner of the room Zac spotted Jaz sitting quietly, watching a nearby screen, stroking Melody’s head as she lay asleep across her lap. Zac walked over and stood beside them.

  “She danced herself into exhaustion,” said Jaz, smiling at him and continuing to stroke Melody’s hair.

  “You’re missing out on all the fun,” said Zac.

  “I’ve never really been a party girl. Give me a good book, a glass of wine and some comfy pyjamas, and I’m in heaven.”

  Zac looked at them both: the trainee doctor and the child genius. Jaz looked particularly vulnerable at the moment, her red hair in disarray, falling in front of her eyes and lying across her lightly-freckled button nose. “She loves you, you know,” he said, indicating Melody.

  “I know,” she said, looking fondly at the sleeping girl. “The feeling is mutual.” She looked back up at Zac. “Maybe this a time for new love ... for all of us.” She held his gaze, and he felt his heart start pounding wildly.

  “I ... um ... I’ve got an early start in the morning. I think I’ll hit the sack,” he said, taking a step backwards. He saw a look of disappointment, and even hurt, cross her face. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.” He turned and walked away, feeling terrible. What are you doing? he told himself as he got into the lift. You know you feel something for her. Why didn’t you kiss her? At the same time, he felt overcome with guilt. How can I have feelings for another woman when my wife died less than two weeks ago? I must be the shallowest person alive!

  He went to his cabin and lay down on his bunk, but once again, sleep would not come.

  31

  The next two weeks were a blur of shipboard activity. Training classes continued. Friendships strengthened. New romance blossomed. People ate, slept, worked, learnt, played and then slept again. While their departure from Mars had been accompanied by fanfare and celebration, their exit from the solar system two mornings later, already travelling at 8,000 kilometres per second, went largely unnoticed.

  For Zac, his awkward encounter with Jaz on the night of the party had put a dampener on their blossoming roma
nce. He withdrew into himself and lost whatever spark he had regained. No one else in their group of friends understood what had happened, but they could all see that both Zac and Jaz were unhappy and uncomfortable around each other. There was an awkwardness between them now, and whenever possible they avoided being in each other’s company. Zac rarely went to the afternoon medical training sessions now, which hurt not only Jasmine, but Melody as well. Knowing that he was hurting them made Zac feel even more miserable, but he couldn’t see a way out of his predicament. He couldn’t fall in love with someone else so soon! It wasn’t right! So, the best thing was to avoid Jaz altogether and throw himself into his other duties.

  He worked out in the gym for an hour each morning before breakfast and sometimes once more in the evenings, almost as if he was trying to punish himself. Keo often trained with him, and they spurred each other on, competing and pushing one another. Keo found joy in exercise and in their shared friendship, but he sensed a brooding darkness in Zac now that was not there before. They still joked and sparred verbally, but Zac often seemed only partially present, wrestling with some inner demon that he would not speak about.

  One afternoon, on Mission Day 6, Melody came looking for Zac and found him in the cockpit of Shuttle 1, reading the flight manual and going through the emergency procedures for engine failure.

  “Zac?” she said, standing at the cockpit door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Possum,” he said, using Grizzle’s nickname for her that everyone in the group had adopted. “I’m just brushing up on my pilot training.”

  “Why don’t you come to the medical training anymore?”

  Zac could hear the hurt in her voice and see the confusion on her face. “I’m just so busy lately, sweetie. I wish I could, but I’ve got so much to do.” He felt terrible as he said it, but what could he tell an 11-year-old girl?

  “We miss you, Zac. It’s not the same without you. Don’t you like us anymore?” Her eyes welled up and a tear began to roll down her cheek.

  Zac’s heart melted. God, help me, he thought. What am I supposed to do here? “Come here, Possum,” he said. She came closer and he hugged her, then kissed her on the forehead. “Of course I like you. I’ll always like you. You and I are pals.”

  Melody looked into his eyes. “Did you and Jaz have a fight?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then why does she cry sometimes? I heard her last night when she thought I was asleep.”

  Zac felt heart broken. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s still sad after everything that’s happened.” He needed to change the subject. “Hey! How would you like to be my co-pilot! You can help me fly the shuttle. Sit in that chair and put those headphones on.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really? Cool!”

  “Now, where would you like to fly to today?”

  “Let’s go to Saturn! We could fly through the rings.”

  “OK. Buckle up, partner. And if you’re good, we’ll hit the drive-through hamburger joint on the way home!”

  Later that night, Jaz and Zac passed each other in the hallway on their cabin deck. Jaz stopped him and said, rather awkwardly, “Zac, thanks for spending time with Melody this afternoon. We ... she really misses you. She needs you in her life. Whatever else is going on, please don’t cut her out.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, leaving Zac feeling confused and miserable once more. She’s right, he thought. Melody is too important. She’s had enough hurt in her life. I don’t want to add to it. He resolved then and there to make sure he spent time with her every day, and, as much as possible, not let his strained relationship with Jaz affect Melody. The next day he started attending afternoon medical training again, and also made an effort to be present at mealtimes when Melody was there. Things were still extremely strained between him and Jaz, but he sensed her appreciation at his being involved with Melody again.

  On Mission Day 7, the council met for the second time, and Zac dragged himself along with little enthusiasm. Captain Christensen called the meeting to order and asked Genni for a mission status update.

  “We are currently 9.21 billion kilometres from Earth, travelling at 32,840 kilometres per second. We are on course for Icarus R-421, with no detectable anomalies. All life support and propulsion systems are fully operational.”

  Turning to those seated at the table, Christensen said, “Our main task today is to plan an orderly process for putting our colonists to sleep, starting next week. But firstly, are there specific issues or concerns that anyone on the council would like to raise?”

  “Yes,” said Wisecroft, standing up. “This council is unconstitutional, and so is your chairmanship, Captain Christensen.”

  “How so, Dr Wisecroft?”

  “The Mission Plan document, formulated by the president, her cabinet, and DANSA officials, specifies that leadership of this mission, in the event of the death of the commander, falls to the next ranking officer. By virtue of my longstanding involvement with Genesis and my leadership of the DANSA research facility, where Genesis was built, I am clearly the next in rank, not you.”

  Christensen stroked his beard and said, “I have also read that document, Dr Wisecroft. Did you note Section 8.1 – Emergency Protocols?”

  “Well ... of course ... I ... um ...”

  “Because that section states that in the event of loss of life due to hostilities or war, the highest-ranking military officer will assume leadership, for the duration of the conflict and thereafter. Furthermore, I hasten to point out that I did not insist on that right of leadership, even though it was mine by constitutional right. Instead, I put it to a vote, right here in this council, so that there could be no doubt.”

  Wisecroft rallied his arguments. “Yes, well, that brings me to my other concern. You clearly stacked this council in your favour, by inviting people onto it who have absolutely no right to be here! I mean, a history professor, for goodness sake! And a family counsellor! Good grief, man! What do you think this is, a benevolent society for the unemployed? I move a motion that Dr Perryman and Ms Naroo be removed from the council immediately and that a re-vote take place for the leadership of the mission!”

  There was stunned silence for a few moments after Wisecroft’s venomous outburst. Christensen calmly said, “All right. Dr Wisecroft has moved a motion. Is there a seconder?”

  “I’ll second it,” said George Leonidis.

  “Would anyone like to make a comment before we vote?” asked Christensen.

  Everyone remained silent.

  “In that case, we will proceed with the vote. Zac and Prisha, you cannot vote. All those in favour of removing Zac and Prisha from the council, please raise your hand.”

  Wisecroft and Leonidis raised their hands.

  “All those against?”

  Five hands went up.

  “The motion is defeated,” said Christensen. “Now, if we could please return to our order of business ...”

  “I would like to move a motion,” interrupted Zac.

  “Yes Zac?” said Christensen.

  “History has shown us the danger of allowing a pathological narcissist to assume leadership; Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Idi Amin, Robert Mugabe, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Mao Tse-tung, Genghis Khan—the list is long and disturbing. In fact, that was a major factor leading to the Faith Wars. A narcissist’s need to be right, the inability to empathize or apologize, not to mention a huge sense of entitlement—all of that presents a risk we can’t afford to take. Therefore, I would like to move a motion that we censure Dr Wisecroft for his appalling, childish, narcissistic behaviour, and remove him from the council.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if we should ...”

  “I second the motion,” said Prisha.

  “Right,” said Christensen, clearly a little uncomfortable. “We have a motion. Is there any discussion before we vote?”

  “Yes,” said Carla Zangetti. “I object to Zac’s wording of the motion.”

  “Well, I
may have been a little ...” began Zac.

  “He left out ‘arrogant, priggish and spoilt’,” she said.

  Zac smiled. “Yes, I believe I did. But only because too many adjectives make it grammatically cumbersome.”

  “This is outrageous!” said Wisecroft.

  “Not at all,” said Zac. “We are simply following in your wonderful footsteps.”

  “You can’t vote me off the council! I’m the head of DANSA!”

  “Dr Wisecroft,” said Christensen, “there is no DANSA. It doesn’t exist anymore. There is no Democratic Alliance of Nations. No space agency. There is just us. All the impressive titles and qualifications of our previous world mean very little here. In my opinion the primary criteria for a seat on this council are the ability to make a positive contribution to the future of our colony and to work harmoniously with others. Members of this council have voiced a doubt about your suitability in those regards, and it is fitting that we vote on the motion that has been proposed.”

  Turning to the whole group, Christensen said, “I think we are ready to vote. Dr Wisecroft, you must abstain from voting, and in order to avoid any appearance of bias, I will also abstain. All those in favour, please raise your hand.”

  Five hands rose.

  “All those against?”

  Leonidis’s lone hand ventured into the air. Zac noted that Dr. Leibman abstained.

  “Dr Wisecroft, it is my duty to inform you that you have been censured for your ... um ...”

  “Appalling, childish, narcissistic behaviour,” prompted Prisha.

  “Yes,” agreed Christensen, “and that your services are no longer required on this council. You are free to go.”

  Wisecroft stood violently to his feet, knocking his chair over as he did so. Instead of ranting and yelling, however, he spoke in a preternaturally calm, calculated voice. “I promise you, there will be consequences for what you have done here today.” He turned and walked out of the room. Leonidis looked uncomfortable but remained silent and seated.