by Ken O'Steen
Chapter 3: Stasis
“Hello. My name is Captain Mark Anderson. I know you all must have questions. I will hopefully answer some of them by the time we are done.” Captain Anderson paused to clear his throat and turn on a hologram. It floated before us casting everything in a pale glow. A planet rotated, covered in rolling blue clouds.
“This is Kepler 84C. Some seventy years ago routine scans of planets to discover potential resources discovered this instead,” The hologram changed to a mountain, a hollow central chamber sat in the center with corridors spreading outwards.
“A team was dispatched after several attempts of communication failed. They discovered an abandoned facility. The images shown to you by your aides came directly from it. Within this facility was technology far beyond our own, even with seventy years of advancements it remains ahead of our own. For sixty years we have studied their technology and failed. Their language is still untranslatable, their knowledge a perpetual mystery.
Thanks to the discovery of conscious cloning we have been able to recreate some of the most brilliant minds in human history, you. Two hours from now, for the first time in sixty years we are returning to Kepler to attempt again to discover the mysteries of this lost civilization. I’m afraid, due to security concerns, I can say nothing further.”
The hologram disappeared and Captain Anderson left the room before anyone could even rise from their seats. We were left to mingle with each other, the clones all introducing each other. I met them all but their faces were a blur to me, only Angela’s seemed worth knowing.
“Who am I?” We were back, safe in my quarters and preparing to leave.
“You are whoever you choose to be.”
“No. I mean who was my original? Who was I cloned from?” She sat beside me on the couch, the smell of her intoxicating, “I don’t know, that’s privileged information. They don’t tell me a lot about the initial cloning procedures. I get brought in at the end and we have only recently become reliably successful.”
“How recent?”
Angela sighed and took my hand, her skin cool to the touch, “You cannot repeat this as it may not be common knowledge to the other clones but there were ninety of you. You are A91. There were one hundred and two of Cutter whom you met at the meeting. Every clone was slightly different to perfect.
“How do you know I will live when the other ninety have died?”
Angela eyes sparkled suddenly, a single droplet streaming down her face. Instinctively I wiped it away with my thumb but my hand stayed, cupping her cool chin I pressed my lips to hers. I felt her body relax, give in, our tongues entwined and then she stiffened and pushed me away.
“We leave soon. Bring what you need. Tell no one of this.” She was gone, her shoes clicking down the corridor. I listened until she turned the corner and followed.
The military transport craft coasted high over the city and out beyond the fringe to the Anchor Station of the space elevator. Below us the skyscrapers were glittering in the sun, the ocean stretched out into the horizon to the east and to the west the brown of the mountains and the green of palm trees. Landing at the Anchor station the press was already there, taking photos and shouting questions. A barricade kept them well away from us as we made our way to the main entrance. The thread of the space elevator rose from the center of the station and disappeared into the sky.
We were ushered inside the station where the Climber was stocked and waiting for us. The donut shaped Climber was equipped with a cafeteria, storage and bunk rooms. It was four days to the Orbital Station and I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a room with near strangers.
That evening, with the continent of South America coming into view beneath us, I ate in silence on the bench, next to the other clones and their aides. There was Cutter, the most talkative, dominating the conversation with her obsession of the open circulatory system of arthropods. Cal and Astro were deeply engaged in an argument over the gravitational effects of twin stars and did a good job of ignoring the rest of us. Strata, with his fidgets and spasms couldn’t stop spilling food on himself as he sat across from Meta and Corvus who were as silent as me but nodded in interest as Cutter droned on. Disinterested in conversation and feeling self-conscious of eating in front of others I left half the food on my tray and found my room.
I was lying on the bottom bunk, staring upwards and lost in thought when Angela found me. Fingers fidgeting I waited patiently as she thought of what she wanted to say, “You should really make an effort to get to know the others. I’m sure you are all feeling overwhelmed by the information you’ve received today. We will be spending several months in the biodome together, it would be good to be on friendly terms with them.”
I knew she was never going to let up, “For you, I’ll try.”
She smiled her dazzling smile that always left me breathless. And suddenly nothing else mattered. Not the questions in their millions, the overwhelming feeling of not belonging, all of it floated away as I smiled back.
The cable extended further into space, ending at the Counter Weight, but our journey ended at the Orbital Station. Smaller than the Anchor station it was run by a crew of four. We were put immediately into transport pods and strapped in. As the doors hissed shut a timer began counting down from ten minutes and forty seven seconds. When it reached zero the craft was released and we were hurled through space, powered by the momentum of the earth as if we were a bucket, snapped off a spinning rope. Before us a space station began to grow bigger.
As we neared the station thrusters engaged, slowing our velocity and landing us safely in the hangar, the controls run wirelessly by some pilot somewhere. The doors to space closed behind us, sealed and green lights allowed us to unbuckle our harnesses and open the door.
Out on the hangar deck a man in a tan uniform was waiting, “Welcome. I’m Staff Sergeant William. If you will please follow me your ship is fueled and ready.”
The space station, one of fourteen around the Earth, could dock up to six deep space vessels for maintenance and repair but currently held only two. Our long walk took us past The Artisan.
Under heavy repair, The Artisan, sat massive and dark on the hangar floor. The exterior and interior crawling with technicians while managers on the hangar floor went over holographic blueprints. Bright lights illuminated the hangar and down below fork lifts hauled heavy crates while scissor lifts and booms moved techs up and around the massive exterior. Passing it we arrived at our ship, The Onyx, glistening in the fluorescents it was even bigger than The Artisan.
“Here you are. We’ve just recently finished a major upgrade to her navigation system. Meant not just for deep space exploration but also long term living she can sustain a crew of a hundred for up to fifteen years. Technicians are standing by to induce stasis. Good Luck.”
Staff Sergeant William saluted Captain Anderson and the other military personnel and left us.
“This IV is for hydration, this one analyzes your blood and this one is in case any anti-biotics need to be administered.” The technician poked the needles through my skin as he spoke, then picked up a cap covered in electrodes, “The cap monitors brainwave activity and can emit frequencies known to calm the mind should a nightmare be detected. Every aspect of your health is closely monitored; the slightest sign of danger and you will be pulled from stasis. We have a skeleton crew who will remain awake during the four year journey to oversee everything, including a doctor.
After you are asleep we will insert a feeding tube and catheter, they will be removed before you are awakened so it is expected that you will feel a little… sore. It is also normal to feel nauseous, dizzy or even vomit. If you have any concerns now or when you awaken please express them.”
“I’m fine.” Besides a dry throat and fluttering stomach it all sounded straight forward, and Angela was standing on the other side of the tank so I did not want to appear frightened.
“All right. I’m going to place the breathing mask on now and I
want you to count backwards from ten.”
“Ten, nine, eight…seven…si…”
Was it just me, or did Angela squeeze my hand while the tech wasn’t looking?