Serendipity

by Dennis Ingram

  “So you took the medal.”

  David nodded. “I took the medal and did their damned tour. The others got medals too and joined the whole twisted dog-and-pony show. The Navy got their ‘war heroes’ to help justify what they’d done.”

  “And that’s when the dreams began.”

  David looked up, his eyes wide. “How did you know?”

  “It’s not hard to guess. What happened at the clearing was guilt enough for anyone, but then they rewarded you, made you a hero. More than that – a public hero. Everyone knew who you were. You could never, ever tell, could you?”

  David’s anguished look said it all. Not only was he twice-guilty by his reckoning, he had never told, never sought help.

  “It’s not your fault, David.”

  David looked away.

  “It’s not your fault. It’s not. You made the same decision any of the others in your team would’ve made. Hell, chances are they were already shooting before you gave the order, am I right?”

  David looked at him, incredulous at first, then trying to remember. “I … I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I was in charge, and I did give the order.”

  “I just meant to point out you weren’t the only one facing a threat. Any of those with you would’ve have done the same if they’d been in charge. None of them blamed you, did they?”

  David looked at Nigel for a long moment, then shook his head.

  “In fact, they most likely told you the same thing I just did.” Nigel saw from David’s expression he was right. “What they did to you by giving you that medal was evil and manipulative. They should have court-martialed you.”

  David looked up, eyes wide.

  Nigel nodded. “Yes. That would have given you all a chance to tell your story and get closure, no matter what happened. Instead, they tried to cover up their own greater sin, of starting the war in the first place. You were … what, mid- to late- twenties?”

  David nodded.

  “Young. They manipulated you into taking that medal, despite almost certainly knowing what it would do to you.”

  David said nothing.

  “Where is it now?”

  David looked up. “Excuse me?”

  “The medal. Where is it? Did you bring it in your baggage allowance?”

  David shook his head. “We finished the tour in New York. I took a tour on the harbor the next day. It’s somewhere west of Ellis Island.”

  Nigel nodded. “And that’s a good place for it. Do the same thing with your guilt. It’s over now, David. There’s a lot for you to look forward to. You’ve atoned for any sins you think you may have committed over and over. It’s time to let them go.”

  “Perhaps it’s not my old sins. Maybe it’s the new ones.”

  Nigel shook his head. “I doubt you really believe that. Those who would like you to feel guilty are trying to manipulate you for their own selfish reasons, just like your commanding officers on Earth all those years ago. Don’t let them. You owe it to yourself, and God knows we need you to lead us more than ever. The alternative is too horrible to contemplate.”

  David snorted with something that seemed halfway between amusement and contempt. “That’s not going to happen.” He set his glass down on the table and stood. “So now what?”

  Nigel stood as well. “You and I are going to continue to catch up a few more times, so you can help me drink this abysmal excuse for a whiskey.”

  David grimaced. “So there will be punishment.”

  Nigel smiled. “It’s not so bad, not after the first shot.”

  David glanced at his empty glass and managed a smile. “So you say.”

  9

  David scooped a hole in the rich loamy soil and transferred a seedling from the tray next to him, guarding the tender roots from damage as he tamped it into place.

  He never grew tired of this task. He loved the feel of the earth on his hands, the smell of it, the pleasure of nurturing new life. He even loved the early morning chill – it seemed more natural, more right, like the Idaho mornings he remembered from boyhood.

  Every morning now, he followed this ritual. Up before first light to visit Grace, talking to her every day, telling her what happened yesterday, of plans for today. He knew she couldn’t hear him. She wasn’t in a coma, where there might have been a slim hope the sound of his voice would rouse her from her long slumber. But it helped him to believe she would return to him soon, and it helped him to tell her out loud all those things he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell anyone else.

  Then he came here and worked in his garden. He didn’t need to – they had plenty of machines to raise seedlings, plant them out, tend to them, and harvest them when ready. But he had to connect to the land to keep his sanity, to keep himself real. His garden was his, and his alone. Everyone left him to his little patch of land and respected his space, the hour he spent communing with nature before heading home to join his family for breakfast.

  Except today. Someone had come to steal his time.

  Carla.

  Her boots scrunched on the pea-gravel path, her shadow bisecting the long, slanting rays of golden sunlight filtering through the mouth of the cavern.

  “Ever the farmer, I see.”

  David glanced up then resumed his work. Scoop, lift, tamp. The row of seedlings grew.

  Carla showed no signs of being fazed by his lack of attention. She waited as he worked, hands clasped behind her back.

  Scoop, lift, tamp. David continued until the last seedling nestled in the earth.

  “There’s a watering can over there,” he said, pointing with his chin. Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the stack of empty trays and walked off toward a shed at the end of the garden.

  Carla sighed and looked at her hands before going over to where the watering can waited beneath a faucet. She grunted as she lifted it, using both hands to haul it back to the garden.

  “Steady,” David said, catching the handle of the can and righting it as she released a torrent of water. “Let’s not drown them.”

  Carla frowned and thrust the watering can at David. “Here then. You do it.”

  David raised an eyebrow but took the watering can and emptied it. He set it down on the path, straightening up to look at Carla. “So, what do you want?”

  The frown slipped from her face. “Perhaps I wanted to spend time with you.”

  David shook his head. “Nope. You want something.”

  Carla’s nostrils flared as she drew a breath. She raised her hands. “OK, you got me. I do want something.”

  David tilted his head. “What?”

  She stepped into his personal space and looked up at him, gray eyes meeting blue.

  “We stand on the edge of a precipice, you and I.”

  “We do?”

  Carla’s eyes remained locked on his. “You know we do. You with your people, me with mine. If we’re not careful … there may be consequences.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Carla pressed her lips together. “It doesn’t have to be. People are people, David. I can’t be sure what will happen if we continue to divide ourselves.”

  David’s gaze held hers for a small eternity. “What do you suggest?”

  “An alliance.”

  His eyes widened. “A political relationship?”

  “More than that. Something more binding and permanent.”

  David frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Carla stepped even closer and placed one hand on his chest. He smelled her perfume, rich and musky. Despite the early hour, she’d taken the time to apply makeup, lipstick fresh and shiny. Her lips parted as she exhaled.

  “I propose …” She licked her lips, surprising David – she always seemed so confident. “I propose … a marriage.”

  David stared. “You can’t mean …?”

  “You and me? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” Her words tumbled out, unpracticed. “I realize this is something you haven’t thought of, didn’t exp
ect. It … it isn’t love, David, we both know that, although …” She swallowed, and leaned in, her hand gripping his chest. “I wouldn’t disappoint you. In time we could grow to love each other.”

  David pulled back, his eyes wide, and Carla frowned. “It’s how it’s done, David. This is how families make alliances. It’s always been this way. Together, you and I, we can found a dynasty to rule this planet now and forever.”

  This is how families make alliances. David’s mind reeled. This is how families make alliances. My god, Edward was right! She’s one of them, a member of the ruling families from Edward’s fantastic tale!

  His eyes betrayed his knowledge, and Carla understood. Her gray eyes grew cold as she stepped back.

  “So. Now you see. Politics, not love. Family, not friendship, although these things are possible, in time. Think carefully, David. This is your one chance to seal our fates and keep the peace. What do you choose?”

  David felt a shiver run down his spine. He had no doubt he was standing on the cusp of history. Reject Carla, and the night Edward died would seem like a minor disagreement. Accept her and he may damn them all to repeat the fate of Earth all over again.

  He felt his head shake, the words coming without conscious thought. “I have a wife.”

  Anger flared in Carla’s eyes for the briefest of moments. Her lips twitched in a small smile before she said, “Just remember, you had your chance.”

  With that, she spun on her heel and walked away, back toward the settlement.

  David watched her go. He felt no regret, only foreboding.

  “Well?” Franz said as Carla returned, her face like thunder.

  “Well, nothing!” she said, leaving Franz in no doubt as to the outcome.

  He stayed quiet.

  She paced up and down, clenching and unclenching a fist. How dare he! How dare he reject her! She’d had it all planned out. The perfect solution to pull David into her scheme and avoid the storm that must now come. She’d painted the picture in her mind, of the dynasty she would found. Ever since she’d first met him in person she’d seen David as the worthiest sire of her family. Day by day, week by week she lived her fantasy, until it seemed impossible to her that David didn’t feel as she did.

  Carla had stopped thinking he wouldn’t share her conviction and did something she hadn’t done for many, many years. She’d cared. She’d cared about what David would say, what he would do. Carla had let her guard down for a minute and exposed a vulnerability, and what had he done? He’d rejected her! Worse, he’d mocked her over that stupid watering can!

  She ground her teeth in rage and frustration, crossing her arms and glaring at Franz. Now, all she had was him.

  “A negotiated settlement was always a long shot,” Franz said, unaware of just how intimate Carla’s terms had been. “We can still start our own colony.”

  “We’re not leaving,” Carla said, the ice reasserting itself. The rage felt good, but it must wait. She’d get her own back on Mr. High-and-Mighty David Miller later. He’d keep.

  “We’re not?” Franz said, raising his eyebrows.

  Carla shook her head. “Why should we? There’s more of us than them. Fortune favors the strong. We could leave, but I only said that to get people on board. It was never as good as using Haven for a base, as Edward intended.”

  Franz rubbed at his jaw. “I see. Technically, there aren’t more of us.”

  Carla snorted. “I’m not counting the passengers as colonists. They’re just soft parasites, the lot of them. They won’t get involved until they see who wins, and that will be us.”

  Franz shifted his feet. “That didn’t work out well last time.”

  Carla glared at him. “Last time, we didn’t prepare well enough. Last time, Edward screwed it up. This time, we will be prepared.” She resumed pacing.

  “Hmmm.” The wheels of her mind turned as she closed the door on her first plan and thought about the next. She smiled. “Yes. Yes, I see it.” She turned to Franz. “We need a trigger, something to distract them while we act. I know the perfect thing, something that even has the possibility of turning David toward my original plan … in time. Yes, in time he will come to accept it.”

  She stared off into the distance, seeing it, tasting success. When Edward had been alive she’d been content to follow his lead. But he’d changed, somehow. Where once she’d seen strength, weakness had formed. She’d followed an impulse, an instinct, when she’d shot him. She understood now, though. She had somehow known, seen his weakness, corrected it. Now she had been set free, to seize the opportunity to shape Serendipity to her own design.

  “What do you have in mind?” Franz asked.

  She told him.

  Franz’s mouth dropped open. “You … you can’t be serious!” He shook his head. “No, no. I won’t be part of this.”

  Carla smiled again, but her eyes were ice cold as she locked his gaze like a snake stalking a mouse. “Yes, you will.” She walked up to him and placed one hand on his cheek. “If you want a future with me, you will. Think about it – you’ve seen the way he is. We’d be doing him a favor. Sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind.”

  “Come on, Chuck, you’ll love it, I promise.” Nigel sat across the breakfast table from Chuck Swanson, pitching their morning classes. “I see you running in the mornings and working out. You’re a man who takes care of himself.”

  Chuck stopped chewing and for a split second his eyes flicked over to where Franz and Carla sat eating their breakfast.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I do like to stay in shape.” He looked at Nigel. “Fighting’s not my thing, though.”

  “You don’t have to spar unless you want to.”

  Chuck shook his head. “Sorry, Nigel. Maybe some other time.”

  Nigel turned to Mike Soper, another of the engineers.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mike said, holding his hands up. “Don’t look at me, either.”

  Nigel’s gaze slid across to Sheldon picking at his eggs. His expression said it all and Nigel gave up with a sigh.

  Not one person in what they thought of as “Carla’s group” had taken him up on his offer to teach them karate. He’d been sure some of them would at least be prepared to try. “OK,” he said, getting up. “But if you change your mind –”

  “We know where to find you,” Chuck said.

  Nigel nodded. “You’ll always be welcome.” He turned to go.

  Veronika yawned. It’d been a long day, but she felt happy. Transforming her little clinic into a hospital was hard work. A small hospital, to be sure, but a proper one, with a place for all the doctors. She and Silvia and Bethany and Yuri, working together. She hugged herself – it felt so good to work with other doctors again, and to be setting up their own hospital. She so looked forward to the next few years, working with them, watching their little colony grow. And grow it would, now they could develop human embryos ex-vitro. Yes, they would have their hands full.

  She went to leave but her phone sounded an alert. She frowned and reached for the lightweight card clipped to her belt. All of their patients carried tiny implanted monitors that routed an alert to her when needed. But no patients were sick enough to have a monitor, so how could there be any alerts?

  Veronika touched the phone. “Oh my god,” she breathed. No, it couldn’t be! The screen showed the flat vital signs of a patient who shouldn’t need any attention at all.

  Grace Ng.

  Time slowed to a crawl for Veronika. The urgent calls to her medical colleagues. Telling David and the others. The sprint to the stasis chamber. Discovering the field dissolved; Ernie with the news it didn’t fail, someone had sabotaged it. He and his fellow engineers rushing to repair it, but the tone of his voice telling her they wouldn’t get it working again in time.

  The frantic transfer to their new hospital OR, water streaming from Grace’s stretcher like a river of fading life as they ran, ice melting, blood draining.

  The despair at seeing Grace’s lifele
ss body, skin tinged with blue; despair replaced with grim determination as they worked over her.

  No time to plan. No time for subtlety. Even as Bethany and Yuri connected up the chilled saline they would use instead of blood, she had her scalpel out, slicing into Grace’s chest, exposing her ruined heart.

  She had no replacement. Veronika had planned to grow a new one for her. Instead of this frantic emergency, her surgery would be organized, clinical, neat. She hadn’t rushed – the more time they took to prepare, the better their chances for success.

  Oh, bozhe moi, bozhe moi! Why didn’t I expect this? Why didn’t I prepare sooner? Now she will die because of me!

  They had an artificial heart, she had done that much. It would do until they grew a new one. And so she worked while the others infused saline, administered anesthetic, and covered her with sensors. She removed her heart, the bullet that had ruined it clanging into a pan.

  Veronika didn’t think about David and the others waiting outside. She didn’t think about the fact that Grace was already clinically dead. Her world shrank to the hole in Grace’s chest and the artificial heart. She didn’t feel Bethany mop the sweat from her brow. She didn’t notice the hours slide into the past as she worked, her hands swift and precise.

  David waited outside, pacing back and forth. His world had come to a standstill when he received Veronika’s call, her voice fading in and out as she ran. His heart sank when he understood. He’d dropped everything and run – run as fast as he could to Grace.

  He’d taken in the scene with a glance, and realized the stasis chamber wouldn’t be usable for a while. Whoever had interrupted the field had destroyed the control panel, rendering it useless. His blood boiled with rage when he realized what had happened, but he clamped down on his anger. The instincts that had kept him alive through four years of naval air combat served him once again, and ice replaced the fire. He organized the stretcher bearers and together they carried Grace in a flat run to the hospital, icy water streaming behind them.