Selected Short Stories Featuring Analog Memory

by Nicolas Wilson

talk about it?”

  “Do you?” I asked, and she thought a moment and shuddered. It was hard to know which particular aspect of Dalaxia was haunting her: the way that entire world seemed to scream as that whole world burned, the choke of smoke rolling off burning flesh, or the way that planet made us hate people, and each other.

  I summoned the strength to look at her; or maybe it was just that I knew she wouldn't be able to look at me, after that.

  “Come on,” she said, pushing out of her chair. “I'll get you home.” She put an arm around my torso and pulled me off my stool. She steadied me on my feet, I wasn't sure if she was surprisingly strong, or I was just that plastered and malleable.

  She was definitely less in the bag than me, because she weaved her way back to my cabin. She leaned me against my doorway.

  “I won't be able to sleep,” I told her, though I didn't mean anything by it; I was having difficulty feeling everything below the pounding beginning in my head, so I had no reason to think the spirit was willing. But that was Dalaxia in a nutshell, and unfortunately, my relationship with SecDiv, as well. That colony was where we stopped pretending we were only fucking each other, and it was also where I lost her.

  “Me, either,” she said coldly, and walked the other direction.

  I sighed, and fell into my cabin. I missed the bed by a foot, but my floor was surprisingly comfortable. I scrolled idly through my heads-up display on my eyescreen, and saw that I had a message from my cousin Brian. But they were never just messages; they were the start of interminable conversations that only ended when it got more excruciating to stay and humor him than to walk away and intentionally hurt his feelings. I loved him, and would gladly help him through his problems, but he had a depressive tendency, which meant I wasn’t so much helping as listening while he mangled a half-dozen melancholy clichés together, and I just didn’t have the will to go through that; I still wasn’t sure I had the will to make it all the way into my bed.

  I woke up late the next morning, morning being a relative thing on a star ship. I had made it into bed, after all, though my crotch felt like it had been worn for a pair of donkey tap shoes- so I don’t think I got there effortlessly.

  I sniffed at myself. It wasn’t painfully obvious I’d passed out in my clothes, so I decided to hell with a shower and a change.

  My cabin was in an unlikely spot midship, unlikely in that it wasn’t any grander than any other officer cabin, though it was better than the barracks. I chose it because it was near one of the biggest windows on the ship, and I liked to stargaze. This window usually had the best view of planets and systems we were passing, and it was hard to keep your breath looking out at worlds we’d only ever glimpsed through telescopes before.

  It made me feel like a kid again. My dad used to tell me about the space race, back in the 1950s and ‘60s. Space exploration began in earnest when we started to worry about the Russians dropping nuclear weapons on us from space, back when “US” meant Americans. Eventually everybody lost interest, because space was an expensive hobby for countries with no concept of return on investment. The occasional discussion of monetizing the cosmos cropped up, mostly revolving around mining and maybe eventually trade, but it was all academic, because it was too expensive. Then we hit peak oil, and that was followed by all kinds of other peaking minerals. So we either had to start mining off-world, or accept a different standard of living.

  What had once been the United Nations was now the United Government, mostly a coat of paint, really, but it pushed the ICC and other disparate sections of international law and government under the same tent. At the same time, the power of national governments had been shrinking as the world became smaller, so the UG became roughly equivalent to the old US in terms of real world influence. A lot of that disseminated power went to multinational companies, many of which had larger populations and economies than the old countries, and those companies were the only ones with enough cash on hand to explore space once it was deemed a necessity.

  Sontem, the company I worked for, was one of the largest of the interstellar corporations. Their first ship was called the Argus, after somebody got their Greek mythology slightly wrong. On the tenth year of its tour, it opened up a worm-gate at its location- about five lights years out.

  Our ship was to be the second in what the board hoped would grow to be a fleet of deep-space exploration vehicles. The company wanted to call the ship the Enterprise, but the company who owned the rights to the old Star Trek show sued. Several related names were floated, including “Commerce,” and even “Intercourse,” which had my vote, before they settled on “Nexus”.

  It was ostensibly a five-year mission, just like the Argus, but it was written into our service contracts that they could be unilaterally extended indefinitely. And we all knew when we signed up that the ship was designed so generations could live and die on board- there was no expectation of going back home.

  We'd been out of the worm-gate a few weeks. The corridors still had that plasticky new ship smell. I killed lots of time walking the halls, because we were weeks away from having anything to do.

  I got an incoming message on my HUD, from SecDiv. Her image, name and rank popped up on my eyescreen, Lieutenant Louise Templeton. It was strange seeing her at that rank. She'd been a sergeant when I was worked with her in SecDiv, what felt like several lifetimes ago. We’d been in love, as madly as two people ever were. It ended… incompletely. I hadn't seen her in years before the voyage. She didn't know I was up for a spot on the Nexus, and I hadn't known about her. It was a coincidence she ended up my head of SecDiv- unless it was somebody in the company’s idea of a sick joke.

  I pulled her into the corner of my eyescreen. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun in a way that made her seem more severe than she was- though she could be severe.

  She was first on my personality compatibility matrix, and seventh for genetic compatibility; since it was a generational ship, they built those matrices during crew selection to make sure we wouldn’t get out past Jupiter before everybody realized they had no intention of boning anybody else. I hadn't had the computer build a composite, but I suspected we would have beautiful, disturbingly brilliant children- though I wasn’t sure if either of us wanted that.

  “LT? What's happening?” I realized only after answering that I'd called her by her initials, LT like 'melty,' like I used to, and hoped she could confuse it with a recitation of her rank- we were still a ways away from being back to friendly.

  “I've got a situation developing. An ensign's setting off the decibel sensors in the corridor, trying to blow the drums out of one of my SecOff's ears. I'm on the bridge, or I'd handle it myself.”

  “And SecDiv's gone a whole week without bloodying a crew member.”

  “That, too,” she said with a smile. “Just down the hall from your twenty- location.” I wasn’t far enough out of the security services I’d forgotten my ten codes, but it had probably been a while since she’d worked security for someone with my background.

  I adjusted my cochlear implant, just enough to eavesdrop. “Yeah, I hear him now. Jesus. That's some Paleolithic caveman shit he's flinging. Are we sure it isn’t a particularly nasty chimpanzee someone released out of SciDiv?”

  “…maybe if you'd allowed the baby's daddy to be in the picture, but you chose to be a single mother…” I rounded the corner, and he was there, looming over the SecOff, spittle suspended in the air before it smacked across the wall and the woman.

  I stepped between them, and puffed out my chest to be sure the augmented reality sensors in his HUD would pull up my name and rank so he knew who he was dealing with. “Do I have to explain this situation to you, son?” His lip curled into a snarl he failed to hide. “You're being a dick; worse, you're being a misogynistic, irrational dick, and it's fucking with my morale. First off, you're going to apologize.”

  “Like fuck I will.”

  “You will apologize, or I will fire you out the nearest ai
rlock for insubordination.” My HUD mapped the direct route to the airlock, and I shared it with his HUD.

  Anger and surprise flashed across his eyes, and for a second I thought he'd take a swing at me. But he'd heard the stories, and realized that I was likely more trouble than the SecOff, so he mumbled a quiet, “Sorry.”

  I turned to SecOff Santiago. My HUD pulled up too much of her psychological history; I hadn’t acclimated to having executive clearances, or maybe I hadn’t set my preferences properly. Before I could stop myself I read the words, “abusive father.” I thought that it put her reaction to being screamed at by this chauvinist prick in perspective, but I’ve known enough people with that history to know better than to think it’s that linear a correlation. “You’re dismissed,” I told her.

  “I can handle this, sir,” she said, defiant.

  “It’s not a security issue any more. It’s an administrative one.” Her eyes went wide. His didn’t, because he hadn’t the sense to be afraid.

  She glanced at the Ensign, and I saw that for a moment I was sharing his file with her. He had no combat experience to speak of. She knew enough of my reputation that she didn’t query my files before deciding I could handle him myself, and walked away.

  “Now I don't care if mommy was a bad