by J. M. Snyder
Jude was halfway between his three- and four-year bonuses, nearing veteran status, with no intentions of leaving his job any time soon. Isolation suited him. Out in the far reaches of the explored galaxy, his wasn’t a recognizable face. He was just a man looking for minerals.
He’d been promoted half a year earlier. Now, instead of remaining at a single mining station, he flew around the sector in a two-man survey ship, scanning and collecting samples which the higher-ups would use to determine where they wanted to mine next. Jude had never objected to the dull life at a remote outpost, but the changing scenery of a survey man’s lot was inarguably pleasant.
Of course, spending months at a stretch cooped up in a small vessel with another person would be miserable if the individuals in question didn’t get along. To that end Alston’s HR utilized compatibility tests in which their employees placed only minimal faith.
Maybe it was the tests, maybe it was luck, but Jude had been paired with a good man. Cal had been with the company for a few years, which meant he knew better than to pry into Jude’s reasons for staying out in deep space, same as Jude never asked what drove Cal to the job. That was the most important qualification in Jude’s book, because greenhorns were damned nosy. Moreover, Cal was a highly competent navigator, knew the computer backwards and forwards, and didn’t insist on talking just because he was afraid of silence.
They worked well together and had a routine down. Cal navigated, Jude scanned, and if they sometimes landed on moons to collect samples in person which the drones could’ve handled, well, there was nobody around to tell them they couldn’t go for a scenic walk.
Cal was a good-looking guy in a generic way. Jude envied him that—not being attractive as much as being of generic appearance. His own face was angular in the extreme, with each feature attempting to be sharper than the next. The result was neither handsome nor homely, a face which was best described as ‘memorable.’
For the first few months, Jude hadn’t paid any attention to Cal as more than a coworker, if admittedly a pleasant one to look at. As it happened, though, one day he accidentally started playing porn on the large shared screen when Cal was sitting not two meters away.
Now, Jude wasn’t ashamed of his porn. When two men worked together on long trips in a small ship, they damned well knew when the other guy went to have some quality time with an adult video. All the same, it seemed the polite thing to keep his personal videos on his own devices, not the big screen.
Before he could even apologize, Cal had said, “Is that Dick Boone in a four-way? I don’t have that video, will you send it to me?”
It was shortly after this incident that Cal started creeping into Jude’s fantasies, such as the one where they had a threesome with Dick Boone. He wondered if a shared interest in gay porn had come up in the compatibility test, but to the best of his knowledge he hadn’t answered any questions about his porn preferences, so he guessed not.
Anyway, as Jude saw things, life could’ve been a lot worse than a roommate worth fantasizing about, and since his worst complaint regarding Cal was how the man sometimes hummed quietly without realizing it, he counted himself lucky in the mining partner department. Though he didn’t let Cal heat up his food. Really, who burned MREs? Jude hadn’t even known it was possible until he saw Cal do just that.
They were currently en route to their last stop before heading to a waystation for supplies. The destination was a planet not yet exciting enough for a name other than the boring designation HR 6416 IV. If the long-range data extrapolation had been correct, the planet was basically a tundra. Jude wouldn’t like to stay in such a place long term, but he was itching to stretch his legs and get out of the ship, so he hoped it was an environment that would allow them to suit up and take a walk.
“We’re approaching the solar system’s circumstellar disc,” said Cal. “Not a very dense one. Makes the Kuiper Belt look crowded.”
“You only say that because you’re dying for a chance to live out one of those implausible movie scenes where they’re almost bombarded with asteroids and the pilot has to save the day.” Cool action sequences, yes. Remotely accurate, not as far as Jude had seen.
Cal was quick to retort, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
“I was making a note that there’s probably not going to be much worth the hassle of mining in the C.D.”
“Maybe if there was yttrium,” said Jude. “Last bulletin said management is especially eager for new sources of it.”
Cal shrugged. “That’s your department. I just fly the ship and run endless internal systems scans.”
Technically, he was correct, but in reality, they’d each learned a fair bit of each other’s jobs. It made their lives smoother that way. In any event, making determinations about where Alston would mine was above either of their pay grades. Their role was to fly around the sector and run scans, with the occasional collecting of samples if a site looking promising.
Jude looked at the visual feed. “That is a pretty pathetic C.D. I only see one rock.” Usually circumstellar discs were a bit more interesting, so he was mildly disappointed by this one. “Let’s see, my scanners are showing dust.”
“Same. Boring old dust.”
“Well, we can always hope for polar bears on the planet.” Not that Jude was especially keen to encounter any kind of vicious predator, really. The space suits were hell to run in, and he’d never been very fast to begin with, so he didn’t like his odds. Sure, they had firearms for such scenarios, but his accuracy scores left something to be desired.
“Or penguins,” said Cal. “Less likely to gobble us down for dinner.”
“But I was going to get us a nice bearskin rug.” Jude barely managed to keep a straight face as he made the comment. He couldn’t think of anything less out of place in the ship than a bearskin rug and anyway, he really didn’t want to use his gun.
“With your firearms scores? I think the bear would be more likely to use your skin as a rug.”
“Thank you for that charming mental picture, Cal. You really know how to brighten a man’s day.”
“You’re the one threatening innocent polar bears. Though, can you even call them polar bears if they don’t live near a pole?”
“If we discover them, we can call them whatever we want.” At least, Jude was pretty sure that was how naming a new species worked.
“Bodecker’s Bear has a nice ring to it,” said Cal. “Entering this pathetic excuse for a circumstellar disc.”
Alliteration was well and good, but Jude objected to Bodecker’s Bear on principle. “If we co-discover a species, it can’t just be named after you.”
“Bodecker and Vickery’s Bear doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“Who says your name would be first?”
“It would be, since I’d see the bear before you,” Cal said, matter-of-fact as you please.
“Oh really?”
“Sure. You’re the one who has to scan for minerals when we’re out there. Once we’ve landed, my job is done and I’m free to make zoological finds.”
He was right, the bastard. Jude scowled and went back to his scans.
“Your silence concedes the point.” Cal didn’t bother keeping the delight out of his voice.
“I still won’t let you take all the credit.”
“You want in on the fifteen minutes of fame, huh?”
Shit. Jude hadn’t thought about that part, and now he didn’t have any desire to claim zoological discoveries. Fame of any kind was the exact opposite of what he wanted. “On second thought, I’ll let you take credit for any bears, and keep all the kudos for mineral finds to myself. That’s where the bonuses are.”
“Wait just a damn second. Those bonuses are supposed to be split with the navigator.”
Good. Cal was annoyed, and thus dropped the fame angle.
Jude countered, “The navigator gets a share of the bonus if he helps find the mineral stash, whi
ch he can’t be doing if he’s off looking for bears.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll share credit and bonuses for everything. Not that I agree with the bonus structure to begin with. It’s all down to blind luck since we don’t get to choose our sector.”
“I think the official line is that it encourages us to be thorough.” Alston didn’t want anyone getting lazy due to boredom and routine, a problem which had been known to arise from time to time.
“What else do we have to do out here? There are only so many times I can beat you at chess.”
“I’ll win one of these days.” Jude’s chess game was improving, though admittedly it still had a ways to go if he was going to be Cal’s equal. “Speaking of being thorough, steer us past that big rock to port, will you? I want to get a good scan.”
“And if it’s something that’ll earn us a bonus, I get my share, right?”
Jude wouldn’t actually stiff Cal out of a bonus. It was a shitty move to pull on anyone, not least a crush-worthy friend. And, he reminded himself, he wasn’t supposed to think of Cal as crush-worthy. Sexy was one thing. Nothing wrong with appreciating a good-looking guy, and what Cal didn’t know about Jude’s fantasy scenarios wouldn’t hurt him. Feelings were another matter entirely, and Jude obviously needed to work on his compartmentalization later.
Meanwhile, if he judged the navigator’s tone correctly, his remark had hit a nerve. He therefore thought it best to clarify. “Course you’d get your share. I wouldn’t really screw you over like that.”
“My previous partner did.”
“Seriously?” He knew Cal didn’t like his previous partner and requested a transfer. This significant detail hadn’t come up.
“She wrote up a report giving herself full credit.”
“But both parties have to agree on reports for a bonus.”
“She forged my signature based on old reports. I couldn’t prove it, and the boss loved her, so I was shit out of luck. It wasn’t even a big bonus, just the injustice, you know? Told them I’d walk if they didn’t assign me a new partner, and they’re short on experienced navigators, so here we are.”
“You never said.”
Cal frowned, trying and not entirely succeeding to look casual. “Got tired of telling the story and not being believed.”
“I believe you. Sadly, we’re not looking at a bonus from this rock.” It was closer to a ball of ice than a rock, for one thing. Besides, Alston only offered bonuses for finding whatever minerals they’d chosen to focus on in the current quarter, so not just any lode equaled a bonus.
“A man can dream,” said Cal. “And thanks. For believing me.”
“Sure thing.”
“Buckle up. We’re going to slingshot around the outermost ice giant soon.”
Jude was used to the maneuver by now. The first few times he’d almost lost his last meal, which Cal had generously pretended not to notice.
He targeted his scanners on the ice giant’s single moon, then clicked his safety harness into place. “Ready when you are.”
Cal loved gravity slingshots, and Jude liked to see him so excited and happy. Damn, those crush-like feelings were coming back again. He really had to do something to quash them. He and Cal worked well together, and Jude didn’t want to ruin their easy companionship. Besides, he knew he wasn’t relationship material.
As ice giants went, this one was pretty dull. No rings or bright colors, just boring shades of grey and pea green. Jude was unimpressed. The moon wasn’t anything exciting, either. Nothing but a carbonaceous body, and if anyone wanted carbon, there was plenty of it floating around in more convenient locations.
“That’s weird,” said Cal.
“What?”
“The gravity.” His fingers flew over the controls. “Has to be dark matter.”
Jude’s heart rate ticked up. Dark matter was problematic like that. You couldn’t detect it except by its gravitational pull, it was unevenly distributed in the galaxy, and it had a nasty habit of sneaking up and surprising you. Jude sometimes entertained the thought that what they called dark matter was actually some kind of alien race that liked to jump more into observable space and screw with passing ships.
The computer started beeping in alarm, and Jude’s pulse sped up accordingly. This wasn’t his specialty, but it was the most massive surge in gravity he’d ever seen. Where the hell had it come from? Maybe his dark matter alien idea wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
He didn’t need Cal to tell him their slingshot was beyond hope, or that they were heading at an undesirable speed towards the source of gravity not far from the ice giant. Jude didn’t know what happened when a ship crashed into dark matter and really didn’t want to find out firsthand.
“Gonna have to push the engines,” said Cal. “Here’s hoping I don’t burn them out.”
Well, as long as the burning out got them enough momentum to escape, that was what SOS calls were for. Jude was far more concerned with ensuring they didn’t get sucked into dark matter. He sat quietly in his own anxiety and let Cal work without interruption.
Another alarm sounded, and Jude’s console lit up with a warning: Engines Exceeding Capacity. It had to be dire if the system felt the need to warn the prospector as well as the navigator. A tendril of fear reached from his belly to this throat, making it difficult to swallow.
“I know, I know,” Cal told the computer, which continued to blare in protest.
Jude wondered if he should’ve made up that will, after all.
After an endless minute Cal announced, “That’s escape velocity. We’re going to clear it.”
Good. Jude didn’t want to die before he’d even made it to thirty, and he especially didn’t want to die out here getting crushed by the gravitational force of dark matter.
Finally Cal said, “We’re free from the dark matter. Engines are dying, though.”
“They lasted long enough to save our asses, so we can’t complain too much.”
“I’m pointing us towards IV,” said Cal, “enough that the planet’s gravity should capture us, which is better than staying around to get sucked in here. Gonna be a rough landing, though.”
“I’ll prepare to deploy the buoy.”
“Hoping not to need it.”
“You and I both.” The point of the buoy was to leave a record of what happened to them in case the ship was destroyed, a fate he very much wanted to avoid. Still, there was protocol to be followed, and to that end he made sure all the ship’s records were backed up to the buoy.
Yet another warning chime came from the computer, and the screen was replaced by big red text: Engine Failure Imminent.
“Hell of a thing,” said Cal. “Never seen dark matter like that. Gravity that strong shouldn’t be a surprise.”
The text on the screen changed. It now read Complete Engine Failure. This was a new experience for Jude, one he’d have preferred to skip indefinitely.
“I had this crazy idea a while back about dark matter,” he began, hoping he didn’t make himself sound like a complete idiot. “Maybe it’s not as insane as I thought.”
“Well, don’t keep me guessing.”
“What if it’s some kind of life form that exists in two different dimensions?”
“That’d explain the sudden appearance,” said Cal.
Jude was more relieved than he cared to admit that the other man didn’t laugh off his theory. “Right. More of it moved into our space.”
“We know next to nothing about dark matter. Kinda hard to say what it isn’t when we don’t know what it is, and you may be onto something.” Cal looked at his screen and frowned. “I hope it doesn’t come in closer, or we’re gonna find out the hard way what getting sucked into dark matter does to a ship.”
Jude hadn’t thought of a recurrence. He tried to swallow down his nerves while wiping sweat from his face. “I’m really starting to dislike this solar system.”
“The good news is, we’re on track for a non-fatal approach to IV. Hardly
any asteroids in this solar system, which is excellent since we have no way to avoid them.”
“I’m sending a distress message. The buoy will wait until we’re closer to the planet.” Per Alston’s procedure, Jude would deploy the buoy to leave a record should the landing go badly.
“We’re not in immediate distress, at least,” said Cal. “At this speed, if you can even call it that, we’re looking at a good sixteen hours before we reach the planet.”
Unlike him, Jude didn’t have a pilot’s love of high speeds. “Better than going so fast we can’t survive the landing.”
“True.” Cal looked at a diagnostic and shook his head. “Even the steering thrusters burned out, which I’ve never heard of happening outside test scenarios.”
“Looks like the other systems are okay,” said Jude. They had very little fuel left, but it made no difference without operational engines.
“That was intense. If you’re right about the dark matter being some kind of life form, it’ll inspire a whole new kind of movie.”
“More misinformation about life out here, I’m sure.” Most movies never bothered with getting facts correct.
“Maybe you should start writing your own screenplays, Mr. Critical.”
Jude doubted his writing ability was up to the task, and anyway, he had no desire to get involved with the entertainment industry. “Is that your way of saying you want to be rid of me?”
“No.” Cal spoke quickly and forcefully, like he was actually alarmed at the prospect. He recovered some evenness in his tone before adding, “I’ve just gotten you trained the way I want.”
“You make me sound like a dog. I don’t like it.”
Cal laughed. “Duly noted. I’m starting a Level 3 systems scan.”
They weren’t on track to pass anything within optimal scanning distance, leaving Jude with very little to do, so he asked, “Want some lunch?”