The Great Beyond

by A. K. DuBoff

  An instructor in gray stood next to a table on the stage with the same two objects nearby. As he spoke, he lifted each item and demonstrated its use.

  “The small unit is both a personal communicator and a mobile interface. It is to be worn on the outside forearm opposite your dominant hand, i.e. left arm for righties and right for lefties. In this manner, you can operate the unit, using one or many fingers as it suits you. Once synced, you will be able to find and communicate with your teammates, by text, audio, and video, anytime, anywhere.”

  “Great,” Ken heard Sandy mutter as she shook her head sadly.

  “The larger unit is for classroom studies and fits into a dock at your station shipboard. You will find that very convenient if you take good notes. Your assignment tonight is to read the Academy Orientation and start studying the Cadet Handbook preloaded in every one.”

  For the last part, a 3D projection filled the open air between the speaker and the seating area. There, they could see a cadet in blue seating herself in a rocketship station and then placing the device in a docking port convenient to her workspace. As she went about a checklist on the console before her, she would flip screens on the device display, verifying her actions.

  Returning to their quarters, the trio had no sooner settled into study than their larger devices chimed in unison.

  “Spaceball, 07:30?” Max read aloud.

  “It’s intended to teach us antigravity maneuvering skills,” Ken added absently.

  “It’s also intended to teach us how to work together as a crew. We’re doomed,” Sandy finished.

  —

  The morning class found all three cadets in one-piece, skin-tight jumpsuits, 327 emblazoned in white across the front and back with magnetic boots on their feet. The boots were more like a synthetic moccasin, with soft, flexible soles intended for use aboard a spaceship. The secret of the footwear was in the material they were made of. Once activated, they offered a magnetic attraction to the metal decking that required some effort to break free, mimicking gravitational attraction. They were common attire in space, once the gravitational effect from any of the planets was gone, should one need a solid grounding. They could be turned on and off by touching the small device on their forearms they received yesterday.

  In addition, each held a helmet in their hands. The headwear was both safety equipment and communications gear. The same device on their forearms was also a communicator and was synced to their helmet, allowing the team members to talk to one another without the opposing team listening in. Unfortunately, Ken’s crewmembers were barely talking to each other in the open, so the advantage of the communicators was questionable.

  The three were standing together in a small square room, three other crews with them, making twelve cadets in all.

  “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, your room number is also your crew designation and will be your ship number once they are assigned to you. Crew 318 breaks down to a First Year crew, ship 18. Next year, your crew designation will start with a 2, and so on,” the instructor in gray explained. He pointed to the window against one wall. “In there is your first chance to work as a crew, to develop teamwork that might someday save your lives.”

  Beyond, Ken could see a spherical room, as if the inside of a ball.

  “From here we can see inside, have a sense of up and down, and can feel the effects of gravity. In there, that all disappears. You may become disoriented, lose your sense of direction. You may even panic. That’s all normal, but it’s up to you and your crewmates to improvise, adapt, and overcome. Only then will you be ready for a spaceship.”

  “327, 305, you are the first pairing,” the instructor declared as he walked toward the hatch.

  As explained in the Cadet Handbook, Ken knew the rules were pretty simple. In the center of the room was a ball, hovering in place. Each crew had to pick a goal to defend, and the goals were located uniformly throughout the sphere. In a traditional sense, there were four goals located ninety degrees along the equator of the sphere, like compass points, and one each at the top and bottom or north and south poles.

  Conventional strategies had the players selecting a goal exactly opposite their opponents, however, Ken was aware of circumstances where playing to your team’s strength or the opponent's weakness suggested otherwise. Having never actually played the game before, he decided they should use the keep it simple principle. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to share that strategy.

  “In you go,” the instructor prompted as he held the hatch open for the six cadets.

  “Max, take that goal, Ken you go there,” Sandy shouted as she pointed to the goal directly above everyone and then to the wall to their right as they entered.

  The goals were nothing more than openings in the wall where the ball would just fit, glancing throws would deflect away. Ken noticed the other team had taken the time to sync up their communications devices and he noted the silence with which they deployed. He also noted that by following Sandy’s directions, he was woefully out of position for where they selected their goal.

  Before he could reposition, the instructor started the game.

  “Go!” he heard announced over his headset and he watched as both his opponent’s player and Sandy launched off the walls toward the ball suspended in the center.

  While the other team’s player was bigger and heavier than Sandy, he was also much stronger and able to launch himself far faster. Ken pushed off as hard as he could to try and make up for the slower-moving Sandy.

  “Ken, move!” he heard Sandy shout, just in time for him to contort his body away from her. He was also able to see one of the opponents snag the ball, and then pass it to his crewmate as Sandy bounced off his form.

  It was interesting to note that the action of throwing the ball and hitting Sandy caused both to begin tumbling until they impacted with a wall. Both were then able to stabilize themselves once more at that point. Far too late to intercept, Ken decided to try and predict the next pass, launching himself across the void. Unfortunately, Sandy had estimated the same move, and the two of them collided, while the ball sailed past them and into the opponent’s hands once again.

  “Watch where you’re going and pay attention!” Sandy snapped before pushing off him and sending both of them in opposite directions.

  With all this going on, Max was doing his best to protect their goal while avoiding being called for goaltending. The rules specifically prohibited any player from completely blocking their goal, like laying over the pocket. They were only allowed to hover nearby, acting as an obstruction or hoping to get a hand or foot in the way of a throw.

  With Max’s sheer size, he hardly needed to try to get in the way. Their opponents took advantage of that, however, as one faked a throw, causing Max to turn, and then bounced the ball off his back and right into the goal for a score.

  “Guys, we need to sync up!” Ken said emphatically as he motioned to his communicator.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Sandy hissed as she retreated to one wall while motioning Ken to the opposite side of the court.

  Once again, the ball returned to center court, the only discernable reference point for Ken, having long since lost track of up, down, or sideways.

  “Go!” he heard once more as he launched himself.

  Ready this time, he actually reached the ball first, but found no one to pass it too, as Sandy sailed past him, landing behind and to his right. With no other option, he shot the ball at Max, using both hands to keep from spinning and increasing his speed until he impacted the wall, knocking the wind out of himself in the process.

  Ken was just aware enough to see his pass intercepted at the last moment and then slammed into the goal by a handoff between 305 crewmates. In short order, a hatch opened on the far wall, giving all a target and both teams exited the court, 5-0 the final score.

  “You three need to take a break and get your act together! As far as I could see, you had no leader on the court,” th
e instructor chastised the three.

  “You, I understand, but I expected more from a Martian and a Venusian,” he finished sadly with a shake of his head as he pointed first to Ken and then to his crewmates.

  —

  “What did he mean by he expected more from you two than me?” Ken asked as the three sat in the Spaceball breakroom.

  To their utter embarrassment, they discovered that their game and several others were all viewable from this location. All around them viewports had various matches in play, in real-time and high definition. It all translated to their abject failure on display for any cadet who wished to see.

  “Mars has only one-third the gravity of Earth. We are trained from an early age on how to move in low g’s without flailing about,” Max explained casually as he sipped his drink.

  “So, we failed to use the one person best suited to the situation at hand,” Ken stated. “And why should I care that you are from Venus, more low gravity?” he directed to Sandy.

  “Did you even take Xenology in school?” Sandy asked as she all but railed at Ken.

  “It was an elective, and I chose to take more career-focused classes—you know, like survival in space. Somehow, the study of humans who happened to live on other planets didn’t rate high on my need-to-know list.”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Sandy replied in frustration, then continued on. “Ok, my full name is Sandra-9872, Commander Cytherean is Sandra-4993. We originate from the same genetic pool, but are generations apart. Everyone on Venus is a genetic clone from one of the original female colonists.”

  “A planet of all women?” Ken asked in confusion.

  “Yes. We are an asexual people, and everyone is cloned from the same genetic source material so there is no degradation or dilution of the line. There were twenty-eight original colonists, both men and women, but only twelve survived the crash landing, all women. The mission was planned in secret and it was at a time in Earth’s history when fears of total annihilation were rampant. It was admittedly a misguided effort from the beginning, as each colonist was chosen for their genetic and physical purity, both in form and appearance. Everyone on my planet was selected for excellence on something they did on Earth.”

  “So that’s why you are so beautiful—physical perfection?” Ken blurted out.

  Everyone paused, as the disclosure seemed to take both of them by surprise. Ken turning bright red and Sandy looking away in embarrassment.

  “You were saying…” Max interjected to break the awkwardness of the moment.

  “Yes, so since it would be decades before another ship would make planetfall, the scientists developed a cloning process to continue the colonization effort. Each colonist contributed a genetic sample, and those are the roots of the Barbara’s, Sandra’s, Elizabeth’s, Patricia’s, and so on. All twelve colonists are equally represented in today’s population. I learned it was ten years before the mission was even disclosed to the public on Earth.”

  “I know my genetics knowledge is weak, but why are you not all characteristically the same, then? From your line, I mean.”

  “Each clone is gestated for nine months, just like an Earth baby, and then raised by a non-linear parent. My mother was a Patricia. In this environment, we do develop individual personalities, but our genetic propensities endure.”

  “Which is why you chose Astronavigation, but the Commander is a Psychologist,” Ken observed.

  “Yet we are both in Galactic Service, similar but different,” Sandy finished, completing the thought.

  “And the instructor’s comment?” Ken asked referring to the comment after their loss.

  “Well, Sandra’s are notoriously sneaky, devious at times even,” she said with a weak smile.

  “Good to know,” Ken said softly.

  “Um, there is one thing,” Ken started awkwardly.

  “Spill it. Things can’t get any more uncomfortable than they already are,” she replied.

  “Well, on the first day here, I noticed several guys really checking you out, until someone whispered to them. Then they all seemed to lose interest in you,” Ken said, his embarrassment evident.

  “I can answer that one,” Max replied with a smile.

  “Please.” Sandy waved for him to continue, apparently happy to be rescued from the situation.

  “Vesuvians are asexual and all women, as you now know. That doesn’t mean they are not social or intimate. What it does mean is their measure of attractiveness is slanted to a particular, less masculine appearance.”

  Ken pondered the explanation for a moment before a light dawned on his horizon.

  “You don’t like men,” he stated suddenly.

  “They kind of disgust me, sorry,” Sandy admitted with a shrug.

  “And they know that, so they tend to subconsciously dismiss you,” Ken went on, more to himself as he began to see how that could help them. “Anything more I should know about you, then, Martian?” Ken asked Max sarcastically, turning toward the behemoth.

  “I’m with her. Men disgust me, too!”

  —

  Their break over, the three cadets returned to the staging room, ready to take on their next opponent.

  “Let’s sync up,” Ken proposed as he presented the communicator attached to his left forearm.

  “Agreed,” Sandy nodded as she presented hers, as well, motioning for Max to join.

  Once all three were synced, Ken pulled them aside in the ready room and walked over several simple plays he had worked out based on what he had learned about each of them. This time, he identified their strengths and focused on that.

  “Do you really think these are going to work?” Sandy asked as the opposing team entered the room.

  Scanning the three men, Ken let a small smile creep across his lips.

  “Absolutely.”

  “321, 327, get ready,” the instructor announced as he had each of the crewmembers lined up at the entryway.

  Once the hatch opened, all six cadets entered the court with Ken waiting for his opponents to select their goal, and then positioning Max at the opposite side. Motioning for Sandy to go high, he took a position to one side.

  “GO!” the instructor announced.

  Suddenly, Max burst forth, his powerful legs jetting him across the open space in plenty of time to snatch the ball first. Turning in place as he flew, he rocketed the ball back to Ken. Max continued to the opposite goal, knocking opponents clear as he did so until he impacted the far wall.

  Rather than shooting the ball at the goal from across the court, Ken fired a shot at Sandy, who had slipped near the intended target, her small stature allowing her to easily slide past the player guarding her. Still anchored in place on the wall, Ken was able to quickly rocket the pass to her, where she slipped behind the hovering Max, slamming the ball in place for the first score.

  “Yeah!” Max shouted as he fist pumped in place, causing him to turn in time to high-five Sandy as she came by him.

  For Round Two, crew 321 had selected a goal ninety degrees from their own in an attempt to prevent a replay of the last round. Ken whispered instructions to his crewmates, positioning Sandy across the opponent’s goal while Max took a spot across from their own, and Ken went high.

  Once again Max shot across, snatching the ball ahead of their opponents, but this time Sandy had launched for the same point a mere second behind. The coordination allowed Max to pass Sandy the ball by handing it to her and then continuing on to protect their goal while Sandy flew head on at their opponents.

  Not to be fooled this time, two of the defenders tried to converge on her small frame, all three colliding just before their goal. Ken however, had repositioned, to allow Sandy to shuffle the ball to him right before contact. With a smile, he slammed the ball home, giving them a 2-0 advantage.

  For the next four rounds, Ken passed instructions to his team, setting them up for a 5-1 victory, their only loss coming from an unexpected pass deflection.

  �
�

  Undefeated for the rest of the day, the three Cadets found themselves in the cafeteria, their well-earned appetites challenging all that the cooks had prepared.

  “We are now one of the top-ranked Spaceball teams this year. I heard one of the instructors say we might get to play the Second Year teams if we keep it up,” Sandy said with pride between bites.

  “Once we synced up and Ken took over calling the plays, we started working together,” Max observed as he glanced between his two crewmates.

  “Okay, I admit, maybe I jumped in a little too aggressively,” Sandy said with a nod.

  “But what changed with you?” she said, directing the question straight at Ken.

  “Well, once I took the time to learn about you two, I started to understand what your strengths are. It made me realize that all we had ever talked about were my weaknesses. Focusing on strengths is far more productive, don’t you think?”

  Ken could see both Sandy and Max thinking about his statement before Max finally spoke. “What are your strengths?” he asked openly.

  “Astrophysics, like free-floating bodies in space.”

  “That makes sense,” Sandy said with a smile.

  “Oh, and I was the starting quarterback for the university football team, called all my own plays,” he added before taking a bite of his own.

  The revelation caused both Sandy and Max to pause mid-bite before Sandy managed to squeak out a reply.

  “Maybe the Academy knew what they were doing all along.”

  THE END

  — — —

  About the Author

  CW Lamb started his writing career in Science Fiction, inspired by the greats from the 1950s and ’60s. His initial successes encouraged him to branch out into Fantasy and Paranormal tales of adventure and mystery.

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