Darwin

by Amanda Bridgeman

  Although Darwin had one designated shuttle, the Spector, the crew replied heavily upon a regular rotation of specially assigned, UNF-cleared cargo ships for all their needs. So visitors were a rarity. He read the summary profiles on Darwin’s crew. They’d all been officially inducted into UNF Space Duty and therefore had received the basic training, but their specialties lay within their particular scientific fields.

  The man in charge, Professor Ray Sharley, had been on the station for approximately two years. Prior to that he’d been involved in the design and set-up of the high tech, state-of-the-art maximum security prison on Mars—MSP001 (aka “Hell Town”) for the UNF who were effectively in charge of Mars. After establishing the prison, he then went on to become Warden for several years, before taking up the post on Darwin. It seemed he was not only a man with vast scientific credentials, but also a PhD in psychology.

  When Sharley started work on the Darwin, he had a small crew of two, and this had grown to eight rather quickly, due to the success of his programs, which were, of course, highly classified. Harris found it interesting that he could not access the crew’s full staff profiles on the UNF HR portal, as they, too, were classified.

  As Isaack advised, administration would be contacting his team with their call for duty. They would have been contacted by now and flying in on special UNF Super-Jets from wherever they’d escaped to on their leave. They would have received no more information other than where to be and when. Harris sat thinking about the mission ahead, and how he’d address his men. He stared at his phone sitting on the table, and decided to call Doc.

  “Captain!” his first lieutenant answered. “No rest for the wicked, huh?”

  Harris heard the sound of an SJ engine in the background, and smiled. “No. We’re clearly far too good at our jobs.”

  “Only the best will do, sir!” Doc retorted.

  “So, were you sunning yourself in Hawaii?”

  “Yeah, thanks for that! I was in a bar on the beach, about to drink some exotic cocktail served in a coconut when I got the call. I’ve just got back to the base.”

  “Coconut cocktails, Doc! You going soft on me?”

  Doc laughed. “Hey, the cute barmaid recommended it!”

  “I see! In that case, I am truly sorry for the call-up.”

  He laughed again. “It’s fine, captain. Her boyfriend was the rather large doorman. You probably actually saved me.”

  Harris chuckled.

  “So, we still on for 1600?” Doc asked.

  “The rest of the men will be there at 1600, but I need you to be there a little earlier.”

  “Sure thing. What’s up?”

  Harris paused momentarily, wanting to choose his words carefully. Doc obviously sensed something was different.

  “Saul …?”

  Doc was the only one in his team that could get away with calling him by his first name, but he only ever did it in private. In front of the men it was always “captain”. Doc was the longest serving member of the team. They’d worked together for about two years now, and they had a mutual respect for each other and the chain of command. Harris knew he could depend on Doc to help him with this situation. He knew Doc would be the conduit between the new recruits and the rest of the team, and his eyes and ears when he wasn’t around. Doc was second-in-command on the Aurora. He was a good soldier, a great medic, and on top of that, they had become good friends.

  “We’ve got three new recruits joining us on this mission,” Harris informed him.

  “Three? Jesus, where we going?”

  “Not three ordinary recruits, Doc. Three women.”

  Doc took a second to respond. “Three women? That’s … new.”

  Harris nodded to himself. “Yes, it is. I want you to give them their pre-flight physicals before the others arrive.”

  “Yes, sir.” Curiosity was clearly jumping out of Doc’s voice. “Do we know why they’re joining us? Is there a particular reason?”

  “Good old-fashioned PR. They tell me it’s a test case.”

  “A test case? Okay …”

  “Not buying it?”

  “Well, captain, there’re hundreds of other ships out there I’d choose before us. We’re not really a PR bunch of guys who do PR kinds of jobs, you know. We’re not the kind of soldiers you see on the recruitment posters.”

  “Maybe that’s why. Perhaps they’re trying to give us a makeover?”

  Doc laughed. “Are you kidding? I can’t see McKinley, Brown or Bulk as the face of the UNF!”

  Harris smirked to himself. “No.”

  “So, how do you think it’s going to go down?” Doc’s tone turned serious.

  “I have no idea, but I’m relying on your assistance to get this over the line. I want you to help ease the transition.”

  “Yes, sir. No problems.”

  “It’s just one mission, right? How hard can it be?”

  “Sure.” Doc’s minimal response spoke a thousand words.

  “I’ll see you at 1500, lieutenant.” With that, Harris hung up the phone. He felt better that Doc knew what was about to happen. He didn’t want to spring it on his men all at once, and he knew Doc would be the one to jump on the other end of that seesaw and help him balance things out.

  He checked his watch. 13:57. Better call Tyson, he thought. He grabbed the phone again and hit the speed-dial for his wife’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Taya, it’s me,” he greeted her.

  “Saul, hi. What’s up?”

  He never realized how much he missed her voice until he heard it again. Sometimes it was easier not to talk to her. After all, they were separated and had been for some years, but neither of them had mustered the courage to finally divorce. The fact that they often fell back together didn’t exactly help things either.

  “I’ve been called up on an urgent mission,” he told her. “I leave tonight, so I’m going to have to delay my visit. Is Ty there?”

  “No, he’s not home from school yet. He had basketball practice. What’s going on?” She sounded concerned, and he hated worrying her.

  “It’s nothing, things are fine. I just need to postpone my visit, is all.”

  She sighed. “Saul, when are you going to give this all up for a desk job? Ty’s getting older, you know. He’s going to want a man around soon.”

  “Yeah. What happened to Larry?” he asked somewhat sarcastically.

  She paused a moment. “Larry’s Larry, but he’s not you. Ty wants his father. And don’t pretend like you’re happy for another man to be raising your son, either. I know you, Saul Harris!”

  “Well, tell Ty I’ll see him in a week or so. Tell him I’m sorry and that I’ll take him to another game as soon as I’m back, alright?”

  “Yeah, okay,” she sighed reluctantly.

  “So …” He couldn’t help the curiosity overflowing. “Is Larry going to be in town when I get back?”

  “I don’t know, Saul … I haven’t seen much of Larry lately.”

  “No? Why not?” he asked, trying not to sound too pleased about it. She didn’t answer him. “Don’t be keeping him around if he’s not treating you right, Taya. Ty deserves better than that.”

  “Yes, he does, Saul.” Her voice was sweet and warm, but Harris still felt a hidden blow to the ribs with that one.

  “So do you, Taya,” his voice softening some. “You both do. Now, I have to go. I’ll speak to you when I get back.”

  She hesitated, then spoke softly. “Stay safe, Saul.”

  He paused, the sound of her voice sending a shot of regret through him. “I will. You too.”

  He hung up the phone and stared down at the finger where his wedding ring used to be. They’d known each other for sixteen years now. He’d met her while he was on Earth Duty and she was working on secondment for a legal firm contracting to the UNF. Instantly attracted to her, he’d asked her out within five minutes of meeting her at the local U
NF bar. She agreed, and within seven months they were living together and he’d proposed. Something just felt right about her, he couldn’t explain it.

  Unfortunately, they’d had their difficulties over the years, adjusting to the amount of time he spent away from her, especially after Ty came into the world. They held it together for a while, but eventually succumbed and separated, although neither of them had been keen to take the final steps to divorce. Even thinking about it now, with the likes of the Jazz Club Woman and Veronica floating around in his head, he still couldn’t bear the thought. Taya was his wife. It just was what it was.

  He sighed again and shrugged the thoughts from his mind. He had to let that go and concentrate on what lay ahead. He grabbed his kitbag and headed for the door, focusing his mind sharply on station Darwin.

  3

  The Aurora

  Carrie, dressed in her new service uniform, smoothed her hand over her ponytail, and glanced down at the UNF Space Duty insignia on her blouse. A sense of pride swirled within her to finally be able to wear this patch. Riding in the back of an air-taxi on her way to the Space Dock, she kept looking at her watch. She was a little edgy, not wanting to be late, and wanting her father to call.

  She looked out the window at Fort Centralis, the gray buildings and the soldiers all whizzing past her as though she were in a time capsule that was swiftly taking her away from the life she knew. She smiled to herself at the thought, and looked up into the sky; her destination. She saw clouds gathering over the horizon, and could almost feel the change of season in the air. Autumn was finally here. She would miss this, she thought, the chance to look up into the blue sky and sunshine. Soon it would be nothing but the darkness of space.

  She’d called Fort Centralis home for just shy of a year now, in anticipation that one day she would be enrolled in Space Duty. Fort Centralis was an engineering masterpiece. Built on a man-made island, it was permanently fixed to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, approximately halfway between North America and the United Kingdom, in the Atlantic Ocean. Centralis was the administration hub for all UNF operations, covering both Earth Duty and Space Duty. It was also the most secure city in the world, not just because of the elite forces that inhabited it but also because of the systems in place to protect it.

  Advanced radar technology surrounded the island, picking up any craft approaching it, whether by sea, air or space. There was a constant rotation of the latest high-tech stealth submarines patrolling around the island, sweeping for possible attacks. An extensive port facility was located on the south side of the island for seafaring ships, and on the north side, the largest aerospace facility on the planet, which included a commercial airport, and of course, the Command Space Docks.

  The entire city was designed to function as a massive military base, although a third of the island was classed as a civilian area for those companies supplying goods and services to the UNF. Soldiers, like Carrie, also had the option to live on-base or off-base in the civilian area if they so chose. Regardless of which section one lived in, built in the middle of the ocean, with the best defense technology available, Centralis was an impenetrable fortress. It even had a weather shield to protect it from incoming oceanic storms. There really was no safer place in the world.

  As the air-taxi hovered over the streets, she said her goodbyes to the city, trying to soak up her surrounds, and wanting to remember what her last day as an Earth Duty soldier felt like. She eyed the buildings again, like rectangular blocks of a barricade sprouting from the ground, and noted the soldiers on guard walking the pavement, a mixture of both Earth Duty “greens” and Space Duty “blues”. She scanned the few civilians stopping at auto-coffee booths, distracted by their personal data ports. Then she watched the cargo-hummer trucks, big bulky carriers that still managed to fit on civilian width roads, bringing in supplies from the Sea Port. She studied the UNF troop vehicles (UTVs), like tanks crossed with small buses, and then, as she got closer to the Space Dock, the spacecraft zooming overhead.

  When she arrived, the air-taxi hovered down to the ground, to its allotted parking station at the dock’s entrance. She swiped her card for payment and the man at the controls gave her a nod. She stepped out and made her way to the security booth. She’d been here several times before, but had always traveled through the commercial airport terminals to the west, not the UNF Space Dock, so she was keen to finally check it out. Her eyes eagerly scanned the perimeter. Although she couldn’t see anything over the large security fencing surrounding the compound, she could hear a hub of activity going on behind it. Her pulse quickened and a subtle smile grew across her face.

  Security checked her ID, then waved her through to the screening zone, where she would undergo a whole body scan, similar to the Tube at Command. Passing through it successfully, she collected her kitbag, then stepped through the large steel doors and out onto the UNF Space Dock.

  Pausing for a moment, she took in the scene before her. A mass of activity, the dock spread out as far as the eye could see. There were gray control towers, like mini-fortresses, surrounding the landscape, with runways and launch pads spread out before them like bumpy tentacles. Hundreds of spacecraft of all shapes and sizes were stationed in neat formations, while soldiers scurried among them, dodging the CargoBots—small robotic transport vehicles—that weaved swiftly in and out of the bays.

  She saw a locator screen to her right and walked over to assess exactly where she needed to go. She typed in Dock 559 and the screen zoomed in on the destination, then traced a path from Dock 559 to her current location. The dock was located on an outer arm by the ocean to the west. Hitching her bag over her shoulder, she set off to find it.

  She had to admit, she actually got a thrill walking past the ships, watching the soldiers scurrying around, loading and unloading cargo, hearing the roar of engines firing up and the smell of smoke and vapor wafting in the air. Her body was awash with exhilaration. She was finally here, finally doing this.

  Suddenly her phone rang, making her heart stop. She quickly unclipped it from her belt. It was her father.

  “Dad! Hi,” she answered.

  “Carrie, what’s going on?” Her father’s voice had a concerned edge to it.

  “How’re you going? Where’ve you been today?” She tried to buy time, suddenly unsure how to tell him.

  “I was visiting a friend. What was it you wanted to tell me? It sounded urgent.”

  “Yeah, well, it is …” she said, looking around to make sure no-one was listening. She couldn’t believe she was feeling like a little girl “fessing up” to her father, as though asking his permission in a way. “I … applied for Space Duty,” she told him.

  There was silence down the phone. She swallowed and continued.

  “I was accepted! They signed me up for my first mission already!” she said with a “look on the bright side” feel to it.

  He remained silent on the end of the phone.

  “Dad,” she sighed, “I want this. I’ve worked hard for this. I know how you feel about it, but I’ll be fine. It’s what I want.”

  Still there was silence.

  “Look … this is my time now. Just be happy for me. Please?”

  He waited a few more seconds before responding. “If that’s what you want,” he said plainly. His voice was devoid of emotion, as though he was talking to a fellow soldier.

  “I do, so don’t lay a guilt trip on me, okay?” she said, rubbing her temple.

  “I’m not doing anything, Ree. If this is what you really want, then I can’t stop you. When do you leave?”

  “I’m, er, at the dock now. Just found out this morning!”

  “This morning!” he blurted. “Urgent mission then.” She could hear him rubbing his whiskers, could tell his mind was ticking over. “They’re sending a p-star up there on an urgent mission?”

  “Protostars have to start somewhere,” she said a little defensively, taking offence to the Space Duty slang he used, basically
calling her a greenhorn.

  “Where you headed?”

  “That’s classified, Dad,” she said, “you know that.”

  “Of course,” he said, sounding a little hurt. She wondered whether she’d heard a twinge of regret? Did he miss life in the forces? Did he wish it was him going? Or was it because his only child was leaving the planet for some unknown destination?

  “Who’s the captain?” he recommenced in soldier mode.

  “Captain Saul Harris.”

  “Harris? Never heard of him!” he said, dismissively.

  “Dad,” she laughed a little, “maybe that’s because he’s about twenty years younger than you.”

  He was silent again.

  “Look, everything will be fine. I have to go …”

  “Well,” he said, still in soldier mode, “you be safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Make sure you sleep well and eat well. Space is different on the body, you know? And keep your gun close when you can!” Then his voice softened again. “Just … make sure you come home, alright? And keep in touch. Time gets lost out there, when it’s always night.”

  “I know it does, Dad,” she said. “I grew up with you as my father, remember.”

  He adopted his soldier tone again. “Alright … well, thanks for the call. Have a good journey.” And with that he hung up.

  She suddenly held an image in her mind of her father sitting alone in his apartment, no wife, no daughter. She was glad that he hadn’t argued or made it hard for her, but at the same time this felt just as bad. His silence had been deafening.

  Someone yelled in the distance, snapping her out of her thoughts. A CargoBot was reversing up to one of the ships and its bay was opening. She looked at her watch. 14:39. Better move it, she thought. Hiking her kitbag higher over her shoulder, she stepped up the pace in the direction of Dock 559.

  *

  Harris sat in his office on board the Aurora, and began rereading the Darwin e-file. He did most of his work here in his office; it was his home away from home. Located just outside the main flight deck, it was a reasonable size, able to accommodate several soldiers should he ever need to address that many in private. The walls were a silvery blue and his desk, fixed to the floor, occupied a large section near the back wall, facing the door. A large bookshelf spanned the wall to his right, filled with a combination of research books and novels. The wall to the left of his desk was plain, except for a single large painting of a futuristic vision of life in space. Along the wall facing his desk, which was emblazoned with the UNF Space Duty insignia, he had his own coffee prep station. When he was working on reports, or having conference transmissions with Command, he needed to be shut off from the rest of the ship and work for hours uninterrupted, if necessary. He liked the solitude. It gave him focus.