Waypoint Magellan

by L S Roebuck

  North nodded in agreement.

  Rita looked at him. “Before you are too quick to support this extreme plan North, ask yourself if you’d push the button to open the airlock.”

  “I would,” he said and then doubled-down. “I will.”

  Kimberly, Amberly and Dek were sitting in the Firebird’s small galley. Amberly was using a microwave wand to heat up a package of noodles. Dek and Kimberly were both pouring over infopads, looking at schematics of Magellan. Kimberly had suggested they don spacesuits and make a jump for an exterior portal. The problem with the plan was that all exterior “manhole” hatches only opened from the inside.

  The hatches were of course locked and required a high-clearance passcode to open. Hacking this was a trifle for Kimberly — if she were on the inside. There were no interface consoles on the outside of the door, and the Magellan was radiation shielded, meaning wireless access of the hatch locking mechanisms from the outside of the ship was impossible.

  “Can I make you a bowl of something, Dek?” Amberly said, trying hard to use pleasing and subservient tones in her voice.

  Kimberly bristled with disgust, and she had to work hard to stay focused on the mission. She was pained to see how easily Amberly slipped into a female domestic servant role. Clearly, the six-year absence of her guidance during Amberly’s adolescence left her daughter susceptible to negative influences. No doubt Kora kept the ideas of their father alive even though the man himself was dead.

  “Sure, that would be nice,” Dek replied, sweetly. “I’ll have some—”

  Sparks burst through the portal. “Moreno is creating tribunals. You need to hear this.”

  Sparks turned and sped back toward the bridge, and Raven One and Dek quickly fell in behind her, sensing the urgency in her voice. Amberly, left alone, sat down and ate her noodles.

  After a few quick paces, they were in the bridge, standing around the communication terminal listing to the audio only transmission.

  “This has repeated a few times across Magellan now,” Sparks said. “I’m not sure if they are able to broadcast this on the American Spirit.”

  A female voice was heard speaking evenly with just a little bit of static distortion. “This is Acting Commander Rita Moreno. Under the authority granted to me by article four, section fourteen of the Waypoint Charter, I am suspending habeas corpus and convening a tribunal to prosecute and punish any known persons who are affiliated with, members of, co-conspirators to, or providing comfort or aid to the treasonous organization known as Chasm. I have compelling evidence that Chasm is presently involved in an attempt to disable or destroy this station, and in light of this existential threat, I am ordering the death by expulsion into space for anyone implicated and convicted by the tribunal of treasonous actions against the state.”

  Sparks rubbed a hand over her throat, which suddenly felt a little tight to her.

  Dek sat down in the navigator’s chair. He knew death was a risk, but he had always though he could be more clever than death. He self-assessed as a man of significant talents, someone who could flirt with an unnatural end, but through force of will would find a way to endure, at least until he reached a mature age and nature got the better of him.

  Dek pulled out a serrated knife from a sheath that was neatly hidden on the calf of his khaki pants and played absentmindedly with the point. He often fiddled with the easy-to-conceal four-inch weapon when deep in thought.

  As he considered the sharpness of the blade, he was forced to concede the possibility that his death was already inevitable. If Johnson and Järvinen could not take the control center, and North and his Marines took control of the American Spirit, there would be no place for him to hide, no place to run. The Firebird could escape, to be sure, but to where? The vessel was not capable of interstellar travel. It had neither the speed nor the supplies to make it to another harbor. And likely the elder Macready would rather die in a blaze of glory than turn tail and run. Could they live in exile in the Spencer Belt? Dek knew Sparks was a survivor.

  Maybe together they could mutiny against Raven One — no, Dek stopped himself from that thought. This line of thinking is premature, Dek reasoned. Kimberly Macready is a tactical genius. She was capable of stratagems that would completely confound Moreno. Chasm would not fail today.

  Amberly walked onto the bridge, and Dek saw what would keep him strong today: the hope of a future with Amberly. He felt it wrong to hope for this, but in this desperate hour, Dek needed to draw strength from wherever he could get it. Right now, that source had a soft round face and deep green eyes framed by attention-grabbing red hair.

  Amberly started to talk, but her mother quieted her. Over the audio channel, Moreno continued.

  “Also by executive order, I will commute the death sentence, with a reduction to exile and imprisonment on the next earth-bound ship, for any Chasm conspirator who surrenders to us unconditionally by 14:00 hours. Those wishing to surrender should come unarmed to the Magellan brig facility in the Science Quarter.”

  “Clever girl,” Kimberly smiled, clearly pleased her new opponent might offer her some challenge. “We should not underestimate Moreno. She’ll try to thin our numbers with the stick of death and the carrot of amnesty.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Sparks asked.

  “It means Järvinen and Johnson need to make their assaults now, before weak-willed people on our side decide to take the offer. We need to show strength, so everyone knows that they need to side with us to survive. Right now, survival is a seat on the American Spirit, so we must establish a supply line to move people and supplies easily on and off that ship.”

  Sparks, anticipating Kimberly’s next command, sat down in the communication seat. She waved her hands and brought up the magnetic screens, and entered in commands to create a tight beam optical signal. “I have Järvinen and Johnson on the line,” Sparks said pulling an earpiece over her strawberry hair. “I suppose you want to do the battle briefing yourself.”

  “Raven One to Johnson,” Kimberly spoke on the bridge, and the sophisticated microphones located throughout the room picked up her voice and beamed it to Johnson’s portable receiver. “What is your troop strength and status?”

  Johnson’s voice crackled through the bridge speakers. “I have a headcount of about 30 troops now, and we have secured the tube station and are positioned about two tenths of a kilometer from the hangar. Only about half of our force is armed with guns, the rest have makeshift melee weapons.”

  Sparks spoke up. “Any defections after hearing Moreno’s ultimatum?”

  “Only two,” Johnson said. “Once they had left, I sent Kyung-ah to make sure the cowards didn’t make it to the Science Quadrant. I’ll have to admit, Kyung-ah has style. He cut an ear off both and brought it back to show the others.”

  “He killed them?” Dek said, sounding a little surprised. Dek knew he shouldn’t be. For Chasm to succeed now, sacrifices must be made. Compassion for those who would abandon the cause now would only undermine the cause. It was a cruel calculus, but it was a hard truth.

  “Yes,” Johnson said. “And now that everyone else knows the consequences, I don’t think Moreno is going to have many more takers, at least from my group.”

  “Good work, Johnson. You may end up not being a total loss to Chasm,” Raven One said matter-of-factly. Sparks rolled her eyes, but only because she knew Kimberly was looking the other way. “But I think Moreno is forcing our hand, and we have to push her off her throne now. I need to get to Magellan’s control center so I can finish this. I’m patching in Järvinen — Järvinen can you hear this?”

  The captain’s voice came over the speakers, calm and confident, a marked change from the last time Kimberly had spoken with him. She wondered what had changed. “Yes. I’ve been listening. Let’s make our assault. My troops are prepped.”

  “Did you hear Moreno’s proclamation on the American Spirit’s shipwides?” Sparks asked.

  “No, I disabled the communication l
ink once I found out Johnson had launched the Marine coup. Some people with individual comms linked in at the time might have heard it, and we picked it up here on the bridge, but I’ve dismissed all the non-Chasm officers up here, and for the most part the ship is in the dark.”

  “Her little death tribunals won’t matter once we have taken the control center,” Kimberly scowled, tired of the irrelevant discussion. “Listen, here is the plan. In five minutes from my mark, Johnson leads a frontal assault through the main passenger door.”

  “That’s a suicide mission,” Johnson protested. “They’ve dug in now; we’ll be slaughtered.”

  Kimberly spoke without emotion. “It is necessary for the success of Chasm. Don’t go weak now. Besides, you only need to distract them, not take the hill. However, if you should perish, your sacrifice will be remembered in the coming utopia.”

  “Yeah, like Joti,” Sparks snickered under her breath.

  “Five minutes after Johnson has launched his assault, ten minutes from my mark, Järvinen will launch his attack through the gangway. Järvinen, split your troops into two groups. The first should join Johnson’s in making a distraction, drawing attention and Magellan troop power away from the command center. Your second group should charge the access corridor from the hangar to Central Command.”

  “If they think all we care about is getting access to the American Spirit, the Magellan Marines might not be expecting us to take Central Command,” Dek offered. “It’s very likely they have gathered all their strength in the hangar itself.”

  “Järvinen, listen to me,” Kimberly warned, pressing her petite, strong hand against her round face and then tugging slightly on her black hair. “You must get through the gangway quickly. And be careful if you are discharging bullets not to put a hole in the wall. We don’t want to depressurize Magellan until our people are safely off.”

  “Yes, Raven One,” Järvinen said stoically. “I’m sure all of us would like to make sure we keep air flowing in our lungs.”

  “Once you have control of the command center, I want you to release the locks on all external portals. Dek, Amberly and I will space walk to the nearest portal and enter the station that way. I must get in the command center to enter the command code response sequence.”

  Sparks called up a schematic of Magellan. “Looks like the closest portal to the command center is off the science lab observatory.

  “I know that portal,” Amberly spoke up. “It’s near my work lab. But I’ve never done a spacewalk.”

  “Don’t worry, Amberly,” Dek said protectively with reassuring tones. “I’ll make sure you make it safely inside.” Dek’s voice made Kimberly bristle.

  “Prepare for my mark,” Raven said, activating a timer on the captain’s station control panel. “Three, two, one, Mark. Go, for the glory of Arara and an everlasting uplifted humanity. If you should perish, die with honor and know your sacrifices are necessary for the greater good. In the new order, for millennia in the future, our descendants will build the perfect life if we succeed today. For the common good, do not fail Chasm now.”

  Amberly had listened carefully to the Chasm strike plan. She was trying so hard to stay emotionally in one piece, to figure out how she could help her friends while feigning Chasm allegiance. Warning them directly about the coming attack would be next to impossible, and even if she could get a radio signal off, there was no way she could do it discreetly. Would her mom airlock her if she revealed her intentions now?

  And then Amberly had a more horrific thought. What if Chasm failed like she hoped it would, but then everyone believed she helped Chasm of her own volition? Would Moreno’s tribunal take her word she was only playing along to save her own life, and perhaps those of her friends? North would vouch for her, wouldn’t he? But she had stolen the used ship pass from North. Was she already a condemned Chasm conspirator?

  It didn’t matter now. Amberly had to get back onto Magellan, and then as soon as she could, she had to escape from her mother and find her sister and their friends. She might not be able to change her fate now, she reasoned, but at least she could stand by the people who meant the most to her.

  She looked over at Dek, who was busy monitoring comm chatter between Johnson and Järvinen’s unit. His eyes glowed with excitement. If she could convince Dek that the ends did not justify the means, that the individual mattered as much as the collective, maybe he could be turned. But what argument could she make to dissuade Dek, ever reasonable and intellectually sure, to see Chasm for what it was?

  Just then Dek looked up at Amberly and caught her staring at him. Her soft cheeks turned crimson and she quickly turned away, irrationally afraid he could read her thoughts. Realizing how silly that was, she forced herself to look back at him, and he smiled at her warmly.

  And she knew how she could turn him. She smiled back and opened her eyes wide and welcoming. If she could convince Dek that she loved him, no matter what she truly felt, Dek could become a critical help to make sure that Chasm was dismantled. He must know things, she believed, that would give the Marines the edge in fighting this generations-old conspiracy.

  The egalitarian philosophies instilled in her by her mother from a young age made her hate relying on her femininity to manipulate Dek. But even at the young age of 19, Amberly clearly saw the differences between women and men were more than just biology. There was something more complementary, something more symbiotic that defined natural relations between the genders.

  Though her mother taught Amberly that men and women were equals in every way, in the short time she had been reunited with Kimberly, she saw that the so-called Raven One looked down on men, and saw them as inferior. She had harbored vile antipathy towards men. Moreover, she saw that Kimberly was more than willing to use a man's attraction to manipulate him. Amberly did not like that she had resorted to using her mother's tactic, but she believed she had to use every resource at her command to save Magellan.

  Sparks had been slowly navigating the Firebird around Magellan, to get the roundabout in position for the spacewalk.

  Magellan’s metallic hull gleamed in the stellar light, with hundreds of viewports from private apartments, micro-factories, restaurants and public recreation areas dotting the exterior. Many of the windows were illuminated with internal activity, and others were quiet with darkness. Anyone who had seen an old city skyline back on earth would have seen a likeness: Magellan resembling a dark skyscraper rising against a starlit, moonless night sky, with a checkerboard of lit windows creating an ambient glow as half of the tower was alive with activity, and the other half rested in obscurity.

  Amberly peered out of Firebird’s bridge viewport. Magellan’s topside gardens filled the view. The gardens were the pinnacle of agrarian engineering, providing the luxury of fresh, natural foods to complement the artificial consumables generated by Magellan’s replication tech. Underneath the clear polycarbonate dome, Amberly could clearly see the rows and rows of green leafy plants, arranged in a large circle, centered evenly on Magellan’s top. The lush farm had a diameter of nearly three kilometers. They were close enough that she could make out the various crops growing — corn, soybeans, potatoes, green beans, sugar beets and tomatoes. The yield on the core crops had even been good enough this year that the waypoint’s agrarian directors had allocated some of the land to create a vineyard.

  In the center of the circle, under the domes highest elevation, stood an orchard of trees, brought to Magellan on the deep space ship, The Caddo Warrior, nearly two decades ago. Bright yellow lemons, sweet smelling oranges, fatty avocados and tart Granny Smith apples grew on the 30 or so trees in the orchard. The company that imported the trees, Waypoint Produce Company, had an agreement with the Magellan government that in exchange for acreage in the topside garden to grow the trees, half of the orchard’s output would be given away via a lottery system to the people of Magellan. The other half could be sold on the open market, or exported as luxury cuisine.

  Amberly had never had th
e chance to visit the orchard — few people were allowed access because of the delicate environmental balance of the garden — and now she wished she had that fateful evening when she last visited the topside garden with Dek. She knew now she may never have that opportunity again.

  Though just over a week ago, that exciting night with Dek seemed like ages past. Dek was the enlightened man, just a romantic, mysterious visitor to interrupt the monotony of Amberly’s charmed life. How did she go from her life of intellectually engaging lab work by day and joyful evenings with friends taking in jazzy music at Rick’s to this crisis threatening everyone she cared about?

  In the middle of the orchard stood a flagpole, the only one on the waypoint. The topside garden was the only place that had both the vertical clearance and something of an air current where it made sense to fly a flag. The background of the flag was a deep blue, and in the center of the blue field was a silver monotone image of the earth. The globe-like icon was focused on the western hemisphere, centered on the Americas, in honor of the pan-American space alliance that had been responsible for the construction of Magellan more than a century ago. Surrounding the blue field were 14 white stars, one representing each of the waypoints that had been built before Magellan.

  Sparks was also taking in the view of the gardens as the Firebird smoothly cut a circular path parallel to the Magellan’s exterior hull. “Where are all the workers?”

  “Martial law curfew?” Dek guessed.

  Amberly ignored the banter, deep in thought. Amberly wasn’t a person enslaved to personal wants. Her mom had instructed her on the importance of community above self, and at the time the community that Kimberly was talking about was the immediate Macready family. Now Amberly could see that the “community” her mother cared about was much larger.

  Seeing Magellan in its full glory, Amberly realized she didn’t give a damn about the greater good or the perfect utopia. Though at some level it felt wrong, she wanted her old life back. She knew she was willing to do anything to see that end.