by E M Gale
I opened the door.
“C’mon, Clarke, what’s the matter?” he said, walking into my room. I looked down and shook my head. He grabbed my hands and stooped to try to look me in the eyes. “Something’s up,” he said, concern creasing his brow.
I sighed.
‘Well… now, what can I say?’
I smiled, shakily. “I was just watching a dumb movie with the marines.”
“A movie? You were crying your eyes out over a movie?”
I laughed at that.
‘You would if you had seen it.’
“Yeah, I have a heart, you know… It had a sad ending.”
“You were really that upset over a movie?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
“Uh-huh.”
‘And, even better, I get to live it one day.’
“What sort of movie?” he asked.
‘Gargh!’
“Forrest Gump,” I lied.
‘Yeah, that’ll do.’
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “I guess the ending of that is poignant.”
I nodded. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Uh… hugging you, I suppose.”
‘Yeah, I guess that was a little weird. I don’t normally just grab him and hug him like that.’
He laughed at that. “You don’t have to apologise. Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
“Yeah.” I sighed and dropped down onto the edge of my bed. Rob looked awkward for a moment and then sat on the sofa.
“You really OK? There was that pirate attack last night.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but this didn’t sound like an overture to an anti-mercenary spiel to me. “Yeah, fine.”
“Been a lot of pirate attacks recently. Do you really think it’s safe to stay on this ship?”
“Apparently we are in pirate territory. Lots of pirates between here and Tortuga.”
“What?”
‘Oops.’
“Uh… Tortuga. It’s where we’re landing next. But don’t tell anyone that.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“What?”
“Tortuga,” he said with an amused glint in his eye.
“Eh?”
“Tortuga. Honestly, Clarke, don’t you know your history?”
‘Well, some.’
I sighed. “What’s Tortuga, Rob?”
He grinned. “It’s the pirate bay! From the movies!” he said, gesticulating wildly. “And, well, it does exist, it’s somewhere on Haiti.”
‘Oh?’
“What the hell is a colony in space called that for?” I asked.
“Well, it’s probably where the pirates hang out.”
“Right, then. Great. How do you know this stuff, anyway?”
“Ah, I like pirate movies. When I was younger I wanted to be a pirate or a scientist.” He grinned. “Or both.”
‘Rob, unwashed, stupid hat, flouncy shirt, cutlass on his hip and a brace of pistols in his hands, camping it up with flamboyant gestures, pockets full of gold and a wench hanging off each arm. Weirdly, I can see that working.’
“You’d make a good pirate, I think,” I said.
He looked pleased. “Yargh! Me hearties,” he said in an awful West Country accent.
“Maybe not.”
He laughed.
“Maybe you should stick with Victorian magician.”
“Eh?”
I could smell Cliff coming up the corridor towards my room.
‘Damn. I can’t let Rob hear this.’
“Uh… wait here,” I said to him. There was a knock at the door. I opened it and stepped out, shutting the door behind me.
“Hi, Cliff,” I said.
“Clarke! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I didn’t think it would–” His ears waggled when he spoke quickly.
“It’s OK.”
“Sorry, I mean it’s only a movie.” He sniffed.
I stared at him.
“Oh! But I guess it reminded you of some things and, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything!”
I sighed, looking down to avoid his eye. I guessed I couldn’t fake not being upset then.
“It’s OK, Cliff. I know you didn’t know it would upset me. It’s fine.”
He nodded. “Still… maybe I should have picked another movie.”
I sighed.
‘Who knows what bit of history I would have found out if he’d done that.’
“Maybe we could watch ‘The Big Sleep’ next time,” I said.
“I don’t have that. I’ve got ‘Casablanca’.”
“I don’t like that one. It has a stupid ending.”
“I’ve got ‘The Mummy’ from that era.”
“The original?” I asked, impressed.
“Yeah! And ‘Dracula’.” Then he realised what he had just said and looked aghast. “Sorry, Clarke!”
‘Oh, honestly.’
“You really do like your B-movies, don’t you? And I’m not offended that you like Dracula movies.”
He nodded, looking relieved, and grinned slightly gormlessly.
“Although if I had my way I would destroy every last copy of that book.”
He looked shocked.
“It’s not exactly good publicity, is it?”
“No… But you are,” he said, his ears going red.
‘Eh?’
“And there’s some with you and Dracula in.”
I shook my head. “I suppose two vampires gives the audience their money’s worth.”
“I suspect that you wouldn’t want to see those movies,” muttered Cliff, blushing.
‘Heh. Oh, he likes those sorts of movies as well?’
“‘For one who has not lived even a single lifetime, you’re a wise man, Van Helsing’,” I quoted. He looked stunned. “Good night,” I added.
He nodded, his eyes wide and mouth slack-jawed, as I went back into the room. I shut the door and giggled.
Then I saw Rob and forgot about quoting old movies.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing, was just talking about B-movies with Cliff.”
He nodded. “Hey… do you think they made movies about me?” he asked with a hopeful grin. “They made ‘A Beautiful Mind’ about John Nash.”
‘Ah. What if he asks Cliff to let him watch some of his B-movies? He’ll find out about me.’
‘And his future.’
“Um. I don’t know, but I don’t think you ought to watch them.”
‘Trust me on this, it’s awful.’
“Huh, well, I guess you’re right.” He was staring off into the middle distance thoughtfully.
“Anyway, Rob… I gotta sleep.” I did feel exhausted. Crying always did that to me.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He grinned. “I’ll see you later,” he said and left.
I turned the lights off. That was much better. I didn’t want to really think about anything, but I did.
I gave it about twenty minutes of watching my thoughts chase themselves around my head before I sat up, got my computerised notepad out and switched it on.
‘Maybe I can stop him from getting on that damned ship.’
I started reading everything I could about the accident.
The Earth’s Hope
I sat up, somewhat confused. I expected to see my notepad, probably with dribble on it, but it wasn’t there.
‘Now where’s that gone?’
I looked around me.
‘Hold on, this isn’t right. This room is bigger than my room.’
I shut my eyes and counted to ten. I opened them.
‘This still isn’t my room. What the hell?’
“Are you awake now?” said a voice. I looked at where the voice came from: it was me! My future self, that was.
“Uh…” I said.
She got up. “Put this on,” she said, shoving a military uniform at me. It was a grey, navy and white United Nations Space Force uniform, like the ones the non-Clarke charac
ters in the movie had worn.
“Are you me?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Where am I?”
“The Earth’s Hope.”
I stared at her.
‘Isn’t that the UNSF’s flagship?’
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She sighed. “Just get dressed.”
I looked at her in amazement. She raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly. So I got changed. It was a normal uniform–trousers, a shirt and a high-necked military jacket with a general’s badge. In fact, it was the exact duplicate of what she was wearing.
“Pin your hair up,” she said. Her hair was pinned up. Mine was still down as I wore it that way for sleeping. I replaited and pinned it mutely. She nodded to herself, happy with my obedience.
“OK,” she said. “Look, I did it. I figured out a way to save Rob, but I need your help.”
I stared at her in hope. “How?”
“You need to take my place. Just go to the bridge and cover for me. I’ll do the rest.”
“What? ‘Cover for me’? I mean, cover for you? How? What are you going to do? How do you know it will work?”
“If it all goes well, Rob won’t turn up here at all.”
“Good! The ship! It gets blown up!”
“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that he doesn’t turn up here. Then it won’t have happened.”
“OK, OK, OK. What do I do?”
“Calm down,” she said slowly. “All you gotta do is cover for me.”
“Riiight. And how do I do that?”
“Stand on the bridge. Look mean. That’ll do. Whatever you do, don’t give anyone any orders, they have orders, just tell them to follow them.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘It’s going to be OK. Rob isn’t going to die.’
“Great, so I don’t have to win any battles, then.”
She shook her head. “Leave that to me. I’ll be back before then. I’ll send someone in with a message, saying, ‘Big sister’s back.’ When you get that, get back to my quarters ASAP.”
“OK.”
“Once you’re out of sight, I’ll reform outside the bridge and take over. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
I nodded.
“Right, to get to the bridge, turn left and walk down this corridor. Don’t salute anyone, nod at people who salute you, stand up straight and try to look the part.”
“Sure.”
“Wait here for ten minutes before you head down there.”
“Uh… one thing.”
“Yes? What?” She sounded impatient.
“In the film, you knew where the flagship was. How?”
She frowned. “Film? What film?”
“You know, the film I just watched.”
“Argh! What the hell?” She sighed and shook her head. “OK, I’ll tell you how I know they’ve got it stashed there. The solar system is roughly two-dimensional, right?”
‘What? Is that important?’
“Yes, most of the planets are in the same plane,” I said.
She stared at me, looking humorously confused.
“Pluto isn’t,” I added, wondering if that was why she was giving me that look.
“Yeees, but this isn’t our solar system.”
I nodded.
“But the planets still all orbit roughly in the same plane.”
“OK…”
“But the people fighting here are from Earth.” She looked at her watch and tutted. “So it won’t occur to any of them to think three-dimensionally. The flagship is the strongest unit by far and it’ll be hidden.”
“Where?”
“Above the planet. Where the heliospheric current sheet is relatively flat.”
‘The what? Heliospheric current, that sounds like something I ought to know about.’
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” I put my hands on my head. “This is like that dream I had before my astronomy finals.”
She shook her head at me and exhaled noisily. “You’re an idiot. I’m going now. Don’t give any orders. Don’t do anything. I’ll be back soon. Just stand there and look pretty for a bit.” She sighed at her watch again. “You’ve got five and a half minutes before you should leave.” Then she misted and slipped out under the door.
‘Shit. Can I wake up now, please?’
I paced up and down for a bit.
‘Great.’
I looked at my watch.
‘Huh, three am. Maybe I ought to have done that as soon as she left. Has it been five minutes yet? Hmm…’
I paced a bit more, then left and headed down to the bridge. I walked rapidly, probably too rapidly.
People walking past stopped to salute me. I just nodded to them and kept on going. I walked onto the bridge. Someone shouted, “Officer on the deck,” and everybody stood to attention.
‘Cool! Can I do that again?’
The deck was much bigger than the deck of the Shiny, Shiny Egg. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of NASA’s Mission Control.
‘Hey, why haven’t they relaxed yet? Oh.’
“At ease,” I said, and they slumped back in their chairs and got on with what they were doing.
‘Neat.’
There were many people, men and women all in smart UNSF uniforms. No one was wearing the tight and stupid outfit that my character had been dressed in in the movie. The back of the bridge was raised up so that you could overlook the rest of the bridge from up there, and a brass rail ran along the edge. This was where the captain’s seat was, but I didn’t think I was the captain.
‘The general of the fleet wouldn’t also be captaining a ship… would she? Argh, maybe I ought to have made a start on those military books rather than watching silly B-movies.’
I decided to wander around the bridge. As I walked up to the staff, they sat up straighter, their heart rate rose from nervousness, but they pretended to ignore the fact that I was there.
‘Heh, this is like supervising the undergraduate computer practicals. Does this mean I can ask them questions like I did then? I know I’m not supposed to give orders, but inspecting is probably OK.’
“You have your orders?” I asked a sweaty, nervous computer operator quietly. He nearly jumped out of his chair.
‘Hehehe.’
“Yes, sir!” he said.
“And what are they?”
“Uh… scan deep-space frequencies for Etrusian ship signatures, sir.”
“Good.” I even heard a sigh of relief as I walked off. The other console operators tried to avoid catching my attention.
‘Hehe, just like lab then.’
I walked up to some pretty-looking maps that were just below the raised bit at the back of the bridge. I presumed they were placed there so the captain and general could overlook them and see what was going on, along with the view out of the window or data screen or whatever that was at the front. The map operators were moving virtual pieces around on top of the map.
“Please can you describe to me what you are doing?” I asked one of them. With luck they would think I was some awfully scary person, testing them on the simple stuff, rather a complete ignoramus.
“’Sir,” she said, standing to attention. “I’m setting the fleet out according to your orders.”
‘Nice. How does this pretty table thing work?’
“And what happens when you move a piece?” I asked.
The poor map operator looked at her co-worker. “It’s a test,” the other one muttered to her.
‘Oh, goodness, do they really think that I can’t hear them?’
“Uh… when I move a simulacrum, orders get sent to that ship.”
“Good.” I was all smiles. “And how do you know if the orders have been enacted?”
“The display updates here.” She pointed at the map under the pieces. The virtual ships were a hologram hovering about two inches above the map. Under the virtual ship hologram was a two-dimensional footprint
of the ship. I looked at the map. All of the pieces were perfectly aligned with their footprints.
The captain of the ship walked onto the bridge. He nodded to me and took up his position in the captain’s seat.
“The fleet is gathered, General Clarke, we’ll be moving out in ten minutes,” he said.
I nodded at him. He seemed to be expecting something. “Carry on,” I said.
He stopped looking at me and busied himself with whatever ships’ captains did. He seemed to be reviewing orders. I looked back at the map, frowned and chewed on my knuckle.
The fleet was laid out, but it annoyed me. There was a group of symbols, ships I supposed, that were just not right. The fleet layout wasn’t symmetrical, but it was balanced. Well, it was except for that one s ron. The more I looked at the map, the more my eyes returned to that s ron. It really bugged me. Things like this usually did. I hated it when things were almost symmetrical but not quite, or if there was a pattern for most of it that was broken at one point. I thought this sensitivity to patterns was a trait of a scientist.
I reached out and moved the s ron pieces to where I thought they should be.
‘Yes, that’s much better, the pattern works now.’
It was far less annoying. The second map operator looked pale. He pulled up a list of instructions on his PDA. He looked from the map to the instructions twice, then gulped.
“Sorry, sir,” he said.
‘Ah… Oops. By moving the pieces I gave an order to that s . And I’m not supposed to be giving anyone any orders.’
The two-dimensional real-time representations were moving to match up with the virtual map pieces. “I misread the numbers, sir,” he said.
‘Oh, so my future self likes balanced patterns too then?’
“Take more care with your work,” I said and walked on to the second map.
“For fifty picolight-years,” said the first map operator to the other, “does it really matter?”
I was about to turn around and bawl her out when the other one said: “Well, the general cares about the details.”
‘Hmm, so am I acting in character then? That’s good.’
The second map was different. This one looked like the one in the movie. It was a three-dimensional hologram like the other one, showing the sun and a few planets. Our fleet was marked on this in blue, and I guessed that the mass of red dots was the enemy fleet.
