Luker retrieved the package and went back to Nikki and his mom, hoping what he believed would come to pass.
Marlene said, “What is it, Daniel?”
He opened the box. On top was a letter with the logo of the Juno Ark Project near the top. And below it was a blue flight suit, extra-large.
Luker smiled fully for the first time in as long as he could remember.
He said, looking skywards, “Mom, Nikki, looks like I’m going—I’ve been accepted for the Juno Ark.”
Marlene said, a forced smile, “Are you sure, Daniel?”
Nikki took a breath and covered her mouth, eyes wide with surprise, excitement morphing toward sadness.
She said, “Oh my God! You’re gonna accept?”
Luker looked his sister then his mom in the eyes with a tight smile.
“Just like I told you—if I got the chance then I’m going. So, yeah, I’m gonna accept … I need to do this, need a new start, a new life. I love you both, but I can’t keep existing like this anymore. Maybe when I wake up after stasis all this will have gone away. I don’t know …”
Marlene got up and hugged her son. With a stoic look on her face, she reached up to kiss his cheek. Nikki reached over and held his hand.
Marlene said, “You going will leave a big hole in our lives, Daniel. But as I told you a long time ago, you’re a grown man and you’ve got a right to choose your path.”
Nikki said, with tears welling in her eyes, her nose sniffling, “After what you’ve been through … as I said, I support your decision. But … but I guess I didn’t really think you’d get the call. You know, with so many applicants and all … Whatever happens, we’ll be here for you, Dan. You know that, right?”
Luker nodded. This was going to be the second hardest thing he’d ever done. But this was his calling now that Juliet had been snatched away. This would be his chance to leave behind the nightmare that his life had become.
Thursday, 11 November 2066, LAPD Pacific Station, Westchester, Los Angeles
Luker knocked on the door reading the nametag, Captain Frank Cassidy. He didn’t relish this moment, but he’d made his decision and that was that. No point over-analyzing it.
“Come in,” came the deep voice of the big fifty-something New Yorker.
“Sir, thanks for seeing me.”
“Luker! How’s everything going, man?” asked the uniformed Cassidy, rising from his desk to shake Luker’s hand.
“Oh, you know … times of change. May I?”
“Sure, sit down,” said Cassidy, still smiling. “What’s that you’ve got there? That a letter? Don’t see many of those anymore …”
“Well, yeah. Guess I’m old fashioned like that,” said Luker, sliding it across the desk. “I’ve been accepted to the Juno mission, sir. I’m gonna be starting training in the new year, so … well, I’m handing in my resignation.”
Cassidy sat back in his chair scanning the letter, folded it up, then exhaled, his lips pursed. He stroked his salt and pepper copstash with thumb and index finger, pausing for thought.
“Chance of a lifetime, huh Luker?”
“That’s right, sir.”
He looked at Luker straight in the eye and said, “You know you’re a damned fine officer, Luker. One of the best. Coulda made sergeant years ago if you’d wanted it. Who knows, you’d probably be in this office after a while longer.”
“Thanks, sir. That’s good of you to say so, but—”
“Anything I can do to change your mind?”
Luker shook his head resolutely and returned Cassidy’s stare as an equal—even if not in rank. “There’s nothing, sir. I’m dead set.”
Luker closed the door to Captain Cassidy’s office a few minutes later. He went to the deserted locker room holding back the emotions of leaving the job he loved. But this was like a calling. Somehow, he felt deep down inside there was a greater purpose awaiting him. Only on the Juno mission would he find it.
Tuesday, 1 March 2067, Juno Training Facility, Johnson Space Center, Houston
The class of over three hundred colonists sat behind benches in a lecture theater that reminded Luker of college. Not that he’d attended college, having gone straight into the Boise Police Department as a high school graduate. His teachers told him he had the aptitude for college—especially in science, math or engineering—but he’d decided he was through with formal education. That said, he’d continued learning just by being curious, observing the world, reading and taking time to engage with learned folks. Now, he sat in the newly-built training facility waiting for his first lecture from the aptly-named Dr. Bernard Kosmos, apparently one of the foremost experts in space engineering.
Luker sat at the far right of a row, halfway up from the vacant podium. The rows in front were all packed. The ones behind weren’t much better. To Luker’s left was a slight, nervous looking young man who’d introduced himself as Khoo. He looked Chinese to Luker. Khoo had promptly put his head down and continued whatever he was doing on his smart glasses.
A petite mid-twenties woman with tan skin, dark hair and of notable good looks approached Luker.
She smiled, her full lips framing perfect white teeth.
“Room for a little one?” she said to Luker.
He smiled back to maintain eye contact, his heartbeat quickening a little.
“Err, sure … we can shuffle over.”
Khoo didn’t hear or didn’t want to move. Luker faced him and cleared his throat.
“Lady needs a seat, Khoo. Can you budge up some?”
Khoo shuffled along and the pretty woman with kind eyes took her place next to Luker. She placed down her bag and offered her hand.
“Hey, thanks,” she said, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’m Kate Alves.”
Luker returned her smile and shook her small, delicate hand in his shovel of a palm.
“Dan Luker. Nice to meet you, Kate.”
They said nothing, their eyes locked for a little too long to be purely platonic.
Then the spell was broken as Dr. Kosmos announced his presence. Luker and Kate faced front waiting for the small, gray-haired doctor to speak.
“Welcome everyone, to your introductory lecture on the historic Juno Ark mission. You have a long and arduous training schedule ahead of you, but at the end of it, you will be more than just passengers. You will have a solid understanding of the mission, the stasis process and the Juno Ark herself. We cannot afford mere passengers—everyone must contribute, be it in training, on board or once we arrive at Aura-c. Getting right into it, the Juno Ark is currently seventy percent complete as this recent image shows …”
He clicked his remote and a photo of the partially-built Juno Ark appeared behind him on the giant display. It hung in low Earth orbit somewhere above Europe. The long series of connected cylinders had a constant diameter. She was largely uniform along her length save for the four great engine nozzles at the rear and the tapered nose at the bow. What looked like a complicated framework of orthogonal members surrounded the entire ship like a scaffold. A series of smaller modules lined one side of the framework. These were the work modules of the orbital shipyard.
Dr. Kosmos went on to explain some of the construction methods and the schedule for fitting out, completing, testing and commissioning the giant interstellar ship.
He continued, “So as you saw on the image, she is comprised of nine modules linked together to form the whole. As you would expect, each has its purpose. Here’s a basic representation …”
A simple 3-D rendering appeared on the wall display.
“… Going from the front, we have Module 1, with Module 9 at the rear. Modules 1 is for command, navigation, sensors & comms. It’s where you’ll find the bridge. It’s also where the first signals from the fast recon probes will arrive. I assumed you’re all aware of the nano-probe cluster probe sent to Aura in 2050 …”
He paused, looking around the hall for signs of recognition. A few tentative nods met his quick-
look survey.
“Anyway, there’ll be a special course devoted to the fast probes later this month. Right, where were we? Oh yes, so Module 2 is purely for the military and the waking home to the detachment of two hundred marines. Module 3 is science and research, including some extremely powerful telescopes. Module 4, habitation, recreation and civilian training is where you and most other civilians will spend their time when not in stasis. Module 5 is the stasis module. Six is landing and colonization. That’s home to the planetary shuttles, land vehicles, temporary shelters and so forth. Once you arrive—”
Kate whispered to Luker, “Where you from?”
He smiled broadly and caught a whiff of her perfume as he turned to answer her. Her face was closer than he’d anticipated, but that was fine with him.
“L.A … Idaho, originally. You?”
“Boston … Lisbon, Portugal originally. Portuguese mom, American dad.”
Luker checked Kate’s left hand—no ring. He wasn’t over Juliet—not by a long shot—but Miss Kate Alves sure was attractive. Pleasant too.
Dr. Kosmos was still giving his run down, “Module 7 is stores. It’s a long mission and it may be some time until the colony on Aura is self-sufficient in terms of food and supplies. The stores include food, equipment, materials, but also genetic material—seeds, animal embryos, microbes and the like—and the technology needed to grow them. The penultimate module is Module 8—engineering. This place is where you’ll find the four fusion reactors and enough fuel to last at least double the mission time. It’s also home to the robotics facility and manufacturing suite. Should the ship ever run out of fusion power—highly unlikely, of course—then the back-up solar arrays will deploy from Module 8. Finally, we have Module 9—propulsion—housing the four quantum-resonance engines and chemical rocket maneuvering thrusters.”
Dr. Kosmos went on to explain how the Juno Ark would accelerate to twenty-seven percent the speed of light and take one hundred and twenty years to reach the Aura system, sixteen-point-one light years away. The first half of the trip would be acceleration, the second half deceleration. For all on board, most of that time would be spent hibernating in stasis. A month into the voyage it’d be lights-out, with wake up over a century later six months before Aura-c orbit.
Dr. Kosmos had worked up quite a sweat with his animated explanations.
He stopped abruptly and said, “Okay, time for a ten-minute break, after which we’ll continue.”
Luker followed Kate to the coffee table outside the lecture hall and they lined up for their turn.
Kate turned to face Luker, looking up at him a good ten inches above her. “So what do you do, Dan?”
“I’m … I was a cop. How about you, Kate?”
“Teacher. Primary school grade.”
“So what made you wanna sign up?”
She looked skywards, then threw her head back with a chuckle.
“I’m still asking myself that question. I mean … no real ties, I guess. Correction … I’ll miss my kids … the ones I taught that is. I don’t have—”
“Sure, go on …”
“I guess, I just love little kids … love their minds, their unjaded innocence … their perspective on the world. I suppose I just want to make a better world with a clean slate. None of the baggage on Earth’s communities. We get to shape the colony just like they did here in America centuries ago, except this time everyone’s been selected. So, hopefully, that all works out better. So that’s my story, how ‘bout you Dan Luker?”
“Many of the same reasons I guess …”
Luker explained but skirted around his recent past, his loss and how conflicted he felt inside.
Kate reached the head of the line and her coffee reward there. A tall, nerdy-looking guy with floppy blonde hair and glasses brushed past Luker a little too close, knocking his elbow and spilling coffee over Luker’s sleeve.
“Oh, I’m very sorry,” said the skinny, bespectacled man with a foreign accent.
Luker brushed at the coffee stain, but remained calm.
“It’s okay … Accident.”
He forced a smile. The blonde guy held out his other hand nervously, introducing himself.
“Hi, I’m Evert Rietmuller …”
Tuesday, 1 March 2070, The Juno Ark Stasis Module, 30 days from Earth
It was their turn to go to sleep as they stood on the cold, steel grating, barefoot in their skin-tight suits. Luker looked along the long straight row of stasis pods, their bubble-like canopies aloft, waiting for their occupants. The bright lights of Module 5 lit every nook and cranny with a diffuse, yet still harsh white light. Apart from some crew and a few select others, the seven levels below had all entered stasis over the last day and a half. They’d left Earth orbit a month ago, having already been on the Juno for six. There were some things you couldn’t learn in the virtual teaching environment back at Johnson. Next to each pod was its would-be occupant—each a colonist with a story, full of hopes and dreams for a better world. Many were hoping to make their name, make their mark, find purpose. To his right was the tall, gangly figure of Evert Rietmuller, the quiet, blonde Dutchman who looked young for his age. Luker liked Evert, but couldn’t ever imagine hanging out with him or sharing a lot in common. Decent guy, introvert, harmless enough. Luker knew the world needed all sorts to make it work and he was sure Evert would be an asset to the colony.
Luker reached over his pod and shook hands with his neighbor.
“All the best, Evert. See you in a hundred and twenty years.”
“See you in fifteen minutes,” he replied, referring to the perception of time they’d actually experience.
Luker turned the other way and met the gaze of Kate Alves, standing beside her pod. She looked small compared to the bulk of the one-size-fits-all capsule. He smiled, feeling at home in her eyes. She returned a nervous smile and blew out some over-held breath.
“You’ll be fine,” he reassured.
“I’m scared, Dan. I’ve got all these butterflies in my tummy.”
Luker went around and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“That’s natural, Kate. None of us have done this before and the whole thought of it is a bit … out there.”
He smiled warmly and went to shake her hand, but instead she hugged the giant former cop, resting her head on his chest for comfort. He hesitated then wrapped his arms around this good, kind woman, with noble aims and a love for teaching and children.
He whispered, “Just lay back and relax. Think of something nice and breathe deeply. It’ll be just like the appendix operation you told me about. One minute you’ll be awake. The next we’ll be waking up at Aura. You’ll sit up, turn your head and I’ll be there smiling back telling you good morning.”
She giggled nervously and nodded.
“You’re right. I’m being silly. We’ve been through all this …”
“It’s fine. Understandable.”
They broke their embrace, Kate Alves looking up at him. She straightened and cleared her throat, her eyes moist with tears. Thrusting out her hand, she put on a brave face.
He smiled and shook it gently, enjoying the feel of her soft skin.
“See you in fifteen minutes, Dan Luker.”
He leaned down and kissed her head protectively.
“See you in fifteen, Kate.”
The voice of Tiro came over the PA system and Luker returned to beside his own pod.
“All colonists due for stasis, please enter your pods, close the canopy and follow the on-screen instructions. On behalf of the captain, crew and myself, we wish you a good sleep and Godspeed.”
The training kicked in and Luker and the other colonists climbed into their pods. Their actions were regimented, by-the-book—no one wanted to be the one to call for crew assistance. Luker took one last look to the neighboring capsule before laying down. He paused, waiting for Kate to look over, and exchanged one last smile, taking the few precious moments to remember her face. He lay down thinking of h
er, then started feeling guilty once more at wanting anyone but his Juliet.
The canopy whirred shut, placing the small display in front of his eyes.
Sixty seconds later, he heard the colorless, odorless gas fill the sealed pod. Seconds after that came the darkness and the first stage of the stasis. The liquid would come next, enveloping their still bodies and filling their lungs. The bodies of Luker, Kate and the others on Level 8 would remain indistinguishable from a cadaver for years, decades, more than a century. Some would not awaken for a very long time. Most would never live again.
5
Present Day, The Juno Ark
Module 5 was a graveyard. It was probably home to over twelve thousand dead—many of whom I’d known, some of whom I’d liked. And in the case of Kate Alves, was real fond of. In the case of Mike Lawrence saw the beginnings of a close friendship. Now Kate was gone and Mike was missing. Approaching the blast doors to Module 4, I wondered for a moment if the state of the stasis module was all part of the plan. Clearly not Plan A, but maybe it’d been left, the survivors having moved to other parts of the ship or down to the planet. Maybe that’s why some of the pods were empty. The survivors could’ve turned off gravity and non-essential functions and left Module 5 as a giant morgue until they figured out how to dispose of the bodies. In some ways, it made sense. I mean, if the estimated few hundred survivors were trying to make their way on an alien planet, they’d have bigger priorities than disposing of twelve thousand bodies. With no more than two percent of the labor available to set up the colony, and gaping skills gaps, it’d be tough going for sure. But then what of the bullet holes, the slayings? Had there been some kind of uprising or power grab? Reaching the two twelve-foot diameter semi-circular blast doors, I realized there were simply too many unknowns. And the best source of information was the bridge in Module 1. To get there would mean passing through Module 4 then 3 then 2. Perhaps they were all having a big party just next door. Unlikely, but not impossible.
Getting to Module 4 meant opening the blast doors looming in front of me, then passing through the short link tunnel, then opening the blast doors at the opposite end. Where I stood was the upper route—the lower route linked the modules at Level 1, nineteen floors below. Looking around, I clocked the control panel to the right of the segmented alloy door. All going well, the left and right halves would retract into their cavities and I’d simply float on through. I pulled myself along the cold, brushed metal door and held onto the frame next to the panel. During normal operations—prior to stasis—the doors would have been left open, the panel display alive. Now, it didn’t even have a standby light, the screen dark and dusty. I tapped it anyway, but nothing happened. Looking across at the solid door, I knew there’d be no hacking through this one with an ax. Short of a few pounds of high explosives, it’d only open in one of the ways it had been designed to. From training, I knew there were several ways to open it: locally via the panel—scratch that one—or centrally from a few places that weren’t Module 5, or via an automatic emergency protocol. That left me with the fourth option—finding the service hatch and manual operation. Problem was, I couldn’t remember where it was. Logic dictated it’d be close by and reachable when gravity was switched on. The gray alloy bulkhead surrounding the door was shear, smooth and largely featureless. I glanced down and the recessed service hatch door stuck out like a sore thumb. I slid down and crouched next to the eighteen-inch square cover. As well as the dead RFID reader, it sported a mechanical lock with a small round keyhole for times when the reader was unpowered like right now. Great planning as long as you had the key, which I did not. But I did have an ax and this door measured no more than a few millimeters thick. I stood back, pulling the small ax from my suit leg. After lining up the blade, I drew it back and took the first swing. The metal-on-metal clang sounded deafening in the still of the gloomy sarcophagus. All it left was a dent. Half a dozen strikes later, though, the bolt sheared, perhaps embrittled by the cold or just due to old age.
Home Planet: Awakening (Part 1) Page 4
