Rubicon Crossing

by Ralph Prince

  “Yes, sir,” he responded out of habit. “I mean, yes, Don.”

  Several moments passed without another word exchanged between the two men. Will sat working on a project on his personal computer, while the captain absently drummed the arm of his chair with his splinted finger.

  Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Porter spoke, “I guess if I’m going to call you Don,” he said, “you might just as well call me Will. That’s what my friends call me.”

  “Okay,” Don said. “Will it is.”

  “Will?” Nav-Tac asked, his holographic face appeared to have a troubled expression. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, Nav-Tac,” Will replied. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’ve been pondering recent developments on the ship.” The agent continued. “It has come to my attention that you have all begun using names in favor of rank when addressing one another.”

  “True,” Will said, wondering where the conversation was going.

  “I don’t have a name,” Nav-Tac stated.

  “Sure you do,” said Will. “Your name is Nav-Tac.”

  “Nav-Tac is a compound abbreviation for navigational and tactical,” the agent stated. “It is not a name. You, being the system analyst, are not called Sys-An. Lieutenant Monet, being the medical technician and communication officer, is not called Med-Com. And Captain Garris, being commander and pilot, is not called Com-Pil. I feel I should have a name rather than an abbreviation of my duties.”

  “Okay,” Will agreed, not really understanding Nav-Tac’s motivation, but finding no flaw in his logic. “I guess that’s fair. What do you wish to be called?”

  “I haven’t come up with a name yet,” the agent said. “I have narrowed it down to just under eighteen-thousand possibilities. I’m also working on a new visual interface, since you said my current appearance was given to me in order to meet the project completion deadline, and you have become complacent in rendering me a new one.”

  “I don’t see what’s wrong with the one you’ve got,” Will said defensively.

  “Maybe it doesn’t want to look like a bald you,” Don offered, finding the conversation quite humorous, especially under the intoxicating effect of the bio-mend.

  “I feel I have matured enough to have my own identity,” Nav-Tac contended. “Having my own face and name seems a logical step toward that end.”

  “They grow up so fast,” Don kibitzed, unable to contain his mirth. “It looks like your computer has reached its teenage rebellious years.”

  “Besides,” Nav-Tac continued, “my duty on the ship is seeing to the comfort and well-being of the crew, a decidedly nurturing role. Therefore, I’ve opted to emulate a female, and Nav-Tac is not a feminine sounding name.”

  “Uh-oh,” Don chuckled. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s a teenage girl.”

  “Fine,” Will conceded, ignoring the commander. “If changing your interface and giving yourself a name makes you happy, who am I to say no? With the captain’s permission, of course,” he added.

  “I’m staying out of this one,” Don said. “Nav-Tac’s identity crisis is among the least of my concerns right now. We’ve got a ship to fix, and a native girl to deal with; you can sort out your own family issues.”

  “How is our guest anyway?” Will asked, trying desperately to change the subject. This was a side of the captain he had never seen, and he preferred the somber, angry version. “You said her name was Karen?”

  “Yes,” Don replied, regaining some of his serious composure. “Jackie’s getting her cleaned up, and finding her something to wear. She said she might have to raid your closet until we can fabricate clothing for her. Karen seems to be almost completely recovered, and she had an awful lot of questions.”

  “You mean she speaks Earth-tongue?” Will asked. “Then Jackie was right, she is from Earth. Did she say anything about knowing where it is?”

  “She didn’t know anything about Earth, or about space travel for that matter,” Don replied. “I don’t think she’s from Earth. I’m convinced she’s native to this planet.”

  “Then how do you explain her speaking Earth-tongue,” inquired the lieutenant, “and her similarity to humans? We’ve never found evidence of anything resembling human life on any planet other than Earth. The chances of it happening are one in a billion.”

  “Actually,” Nav-Tac offered, “the likelihood would seem much slimmer than that. Two completely independent worlds developing identical life forms falls into the realm of near impossibility. However, though I have no definite basis for my conclusion, I agree with the captain. I don’t believe Karen is native to Earth.”

  “Then how do you explain a race which is so similar to our own?” Will demanded. “Especially one that speaks Earth-tongue?”

  “We are not sure how life came to exist on Earth in the first place. Perhaps,” Nav-Tac speculated, “this planet and Earth share a common ancestry which resulted in similar development. If primitive humans were taken from Earth by an non-terrestrial race and transported here, their society might follow similar developmental paths, especially considering the similarity of this planet to Earth.”

  “No,” Don disagreed. “The Gris were the first non-terrestrial race to make contact with Earth. They admit studying us before making contact, but they claim never to have trans-located any humans. I’m still convinced this planet developed independently of Earth.”

  “I don’t accept that,” Will said. “There has to be another answer.”

  “There’s not much use speculating about it,” Don said, seeing the futility in doing so. “I doubt we’ll ever know for certain how her people came to be here, just as we don’t know how life developed on Earth. Some mysteries are just beyond our understanding.”

  At the sound of footsteps from the hallway, the captain rose from his chair and watched as Jackie approached. Her lips were drawn into one of her all-too-familiar impish grins.

  “Well,” Don said upon her entrance, “if it isn’t the cat that ate the canary.”

  “Another quaint idiom from those ancient books you like to read, I assume,” she retorted. “You really should try reading something a little more modern.”

  “I’ll read what I wish, lieutenant,” he said coldly. She never did understand his passion for old books. He loved the way the pages felt on the fingers, the way they gently rustled when turned, and the unique aroma of paper and ink. “Now, I presume you have a report to make on our guest?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied in a bedeviling tone. “She’s positively loquacious; she asked a lot of questions about a certain member of the crew.” Her smile grew broader than ever. “It would seem you made quite an impression on her.”

  “I was referring to her physical condition,” he clarified. “How is she?”

  “As near as I can tell, perfect,” Jackie said. “I wish I had a body like hers. She looks like one of Porter’s girlfriend candidates.”

  “Hey,” Will objected.

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Don said, the seriousness of his tone wiping the grin from her face.

  “Her wounds are nearly healed already,” she answered. “It’s phenomenal, and I have no explanation for it. I’ve got her cleaned up, fed, and dressed. By the way, she was positively ecstatic about taking a bath. Apparently, she’s never seen so much water in one place. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had getting her into the tub. Then, once she was in, I didn’t think I was ever going to get her out again. All things considered, I think I did a pretty good job making her presentable. Underneath all that dirt, she’s an attractive young lady. Oh, and she’s anxious to see you again too.”

  “I guess I can’t disappoint our guest, can I?” he said, stepping past the med-tech. “I’ll leave you two here to deal with the trans-sexual computer.”

  “The what?” Jackie asked, as he proceeded toward his quarters. “What did I miss?”

  CHAPTER 13: Hell’s Angel

  Don paused mo
mentarily before opening the door to his quarters. His palms were sweaty and his hand trembled inexplicably; he was anxious, but he wasn’t sure why. Surely, Karen posed no threat; she seemed incapable of any form of malevolence. But it wasn’t fearful trepidation that gripped him; it was something else. He was at once eager to see the young native woman again, and nervous about seeing her. She was a conundrum. She possessed an innocent demeanor that contradicted the hostility of the planet that served as her home. She was naïve when it came to technology and space travel, but accepted their existence with awe rather than fear. She seemed frail and in need of protecting, yet at the same time exhibited a formidable inner strength. She fascinated him. She confused him.

  Without realizing he had touched the control panel, he watched the door slide quietly aside. The room beyond was brightly lit, unlike when he had left Karen in Jackie’s care. His robe lay abandoned on the foot of his bed, amid an assortment of other clothing; some of it his, most of it not.

  Movement to his right drew his attention.

  Karen stood before the full-length mirror, studying her reflection as though she were staring at a stranger. In fact, she bore little resemblance to the young woman he had brought aboard his ship mere hours ago. She was garbed in a pair of curve-hugging dark blue pants with gold braids running down the sides: standard issue dress uniform pants. The snug fitting white shirt was not one he recognized. Judging from the silk-like appearance, he assumed it to be one of Will’s. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Upon her feet were a pair of space force deck shoes; the only article of clothing that didn’t seem too tight for her.

  Her hands busily smoothed the tresses of her golden hair; little of the brown remained after a thorough washing. The tangles had been brushed out, leaving it free to cascade in gentle waves to the middle of her back. Jackie had obviously trimmed and styled it.

  Karen turned upon seeing his reflection as he stepped into the room, her hands falling to wring nervously before her. The first thing he noticed was the top portion of the shirt had been left unfastened, and the collar turned down in a manner that revealed a generous amount of cleavage, accentuated by the tightness of the shirt. He felt suddenly flushed as his focus shifted to her face.

  Her large, intense eyes beamed shyly from between long, thick eyelashes. Her soft rounded cheeks blushed at him from either side of her slightly upturned nose. Her full, succulent lips, moist and inviting, curled upward in a retiring smile. Hers was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He was certain he had found an angel on the hellish planet.

  “Wow!” he said, causing her cheeks to redden even more as she averted her eyes in embarrassment. He couldn’t, nor did he try to, suppress the smile that crossed his own lips.

  “Well?” she asked, unable to meet his gaze. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

  “I’m not sure what to say,” he replied, shrugging. “You may be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

  “Jackie said you would like me,” she said, her face radiant with delight as her eyes finally found their way back to his. “She taught me to use makeup and perfume, and how to dress up pretty. Oh, and she said ‘showing a little skin never hurts either.’ I’m glad you like it.”

  “I like you anyway,” he said, taking half a step forward and nearly stumbling. For some reason, his legs didn’t want to cooperate; he assumed it was the bio-mend. “What’s not to like?”

  “Donald,” she said softly, a hint of melancholy in her tone. She slowly approached, meeting him in front of the bookcase. She stood close, infringing upon his personal comfort zone, and placed her palms on his chest. “Thank you for being so nice to me.”

  “It’s the least I can do after causing you to fall down that ridge,” he said, realizing how rare kindness must be in her world. He suddenly felt the need to change the subject. “Say, how would you like to see the rest of the ship? We have about an hour until night mode.”

  “I’m kind of tired,” she said, directing her eyes away from him as though in shame. “Could we just stay here and talk some more about Earth? It sounds like such a wonderful place.”

  “Sure,” he replied, “if that’s what you want to do. I just have to do one small thing first.”

  Backing away from her to the desk, he picked up a small disk communicator and activated it. “This is the captain,” he said, “tell Lieutenant Porter I’ll be sleeping in one of the spare beds in his quarters tonight.”

  “Message conveyed, captain,” came Nav-Tac’s voice in response. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Negative,” Don replied. “Thanks anyway.”

  “That thing talks,” Karen said, having moved silently to his side.

  “Not exactly,” he said, finding himself amused by the bewilderment that washed across the picturesque perfection of her face. “It’s a communicator. It allows me to talk with the other people on the ship. It carries my voice to them, and carries theirs back to me.”

  “Oh,” she said, only partially understanding. “Was that Will’s voice it carried back to you?”

  “No,” he answered. “That was Nav-Tac, our ship’s agent. Though I usually call it a computer because it gets a rise out of Porter,” he paused, realizing from her expression she was getting more confused by the second. “It’s hard to explain,” he backpedaled. “I’ll introduce you tomorrow when I give you a tour of the ship. For now, why don’t we talk about you?”

  “What are these?” she asked, ignoring his suggestion and returning to the glass-faced cabinet housing uneven rows of multi-colored books.

  “Those are my books,” he explained, joining her at the cabinet. “They have stories and other things. This is the way earth people saved information before digital storage was invented.”

  “I’ve seen things like these before, but I never knew what they were for,” she said, her hand lightly caressing the glass. “Do they talk?”

  “No,” he replied. “The digital ones do, but you have to read these; I mean look at them to see what they say.”

  “Can I look at one?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

  Sliding the glass aside, he withdrew one of the ancient cloth-bound volumes, and led her to the bed. Pushing some of the clothing aside, he motioned her to sit next to him, opened the cover, and carefully leafed through several brittle, yellowed pages. All the while, Karen watched in increasing awe.

  “Each of these symbols is a letter,” he explained, pointing as he spoke. “When they’re put together in a certain order, they make words. It’s a way of saying things so they are always there.”

  “I’ve seen these symbols,” said Karen excitedly, pointing to various places on the page. “What do these say?”

  “Well,” he said, quickly scanning the page, “this is a book of poetry. This one says: ‘Come live with me and be my love / And we will all the pleasures prove / That valleys, groves, hills, and fields / Woods or steepy mountain yields.’”

  “That’s beautiful. Who said that?” she asked, regarding him intently with her dark blue eyes.

  “Christopher Marlowe,” he answered, silently continuing with the passage. “A long, long time ago.”

  “Donald?” she asked softly, as though to prevent anyone from overhearing. She waited for him to look up from the book before continuing. “Will you teach me to use these?”

  “It takes months to learn to read,” he said, causing her yearning expression to fade into disappointment. It pained him to see her hopes shattered, though he didn’t understand why. Like the shepherd in the poem, he felt the need to deluge Karen with offerings to ensure her happiness. “So,” he continued, “the sooner we start the better.”

  The sparkle in her eyes returned, stirring within him emotions he had never before felt; emotions he had never allowed himself to pursue. They were dangerous for one such as him, yet there they were, manifesting unbidden in the dark recesses of his being. Sure, she was beautiful and he was physically attracted to her, but there was so muc
h more to her. She fascinated him on many plateaus with her inquisitiveness, sensitivity, naiveté, and innocence. He had never met anyone like her. He felt somehow connected to her, though they were from different worlds. Literally. Eventually, he would have to leave her to return to Earth, and she would be unable to go with them. There could be no future between them. So why did the thought of leaving her make him feel so empty inside? Why was it that when she looked at him with those eyes, those magnificent blue eyes, he could deny her nothing?

  “Karen?” he asked, emerging from his musing. His gaze was still intent upon her. “Weren’t your eyes green earlier? I could have sworn they were, but now they’re blue.”

  “They change,” she said nonchalantly. “It depends on what I feel.”

  “And what does blue mean?” he asked, certain he was already aware of the answer.

  “It means I’m happy,” she replied, blushing slightly. “Because of you.”

  “My eyes are always hazel,” he said softly. “But if they did change color, I’m sure they would be blue now too.”

  “Tell me more of what these people say,” she urged, moving closer, hugging his arm, and resting her head against his shoulder. “I want to hear everything they say.”

  His smile never wavering, he continued reading to her, pausing frequently to explain a verse she didn’t understand. It seemed like only a few moments before the veil of night mode began slowly lowering around them, making reading difficult.

  Closing the book, Don rose to his feet and stretched his stiff, aching muscles—another side effect of the bio-mend. “It’s probably about time for you to get some rest,” he suggested. “You’ll be safe and comfortable here tonight. I’ll be just across the hall in Will’s room if you need anything. It’s the middle door.”

  “Donald, could you please stay,” she pleaded sheepishly, her eyes seemingly growing larger than before, and her lower lip extruding in a pout. “Just for a little while?”

  He knew it would be futile trying to resist her persuasive eyes; they pierced his soul. “For just a little while,” he agreed. “Now you should get ready for bed. Did Jackie get you something to wear while sleeping?”