by Malcolm Moss
The Warden of Cryosleep
Malcolm Moss
For my wife...
“We’ll sleep for two years?” Brandon Pace, the eager intern, couldn’t hide his apprehension before his first interstellar flight. The crisp, white body suit enhanced his lithe and boyish frame that seemed far too young to be frozen in time.
“You won’t notice it. You’ll be asleep. It’ll feel like a good night’s rest, only when you wake up, we’ll be at Proxima Centauri.” Dr. Alice Hill tried her best to comfort the teen, but she had plenty of work to see to before the chambers were sealed within the hour. She flipped a curl behind her ear and set to recording the readings from his monitor.
“You and Ramsey will be alone all that time?” At mention of the engineer, Alice couldn’t help but glance across the room at him. Brandon made it sound like a bad thing.
“Yeah, that’s the way it works on long flights,” she replied absently, jotting down his numbers and ready to move on.
“So, you’ll be two years older when we get there?”
She couldn’t resist the genuine curiosity inlaid with total fear. “Yep, you three get to stay forever young while the engineer and I continue aging. Feel better?”
“Yeah, thanks Dr. Hill.” He smiled so wide she almost felt guilty she’d slowly kill his brain over the next two years.
“Sure thing, kid.” Satisfied he would survive for the next ten minutes without her, Alice moved on to the next cryo chamber, the one belonging to the ship’s captain.
“This is your fifth trip in cryo?” she asked to make sure she had it documented correctly.
Villareal nodded in his quiet way, the plentiful muscles rippling under his shirt despite the small movement. She wondered if such a tight shirt would get uncomfortable after two years under. Heart rate. Body temperature. Respiration rate. She scrawled the numbers from the leads and moved on to the next, careful not to stare too long.
At thirty-one, Villareal was one of the oldest people to undergo cryo for IGEA in the last five hundred years. Preference was given to younger candidates, but the captain’s experience in flight and his excellent physical condition were enough to keep him on the table for future assignments. They were lucky to have him.
As she reached the final patient, she found Dr. Browning firing off a list of very specific instructions while Weston Ramsey, the engineer, did his best to keep up. “If you get a luminosity reading over 10%, you need to wake me. Or if the computer picks up another planet once we’re past the Alphas.”
“Sure, sure.” Weston attempted to appease the astrobiologist, but there wasn’t much he could do. Hudson Browning would only be satisfied by a fully awake flight to the red dwarf.
“Alright, Dr. Browning. I need you to finish up and go ahead and lay down. You want the best possible numbers before we launch.” Alice kept her voice calm and smooth, which she had learned helped relax the sleepers before going under.
The reminder of the imminent departure was enough to shock him into obedience. He was a few years older than Alice, but she had already earned her position and then some.
After double checking all the readouts, tapping the leads to assure they remained attached, and checking the men’s positions in the chambers, she decided the time had come.
“Alright, gentlemen. Lids are going to drop. The gas will fill the chamber and you’ll drift to sleep like a baby. With any luck, you won’t wake until Proxima Centauri. Happy dreams, gentlemen.”
She checked one last time to make sure they were all properly positioned and the leads were still getting good readings. Alice pressed the button that lowered the three glass panes onto the chambers with the gentle hum of rushing air. Inside, a milky gas swirled until their faces disappeared in the fog. A quick glance at the monitors confirmed each was already asleep.
“Kind of freaky when you watch from this side,” Weston offered when a permeating quiet filled the room.
“I guess so. Seems normal to me.” Her eyes never moved from the sheets as she filled in the numbers.
“Have you ever been in cryo?”
“Oddly enough, I haven’t.”
“So, you’re the resident expert of cryosleep and you’ve never done it?” While his question was rather accusatory, she couldn’t hold it against him. An easy smile occupied his angular jaw and she was useless to resist his charm.
“How am I going to keep everyone alive if I sleep on the job?” She smiled and tapped his ribs with an elbow before turning down the corridor. There were only thirty minutes left to report any problems with the monitor feeds before launch.
Just two doors down, she sat in the plush office chair and clicked on the wall of screens. Each of the three men occupied their own panel. A live video feed hummed alive on the left half of each rectangle and the leads readouts on the right. The red, green and blue lines darted up and down as the system hummed to life. It would be her instrument to keep the three men alive for the next two years.
A few minutes into documenting the initial readings for each man, the intercom screen beeped twice and illuminated, revealing the stone face of her supervisor, Dr. Nobbert, in front of a screen bearing the Inter-galactic Exploration Agency logo.
“Afternoon, Dr. Hill. Is Ramsey there with you?”
“No, sir. I left him at the cryo chambers just a bit ago. If you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll find him.” The ship was much too large to search in such a short time, but she didn’t want to appear as if she didn’t have everything under control. While Villareal was asleep, she was in command of the expedition.
“I’ll try him on the bridge,” he said in decline. A half second later, Dr. Nobbert’s bird-like face shared the screen with the hazel eyes and tousled blonde hair of the engineer; a comparison that did no favors for her supervisor. Her own heart-shaped face and dark curls appeared in miniature in the top right corner.
“All systems are ready for launch. How do things look on your end?” their supervisor asked of Ramsey.
“Engines are fired up and ready to go. I triple checked the coordinates in the Nav. Life support systems, anti-gravity regulators, and oxygen equalizers are all fully operational. We’re all set up here.” Weston sounded surprisingly professional, a stark contrast to his casual appearance.
It would be a lie to say she hadn’t considered him sexually, that she wasn’t attracted to his muscles and his cool demeanor. In reality, they would probably end up sleeping together before their arrival in deep space. Back in the day, little care was given to the crewmembers selected to make the journey awake, but the resulting gay and lesbian relationships amongst otherwise straight individuals resulted in a new level of care. She’d been given the power to deny his position, just as he’d been allowed to do for hers.
“And Dr. Hill?” Nobbert’s voice brought her eyes back from the daze.
“All three are down and looking good. We’re cleared for launch.”
“Alright, I’ll give them the go-ahead. We’ll check in with you in thirty days. Good luck.” Without pretense, the left screen darkened so that only Weston’s picture remained, but it, too, went dark a moment later.
Thirty days. It was now an arbitrary concept. Without the constant, artificial spinning of the Gamma Outpost–their home for the last three months–mornings would merge into nights and afternoons might disappear entirely. The ship would create a false sense of time to suit their biological need for regularity, but it was just a mirage, a matrix to pacify.
Along with the blur of time, they would have to contend with the loneliness and the silence. On the other hand, Dr. Hill was no stranger to the eerie quiet of deep space. As the primary cryogenics officer, it was her duty to monitor the passengers in cr
yostate until they reached their destination, this time the nearby star Proxima Centauri. As the ship maneuvered from the port and entered hyperdrive, there was the palpable shift in the atmosphere that marked the beginning of their long journey.
“Hey Doc. How about a drink to celebrate?” Ramsey appeared in the doorway.
“Celebrate?” she asked.
“Yeah, you know. We just launched on a major flight. I think that deserves a drink. You look like a wine sorta girl.” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared down the corridor.
Guffawed at his assumption, Alice Hill dropped her clipboard roughly on the desk and followed him. Arriving at the galley, she stated pragmatically, “I happen to enjoy a good bourbon.”
“Well, that explains the storeroom. There’s enough bourbon to kill an elephant,” he replied as he poured a beer into a frosted mug.
“What do you know of elephants?” she asked, surprised he’d even heard of such a thing.
“They were an animal, pretty big one, right?” The wind flew right back out of her sails. It had been too much to hope.
“Uh, yeah. Pretty big.” Deflated, she turned to head back to her office.
“Doc, didn’t you want a drink?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” She didn’t even bother to turn her head as she spoke, a bad habit of hers.
“Did I somehow manage to offend you in the first ten minutes of our flight?” His candidness appealed to her and she found herself turning to address him.
“I’d hoped you appreciated the old ways, but not many do anymore. It was my mistake.”
“So, it’s true. You’re an antiquarian. I guess with a name like Alice you’d have to be.” Engineer Weston Ramsey wasn’t the first to comment on the seldom-used moniker. Symbolism in names disappeared long ago, along with other romantic fantasies.
“It was a book. My mother loved books.” It was all the explanation she could offer of her childhood in paradise. It would seem like torture to the rest of the galaxy, but for her, it was an inexplicable utopia. She would always be drawn to the ways of the old world. Again, she left to return to her office.
Alice didn’t have another run in with the engineer for two more days. The ship was large enough to let each of them get lost in their own space. Before she died, Evelyn Hill had filled a digital reader with all the books she considered must-reads. Finding a power source for such an outdated device was a challenge, but it was amongst Alice’s most prized possessions. She was well into Sense and Sensibility when Weston’s blonde mess appeared.
“You like chess?” he asked with no attempt at a greeting. He wore baggy sweatpants and a tee shirt that was just a little too tight for his generous muscles.
“As it happens, I do.”
“Is that how people used to talk?” Weston’s smile twisted at the words.
“As it happens, it is,” she teased, pleased when his usually handsome face twisted again.
“Alright, well the board’s set up in the galley if you’re interested.”
“Sure,” she replied, pleasantly surprised at his interest. Her bare feet plodded quietly down the hall behind him.
The living spaces of the ship were complete with a fully functional kitchen, dining area, and recreational room. Entering the kitchen, she saw a use for the space the original designers had probably never anticipated. Atop the large hexagonal table, a chessboard appeared via the holographic projector. “Oh,” she let slip before she could help it.
“I’m sorry. I figured you’d like to play with a physical board but there isn’t one on the ship.”
“You checked?”
“Yeah, what do you think I’ve been doing for the last two days?” As if it were a perfectly normal thing to say, Weston sat in front of the white pieces projected on the table. Already, a beer and bourbon sat at their respective positions.
“But– You didn’t know I would want to play.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time to learn. We have two years together, remember?”
“Now that you mention it, I do recall something about it.” Both laughed as she slid into the opposing chair and pulled back her dark curls in preparation for the game. Already, his calm permeated the space and let her relax. With high hopes, Alice wondered how long it would take to get to the sex after all.
“Pawn to E-three.” Weston indicated his desired move quickly, a little too quickly. Alice immediately pegged him as a novice but would take her time in destroying him. There would be time to train him up and then some.
“Pawn to E-five,” she offered in response.
“Bishop to B-five.” Alice had to sit back in her chair and admire the bold move from such a beginner.
“Someone’s been practicing.”
“There’s not much in the system at the advanced levels, but enough to get started.”
The cryogenist let her thoughts fall to the game and the predicament she found herself in far too early in the game. Already, Weston pinned half her pawns, rendered her rook, bishop and knight useless, and set up a move to kill the king in two turns. She had no choice. “King to E-seven.”
When Weston smiled at her move, she knew she was in trouble.
“Knight to B-three. What’s the book?” he asked as he adjusted the bulky black watch that was so fashionable this year.
“What book?”
“The book you were named for. You said your mom liked books.”
“Oh, yeah, she did. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.” After a moment of marveling at his questions, she remembered the game. “Pawn to H-five.”
“What kind of adventures did she have?” he seemed interested in her answer but his eyes never moved from the holographic board.
“Well–” Alice had always struggled to rationalize the fictional novel out of context. If someone wasn’t familiar with it, the story sounded pretty far-fetched. “She follows a white rabbit down a hole and meets all sorts of strange characters: a mad hatter, an odd set of twins, an evaporating cat. Eventually, she battles the evil queen. It’s a lot of nonsense but there’s logic, too.”
“Sounds pretty neat. Do you have a copy with you?”
“Uh, yeah, I do.” She made no attempt to hide her surprise.
“Would you mind if I borrowed it?”
“No, I guess not.” In fact, she would mind. She would mind very much. Her physical, paper copy of Alice’s Adventures was one of the last. The thought of lending it out terrified her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are you doing all this? You aren’t really interested in reading a two thousand year old book. Are you?”
“People still read the Bible and it’s way older than that. Besides, it’s obviously important to you.”
“Okay…”
Looking up from the projection, Weston’s gaze bored right into her. “It’s important to you, so I’d like to learn more about it.”
“Alright.” She composed a calm façade while her insides were threatening escape. The words didn’t make sense coming from the guy she planned on having very casual sex with to save her sanity over the next two years.
“Look, we got to select each other right? If we weren’t compatible to live onboard together, this flight would have been doomed to failure. That’s why our input was part of the selection process.”
While the words he spoke were true enough, she couldn’t imagine how they related to the current conversation. Nobbert had given her a list of twenty-five possible candidates with the understanding she would choose from the top two or three. After the first two declined, she picked Weston Ramsey, an insipid eighth, but something about him had caught her eye. When he had been given the opportunity to decline working with her, whatever his reasons were, he was the first to accept.
Her face must have revealed some of her inner fluster; he stood up and walked over to stand beside her chair. “Do you mind?”
“Mind
what?” The words slipped past her lips just before he pressed his own against them. Close up, she could smell the beer on his breath and the musty odor of man. Despite herself, she inhaled deeply, drawing in his air and collecting strength for her uncustomary reaction.
Alice reached a hand up behind his neck and let her fingers dart between strands of blonde waves. The rough hand of her associate crawled down her back, pausing briefly along her lower back before reaching farther. A quick flex of his muscles was all it took to lift her out of the chair and plant her hips against his. Alice wrapped her strong legs around him to keep from falling.
Amidst the chaotic rovings of tongues and mouths, she was vaguely aware of his legs pumping beneath them, traveling quickly down the sterile corridor. Her arms remained locked around his neck in eagerness and vertigo.
Before she’d had her fill of his taste, her spine collapsed into soft fabric as he pulled away. Eyes darted around to take in her surroundings: bare walls, simple color scheme, a decorative approach that could only belong to a man.
From across the room, Weston cued the lights to dim before hurrying back to her. His hips arrived just between her legs as he bent to kiss her again. Alice let her arms return around his neck to bring him in that much closer.
If that were as far as it had gone, she would have been satisfied. The engineer was a more than capable kisser and the strength of his arms didn’t hurt his case. As a career driven woman, she had already tasted more than she could have hoped so early in their time together. When he began to pull at the edge of her shirt, the breath caught in her chest.
It wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. They were supposed to pretend like they didn’t know they’d eventually sleep together out of sheer lack of options, play coy in the galley, and drop hints for a while. It was supposed to take months to get to this point, not a few days. He was going way too fast.
Weston ignored the buttons that lined the front of her vintage top and hastily pulled the green plaid fabric over her head. Only a simple black bra and khaki shorts remained and, though she wasn’t particularly modest, she found herself attempting to cover her chest with an arm.
