by James Wilks
There was that word again, she thought: order. She didn’t like to order her employees to do anything. Sometimes she asked them to do things or stated that she wanted them to do things. She knew and they knew that she was not really asking, but she had always tried to do so diplomatically. It was a delicate balance. She liked her crew and she imagined herself friends with them, though she knew in some cases that was really only in her imagination.
She considered his proposal, then thought about putting a gun in Bethany’s hands. The concept seemed absurd, almost cruel, until she reminded herself that the young pilot had attempted to kill two crew members not twenty meters from where she stood. “I won’t order them to do so, but how about we set up some classes? I’ll strongly suggest that everyone attend.”
“Whatever you say, Captain,” Jang replied, picking up his own towel and placing it around his neck. “But please bear in mind that someone’s life, perhaps everyone’s life, might come down to someone knowing how to shoot back. Are you willing to risk lives to avoid making people uncomfortable?”
“You have a point,” she granted, and she was silent for several seconds while she weighed the pros and cons. Jang waited patiently for her response. “No, I still don’t think it’s right to require people to do something they don’t want to do. I know I’m their employer and I can more or less set the terms of their behavior. Serving on a commuter vessel doesn’t really come with a standard job description, but even so, there are some lines I’m not willing to cross.”
“Not yet.” Jang’s tone was ominous.
She nodded. “Not yet. We’re trying to survive here, but in what seems to be becoming a common theme in our lives, I think we have to be careful not to sacrifice what we are in the name of survival. It’s the old balance between safety and freedom.” She held out her hands flat like the trays of a balance scale. “There’s no point in being free if you’re dead,” she dipped one hand, “but there’s no point in being alive if you’re a slave.” She raised the first hand and dipped the second.
“I’m not talking about enslaving anyone,” Jang said darkly, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. “I’m just talking about mandatory firearms drills.”
She drew a large breath and then let it out. “I know, but the principle remains the same. If someone objects to the training, then they can sit it out. If that means that we pay for it down the road, then so be it. I’m not willing to turn this into a dictatorship just to ensure our survival.”
“As you wish, Captain. Will you inform the crew, or should I?” He began moving towards the door.
She considered the undercurrent of feeling on the ship towards her at the moment. “I think I’ll have Don do it.”
Day 2.
“Bye!” Gwen said as she closed the door to Captain Clea’s room. She slung her small backpack off her shoulder and undid the zipper. Into it she placed the book in her hand, an old tale of a school of wizardry that she had been reading with the Captain, and then zipped it up. She gingerly began climbing the recessed ladder rungs away from the room where she had spent the last hour. The Captain was her English teacher for an hour every day except Saturdays or in special circumstances, and Gwen really enjoyed the sessions.
After just fifteen steps, she paused to catch her breath. She was a small child with chin length brown hair and nearly translucent skin that revealed faint blue veins at her temples and wrists. She had spent the last two years of her life aboard Gringolet, and in many ways, it had become her world. She knew the ship better than most of the crew. For the first few months her parents had been very strict about her moving about on her own, but containing a seven year old bursting with energy in a two bedroom suite was maddening to all involved, potentially damaging, and ultimately futile. So little by little she had been granted free run of the vessel. Now it was her playground. Occasionally her father raised concerns when they were thrusting really fast because he said that she could fall and hurt herself, but she never had, and so his protests had subsided to grumbles.
There were no other children on the ship. Bethany was the closest in age to her, and the young woman was a sort of creepy mystery to Gwen with her dark makeup and black nails. Instead, she had bonded with certain members of the crew, and like a village in space, they had taken on the job of giving her a well-rounded education and friends besides. Jabir taught her science in his Medical bay, Captain Clea read with her and worked on her writing, her parents took turns teaching her math and history, and Don was like a kind uncle to her.
She pressed on and reached the next level, clambering up onto the bulkhead and closing the door behind her. After another second of heavy breathing, she started walking along a hallway that ran perpendicular to the long axis of the ship. Suddenly she heard footsteps on the rungs at the end of the hallway and froze. She knew the sounds of each of the crewmembers, and the scary woman with the shaved head and the combat boots was climbing down into her hallway. There were no rooms to duck into in the short stretch of hall in front of her, and she wasn’t about to climb back down to Captain Clea’s room, so she wedged herself into the nook at the end of the hallway where it widened into the junction with the shaft she had just climbed.
As she stood waiting, she tried to slow her breathing so that the scary engineer wouldn’t hear her. She knew her dad worked with her, and he said that she was a really good person, but Gwen didn’t like her. There was a cold disdain when Dinah looked at her, like she thought that Gwen shouldn’t be there. As the footsteps echoed on the floor, growing louder as they approached, Gwen sucked in a big breath and held it. She watched the dark cargo pants and the black tank top walk by, then turn and begin to descend the ladder. All the woman would have to do was to look up and she would see Gwen standing almost right in front of her. Her head stayed bowed, and a moment later, she had gone.
The excitement of successfully hiding from the scary engineer infected Gwen, and she decided to go to one of her favorite little-visited places on the ship. There was nothing left to really explore on Gringolet for her that wasn’t off limits, like personal quarters or the reactor chamber, but there were places she thought of as secret that drew her from time to time. A few minutes later, breathing hard again, she ascended to the communications room tucked in the bow of the ship just under the cockpit. She liked the idea of hiding just below where her mother did the math that guided the ship back and forth across the solar system. No one really used the room except when Yegor and Ms. Evelyn had installed parts of the satellite they found in there, so she expected the door to the room to be closed.
To her great surprise, it was open, and she gasped when she saw that it was the automaton Brutus who stood just inside the door typing into a console. Beyond him the communications array and associated hardware filled most of the room. Wires and cables crisscrossed the small chamber, and Gwen thought it was the most jury-rigged place she had seen on the ship.
Brutus turned at the sound of her surprise and looked down at her. “Why Ms. Park,” the tinny voice was warm with greeting. He squatted down so that they were face to robotic face. “How wonderful to see you. How are you?”
Wide-eyed, Gwen gawped at him for several seconds, then got a hold of herself and answered as she had been raised to: politely. “I am just fine, Mr. Brutus. How are you?”
The robot’s plastic and metal forearms rested on its knees, and the camera eyes focused on hers. “I am quite well, thank you for asking. May I ask what you are doing in this part of the ship?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered, then realized that more was expected of her. “I like to come here sometimes to spend time and read.”
“Oh, and what are you reading?” he asked. She opened her backpack and produced the book for him. He examined it for a moment before returning it to her. “I see.” He cocked his head to the left. “Why do you read here and not in your room?”
“Well…” she began. The heavy gravity was getting to her, especially after her climb, and so she dropped to th
e flooring and sat cross-legged. “I don’t want to be home right now.” She sighed dramatically, clearly fishing for further questions.
Brutus sat opposite her, mimicking her cross-legged posture. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees and his hands tucked under his chin. “Is there a reason for that, Ms. Park?”
She heaved another great sigh as though struggling with some universe-affecting burden. “It’s been too loud to read. Mom and dad have been having some serious talks.” She said the last as seriously as she could so Brutus would understand just how serious the talks were.
“And what do they talk about?”
“Whether to stay on the ship or not sometimes. Or about me. Dad thinks the ship is stunning my growths. Do you know what that means?”
“I think,” Brutus replied, still focused on her, “that he is worried that you’re not growing up as normal children do.”
Gwen considered this for a moment, taking her eyes off the robotic form for the first time since she had encountered him to look at her hands. They fiddled with a loose string on her pants as though guided by some other mind. “I don’t really know what other children do,” she said finally. “It’s been a few years since I was in school. But I remember that they were mean.”
Brutus nodded sagely. “I understand that children can be quite cruel to one another.”
“Yeah, there was a boy named Tommy, and he used to pull my hair and tell me that my eyes were slanted.” She squinted up at Brutus. “My dad says I have his eyes. Do you think they’re slanted?”
“I think they’re beautiful, Ms. Park, and I think that you shouldn’t worry about what that boy said. He probably didn’t mean to really hurt you.”
Gwen found herself momentarily frustrated. This is what adults always did. They made excuses for mean people, explained their behavior away, and it made her feel like she was the bad one for complaining. “If he didn’t mean to hurt me, then why did he pull my hair?” she challenged.
Brutus was silent for a moment. “I take it back,” he said. “I think you’re right. I think Tommy was a mean little boy, and he shouldn’t have done that.”
A grin spread across her face, and she nodded once in victory. “Anyway, they think I should be back in school with other little kids, but I like it here.” Her eyebrows went up in question. “Do you like it here?”
“Yes, I like it here very much, Ms. Park, though I sometimes miss my father.”
She nodded without surprise. “I miss my mom too. Dad says that she’s very busy, but she’s always been busy. I think she doesn’t really want to play with me anymore. I heard dad say she was dissississotiating herself. Do you know what that means?”
“I think it means that she is pulling away from you emotionally,” Brutus replied.
Gwen’s eyes flicked around as she considered this. She sensed that she didn’t fully understand what he meant, but she thought that she had the gist of it. “Why would she do that?”
“I’m not sure it’s my place to…” Brutus trailed off. He looked up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought, then back at the little girl with questioning brown eyes. “Well, I’m not sure,” he began again, “but I think it might be because she’s worried that something will happen to you or to her or to your dad.”
“Something did happen,” Gwen said. “We almost died. It was very hard to breathe and very cold.”
Brutus nodded several times. “I remember, and I am so glad that you’re all right, but things like that can scare people. Sometimes people get scared of pain.” He reached out and took Gwen’s hand very gently, turning it palm up, and with his other hand he tapped the crook of her elbow. “Did the doctor ever give you a shot right here?”
“Uh-huh.” Gwen shuddered at the memory. “He gives them to me every few months. I don’t like them.”
“And what do you want to do when you see the needle coming?” Brutus asked. He held his left hand as though there were a needle in it, thumb back and two fingers splayed a few centimeters apart. “Show me.”
She twisted her arm slightly, trying to pull it out of his grip. He let it go, and she clutched it to herself. She wasn’t frightened; she was just playacting what she wanted to do when the doctor gave her a shot.
Brutus refolded his hands, this time in his lap. “Well, it’s like that,” he said. “But with emotions. When people think that pain is coming, sometimes they pull back from it, even when they know what’s really best for them. I think maybe your mom is frightened of being hurt if something happens to you.”
“She’s not playing with me because she’s worried I might get hurt?” She giggled. “That’s just silly.”
Brutus’ shoulders shook slightly in a perfect approximation of a silent chuckle. If his mouth could move, Gwen imagined that it would be smiling. “I suppose it is silly. But I understand it too. My relationship with my father is complicated as well.”
“Does he not play with you anymore too?”
“Indeed he does not. We don’t even talk anymore.” Brutus’ head drooped.
“That’s sad, Mr. Brutus. I think you’re really neat. If you were my son, I’d talk to you all the time.”
Brutus looked up at the vivid brown eyes. “I think that’s very sweet of you to say, Ms. Park. I think that you’re a much nicer person than my father.”
Gwen’s face was patronizing. “Well duh. My dad says I’m the nicest person ever.”
This time Brutus’ laugh echoed through the hallway.
Day 3.
“Hey Dinah, can I talk to you?” Carl Overton had opened the bulkhead door at the top of the ReC and was currently looking down at the first engineer.
Dinah was standing on what was the rear wall of the Reactor Control room when the ship was flat and not thrusting; she was running a diagnostic test on the engines. Beyond the raised console in front of her, the slanted windows offered a view down into the main fusion reactor that powered the ship.
Dinah did not look up at him from her surface. “I’m busy right now. Maybe later.”
“All right,” he said after a moment, then closed the door. Dinah’s fingers moved continuously across the surface. A second later, the hatch opened again and Overton’s legs appeared. He climbed down into the room, closing the hatch above him as he did so. When he reached the floor and crossed to her, he was breathing quickly, but not from physical exertion.
“You know what? Not all right. We need to talk.”
“I told you, I’m busy,” she said again flatly. She keyed a readout of engine output over the past hour and then began running a comparison with the output hour by hour over the previous day.
“Well, you’re always busy, so you’re going to have to make time.” He was heated, and he reached out to grab her arm and swivel her towards him, but thought better of it. Instead, he stood still, and waited for her to acknowledge him.
Finally, she turned to look him in the face. “What is it, Corporal?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t pull that with me. You’ve been avoiding me since I came on board. You don’t want to be friends with me? Fine, but don’t act like we’re still in the service. You might still call people ‘sir,’ but I gave that up years ago. There are about a dozen ways you can keep me at arm’s length, but that one is not all right.”
She looked down, and for an instant she looked genuinely sorry, but the moment passed and she gazed back at him, hard as ever. “So, what is it?”
He had rehearsed this speech a number of times in his head, but he still took a moment to organize his thoughts. He drew a shuddering breath, then began. “Look, I get it. I do. I was a fling while you were on Cronos Station. I was supposed to be temporary, and now suddenly I’m in your world here. I must feel like the one night stand that just won’t go away. But I don’t have a choice. It was you,” he pointed at her, his voice raised and his finger a centimeter from her sternum, “who dragged me into this. You came looking for me. You asked me, former-soldier to former-soldier, to do you
a favor. You took me to bed. And you told me to get Evelyn the hell out of dodge if things looked fishy. I had a decent life, a good job, and friends. Now that’s over. For doing you a favor, several favors in fact, I lose my life and end up hunted by some psychotic AI. So if you don’t want to continue what we had, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can handle that. But don’t act like I’m some puppy who followed you home and can’t take a hint!”
Dinah was silent while he caught his breath.
He thought over what he had said, then added, his voice still raised, “And no, I did not mean to imply that sleeping with you was doing you a favor.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and for a second he thought that she was actually going to smile, but then she reasserted control. “So what do you want?” she asked.
Involuntarily, his eyes flicked down to her body then back to her face. He cursed himself silently for his transparency. “I want you to treat me like a member of the crew, at the very least. You could do me that honor after all I’ve done for you, and after what you did to me.” He knew he should stop there, but he continued anyway. “And maybe someday, it would be nice if you’d consider me more than that. I mean, hell Dinah, if you’re only into temporary things, well, there’s a good chance that Victor-the-nemesis-of-mankind is going to kill us all. We’re just this side of a suicide mission, so what’s more temporary than that?”
“We might survive,” she said.
He looked at her incredulously, his mouth slightly agape. “You’re incredible. You can handle certain death. You might even look forward to it. Something tells me that part of you has been happier in the past month than you’ve been since you got out. And I get that also. It’s been exciting for me too, though shooting a man in the back of the head wasn’t the highlight of my week. But yeah, I think you can handle all of this death stuff. It’s the possibility of surviving it and dealing with the fallout that scares you. Well, you know what I say? I say live for the moment. You can always dump me later if we survive.”
