Sleeping in the Stars

by D Patrick Wagner

  Theodore, dressed in swim trunks, cap and glasses, brooded in his chaise lounge on the sun deck. Lost in his thought, he missed the sun set as it cast various shades of reds and oranges on the clouds above and choppy sea below. Raising his hand and waiting for a servant to respond, he thought about the last month and slowly worked himself into a rage of frustration. That damnable Krag Marston and his little ship had succeeded in hiding from everything the Federacy had thrown at him. Theodore’s father had tasked him with finding that pirate and recovering the artifact that Krag had stolen from the Federacy’s lab. And for more than a month, Marston had avoided every search, every raid and every trap that Theodore could muster.

  Theodore’s drink arrived and, taking the chilled glass, his ‘thank you’ snapped at the servant. Taking a long draught of drink, he continued to mull his failure.

  Theodore’s failing to capture Marston threw him back to their academy days. He dwelled on Marston’s ability to beat him at any martial art, sport or war game. True, Theodore got the better grades in most of the classes, but that didn’t seem to matter. If Marston didn’t overpower him with physical ability, Marston would always seem to out think him, come up with a victory with an out-of-the-box solution. Theodore became more and more frustrated as he remembered how Marston always seemed to win. And now, Theodore emotionally punished himself for letting that Damnable Marston win again.

  A soft hand on his shoulder broke his rumination. Looking up he saw his wife.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Hi, Jenny.” Theodore’s response reflected his gloom and frustration.

  What all of the type ‘A’, goal oriented high achievers have in common is the constant drive towards success and dominance, the need to win. The ruling military class of the Federacy is made up of just those types of people. Jennifer is no different. She came from the same pool of rulers, power brokers and conquerors that did Theodore. She possessed the same traits as the rest of the powerful and used her skills to move towards her own personal goals. Where Theodore’s goals were military and commanding, Jennifer’s lay more along the socio-political power paths. Her strengths and skills were static – patience, manipulation. His were kinetic – calculated action, aggressive dominance. The two of them formed a formidable team.

  What started as a marriage of convenience became a marriage of love and partnership – two highly motivated, complicated people stabilizing each other, strengthen each other. They stopped each other from going off the rails, taking destructive courses. And, in Jennifer’s case, she kept Theodore on an even keel.

  “Still worrying about the theft?” Jennifer carefully avoided the use of Marston’s name. Over the years she had come to learn how much her husband loathed the man.

  “Yes. Six weeks. I still can’t find him, or his ship. It’s like he’s vanished.”

  “Theo, no more of that. Come inside. You’ve been out here all afternoon. Dinner is ready. Your sons are waiting.”

  Rising, he took her hand. “Let’s eat. You’re right. Too much brooding.” Together they walked through the glassed double doors and into the dining room. His eldest son, Theodore the Fourth, and second son, Franklin, already sat at either side of his chair. Theo pulled out his wife’s chair and helped her sit. Then circling the table, he paused for a moment, relegated his inner demon, that anger driven by insecurity, to its dark corner and reflected on his beautiful life.

  Sanctuary

  Before Old Earth had achieved space travel, even air travel, a criminal dynasty, with its originations on an island owned by an Earth country called Italy, had spread its roots all over the world. As Old Earth technology built its highways into the star systems so did this dynasty, this Mafia. It coined a phrase. And, as other criminal dynasties, most notably Gregor’s, sprang up, they all used the same, thousand-year-old term: ‘going to the mattresses’.

  That’s what Gregor thought now as he stood on the balcony of his retreat and stared over his little domain. It had taken six weeks, following the visit from Vice-Admiral Weiskoff with the full might of the Federacy Navy, but the Gregors, along with his inner circle, finally became ensconced in this asteroid in the Atrium system.

  Gregor thought about what that sanctimonious bastard, Weiskoff, had forced him and his family to do. In his own thoughts, he knew that tasking Marston to steal the artifact had triggered these events and Gregor didn’t shirk his responsibility. But having to flee and hide irked him. Lawrence thought about is wife, Gloria, how she had grown up on Novius Prime. He worried that she had never lived the hard life. Now, he knew, because of him, she would. And to her credit, Lawrence saw his wife step forward. Despite her upbringing, she stoically accepted their new definition of life and he loved her for it.

  Harriet, his daughter, had never needed to experience the pressure of just surviving. She didn’t fully recognize the danger that the family was in. she didn’t accept their current situation. Harriet, daughter of the crime lord Gregor wanted to fight back.

  But now was not the time.

  Gloria came out on the balcony, held Lawrence’s hand and rested her head on is shoulder. “Everything will work out. It isn’t so bad here. You did a good job.”

  “Thank you, Love.”

  “We’ve lived in worst places.”

  “And better.”

  They both stood and looked over their domain. Looking up, they saw the cave roof, three hundred feet in the air. The solar lighting bathed the space within with life-giving light and warmth. Noises from below revealed the bustle of life, the small town doing what towns did. To the left stood the reprocessing plant. Without which no air would be recycled, no waste would be reprocessed, no water would be reconstituted. To the right, the housing resided, a stack of apartments, some small for bachelors and childless couples. Others larger for families.

  “The farmland looks good.” This from Gloria.

  “Yeah. Your idea of bringing in sharecroppers worked out well. I think we have enough agro-food to keep our little community going. I’m worried about meat stuffs, though. And dairy products. We’re going to have to buy those.”

  “We’ll make do. Your cousin will help us. He’ll know how to hide deliveries from the Fed.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. And fuel. We’ll need fuel. Shelly will be able to get that, too.”

  “Everyone is settled in. Let’s have a get-together in the next day or so. All of Sanctuary.” Gloria perked up as she made this recommendation.

  “You always know what to do.” Lawrence kissed her on her head. “We can use it to organize the workload, divide the duties. Good idea.”

  And invite Shelly and his family.”

  “Ok!” Lawrence’s answer betrayed his enthusiasm at seeing his cousin again.

  “Three hours to lights out. I’ll go make dinner.” With that statement, Gloria let go of her husband and left for the kitchen. Lawrence continued standing, perusing his much smaller domain and quietly contemplating the future.

  Hotel Neptune

  Keiko had donned a one piece black leotard, packed a shoulder bag with toiletries and a change of clothes and limped towards the hotel’s gym. As Keiko passed through the lobby, Sue stopped, turned and caught up with the small Asian woman. Both women stopped.

  ”Going to work out?”

  “Try, anyway.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Stretching, then forms is all. I don’t think I’m up for much more than that.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that. I’m pretty out of shape. Can I stretch with you?” Sue hesitantly requested.

  “Sure, you’re absolutely welcome,” Keiko responded, still with the sadness in her eyes. I’ll meet you in the gym. Go get changed.”

  Sue happily hustled off to the suite.

  Keiko stood with legs twice her shoulder’s width and shifted side-to-side, gently stretching her upper thighs and hips, grimacing each time her wounded left leg extended. Periodically she’s grit out, “chikushou,” swearing at the pa
in of healing. As she did this, she practiced flipping her knives from grip to grip, trying to re-establish the feeling that her weapons were extensions of her being.

  Keiko continued this simple exercise of thigh stretching and mental discipline until Sue returned. Keiko stood, walked to the counter and set down her knives. Returning to the center of the room, she looked Sue up and down. She saw a thirty-something woman of medium height and plumpishly overweight.

  With Keiko leading and speaking words of encouragement, the two women went through individual stretching, working on the large muscle groups. The compact Asian woman led the soft Caucasian woman in standing and floor stretches, beginning with their lower legs and working their way up to their shoulders and arms.

  Keiko then led Sue through two-person stretching. First she had Sue stand with her back against the wall. Then, squatting down, Keiko had Sue put her ankle on her shoulder. Slowly standing up, Keiko kept straightening until Sue’s leg quit flexing and her heel came off the floor. Once this was done, Keiko repeated with the other leg.

  When Sue duplicated the effort, she ended up having to use both hands and push Keiko’s leg above her shoulder and her ankle above her head, with the top of Keiko’s foot pressed against the wall. When they repeated the stretch with Keiko’s wounded leg, Keiko hissed. When Sue stopped, the tough, Asian woman motioned to keep going. By the time Keiko’s foot touched the wall, her face was scrunched in pain. But she made Sue hold it there for a ten-count.

  Upon releasing the stretch, Keiko exclaimed, “Gods, that hurt.

  The standing, two-person stretches continued, with Keiko leading and Sue following. Sue’s stretches ended with very little flexibility. Keiko’s seemed to never end, sometimes practically folding her in half, always causing pain to the damaged leg and always causing Keiko to swear, sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese.

  Stopping short of the floor stretches, Keiko called an end to the pain. Walking to the counter, she ordered two bottles of cold water and handed one to Sue.

  “Boy, I’m stiff. That hurt,” Sue commented.

  Keiko swallowed a gulp and smiled, “Wait until tomorrow.”

  “Now, what?”

  “Now I do forms,” Keiko responded.

  “Mind if I watch?”

  “No,” Keiko answered as she set down her water and picked up her knives.

  Sue moved to a chair. Keiko moved to the center of the room. Standing loosely, mentally relaxing to do something she had not done in more than a month, she began.

  The moves began slowly and with short strides, her arm motions deliberate and without the focused power. With eyes closed, Keiko spent the next hour internalizing and re-establishing her communication with her inner self.

  Sue watched, enthralled by the beautiful grace of the slow, latent power that Keiko created. She wanted to learn. And, surprising herself with the realization, she wanted to continue to be a part of this team of miscreants and rebels.

  Aboard Griffin

  The dark side of Pacifica’s moon didn’t reach the temperatures of the cold dark of space. But it did reach unlivable levels. At minus one hundred-eighty degrees, Fahrenheit, the deep cold seeped into Griffin. Everything not being warmed through Buster’s diligence became dangerous to touch, operate or activate. Griffin, to all intents and purposes became another rock on the lunar landscape, invisible to the sensors of any passing ships.

  Nestled in its crater, it did contain sections of warmth, areas of livable space. The wardroom/galley continued to be one of those spaces. At the stern of the galley sat an anchored table. A custom-made mount stood bolted to the table. Strapped down on the mount, curved end pointing towards the bow, rested the alien artifact. Attached to the cylinder with the softly glowing bands were multiple sensor devices, viewers and scanners. Both Mack and Sue stood, leaning on straightened arms, studying the contraption.

  “Six weeks. Still nothing. We’ve done all we can through inspection. We need to dive deeper.” Mack’s frustration came through in his voice.

  Standing up, Sue’s body once again spoke of the abuse that she had put it through that morning. “Ouch!” she drew out as she tried to backbend and loosen up the tightening muscles. “ I thought I took it easy.”

  “That’s what you get, Lassie, trying to be all athletic.”

  “You train with Krag,” Sue accused.

  “Ya, but I’ve been doing it for going on a couple of months. I got through what you’re doing.” He grinned. “Buck up, girl. This will do you good, add character.”

  “Don’t ‘character’ me, you miscreant. If I hadn’t met you I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “True, Lass. You’d still be working that dead-end job. You wouldn’t be tootling around the galaxy, working on strange, alien artifacts or living the life of luxury.”

  “Yeah, yeah. And I wouldn’t be trying to do the impossible, program something un-programmable.”

  Sue said this as she limped over to the service center, all her leg and hip muscles screaming that they didn’t want to flex or contract. Once she reached the counter, she pressed a hand for support and ordered a coffee. Turning back, she returned to topic. “You’re right. We do need to dive deeper. But, speaking from personal experience, one wrong step, one wrong line of code and everything could blow up in our faces. And I do mean that literally as well as figuratively.”

  “I know. But, we’ve got to do something!”

  “How can we look deeper? What can we use to penetrate whatever this metal is? You’re the mechanical guy. Any ideas?”

  “Sound? Ultra-sound?”

  “Would it cause any vibrations? Anything that could set it off?”

  “No way of knowing. We could start with very small waves and just creep up the scale. To avoid human error, you could write something. Maybe some kind of program that would run the oscillator, have it progress in very small increments. And, maybe write something that controls the reader, something that would enhance the images. Maybe an observation program that we could tie into the sensor harness, stop everything if anything changes. What do you think?”

  “I like it!” after Sue’s outburst she promptly internalized working out the design for her coding solution.

  She came back to the ‘now’ when Mack spoke. “I’ll get the oscillator. You tell me what kind of interface you want me to build into it. Same with the reader and sensors. I’ll get on that while you write your program.”

  “Buster?”

  “Yes, Mr. McCauley?”

  “Would you notify Keiko and Krag that we are going to be up here for a while? Ask them if they need the shuttle?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And Buster?”

  “Yes, Mz. Benton?”

  Would you heat up our quarters? It might be for a few days.”

  “Yes, Mz. Benton

  “Buster?”

  “Yes, Mack?”

  “How much will that heat up the exterior of the ship? How much will that increase our exposure?”

  After a few seconds pause in which Buster went through millions of calculations, he responded, “Negligible. No more than ten degrees. We will still be unnoticeable.”

  “Thank you, Buster.”

  “You’re welcome, Mack.”

  Eagerly the two engineers, one software the other mechanical, started their tasks, hope once more flourishing.

  Hotel Neptune

  Sunrise sunlight bathed the Hotel Neptune’s workout and gym area through large plate glass windows that covered the exterior wall from floor to ceiling. Keiko still resided in her own world of sadness and guilt, stretching and meditating on her own. Krag performed his stretching half the floor away, pretending to internalize, actually focusing on Keiko, her mood, her overall wellbeing.

  After their conversation, Krag had been working hard at helping Keiko stay out of her morass and pushing her into the stage of resentful anger. He knew that this would be the path that she needed to take to reach any kind of closure and acceptance
. To that end, upon seeing Keiko end a part of her routine, Krag approached and began.

  “The kids.” Although Mack and Sue were both roughly Keiko’s age, the two of them thought of them as younger. “They’ve been up there for two days. I haven’t heard anything. Have you?”

  Coming out of her aloneness, Keiko responded, “No, nothing. After they said that they would be up there a while, nothing.”

  “They probably got lost in their work. I’ll contact Buster. Get a read on what’s going on.”

  “Ok.”

  Krag saw that he was emotionally dismissed and crossed back to his spot on the floor and continued his workout. Keiko went back to hers.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Keiko thought. “I know I’m in a funk. Get out of it! Krag’s a good man. I know he cares. He did what he had to do. Suck it up, Keiko!”

  The small, Asian woman attacked her workout with more vigor, more energy, more anger. Krag saw this and went back his workout, pleased.

  Aboard the Griffin

  Two days and nights. Very little sleep. Foggy brains and weary bodies. Mack stood and Sue sat, admiring their handiwork. For two days, Mack and Sue had spent every waking moment in each other’s company. The two brilliant engineers worked, ate, brainstormed, joked and had quiet conversations about themselves, their ideas, their dreams. They became friends.

  A computer core newly occupied the fore of the table. Its monitor and control board sat to one side, on a table of its own. A chair at the table faced the objects of Mack’s and Sue’s scrutiny.

  Cables reached out, variously connecting to the oscillator, reader and sensors. Buried in this electronic mess sat the artifact, strapped down in its stand. All of this, stand, computer, electronics, artifact were securely fastened to the table which was securely bolted to the floor.