Critical Dawn

by Darren Wearmouth

  If he didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that Pippa had agreed to the lease on the office space purely because it was less than a block away from the bar.

  He grabbed his bag and keys and headed for the door. “Don’t you two work too hard. The mega discovery will still be here on Monday morning.”

  “And don’t fall down a mountain,” Pippa said over her shoulder. “I need you to develop a presentation for an extended features set on the Nat-Geo product line by Wednesday.”

  “Gee, thanks, boss.”

  “Anytime, action man. Now get out of my office and go get your adrenaline rush.”

  “Take it easy,” Mike said, mumbling as he frantically searched the web for anything that could explain the bead.

  Charlie exited the building and headed for the elevator, all the while thinking about that little blue sphere. It must be site contamination, he thought. Had to be. Couldn’t be anything else.

  Chapter Two

  Generation Ship 5A

  Ben Murray sat in the enclosed Operations Room wondering if he would be remembered by future generations. The lucky ones who would reach their destination—still nearly a hundred years away. His life would be spent rumbling through space.

  All eight measurements of visual status display fluctuated green between the bottom three bars. Everything at a safe level. Then again, it always was. He must have had the most boring job on the ship although he couldn’t show it today.

  Sitting next to him at the console was a new replacement. Jimmy was retiring, and it was Ben’s responsibility as the new senior team member to bring new operator Ethan Reeves up to speed.

  Ethan was clean-shaven with neatly-combed, mousy hair and wore a crisp, dark blue uniform with red piping along the arms and legs. Ben had shaved that morning, his first in a month. There was nothing he could do about his frayed jumpsuit. Best to try and keep up appearances, at least initially.

  “The four on the right are the critical measurements. You escalate immediately if one touches the red,” Ben said.

  “I do it by pressing here?” Ethan said, pointing to a square on the console screen.

  “Yep. One of the engineering team will fix it. The backup systems automatically kick in. If they don’t, you have to switch to manual override. You do that here.”

  Ben patted a group of four safety-locked switches.

  “How will I know if it’s worked?” Ethan said.

  “You’ll be sitting in the dark with somebody from master control shouting at you through the speaker if it doesn’t.”

  “Does it happen a lot?”

  “Do you remember any service outages?”

  Ethan looked to his left, frowned, and paused. “No. Anything else I need to know?”

  “Our job is to monitor and control the ship’s internal power source for stability. That’s about as technical as it gets.”

  Ben figured they didn’t fully automate the systems as it gave people on the vessel something to do. It also helped with compartmentalizing the crew.

  “Can we go through it again?” Ethan said.

  “One of us will sit with you for your first few shifts. You’ll be okay.”

  Ethan sighed as he gazed around at the sparse, metal-paneled walls.

  “Not what you were expecting?” Ben said.

  “Have you ever seen outside? I mean, space?”

  “Nope.”

  “My teacher told me that the fleet had been built in a hurry, functionality over comfort. I just thought … Once I was up here …”

  Ben shrugged. “Listen kid, it’s six hours a day in front of the display. The rest of the time, you can watch as many old movies and shows as you can handle. The food’s no different up here. We’re all in the same boat—”

  Since a flu virus spread early into the two-hundred-year voyage, all sections of the ship were isolated. He’d been in Two. A child section containing five orphans, where he was fed and educated by a single adult who avoided any kind of relationship with the children. He’d only ever met orphans and often wondered if they were being singled out for the Operations Compartment.

  “I get that. Survival of the species. We’ll be honored as the forefathers …” Ethan said.

  “My advice is to make the most of your time here. Get a bit of mental stimulation, study the old books; it’ll keep you sane. I’ve got two years left, and reading kept me going.”

  Six hundred and seventy days to be exact. It was close enough for Ben to start counting toward the promise of better things. He wasn’t surprised about the retirement age of thirty. Anybody who suffered more than fifteen years of this kind of confinement would surely go mad. His rewards waited in the retirement village. A new life. A chance to see the stars.

  Maria Flores appeared by the door. “Jimmy’s leaving in five minutes. You better go. I’ll take care of Ethan.”

  “Thanks, appreciated,” Ben said. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

  Maria smiled. “Get out of here.”

  She was his idea of a perfect colleague in the Operations Compartment. She’d been part of the team for five years, was always polite, punctual, and never complained. Jimmy was the opposite: loud, usually late, but he was still likeable.

  “Don’t forget, I’ll be testing you later on pseudopodia. Make sure you bring your A-game,” Maria said.

  “I will.”

  Ben enjoyed the gentle pushes she gave him. They studied microbiology together. It was the most interesting material they’d found on the hard-drive in the common room. When his motivation waned, Maria was always there. She made his life in the compartment feel like more than just watching the visual display and eating slop on his bunk. Before she came, he felt like a ghost.

  He clanked along the dimly lit, grated corridor, squinting against a pink glow emanating from the airlock door timer. It had started its five minute countdown in bold, red digits.

  A burst of loud laughter came from the common room. Ben passed the sleeping quarters and supply hatch before entering. Erika Kosma and Jimmy sat on two of the three chairs. Ben leaned against the kitchen unit. Having three in the room always made it feel cramped.

  Today was different though. His colleague of over thirteen years was leaving.

  “Thought you were never going to show, buddy,” Jimmy said.

  “The timer’s running. You all set?” Ben said.

  “I’ve never been more ready. Fifteen years in this place … I can’t believe it’s over.”

  “We’ve been talking about what he’s going to do on the other side,” Erika said.

  “Damn, I missed it,” Ben laughed. This was a regular and worn conversation, especially from Erika. It was all she talked about in the two years since arriving. “Are you still expecting a welcome party?”

  “That’s the million dollar question,” Jimmy said.

  His idea of money was probably as abstract as Ben’s, but Jimmy loved to use lines he’d seen in movies from their MP4 collection. Every day for the last thirteen years, Ben would find him in the communal area watching something. It lost its sparkle for him years ago, after he’d been through his favorites for the fifth time. Would the crew on the other side think Jimmy sounded strange? Like an actor, he thought.

  “You better wait by the airlock,” Erika said. “Time’s ticking. You don’t want to miss it.”

  The group of three walked back along the corridor and stood facing the countdown timer.

  Jimmy sighed as he looked up and down the short corridor. “You know, a small part of me will miss this place.”

  “A very small part, I’d imagine,” Erika said.

  “We know which part that is,” Ben said.

  Jimmy playfully punched his arm. “You know what I mean. We’ve been together for years. We’re almost like family.”

  It was strange for Ben to hear Jimmy being poignant. He probably was the closest thing Ben had to family. He was also usually the life and soul of the place. He was going to be missed. />
  “Say hello to Billy and Tracey from me,” Ben said.

  “I’ll let them know things haven’t changed. Same food, same clothes, same movies, same old Ben.”

  “If you can send us a message through the supply hatch, let us know what it’s like?” Erika said.

  “You know I can’t do that,” Jimmy said. “I asked the same thing before seeing my first retirement. Why take a risk once you’re out of here?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Ben said.

  Jimmy was the third retirement since Ben started in the Operations Compartment. He tried to push the jealous feelings to the back of his mind. They’d done their time, and he was next.

  “Have you said goodbye to Maria?” Ben said.

  “Five minutes ago. She didn’t want to watch me leave. Thought she’d give you the pleasure,” Jimmy said.

  A faint, whooshing noise came from behind the airlock door. A white light winked above it.

  “Thought this day would never come,” Jimmy said.

  “I haven’t seen that door open for two years,” Erika said. “Not from this side.”

  “Any final words, Jimmy?” Ben said.

  “I’ll see you soon. Don’t work too hard.”

  The airlock door smoothly slid open with a hiss. Jimmy stepped into a bright, silver space and turned to face Ben and Erika.

  A neutral female voice came from a speaker next to Jimmy. “Door closing.”

  “Good luck,” Erika said.

  “See you soon,” Ben said.

  Jimmy raised his hand and smiled. The door slid shut.

  ***

  The corridor returned to its usually gloomy state after the airlock timer blinked off with a low click. Ben leaned against the chilly wall.

  “That’s it?” Erika said.

  “Yep, that’s it. I’m going back on shift.”

  “What do you think he’ll—”

  “Not now, Erika. Not now.”

  The whooshing started again. Jimmy was on his way. Watching the door close brought his departure firmly into reality. Ben had to keep his emotions in check. If not for himself, for the other three. They had ten years plus left in the compartment. As the senior member, he wanted to keep up morale.

  “We’ve got to complete our weekly aptitude tests by tonight. You done it yet?” Ben said.

  “I’ll get it out of the way now,” she said, and headed back toward the common room.

  Ben returned to the Operations Room, finding Ethan and Maria hunched over the console in conversation.

  “Going through the procedures again?” Ben said.

  “Repetition, repetition, repetition. That’s what you told me when I first arrived,” Maria said.

  “I’ll be quickly up to speed,” Ethan said.

  Ben resisted the urge to crack a cynical, time-related joke. He sat next to them on the spare plastic swivel chair. After decades of shifts, cream foam was visible through the worn, blue threads of the cushioned seat.

  “How’d it go? Any tears?” Maria said.

  “It was all bit abrupt. I’d prepared myself, but …”

  “I get what you mean. You’ve been together years. It’s impossible to prepare for something like that.”

  “Where’s Erika?” Ethan said.

  “She’s doing the weekly test,” Ben said. “We all need to complete it today.”

  “Weekly test?”

  “Forgot to tell you about that,” Maria said. “We get a set of twenty multiple-choice questions on a weekly basis. Most are around the Ops compartment, pretty basic stuff. There’s a couple about our mission statement that never change.”

  Ben stiffly saluted. “We gave today so they could have tomorrow.”

  “Where do we take it?”

  “You take it on your own in the common room,” Ben said. He glanced at the two small cameras in opposite corners of the Ops Room. They were positioned all around the compartment. Did other crew members really monitor their mundane lives? He hated the thought of it.

  “What if I fail? Know anyone who has?”

  “There’s a rumor that one guy did thirty years ago. Apparently, a pair of huge men in protective clothing grabbed him—”

  “Stop teasing him,” Maria said.

  “You’ll be fine, trust me. A chimp could pass it.”

  “Is that rumor true? What if someone refuses to do their job or screws up?” Ethan said.

  “You need to drop the paranoia. Seriously, give it a couple of weeks and you’ll wonder what you were worrying about.”

  Ben had heard stories of people refusing to comply, going crazy in the isolated environment just as he’d heard the rumor about the test failure. It was always large men in protective clothing appearing out of the lift and dragging the crew member away.

  The clear embellishment was the offenders being fired out of the waste disposal hatch into space. How could any of the shift know? Besides, it seemed these stories were passed down through the decades. He’d never met anyone who had physically witnessed it or knew a person who had.

  “There’s a comments section at the end of the test. You’re supposed to report any strange behavior from other crew members,” Maria said.

  Ethan frowned. “Like what?”

  “We’ve got an agreement to leave it blank,” Ben said. “It’s sort of a tradition—”

  A loud scream echoed along the corridor. Erika.

  Chapter Three

  Charlie stopped a few doors away from The Rusted Shovel and waited for Greg, whose voice was cutting in and out through Charlie’s cell speaker, to stop moaning about the cancellation of the trip.

  Eventually, his old friend from Charlie’s time as a National Guardsman stopped for a breath.

  “I know it’s super last minute, but something’s come up at work, and I’ve got to stay over the weekend.”

  “You know we’re psyched about this one. We won’t have another chance until next year. This was the last weekend they’d keep the place open to visitors,” Greg said, the disappointment all too clear even over the crappy line. For the last few days, Charlie had noticed that it was becoming increasingly difficult to make a solid call. There was something on the news about increased electromagnetic interference in the atmosphere these days.

  “I’ll make it up to everyone,” Charlie said. “Next trip is all on me. With this work we’re doing at the moment, I should be in line for a big fucking bonus, and I’ll share the wealth, bro.”

  “It’s not the money, Chuck, it’s the time. But fine, I get it. I know it must be important for you to grovel like a whiney bitch.”

  “Yup, that’s me. Okay, I gotta run. The boss is giving me daggers. I’ll be in touch next week when I know my schedule better, and we’ll arrange something else. Say sorry to Manny and Bill for me.”

  “Will do. Laters.” Greg hung up just before his words were cut off from a blast of static. Charlie pulled the cell away from his ear before dropping into the front pocket of his cargo pants.

  The truth was, as eager as he was to make the climb and meet up with his buddies, the discovery just wouldn’t leave his imagination. He’d only got two stations away when he knew he couldn’t concentrate without digging further into it. And then there was of course the opportunity to share a beer with Pip, something he hadn’t had a chance to do in months.

  Since they took on the Nat-Geo contract, it had been fifteen-hour days for everyone. Not that he thought he really had a chance. She was his boss for one, out of his league for another. Her parents were some big shots in D.C. He doubted she’d be the model daughter if she showed up at their mansion with a bottom feeder in hand. Charlie didn’t even own a suit: just cargos, chinos, and jeans.

  He mentally shrugged away the issues and walked into the Shovel, savoring the sound and smell as he stepped inside. A home away from home, he felt more comfortable there than he did in the room he rented from Pip.

  Being in her place was like borrowing someone else’s life and being scared that his lackadaisic
al ways would break it indefinitely. Even her cat, Timbo, looked down at him as though he were nothing but a wild peasant, but then that was cats for you.

  The barwoman, Patty, gave him a nod, a smile, and a saucy wave with her fingers. Nope. Not his type. Lovely girl, friendly, but the face tattoos weren’t his thing, nor the biker gang she rode with. Two of their larger and hairier members were sitting at the bar, their back to the door, working on a pitcher of budget beer.

  The two bikers turned round, froth caught in their beards. Together, like coordinated dummies, they said, “Evening, Charles,” doing their best-worst posh accents. It was the same every time.

  “Jace, Geoff,” Charlie said back.

  “She’s over there, stud,” Jace said, nodding his head toward the booths at the back.

  He was the one with the slightly larger beard. That’s the only way Charlie had learned to tell them apart.

  Charlie gave him a “Keep your voice down, fool” face, which elicited a laugh from the pair and a disappointed scowl from Patty. Looks like he’d have to leave a bigger tip later to keep her sweet.

  Charlie weaved in and out of the narrow path between booths and stools. An elbow came out from the left, nudging him in the ribs. A bottle of beer was in the elbower’s hand: his favorite imported ale.

  “What the … How did you know?”

  Pippa grinned up at him from within the booth. “Like you could go climbing with a discovery like this rattling around in that empty head of yours. I thought you’d at least reach the apartment before you changed your mind.”

  The bottle was cold in his hand.

  He took a deep swig and slid opposite his boss, putting the half-drained bottle on the table, avoiding the carpet of paper and files she had spread out on its surface. She reminded him of one of those off-duty detectives who couldn’t leave a case alone and took it with them everywhere, looking for that crucial loose end, that missed but vital piece of information.