Terminus Project: Mars (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi)

by Casey Herzog

  “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”

  “Good thing, you can’t. Anyway, the important bit is that these scars were what got me onto the Unity. Most people who watch the vids about me kind of glaze over the fact that there were eighteen other kids held by the miners when we were rescued. They like to think Sergeant Denver found me specifically and began to foster some bond with me. Truth is, the sergeant kept a good eye on all of us until the media came in. They fell in love with me the moment they saw me. Young kid, horrific scars on his face. I’d actually only received the injury a few days before. It was still fresh and bleeding all the time.”

  “Lovely.” Minerva sounded sarcastic and repulsed simultaneously.

  “It did everything the reporters wanted, colored the miners in the worst possible way. I got all the cameras in my face, while the other kids got sidelined. The world - all the worlds – heard my ‘story’ and saw me being enrolled into the Space Program, most forgot about the other kids rescued by Denver and his men.”

  “What happened to them?”

  Peter looked back at Martian. “Most just got thrown into lesser government care schemes. Some have been put into farming programs, others have continued as miners probably. Same work we had known, kinder masters. And I’d be with them living as a nothing, were it not for this.” He pointed to the side of his face, the redness, the array of deep gorges there. “This was my pass to the Unity. Everyone else got here on merit or skill. I got to be here because the media demanded I make it. I needed a happy ending. I get how that riles the others…but I never asked for this. I mean, there are over 26 million orphans on Earth at any one time. Though the One Earth League and its partners helped end the horrors we created through over consumption of the planet’s resources, the earth is still recovering, and families still remember those older, darker days. Most of Earth’s orphans will never get the opportunity we have. So many will be put into positions of menial labor, but we don’t feel bad about them because we earned our place here… all of us except me.”

  Minerva nodded. “I guess you really are different from the way vids made you out. You always sounded and looked so happy to be given the opportunity to serve humanity in space.” She made a sound then, like she had something lodged in her throat. “So, do I know the real you now?”

  “Nope.” Peter’s answer was made in a casual voice. He watched Minerva, seeing her eyes move away from him.

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry. Just a lesson in trusting everything you hear. I’ve never shared the whole story of what really happened to me in those mines.” Peter pursed his lips as he scrutinized Minerva. She seemed upset. “I’ll tell you the whole thing sometime though.”

  “Really?” Minerva’s mismatched eyes turned back to him. She had floated to a wall and pushed off of it to come in close to him. “You mean it?”

  “Well, as long as you stay on my good side.” Peter smiled as Minerva crossed his path, almost colliding.

  “Any tips for that?”

  “Maybe don’t judge me by anything you see or hear on the vids from here on.”

  CHAPTER 9

  There was to be no break from the schedule made for the Unity. Though many initiates in the cohorts went to bed whispering that they might be given special leave to celebrate foiling the secessionist terror plot, they all dreamed in vain. Only two days after the incident, the Admiral ordered the entire crew to assemble in the mess for a special address.

  Tables had been folded away and put square to the walls to accommodate everyone. There were few places on ship that could take the entire crew at once, so it was necessary the mess double as an assembly hall for meetings like this. To Peter, the scene looked much like that of his school hall back on Earth. The cohorts were made to sit cross-legged on the floor, Pluto Cohort at the front, and Mars at the back. Minerva was a sore point in the configuration. While the lines saw a steady progression of height, Minerva towered at the front, blocking the view of the front to those unlucky enough to be seated behind her. Even though he was quite far from her, he could hear the giggles and complaints made as they sat waiting for the Admiral to enter and address them.

  Admiral Gayle continued his tradition of brisk introductions. He walked in at a march, passing by the other officers, barely registering their salutes. A small box had been put out for him to stand on, but he shunned this, beginning his speech as soon as he was at the front of the room.

  “Cohorts, Earth has given us discretionary leave to postpone our departure.”

  There was a momentary murmur of excitement from pockets of the assembly. Admiral Gayle let this extinguish itself. His frown was obvious to all; the wrinkles around his face accentuated it. As eyes became more aware of it, the ripple of noise died.

  “I have informed Command that we have no need of a delay in our operations. Any disruption to our mission will give the terrorists who conspired against us a victory. I aim to show them our contempt for their ill planned attack by having the Unity at Earth Gate on time to begin her schedule. The efforts of the secessionists will not buy them even a single minute longer to prepare for our arrival.”

  Someone in the back gave a cheer. A few others joined it, but stern looks from the officers saw silence resume again. Admiral Gayle stroked his cheek, the wrinkles ironed out for a moment as he viewed his crew. “Perhaps one last point should be made clear. As of yesterday, you are crew of the Unity. I do not care how many vids you have seen saying that we are some school, or that you are all just kids. You all have been reared to be more than the coddled children of Earth. In short, I do not expect any troop to behave in a manner unfitting to their station. As none of you here could be kids, I will assume I do not need to lecture you on how you should behave?”

  “No Sir.”

  “Good. Now stand up like you’re soldiers.” The Admiral took a deep breath and from his location near the front, Peter could hear the man whisper, “Don’t know whose idea it was to sit you down like rug rats in the first place.”

  The crew rose to their feet with a certain awkwardness. They straightened their backs to military attention and kept their eyes forward.

  “Very good. As of today; assignments, training regimes, practical simulations and living duties begin. Chief Dowle will run each cohort through their programs, and I expect all of you to have your duties memorized and adhered to by the end of the day.”

  It seemed the Admiral had no room for slow learners on his vessel and even less time for speeches. As soon as he had finished his sentence, he left the front of the mess and strode away. The crew struggled to salute in time to acknowledge his departure as he paced past them.

  Peter’s eyes flickered to Chief Dowle. Here was a younger officer, fresh and eager. She had a standard space military cut and brown eyes that looked like tree bark. While the Admiral seemed to move with frustrated urgency, her movements were like a wind up doll. It was as if she were permanently on drill and had forgotten how to walk in any other fashion. Her hands were balled into fists as she marched to the front and took over.

  “You should all have received and learned your itinerary on the Unity from before leaving Little Vegas. This announcement will therefore only concern changes the Admiral himself has made to cohort schedules. Remember and abide by them.”

  ***

  Pluto Cohort considered themselves short shifted by their roster of duty on the Unity: far fewer space walks and combat training, much more time spent on over glorified janitorial duty. As the Unity began its final push toward Earth Gate, Alphred’s team found themselves stuck in the rotunda, gardening under the supervision of their commanders and one chief of staff.

  The Unity kept enough oxygen to last her crew for months; however, the vast amount of the air breathed by those aboard came from the intricate system of hydroponic frames built into the walls of the station’s two rotundas. Each of these looked like a computer server. Open up the wall compartment, and you'd be greeted by a stack of trays that co
uld be pulled out to reveal the greenery within. Each tray housed a different type of vegetable, always the smallest and easiest to cultivate in tight spaces. There was a plethora of different foods grown in the hydroponic banks: radishes, lettuce, and more. It was a secret green world hidden behind the walls of a barren and lifeless ship, granting the crew both air and fresh food. It was also boring.

  Opening up another wall seam, Peter pulled out the top compartment and began his inspection of the various lettuce heads inside. He was no farmer and had to remind himself what he was looking for as he checked the leaves and growth of the plants. The trouble was, after having spent an hour already checking several hundred closet lettuces, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on his task.

  The Unity was making its final approach to Earth Gate. In just a few hours, they would be considered outside official Earth Space and in the universal void. It was an auspicious moment. Just like the Monument of Pilgrims, passing Earth Gate was supposed to be a sacred event. Yet, here Peter was, head bowed as he looked at a tray of lettuce heads. This was not how he had wanted to look back on this moment. Admiral Gayles' lack of concern for pomp and ceremony was robbing them of a complete experience. He had literally stolen from them a coming of age event they would never get back, and Peter knew he was not the only one disappointed by it all.

  “Stare any longer at that lettuce and I'm going to assume the two of you need alone time.”

  Peter looked up. He had assumed the taunt came from one of the usual crowd who liked to poke fun of him. A sizeable chunk of the Pluto Cohort had really upped the ante in putting him down, no doubt as payback for his continued stardom in the Earth news. He turned his head sharply, body tense, but relaxed when he found his eyes staring at the chest of a thin, tall girl. “Oh, hey Min.”

  “Oh, are we doing pet names now? I must be one step closer to hearing that story you promised me.” The Martian, as always, wore a smile and leaned over Peter's shoulder to look down at the small, growing plants he was tending. “They are pretty mesmerizing, right.?”

  Peter raised an eyebrow. He assumed Minerva was still poking fun at him, but a glance to her face was proof enough that she was sincere. Her mismatched eyes were drawn to the tiny vegetables. It was a maternal, loving gaze. “You like gardening, then?”

  “I love it. Tending to these little plants is like being able to touch a little bit of Earth.” She caressed the leaves, stroking them like they were a pet cat. “On Mars Base, I had my own little tray in the hydroponics servers that was kept entirely for me. I got to grow whatever I wanted in there. It took a lot of pleading with the station command, and a plea to the Earth courts, but I was even allowed to grow my own little flowers in there. It took nearly two years for a ship to come to the station with my little packet. I grew small pansies. I even had a cactus plant by my bed.”

  It was the first time Peter had considered the kind of life Minerva had lived. It made him feel a little guilty for not asking sooner. She had shown such an interest in getting to know him, after all. “Do you wish you could visit Earth? I can't imagine what it must be like to live your entire life trapped in stations and ships.”

  Minerva was silent for a moment. Peter couldn't tell if she was trying to figure out the best way of answering his question, or just trying to keep her emotions on the subject in check. Her smile wavered a little. “I think it's better my way around than yours. I've seen a lot of people on Mars Station lose their minds to life in deep space. Even though there's so much testing and psychological stuff done to you guys before you leave Earth, you all seem to suffer withdrawal down the line. Not wanting to scare you or anything; I'm sure you won't go insane on me.”

  Peter chuckled and ran a hand through his short black hair. “I guess this doesn't mean much to you either, passing through Earth Gate. You must have done it a couple of times now.”

  “This is my fifth trip. There aren't many true Martians and space-born in the universe yet. Those of us who do exist are always being called to be part of different studies and tests. It worked well for my parents. They would come out with me and take a sabbatical on Earth; I'd go to Lunar and have my tests.” Minerva closed up the top tray of lettuces and pulled out the one below.

  “Sounds like you got short changed on that deal.”

  “It wasn't so bad. I was happy to help, and it was really cool to meet others like myself. There was one kid from Europa who lives on Lunar permanently now. He was the most fascinating. He was like a string of spaghetti.”

  Peter laughed, surprised to hear Minerva making fun of her own kind. “Have you bothered measuring yourself lately?”

  Minerva's smile spread yet further.

  “Find better lines next time, Crater Face.” The call came from two girls on a nearby hydroponics bank. Their words brought both Minerva and Peter to an awkward silence, and they filled it by inspecting the rack of vegetables with greater scrutiny. While on duty, they couldn't duck out as they had the day before.

  Alphred had been busy since the events on the rogue cargo freighter. Between filing a log report, meeting with staff chiefs, and his duties to the cohort as whole, Peter had barely spoken two words together with his commander since they had been returned to the Unity after the operation. While his team checked the various banks of greenery with varied degrees of disinterest, Alphred walked amongst them, making sure they all put in the required level of focus and got their jobs done.

  Peter noticed the Commander's eyes flicker toward him from time to time and braced himself as Armstrong began to walk toward him.

  “Need something Commander?” Peter's voice changed as he addressed Alphred, mimicking the flat tones of his leader.

  “In a moment, Peter. Minerva, do remember there are others in our cohort. Can you go check on the others and make sure they are performing their checks correctly.” There was the definite sense that Minerva was being disciplined here, and Peter found his dislike for his commander growing.

  “Yes, Commander Armstrong.” Minerva straightened up to her full height once more. Peter shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'What can you do' and she made a show of rolling her eyes in turn.

  “I had heard the rumor that you and second division officer Tharsis might be bonding. I had considered such rumors to be an exaggeration. Now-”

  “-I don't know what limb you're going out on, Commander, but you can take a step back. Nothing to see here.” Peter didn't give Alphred the courtesy of looking at him as he spoke. He picked up a few radishes, inspecting their size and weight before returning them to their tray. “This lot will be ready for harvest soon.”

  Alphred put out a hand and closed the tray. “Please do not try and dodge the topic at hand, Peter. Close up this bay and take a walk with me a moment.”

  The thing that irked Peter most about his commander was undoubtedly his rank. Though he was not beyond smart mouthing Alphred, he knew he could not refuse an order once given to him. He put the tray back away and closed up the wall hatch, hiding the garden from sight once again. Alphred then made a show of walking away, leading Peter far away from the others in the cohort. This was going to be a private conversation, then.

  “My mission report with Admiral Gayle and the other chiefs proved most satisfactory. Your presence and help aboard the freighter meant that most of the chiefs approved my choice to make you my third with almost no convincing needed.” Though this was good news, Alphred was not smiling. Peter struggled to tell whether this was because something was upsetting him, or because he was simply incapable of showing emotion.

  “Well, that is good news. I think I am ready to accept the position if that is what you're asking. I think the benefits of being your third just about outweigh the trouble that comes with it.”

  Alphred nodded, face still not showing any pleasure. “I am glad to hear it. If you are taking on this responsibility though, I need to you to start doing your bit. I need you to be making headway with the rest of the team.”

  Peter snorted a
nd folded his arms. “I'm not a miracle worker. I can't just snap my fingers for you and become a genie of friendship and rainbows.”

  “No, but in the meeting with the chiefs an issue was raised that the crew at large were hostile to you after our return to Unity. What did you do to provoke them?”

  “Nothing!” Peter's voice grew louder with a note of exacerbation. “Look to the news feeds if you want someone to blame. They can't stop plastering my face on the screen about the incident and crowning me hero of the hour.”

  Alphred nodded. “So, it is jealousy from the others. Perhaps I should speak to the cohort about this. Explain the situation.”

  “Oh God, no.” Despite having just spoken with a Martian, it was Alphred who felt like a truly alien being. “If you draw attention to it all, telling the cohort to ease off my back, you're only going make matters worse. Just leave it be. I've dealt with this before on Earth. The media runs a few bits on me, the rest of the cohort gets wound up by it: name calling, filthy looks, and whispers behind my back, and then it’s back to normal in a month.

  Alphred pursed his lips. He looked down the corridor to where the others were working. “Very well. I made you my third just so you could advise me on these matters. It would be foolish of me to decide to ignore your counsel here. But, with Minerva, do try and make an effort not to ostracize yourself from the group.”

  “Considering that she is the first person to actually seem to like me in the cohort, and who I can talk to easily, I'd call this progress.” Peter surprised himself with how defensive he felt about this matter.