Solomon's Arrow

by J. Dalton Jennings

  Setting the note to one side, Bram made his way to the bathroom, thinking about the note’s hidden meaning: to him, it would feel like no more than half a day’s passing between waking up today and opening his eyes in the Epsilon Eridani system, but for Gloria, the passage of time would be two years. She was the Arrow’s Deputy Chief of Security, but she was also trained as a systems technician. There wasn’t much need for security during the voyage; therefore, instead of spending her time in cryo-stasis, she would assist with engineering and ship’s maintenance.

  The voyage from one star system to the other would take over ten years to complete. A team of psychologists had determined that no matter how well a ship’s crew was trained, no single crew could man the ship for that length of time without cracking under the pressure. The crew would be rotated every two years—except for the first shift, containing the command personnel. They would work at their stations for the first year, be put to sleep, and then be awakened again for the final, yearlong leg of the voyage. Floyd Sullivant fell into that category. Gloria’s two-year shift would take place midway through the voyage; then she, along with Bram and the other members of the first landing party, would be awakened upon arrival.

  Bram made it a point to never go in search of one-night stands, but he wasn’t entirely averse to them. Women found him attractive (for the most part); he wasn’t a troll, after all. However, as he’d approached middle-age, mornings such as these arrived fewer and farther apart.

  When he decided to crash Solomon Chavez’s party, he never expected to end up in bed with a gorgeous creature like Gloria Muldoon. She had an exotic quality about her, like she had a few drops of Spanish or Polynesian blood flowing through her veins. She fascinated him—yet their temperaments were polar opposites—a relationship between them could never last. Despite their definite physical attraction, they had no emotional attachment. But … he couldn’t have choreographed a better final night on Earth.

  After a long, hot shower, Bram got dressed and took Gloria up on her offer of coffee. He still had a few hours to kill, so he spent part of that time on her tiny balcony, sipping coffee and staring out at distant Lake Victoria. He could see an apartment across the way where a young mother was getting ready for work while her two young children sat on a couch thoroughly engrossed in a cartoon. Watching the harried mother gesture and shout at the oblivious children reminded Bram of his own youth and how his mother had dragged him away from the HV set every morning before school. It was a scene that had played out in kitchens across the world for over a hundred years—a snapshot of everyday life that Bram was honored to witness, even when the mother, at the end of her rope, yanked one of the children up by his arm and gave him two swift swats on the butt. The other child was off the couch in a flash, running toward the front door and out of sight. The first child followed close behind, crying, stomping his feet all the way. Ignoring his behavior, the mother picked up both breakfast bowls and then disappeared herself.

  Bram wanted them to reappear, but he knew they’d gone about their daily business—just like they’d done yesterday and the day before that, and would do again tomorrow. He was leaving this old world, never to return, but life would go on … as always.

  Gloria’s apartment felt a little sad, being bare of all possessions other than an unmade bed, a rickety chair on the balcony, a few unused cardboard boxes sitting in the living room, an empty refrigerator (having polished off the last of the orange juice and tossed out the Thai food), and an old coffeemaker that looked lonely sitting by itself. Dumping the leftover coffee down the sink, Bram left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

  Before exiting the apartment, he used his PID to hail a cab, which was downstairs waiting as he left the building. Sensing his approach, the cab’s curbside door slid open. Climbing inside, Bram leaned back and grunted out his destination. He’d never fully gotten used to driverless cars, but at least the vehicles in Memphis looked like the old-style cars of his youth, having actual wheels. This cab, like most of the other vehicles in the world’s larger, metropolitan areas, had no use for wheels or axles or transmissions. They instead used maglev technology and hovered ten inches above the asphalt while traveling.

  With his stomach rumbling, Bram stopped at a bakery and bought a croissant before returning to his hotel room to change clothes and check out. Still hungry and with two hours remaining before his orientation briefing, Bram decided to have lunch. He first thought about going to a fancy French restaurant for a last, decadent Earth meal, or someplace that served thick, juicy steaks or grilled lobster, but after thoughtful consideration, Bram decided on something more down to earth: a double cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake from his favorite fast-food restaurant.

  Once there, he placed his order—which now included a fried apple pie—sat at a corner table and, for the next half-hour, enjoyed his meal while observing a steady stream of customers come and go. He could almost imagine being back home, eating at one of the chain’s Memphis locations. For some strange reason, this notion instilled a measure of comfort and melancholy. There would be no fast-food chains where he was going, no happy clowns welcoming customers through its doors, no joyful children playing on brightly colored swing sets and curlicue slides. Life would be incredibly difficult where he was going—perhaps even impossible.

  In the year 2061, the human race had barely taken its first steps away from Earth: there was the lunar colony, which was a shining example; the Martian colony, a desolate hellhole that took five years to build and was still struggling; and the asteroid belt factories, which were not yet profitable but held great promise.

  Bram wondered if the planet orbiting Epsilon Eridani would be much better. The scientists who discovered it claimed that a wide swath of the planet was habitable … if they made it there. Being a layman, Bram didn’t fully understand Einstein’s theory of relativity, but he did know one thing: anything could happen between the Arrow’s departure from Earth and arrival at their new home.

  Putting those troubling thoughts aside, Bram finished his lunch, grabbed one last refill of cola for the road, and headed toward the Lake Victoria complex and the adventure of a lifetime.

  •

  2 P.M., LOCAL TIME, JANUARY 17, 2061

  Bram walked into the spacious auditorium of the Lake Victoria complex feeling as if he’d been put through a wringer. In a sense he had, what with all the medical procedures he’d been subjected to.

  He’d arrived on schedule at the New Arrivals information desk, identified himself, and for the next hour was shuttled from one place to the next. He’d been retinal scanned and asked a battery of personal questions by a studious young security officer before being sent to the medical facilities. Once there he was DNA tested and asked even more personal questions. During the examination, he’d been given a shot to switch on a dormant gene in his DNA, which would allow his body to cope with the cryogenic freezing process. The med-tech had said something about a wood frog, but Bram hadn’t paid much attention. He was thinking about what the technician had said just prior to that, about how at the conclusion of the orientation briefing, the participants would be segregated in alphabetical order and called back to the medical wing, where they would receive an intestinal flush and a strong diuretic.

  Before going into cryo-stasis, the participants would have their intestines cleansed of all food and feces, while having as much of the fluids in their system flushed as humanly possible. Bram understood the part about the intestinal cleanse—people are required to take suppositories before traveling to certain Third World countries—however, the diuretic was a mystery. He asked and was told that the body needed to be flushed of as much water as possible without becoming completely dehydrated. His bodily fluids would be replaced by a high-glucose antifreeze-type solution, designed to keep his cells from bursting once they reached their freezing point. That, combined with the switched on dormant DNA, would protect his body during the ten-year trip through space.

  The me
d-tech had explained the procedure in a matter-of-fact way, obviously having told it to hundreds, if not thousands, of other people during the month-long lead-up to launch. There were already over six thousand souls ensconced in cryogenic chambers onboard the Arrow, and the process had been tested and retested to ensure safety, but just the thought of having most of his blood replaced by antifreeze, then being frozen like a human popsicle for ten years, caused chills to run up his spine. After exiting the building’s medical wing, he’d fought down an urge to flee the complex and run back to Memphis, like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. One of the things that kept him from doing so was the other people leaving the medical facility, some of whom he’d seen at the party the previous night. The looks on their faces mirrored his own. I guess misery does love company, he’d thought.

  The other thing that kept him on track was the thought of Gloria finding out he’d lost his nerve. Of course, he’d be long dead before she’d ever find out, but the idea of her waking up to discover she’d made love to a coward would haunt him the rest of his days. No … skipping out was unacceptable. Besides, he’d faced down the maniacal Conrad Snow, and if he could do that, he could confront just about anything. Having one’s body frozen and rocketed through space at nearly the speed of light would be a snap.

  It was simply last-minute jitters that had him second-guessing himself, nothing more. Or was it something else? Was there something about this mission that was causing a warning signal to go off in his subconscious mind?

  After arriving at the auditorium, he found an aisle seat near the back and sat down to wait. For the next few minutes, Bram closed his eyes and tried to let whatever was bothering him rise to the surface. As powerful as his psychic abilities were, he seldom peered into the future. Doing so would only take the fun out of living—and frankly, he wasn’t that good at it. However, subtle impressions from the near future did occasionally enter his thoughts, and on more than one occasion had saved his life. This time there were no psychic impressions, only a realization: what he feared was a loss of control. Even while asleep, his subconscious mind was attuned to approaching danger, but in cryo-stasis his psychic abilities would be completely shut down. Even his dreams would be suspended.

  This realization eased Bram’s mind—somewhat. There were times when a man must place his trust in the hands of others and accept a temporary loss of control. This was one of those times. As such, he no longer wanted to run from the room like a scalded dog.

  With fifteen minutes remaining before the orientation was scheduled to begin, he scanned the hundred and fifty or so individuals in attendance, hoping to spot Gloria. Most were chatting nervously with their neighbors, while others sat stoically, valiantly trying to buck up their nerves. A few, he sensed, were so conflicted about the upcoming voyage that they felt like rushing from the room, much like he had. Determined to rationalize his feelings, Bram wondered if some small part of his own insecurities had resulted from picking up on their flight-driven thought patterns.

  Despite the scattered reservations, most of the audience was happy to be there, especially the scientists, who sat together, chattering excitedly, oblivious to the others in the room.

  Bram saw a couple of politicians he recognized from the news and a big action star from the movies. Bram could sense rippling waves of trepidation flowing from the movie star. Well, well, he thought. Hollywood must really be the land of dreams and illusion, if the fearless action hero was shaking in his boots.

  Wondering where Gloria was, Bram reached out with his mind (feeling a bit like a stalker) and attempted to locate her unique vibratory pattern, but she was nowhere to be found. That’s odd, he thought, until he realized she was probably already resting comfortably in cryo-stasis. After reporting for duty and taking care of any last-minute security concerns, the odds were good that she’d gone straight to the cryogenics wing. She was a creature of duty and discipline, after all, not some vapid airhead he’d picked up at a blues bar.

  With his attention elsewhere, Bram was startled when the double doors beside the auditorium stage swung open, and in walked Solomon Chavez, Mona Levin, Admiral Katherine “Battleaxe” Axelrod, Captain Richard Allison, and Security Chief Floyd Sullivant.

  •

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Solomon Chavez said from the podium. The sustained applause gradually faded away. “Before I begin, I’d like to point out that the previous orientation briefings were conducted by members of the public relations office. I’d like to thank their liaison, Lawrence Murchison, who will become Chief Operating Officer of CIMRAD when I’m placed in cryo-stasis, and I’ve asked him to congratulate his staff for their hard work over the previous months.”

  Motioning for Lawrence Murchison to stand, Chavez began to clap appreciatively. The tall, handsome press secretary stood and waved, receiving a warm round of applause.

  “The previous orientation briefings were held for the small number of average citizens who entered and won the Ark lottery, along with qualified individuals whose skills are needed to make our future home a success.

  “Today’s group is different. It will be the last one to board the Arrow. Many of you are the scientists and technicians who poured ideas and labor into constructing mankind’s first interstellar spacecraft. Others are politicians and assorted VIPs whose schedules prevented you from arriving until the last minute.” Judging by the bemused look on Solomon’s face, most of those in attendance could tell what he really thought about the late arrivals. “We also have a few who’ll be members of the first landing party,” he continued. “I welcome you all, and turn the remainder of the briefing over to Admiral Axelrod.”

  The Admiral, clad in crisp, navy dress whites, approached the podium and cleared her throat. Standing five-foot-eight, with broad shoulders and a back stiff as a board, Katherine Axelrod would’ve presented an imposing presence even if she hadn’t become one of the most successful military strategists in the history of modern warfare.

  “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve been asked to speak,” she said in her clipped British accent. “I’ll keep it short. Soon you will be placed in a state of suspended animation, so to speak, and will be unaware of the passage of time between here and Epsilon Eridani. Once there, some of you will be awakened while approaching the planet, which the press has nicknamed Earth 2.0. By all accounts, our new home will be anything but a second Earth. Some of the conditions will be harsh, and there’s no guaranteeing the crops we plant will adjust to the climate or the soil conditions. Our exobiology team assures us that we have nothing to worry about, but one must consider all options.

  “Most of you, together with the other six thousand colonists, will remain in cryo-stasis until the planet is properly explored. Once we find the optimal location to start building a settlement, the appropriate trades and professionals will be decanted, and the business of construction will begin. No one will be left out of the laborious task of constructing the settlement and farming the land. This is not a pleasure cruise. There will be no slackers. And for the first few years, there will be no democratically elected form of government. There will be a military dictatorship, led by yours truly.”

  Pausing, the admiral allowed her steely gaze to sweep the audience. Dissatisfied grumblings were heard from one end of the auditorium to the other. The thought of living under a military dictatorship was anathema to everyone in attendance, especially for some of the scientists who, at great risk, had escaped from authoritarian regimes to come and work for something bigger than themselves.

  The admiral held up her hand. The grumbling died down, but many in the audience fumed over her announcement. The only ones unperturbed by the news was the row of people sitting on the stage behind her.

  “Unfortunately, such an arrangement is necessary … at first. You’ll be happy to know that when the settlement is built and normalcy is established, free elections will be instituted, and the military will step down from command. I assure you, nothing will pl
ease me more. Like you, I ascribe to the democratic principles of a free society and look forward to voting for our first congress or council or parliament or whatever system of government the majority decides to institute. But, until we do that, my word will be law.

  “If this arrangement ruffles your sensibilities and you can’t abide by these conditions, or you believed that life on our new home would be a cakewalk, don’t let the door smack your bum on the way out. We have standbys waiting to take your place.”

  Almost everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while glancing around to see if anyone was headed for the exit. Bram sensed a number of people teetering on the edge, but none left. If even one attendee had taken the admiral up on her dare, he sensed that at least ten other people would’ve followed suit. Bram wasn’t exactly sure if peer pressure was the deciding factor, but the desire to leave (either in a huff or out of fear) was quickly followed by a strengthening of resolve. Even the most skittish people in the auditorium had made up their minds to stand firm and not let the admiral’s harsh conditions stand in the way of the greatest opportunity in history—the chance to rocket across space and colonize a new world.

  The barest hint of a smile formed on the admiral’s tight lips. “Good … good. It pleases me to see that we have such fine examples of the human spirit sitting in this hall. It will take courage to make our new home livable. And from the look of things, I have renewed confidence that not only we will succeed in our mission … we will thrive.”

  The applause started out tepid but quickly turned deafening. Sensing the collective coming together of spirit, Bram was beginning to understand why the woman known as “The Battleaxe” was such a good leader. She’d taken her audience’s doubts and fears, including his own, and turned them around. She’d forced the audience to confront the last remaining uncertainties they were harboring and cast them aside, replacing them instead with determination and grit.