Solomon's Arrow

by J. Dalton Jennings

  “Thank you,” she said as the applause died down. “Over the next half hour or so, you’ll be asked to file through the exit to my left, in alphabetical order, and make your way in single file to the facility’s medical wing, where you’ll be prepped for departure. By the end of the afternoon, everyone will be in stasis and safely onboard the Arrow. Let us begin: all those with surnames starting with the letters A through E, please file out now. When they’re done, a med-tech will call for the next alphabetical unit.”

  As the first group of attendees rose and worked their way toward the exit, the admiral ended her speech with, “Godspeed, ladies and gentlemen. We have a brilliant, glorious adventure ahead of us.” She saluted and, followed by the others onstage, departed the auditorium.

  •

  Bram felt drained. He sat on a heavily padded swivel chair in a perfectly square, powder blue room in cryogenics, part of the last group called from the auditorium, wishing that his last name hadn’t started with one of the last letters of the alphabet. The waiting was interminable. He hated waiting.

  The medical procedures he endured, however, had been much worse. His entire intestinal tract had been flushed, and the diuretic he’d been given had worked quickly. It wasn’t as if he was queasy, though. The thick fluid used to administer the enema included an anti-emetic. What caused him, and the others in the waiting room, to feel weak had been the diuretic: the powerful drug was administered intravenously, and minutes later he was pissing up a storm. To conserve time, the procedure had taken place during the enema. He was asked to strip down and sit on an oddly shaped contraption; then, a bored, female med-tech, stationed at a nearby computer console, programmed the chair-like contraption to wrap itself around the lower half of his body, starting at his belly button and ending a few inches above his knees. What happened next was akin to being violated: something soft, though obviously mechanical, spread apart his buttocks and immediately applied a warm lubricant to his rectum, at which point Bram’s breathing sped up. He felt a probe enter his rectum and work its way through his intestinal tract. The med-tech then gave him the diuretic, all the while humming a tune. Bram had avoided her gaze, even as she half-heartedly tried to reassure him.

  His cheeks had burned with embarrassment when the urine began to flow and the probe retracted, releasing the contents of his intestines. He kept reminding himself that the attractive med-tech had seen this a thousand times during the previous months. The procedure had lasted less than ten minutes and, when it was blessedly over, Bram climbed unsteadily to his feet and dressed. He was so dehydrated, even his fingernails felt parched.

  He exited the small exam room and the next person entered. Three nearby doors opened at nearly the exact same time and others in his group walked out, their faces reflecting the same embarrassment as his own. While on his way to the cryogenics waiting room, Bram encountered two men as they rounded a corner: Floyd Sullivant and Captain Richard Allison.

  Floyd happily said, “Bram! Give us a moment, would you?”

  Despite feeling shaky, Bram stopped to chat.

  “You look like hell,” Floyd said, unable to keep from grinning. “They really ream you out in there, don’t they?”

  Bram looked away, his face falling. “Don’t start, Floyd.”

  “Sorry, sorry, old boy,” he chuckled, turning to Richard Allison. “Bram, I’d like you to meet Captain Richard Allison, the Arrow’s first officer and pilot.”

  The two men shook hands.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard this a thousand times by now, Captain,” Bram said. “I watched your rescue live on HV. I can’t tell you how happy I was when those dolphins showed up. They’re amazingly noble creatures.” Bram had no intention of ever revealing the role he played in alerting those selfsame dolphins to Richard’s plight.

  “I agree, Mr. Waters,” Richard said. “The navy has a long history of working with dolphins. I knew a man who trained a number of them, and he was always talking about how most of them were smarter than he was. Knowing him, I took him at his word.”

  Behind Richard Allison’s easy humor, Bram sensed an undercurrent of sadness in the man, which (owing to his military training) was held firmly in check. The young, African American captain’s sorrow felt similar to his own history of grief. There was something about this man that Bram trusted, something he liked.

  “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Captain. And I’m looking forward to working with you in the future. Right now, however, if the two of you don’t mind, I need to get to cryogenics. I have a date with a long nap.”

  “Speaking of dates,” Floyd said. “Gloria didn’t go into details about your time together, but I think you left quite the impression on the old girl, my friend.”

  Bram perked up. “Oh, how so?”

  Cocking one eyebrow, Floyd shook his head. “She’s normally a very serious individual, but today she couldn’t keep from grinning. I have to admit, it was a shocking sight to behold. If I were a religious man, I might call you a miracle worker.”

  Bram knowingly replied, “I’m no miracle worker, but I’ve found there’s more to people than their surface appearance suggests.”

  Floyd’s eyebrow rose. “It seems, Captain, that we have a philosopher in our midst.”

  “I can think of worse things to call a person,” Richard said.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Bram,” Floyd smirked, “but I seriously doubt that Gloria’s attitude change happened because she was sitting at your feet listening to you quote the Buddha.”

  Looking to the heavens, Bram said, “I’ll never tell.”

  Floyd laughed and clapped Bram on the back. “See that you don’t. Gloria’s got a reputation to uphold. After all, I can’t have people thinking she’s gone soft over some bloke. Now get out of here, you look tired. Perhaps you should take a long nap.”

  “I’ve been meaning to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

  With that, the three men went their separate ways: Bram to the cryogenics waiting room and the other two to wrap up last-minute details.

  Sitting in the powder blue room, Bram thought back to his encounter with the two men. He’d enjoyed the good-natured banter, but learning that he produced a positive effect on Gloria elicited a flood of conflicting emotions: he was happy he pleased her, but he also felt guilty. In some weird way, their night together felt like cheating on his long-dead fiancée. He’d never felt that way with the other women he slept with over the years, so why this time? What was different? It wasn’t as though he’d failed to please those other women. They too were one-night stands. They—

  Then it hit him. Of all the women he’d slept with since Jennifer’s death, Gloria was the first one Bram wanted to see again. That’s what was fueling his guilt. His desire to spend more than a single night with Gloria was stepping on his memories of being with Jennifer.

  Lost in thought, Bram failed to hear his name being called. When the woman seated beside him gave him a nudge, he jerked in surprise and looked up. A frowning, white-clad med-tech stood in the doorway, tapping the top of his wrist, the universal sign that implied how he was wasting everyone’s time.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, hopping up. Any mental concerns about Gloria would have to wait.

  Entering the cryo-lab, he looked around in shock. He’d been informed that its walls and floor was one big HV screen, but he was unprepared for how realistic it appeared. For all intents and purposes, he’d stepped through an office door onto a peaceful, grassy meadow. The illusion was seamless, making the room appear huge. He saw rolling hills in the distance, scattered cirrus clouds overhead in a bright blue sky, a stand of oak trees to his left, and two monarch butterflies fluttering above a swath of purple wildflowers. He couldn’t have asked for a more gorgeous—or peaceful—final view of Mother Earth.

  “This way, Mr. Waters,” the med-tech said, motioning toward the only incongruous object in the tranquil scene.

  A seven-foot-long by three-foot-wide gun-metal gray cylinder was hovering two f
eet off the ground. Upon closer examination, he saw that the cylinder rested on a retractable shelf, behind which a recession—the same size as the cylinder—was located. This would be his personal cryo-chamber, his place of rest for the next ten years.

  “Please disrobe and place your possessions in the opening to your left, sir,” the med-tech said in a coldly professional tone. In the palm of the young man’s hand rested a small device, into which he began tapping an often-used command. The top half of the cylinder popped open to reveal a disappointingly plain interior.

  Bram half expected to see flashing lights and plush cushions. The cryo-chamber didn’t look comfortable. Sensing the med-tech’s impatience, Bram hurriedly shed his clothes. An eighteen-inch square opening appeared to his left in which he dropped the apparel.

  “Those are expensive shoes,” he noted. “Will I get them back later?”

  The med-tech grumbled something under his breath before answering. “Any items of clothing you planned to keep should’ve been packed with your personal belongings, sir. Once you’re decanted, you’ll be supplied with a standard issue coverall. All personal items will be unloaded after the colony is up and running.” He held out his hand, signaling that he wanted Bram to climb into the cryo-chamber.

  The moment was finally here. Bram’s last conscious moments on Earth had arrived, and they would be spent in the presence of a young man who acted as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, shipping a parade of people on an adventure he would never experience.

  As though the med-tech had read his mind, the young man guided Bram forward and gently helped him into the cryo-chamber. “There’s nothing to fear, Mr. Waters. Each cryo-chamber has undergone rigid testing. They’re virtually infallible. Lie back and relax. Once I’ve attached the cuffs to your arms and legs, you’ll start to feel drowsy. Before you know it, you’ll be waking up thinking no time has passed, though you will experience some nausea and a slight headache.”

  Bram merely nodded, unable to find his voice; whether from fear or exhilaration, he wasn’t sure. Doing as instructed, he stretched out in what was starting to feel like a coffin.

  The interior of the cryo-chamber was lined with a soft, spongy material. The med-tech leaned over him holding a fine-tipped permanent marker in his hand. He drew a tiny black dot over a vein in the crook of each arm and near the ankles of each leg. He then activated a program, using his Medical Interlink Device, and offered Bram a reassuring smile.

  “Have a safe trip, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Bram could barely croak out his reply.

  Cushioned medical cuffs extended from slots located beside his hips and wrapped around his elbows and ankles. He felt a slight sting where the med-tech placed the black dots. Underneath him, the spongy material swelled with what to Bram felt like gel, cushioning his body further, supporting it in such a way that it felt like he was floating on air.

  The med-tech stepped out of sight, allowing Bram a clear view of the ceiling. Through the miracle of HV, it looked exactly like a bright blue sky. As the sedative began to kick in, melting away his fear and trepidation, Bram tried to focus on a distant wisp of cloud. A small, yellow butterfly fluttered into view. As a numb, gauzy smile formed on his lips, Bram watched a second butterfly join the first. The two insects were dancing … a waltz. With his mind enveloped in a warm, comforting fog, he tried to follow their movements, but his eyelids suddenly drooped and he was out like a light.

  The med-tech entered another sequence into his MID. The cryo-chamber’s opaque lid closed, locked in place, and the shelf it rested on retracted into the wall. The cylinder slid forward and disappeared, slowly being conveyed to the space elevator loading dock. Another cryo-chamber took its place. Spinning on his heel, the med-tech opened the door and announced, “Ana Weiss, you’re next!”

  8

  ONBOARD THE ARROW: 9:51 A.M., JANUARY 18, 2061

  The morning after the final shipment of cryo-chambers was stored in the Arrow’s hold, Mona Levin found herself walking beside Solomon Chavez down a long hallway located in the ship’s crew quarters. To save space, most of the crew—except the captain, first officer, and chief medical officer—bunked three to a room. The two stopped at the end of the hall and entered the only other private cabin: it belonged to Solomon Chavez. A lovely young Asian woman, holding a med-tech tablet beside an empty cryo-chamber, greeted them as they entered the room.

  “Your cryo-chamber is ready whenever you are, Dr. Chavez,” the young med-tech said, smiling nervously at her patient.

  Mona was unaccountably irked by the young woman. She had to remind herself that Solomon was tall, dark, exceedingly handsome, and richer than God; it was natural for the young med-tech to feel shy, even awkward, in his presence. Solomon could have any woman he wanted, Mona thought, but in all the years she’d known and worked with him, there were no rumors of him dating or even sleeping with anyone. There were times when she wondered if he was an ascetic or simply nonsexual.

  “Thank you, Ms. Hiroshige. I’ll be ready momentarily.” Solomon’s eyes scanned the spacious room, taking in the carbon-fiber bedroom suit, the breakfast nook, the comfortable reading chair to his left, and the impressionistic artwork on the walls, which, like the other objects in the room, were fixed firmly in place. He appeared satisfied.

  Facing Mona with a reticent look in his eye, Solomon held out his hand. She looked down at the proffered handshake and, chuckling under her breath, shook her head. Reaching out with both arms, she gave the enigmatic young man, whom she’d worked with for nearly a decade, a tightly held, unanticipated embrace. When she stepped back, she could tell that Solomon was touched by her uncharacteristic show of affection.

  “I know that we’ve had our differences in the past, Mona, but … I’m truly going to miss you,” he admitted.

  Tucking a lock of dark-brown hair behind her right ear, Mona smiled coyly. “There’s still time to change your mind and ask me to join the mission.”

  Solomon heaved an exasperated sigh. “You never give up, do you?”

  “It was a joke, nothing more,” she said, patting Solomon on the arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the med-tech shift uncomfortably while studying an impressionistic oil painting of sunflowers. The young woman was listening intently to their conversation, yet trying hard to appear otherwise. “You should get the cryo-process underway. I’m sure Ms. Hiroshige has better things to do than stand around listening to us ramble on like two old fogies.”

  Solomon glanced over at the young med-tech, who was beginning to blush, then refocused on Mona. “I’ve recorded a message to be played just before the ship departs. All the HV networks and interlink websites will carry it. I hope you’ll watch it; I mention you prominently.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. So … I guess it’s time to say goodbye, before you strip for cryo-sleep.”

  Solomon began to unbutton his shirt. “I didn’t realize you were a prude, Mona.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” she smirked. “I just don’t want my last image of you to be so … vivid. Seeing you in such a vulnerable position would haunt my dreams for years to come.”

  Solomon took off his shirt and stuffed it in a plastic bag. His physique was impressive. Mona caught the young med-tech eyeing his well-defined musculature. The way her lips parted slightly as Solomon began to unzip his pants told Mona more than she wanted to know. It was as if she could read the girl’s mind. The pretty young thing had probably called in a few favors to be the one putting Solomon under. Her earlier nervousness was now understandable. She wanted to be the last woman from this time period to have had sex with the great Solomon Chavez. With her lovely oval face and petite, almost perfect figure, she may well succeed.

  “Ms. Hiroshige, I’ll be waiting for you just outside the door,” Mona said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about once you’re through in here.”

  Annoyance, along with a trace of disappointment, showed plainly in her eyes. “Of course, Dr. Levin. I’ll be
out in a few minutes.”

  Solomon was down to his socks and underwear. “As you leave, Ms. Hiroshige, please tell the ship’s computer to institute the preset lockdown for this room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Farewell, Solomon,” Mona said as she turned to leave. “I know you’ll succeed in building a better world than the one you’re leaving.”

  “Thank you, Mona. I hope your zero-point energy generators succeed in stemming the tide of climate change that’s devastating this once beautiful planet.”

  Mona’s eyes dropped. Without another word, she gave him a quick nod and exited the room.

  When the door shut behind her, Mona leaned against the corridor wall and bit her lower lip. Her heart pounded wildly. She’d barely kept her composure while speaking in Solomon’s room. She kept reminding herself that all she needed to do was stay calm for a few more minutes, and her carefully laid plan would succeed.

  There was one slight glitch: she hadn’t expected Solomon to code in a lockdown sequence. She had to act quickly before the med-tech issued the order.

  The faint whooshing sound of a turbo-lift opening was heard from around the corner down the hall. It was accompanied by boisterous male laughter—coming her way. Some of the crew must be headed to their quarters, she thought, ramping up her heart rate.

  Please, Yahweh, don’t let it be anyone I know, she prayed.

  Two men entered the corridor, headed in her direction. One of them, a large fellow with jug ears and a crew cut, saw her right away. Dammit! It was Kowalski from engineering.

  “Hey, Doc,” he said with a lopsided grin. Mona knew the other man but not by name. He stopped in front of what must be their quarters and asked Kowalski if he was coming in. “I got a question for Dr. Levin about the zero-point flux regulator … you know, the one I was tellin’ ya about in the turbo-lift. I’ll see ya later at chow.”