She curled up on the stiff bed, turned her back to the wall that separated her from the main room, and let her mind drift away. She began to daydream of Pelusina, only the stuffed toy was a real cat in her vision, stalking the jungle at the outskirts of the village with Gabi as they played a game of “pounce” with the other children. The black and white cat’s skill at sneaking up on the young kids was phenomenal, despite her rotund frame. Older kids weren’t fooled by either of them, but Gabi decided that they would not be fun to play this game with anyway, since Gina, Kelly, and Kristin were all too big to pounce on.
Next she imagined taking a long journey through the island’s thick jungle in search of supply pods from the ship that carried them to the planet. The image she conjured was fraught with peril, and they had to use their wits to escape from a furious long-tusked Demeter hog. Her mother later stared down a jaguar until it ran away in fear. In the end of her short-lived dream, they found a cache of food and water, as well as magical machines that Troy could use to build new houses for everyone in the village.
The dream was interrupted just before Gabi and her mom received coronations with circlets of flowers and vines. She sat up and looked around as she could hear the conversation between James and her mother escalate.
“I know you’ve been dealt a shit hand,” she could hear James say in an irritated voice. “I know you’d rather mope around all day and do nothing instead of facing the fact that life goes on and you need to participate in it. She’s part of that life.”
“I know that,” her mom growled back. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“Frankly, the way you’ve been acting lately, no.”
“Oh come on. She’s doing fine. She’s eating, playing, and socializing. Hell, she’s even sat in on a couple of Charlotte’s classes, even though she’s a little young for that.”
“When’s the last time you hugged her?”
Silence followed. Gabi began to realize that they were talking about her. She thought back over the past few days, trying to recall the last time her mother had held her. The answer eluded her.
“When’s the last time you told her you love her?”
“How dare you. You know I love her.”
“Do you? Because it’s like night and day, watching the way you act around her now as compared to before…”
“Don’t say it,” her mother warned.
Gabi peeked around the side of the partition. Her mother was standing only inches from James. In her balled fists were blades of palm, crumpled from the crushing grasp of her fingers. Her nostrils flared and her eyes burned intensely as she stared him down.
James sighed. “I’d love to give you all the time you need to sort out your issues, but we can’t afford it. Gabi can’t either.”
“I can’t what?” she asked softly, taking a step out from the bedroom.
“Go back to the back room for just another minute, alright?” he replied as he glanced quickly at her.
“I wanna know!”
“Gabi, now please,” he affirmed.
Grumbling, Gabi shuffled back behind the wall, just out of sight. She slid down to a sitting position and listened intently to the adults’ conversation. It took a moment for them to begin again.
“Look, if you need some space or some help, just say the word,” James continued. There was a significant pause before he spoke again. “What would help you deal with Gabi’s problems?”
Her mother scoffed. “Maybe getting rid of her for a day or two, so she’s someone else’s problem for a bit.”
“So that’s it?” he asked, the disappointment in his voice clear. “If that’s what it takes, then.”
A few moments later James rounded the corner and dropped to his knees in front of Gabi. He clasped her shoulders, smiled, and gave her a quick, unexpected hug.
“Gabi, honey, do you want to come spend the night with us? Kris and Kelly would love to sing with you, and Will should be back tonight as well.”
She shook her head. “No thank you.”
He stood up and reached down to offer his hand. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Your mom said it’s alright.”
“No.” Her response was firmer this time. She felt a twinge of anxiety at the idea that she would be taken from her mom.
“Come on, your mom needs some time to herself. Let’s go.”
As he reached for her hand she slapped it as hard as she could and screamed.
“No! I want to stay with Mama!”
“Gabi…”
“No!”
James sighed and shook his head, then walked back to the front part of the clinic.
“Told you so,” her mother snorted.
“And yet I don’t see you lifting a finger to correct her behavior.”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter.”
“I’ll stop telling you how to raise her once you actually start doing so.”
Gabi wasn’t quite sure why what James said was hurtful, but she could tell by her mother’s explosive reaction that it was. The banshee-like scream made Gabi scurry to the bed and cover her ears until the outburst was over. She stayed frozen on the covers for a minute before cautiously venturing out to the main clinic. James was gone, and her mother was muttering curses. Her hands were weaving green strips into the mat with speed and fury. When her mother calmed down a little bit, Gabi walked up behind her mom and threw her tiny arms around her shoulders. She squeezed down in the hardest embrace that she could muster.
Gabi was about to say how much she loved her mother when her hug was shrugged off, and repaid with a cold voice. “Not now, Mija.”
Her lip trembled and she sobbed softly as she made her way to the back of the clinic and collapsed on the bed.
I just want you to love me, Mama. Please, just love me.
Calvin McLaughlin
1 May, Year of Landing, 17:55
Michael
Sleep was not something that Calvin had been well acquainted with for the last week. Yet something about this night’s restlessness was different. It was all emotion and thought, he knew, and trying to put a finger on the issue would be as easy as trying to force the two moons to align. He knew what he had been sent to talk to Colonel Dayton about, but something else entirely had occupied his mind.
He paced the lower gallery, circling the aft stairwell that connected the two decks. The lower deck’s lighting was extinguished; only the dim glow of the upper gallery’s fixtures kept him from stubbing his toes on any of the ship’s fixtures.
Did it really all have to break down like this?
There was nothing that could be done to repair the past. Cal knew that, and had learned to accept it. What ate at him was the fact that Colonel Eriksen had never explained his actions in the end. Members of both crews were still clueless as to why a river had to separate the camps, and why blood had to be shed. But Cal had also seen that there was another man just as distraught by the outcome as he.
What the hell was it, anyway? What hasn’t he told us?
Cal’s hands fell on the ladder up, and without thinking, he began to climb to the upper gallery. His mind still mulled over what could have caused three respected, high-ranking Air Force officers to be so at their throats that they let everything fall apart around them. Even as his strides carried him down the long corridor toward the bridge he tried to contemplate this, but the more he thought, the less he seemed to be able to understand.
None of it makes sense. It might as well have been Cam’s sandwich theory.
He passed through the airlock at the end of the gallery and passed through. Only when his left hand gripped the cold, steel railing standing silently beside the stairs to the bridge did he pause for a moment. He looked back into the seemingly unending hallway he had trod, realizing only now that he was about to intrude completely unannounced on the only man who could answer his questions. Cal turned to walk away from the bridge, but stopped himself.
No, he thought. He has to tell us. I can’t let him keep
the crew in the dark any more.
Cal turned back to the bridge. His nerves rose as he mounted each tread, but he steeled his resolve and pressed on. He quickly reached the command platform on the dark bridge. The strip lighting built into the bulkhead at the rear of the bridge was not illuminated, and it took Cal a moment to realize that the command chair was facing him and vacant, contrary to his expectations. He sighed and padded toward the chair, while craning his neck upward to view the brilliant glittering trail of stars in the black void beyond the world.
He reached the chair and ran his fingers along the worn padded armrests. The temptation to take a place on the seat of authority was too much to resist, and he lowered his body onto it. He curled the tips of his fingers over the forward edges of the rests, feeling the vinyl covering give way to brushed aluminum. Cal leaned his weight all the way back into the chair and turned it around to look again at the night sky.
The dark silhouette of Arion had already peaked and was beginning its slow plunge to the horizon, while Persephone’s brilliant globe emerged from behind the thousands of needle-like trees in the distance. He smiled and sighed deeply.
It almost makes me not miss Earth. Almost.
Cal’s heart jumped into his throat and he nearly leaped out of his skin when he heard Colonel Dayton’s voice from the darkness of the bridge.
“Quite a sight there, isn’t it, Mr. McLaughlin?” the commander asked.
He stumbled and wheeled around, trying to find where the colonel was. After a full rotation, he finally found him, sitting at one of the forward nav stations. His legs were resting on the inactive terminal in front of him, and he was leaning back for a full view through the canopy. His dark uniform concealed him well; it was only the light of Persephone that allowed Cal to finally perceive his presence.
“It is,” Cal replied, trying to pass off his surprise.
“It makes me wonder something, though.”
Cal waited for Dayton to continue, but after a few seconds of silence, he prompted, “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Years from now, or maybe even decades, do you think that we’ll have a new space program on this planet? That our descendants will be shooting for these moons here? And which one would they visit first?”
Cal leaned back in the command chair and considered Dayton’s question. He hadn’t thought about anything of the sort before; it was all Cal could do to imagine what the colony would look like a year from now. But the question was valid, if not entirely academic. With humans being technologically advanced enough to start an extrasolar colony, it was almost certain that, once humanity had a chance to rebuild, they would start their journey into space again.
“That’s a good question. I’d say they’re going to go to Persephone first.”
“Hmm. Why’s that?”
“Well, I guess some people are superstitious, and that’s not likely to change in the future. A lot of people are afraid of the dark, so they’re not going to want to go to the dark moon.”
“Reasonable logic.”
Awkward silence spanned several minutes as Cal bounced back and forth between thinking of the future and gathering the courage to confront Dayton. It was hard to want to press the colonel when Cal was looking at him as a man looking to the skies and dreaming of what was yet to come. Cal wished that Dayton had been working; he thought about how much easier it would have been to walk up and demand answers.
Dayton pointed a finger up high and drew a shape in the air with it. “That one looks like a really flat version of the Big Dipper. It’s not, of course. All the constellations are different here. They either don’t exist from this angle, or their shapes are really screwed up. I guess that means we need to make new constellations, right?”
Just do it. Just stand up and do it.
He heard Dayton sigh. “But you’re not here to talk about astronomy.” He rose from his seat and climbed to the command platform, then leaned against the railing in front of Cal, crossing his arms. “So what is it, Mr. McLaughlin?”
“It’s time you come clean, sir,” he replied, making sure to enunciate each syllable to keep from stuttering.
“About what?”
“About you and Eriksen. And Fox, too. Why you three were always fighting. Why it is that we’re sitting across the river from the rest of the colonists, fighting instead of working side by side.”
Colonel Dayton shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That there was some grand argument between us that caused this rift? That there was something so goddamned important that the three of us knew or felt that meant we couldn’t avoid this? No, Mr. McLaughlin, there wasn’t.”
“But you have to know something. Before we landed, Cameron said that you three had fights back on Earth. What were they about?”
“Hell, I can’t remember all of them now. Some of them were over really insignificant shit. There was this one time I swear that Fox and Eriksen were going to gang up and beat the living tar out of me because I didn’t ask them if they wanted me to pick up lunch for them from the mess hall on the way to a command briefing. My sandwich ended up all over the floor after Fox slapped it out of my hand.”
“Wait, a sandwich?” Cal repeated in disbelief. There was actually an argument over a sandwich?
Dayton shoved his hands in to his uniform’s pockets and slowly walked to the side of the command chair. He faced toward the rear of the bridge when he stopped, showing Cal only the profile of his face.
“I didn’t even care about the thing they argued about the most. Hell, I was ready to quit the project and ask to be transferred to a combat role because that’s how little it mattered. But I knew it was too late to train another commander, so I stayed.”
“They? So it was really Fox and Eriksen that had a beef with each other?”
“That’s right.”
“So what was so important, then?”
Dayton sighed and laughed nervously. “Oh, God. It wasn’t important to me back then. I was so wrong, looking back. I should have worked harder to help them resolve the quarrel.”
“Resolve what?”
“A worst-case scenario. Colonial command structure in case the entire research staff was lost.” The thick vinyl back of the chair emitted a woeful groan as Dayton dug his fingers deep into it, clenching the fabric with all his might. “Doctor Benedict and his staff refused to play favorites or choose a leader. David said that it could lead to unnecessary resentment if the staff were to favor one over another. He wanted us to work it out, and we couldn’t. All we could do was bicker over whose service record was more illustrious, or who pulled more weight back at the compound. A couple days of arguing till we were seven different colors made me sick. I didn’t want it any more. I told them I was out, and they could fight over what was surely never going to happen.”
“But it did,” Cal added. The sorrow in the commander’s voice was evident, and for the first time, Cal felt sympathy for the colonel.
“I should have supported Colonel Fox. I may not have seen eye to eye with her all the time, but I know she had a harder path than any of us to get her command. She wouldn’t have failed us. Ol’ Charlie Eriksen would have had a fit, but we at least would have had the structure.”
“And the same problem. Colonel Fox died with everyone else on Raphael.”
Colonel Dayton nodded and relaxed his death grip on the chair. “You’re too damn wise for such a young kid.”
“If I was wise, I wouldn’t have let you send me across that river,” Cal said sullenly.
“And if I had my wits about me I wouldn’t have sent either of you across. Cameron’s death was all my fault.”
“You didn’t pull the trigger. You had no way of knowing.”
“I should have known. After Eriksen landed on the far side, I should have known. It was a clear message.”
Cal stood up and pushed on the colonel’s shoulder, turning him face to face. “Cam’s death was as much his fault as yours. He was the one who went against your orders and
brought a gun. He was the one who drew it during the shootout. He made himself a target.”
“To protect you,” the colonel added.
“And how do you think it would have played out if you had sent Hunter instead?” Cal snapped back. “Or Lieutenant Josephson? Cam was the right choice to send with me, and he died doing his duty.”
“That he did.” Colonel Dayton’s jaw seemed to clench after he uttered the bitter words. “Doesn’t make it any less bitter of a pill.” He sighed heavily, the kind of sigh that weighed down a whole room. “I’m tired, Mr. McLaughlin.”
“Of what, sir?”
“Everything. Powdered eggs. Picking bugs out of my crap coffee. The lies and distrust. The death. Nothing has gone right since we got here.”
“We’re still alive,” Cal joked half-heartedly.
“We are,” Dayton replied coldly.
Cal walked to the railing just above the nav stations and gripped the cold metal in his hands as he leaned on it. Persephone was well above the horizon, and Arion’s form was slowly morphing into the silhouette of a distant mountain peak. He heard the groan of the command chair’s upholstery as Dayton slumped down into it.
“I’ve talked to Darius,” Cal blurted as the silence began to weigh on him. “He said that Colonel Eriksen accused him of being a ‘sympathizer’ before trying to exile him to our camp.”
“A sympathizer?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Sympathizing with whom?”
“He thinks Eriksen meant us.”
“That would explain why Ol’ Charlie was upset at Mr. Owens, at least.”
Cal bit his lip and delved deep into thought. Sympathy for the Michael crew might get Owens banished from Gabriel, but it didn’t explain the division in the first place. Cal knew there was another factor; something that Colonel Dayton did differently than Colonel Eriksen.
“Why didn’t you prosecute Major Forrest?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t be worth it. He’s not going anywhere. I’d rather have him working to better the colony than imprisoned. Or dead.”
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 81
