Senior Chief of Electronics Dhaval Jaheed knew that was unfair assessment of a large portion of the ISLAND, but in the presence of so many undocumented, unbundled, ungrounded, and unfamiliar wires, connectors, cables, circuits, and other forms of electronic mayhem before him, gave him pause to curse the wretched ship. It was a safety inspector’s worst nightmare, and the Red Zone was already an extremely dangerous, almost mystical, place, quarantined from entrance by all travelers aboard the ISLAND.
Senior Chiefs never sent technicians into the area, mostly because they never needed to, but the occasion had arisen today, much to the dread of every technician under Dhaval’s supervision. His rank of ISLAND Senior Chief of Electronics gave him seniority over every electrician or technician aboard the Sierra Madre, and made him the only person he was willing to send into such a hazardous portion of the ship. The rest of them were all back in the Green Zone, the outer layer of the ship that surrounded the Red Zone like an egg encasing its yolk.
Despite knowing it was in his best interest to focus on his work, it was difficult for Dhaval not to wonder exactly what kind of genius would let something as important as an ISLAND Liner fall into such disarray. ISLANDs were the sole means of transportation to Earth’s colonies, and the only way to keep humanity’s presence amongst the stars connected. The mess he was in now was a disgrace to mechanics, technicians, electricians, and engineers alike, but he supposed that’s what happened after hundreds of years of neglect.
“Find the breaker yet, Chief?” Asked an unwelcome voice that infiltrated every recess of his mind. It came so suddenly that Dhaval stumbled from his perch overlooking the exact breaker box he had in fact been searching for. He shot his hand out to seize the nearest stabilizing handle, only to have it break away from the shaft in his grip. His life was spared by a safety cable that secured his belt to a ladder rung – which amazingly held firm. Dhaval dangled there for a few moments, his forehead glistening with sweat as he stared down the conduction shaft, noticing the green safety lights fixed to the wall descend only about ten meters before becoming overwhelmed in darkness. The shaft descended for hundreds of kilometers, all the way to the Core, but few knew what was down there.
Dhaval touched a red button on his exo-suit, and a small object shot out from a mechanism on his back. The magnetic wafer attached itself to the metal wall and reeled him back into a standing position upon his perch. Once upright, he deactivated the magnetic anchor and took a deep breath as it recoiled.
“Chief?” Came the disjointed voice in his head again, somewhat more worried this time.
Dhaval gritted his teeth in frustration and keyed his com. “This is Senior Chief Jaheed. I’ve found the conduit. Initiating repairs now.”
“Copy that, Chief. Be careful down there. Some of that equipment could be a hundred years old.”
Dhaval paused for the briefest of seconds in frustration before returning to his work.
As far as he knew, he was the first person to visit this realm of the ISLAND since the last round of ship wide upgrades and renovations that had expanded the Sierra Madre’s overall size and mass to its current level. There may have been the riff raff and Unwanteds who had inherited the bowls of the ship over the past few centuries, but even they were smart enough to stay out of the conduction shafts and rarely breached the Red Zone.
The only reason he was even down here was because the ISLAND’s Senior Systems Officer had identified a small power drain that originated in the very spot Dhaval now occupied, one that threatened the ship’s next WeT Jump. Such a problem hadn’t arisen in the thirty-five years since Dhaval had been conscripted to work aboard the Sierra Madre, but it wasn’t Dhaval’s position to question how such a problem had arisen. His job was simply to fix the broken conduit and bring the conduction shaft back to peak efficiency. All he cared about was that the one hundred year old power box he was currently manhandling seemed repairable. He pulled a data cable from his chest rig and jacked it into a port that seemed like it would accommodate the plug. Numbers and figures poured across the Lens in front of his left eye, most of which was meaningless gibberish even for someone as experienced as Dhaval, but he comprehended enough to tell him it was at least fixable.
Just as Dhaval thought he had enough information to begin, he heard a loud metallic bang above him that reverberated through the shaft. It was repeated a number of times before ending just as suddenly as it began. It sounded like someone carelessly knocking over machinery as they moved through the area.
“Hello?” Dhaval called into the darkness, knowing he was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t been sure what he’d heard, but it sounded distinctly like moving people. “Hello?” He repeated. “Is anyone there?”
Only silence answered him.
Dhaval shrugged and eyed the darkness above him one last time before returning to his work.
You’re getting paranoid in your old age, Dhaval.
He shifted in his seat and got comfortable on his perch, locking his exo-suit into a comfortable sitting position for a long repair job. The Sierra Madre wasn’t due to depart on its two year voyage for another nine hours, and Dhaval had no idea how long this was going to take. The last thing he wanted to do was report a failure to Ship Master Na and risk delaying the ISLAND’s departure time. This was the young woman’s first voyage as ship master of an ISLAND Liner, and rumor had it that she was as ruthless as she was new to the position. Upsetting her would not bode well for even a veteran like Dhaval Jaheed, for no matter how good he was, he was still an Indian aboard an ISLAND – little more than a slave on a farm.
Earth /
Havana, Cuba /
ISLAND Departure Spaceport /
11.06.2595
08:00:00 Zulu
In a time of great prosperity, the most obvious course of action is towards progress.
Growth.
Modernization.
To build towards the future and create a utopia of high tech splendor.
It’s what happened in the days following the end of Earth’s population crisis and later economic boom that came with the advent of interstellar trade and colonization only a century ago. Cities across the globe became shining, glimmering metropolises of glass and light, more beautiful than ever, but not Havana. Its spaceport may be the sole means of transportation to the High Earth Orbit ISLAND Docking Facility in the western hemisphere, and a prosperous city because of it, but it appeared little more than a dirty small town on the cusp of social annihilation.
At least that’s how it seemed like to Carl Lawson as he sat in a local cantina, waiting for the departure time for his shuttle to arrive. The seedy bar was something out of a Western vid, an entertainment genre made famous once again after centuries in obscurity. It was a setting that belonged in a museum, like the one Lawson had in fact seen at the Cleveland Museum of Ancient American History when he was eight years old. The only difference being the lack of holographic personifications of living, breathing humans performing any number of mundane, yet clichéd tasks like bartending, piano and card playing, wenching, and the like. This bar was authentic, with real live people enjoying the relaxed, stress free setting which Havana still exuded. On any other day, Lawson probably could have died content as he sat among fellow travelers in seek of a cold cerveza, but life was never completely stress free, especially not with his folks visiting to see him off.
“This isn’t what you want to do,” his father, John Lawson, said from across the table. “ISLANDs only come back to Earth every three years.”
“About two actually,” Carl Lawson replied, not understanding his parents sudden desire to dissuade him from leaving. He ignored his father and turned towards the bartender. “Señor, otra cerveza, por favor.” The bartender nodded and tossed him a can of beer and Lawson couldn’t help but smile.
Where has this place been all my life?
“But you won’t know anybody,” his mother, Eileen, chimed in with her ever chipper voice. “All your friends and family are on Earth, not
to mention your friends in the military.”
Outwardly, his mother was the sweet and caring type you’d find in any homestead across the galaxy, but Carl had known the truth behind it since he was a toddler. Underneath that façade of motherly kindness was the attitude of a woman who simply didn’t give a shit, and only kept up her disguise to fit in with societal pressures. The fact that she still treated him like a child, instead of the forty-five year old man that he was, said something about her. She was the kind of person who would shop for yet another needless product to sooth her own fickle desires on her Lens’ Inter-Lens Service, while maintaining only the barest semblance of attention during what someone else would consider a very personal conversation.
“Mom,” Carl said with a sigh. “Why do you think I’m even doing this? The only friend I still have left is coming with me, so why stay.”
The statement wasn’t a question, and he didn’t expect his mother to answer anyway. Not because she knew it hadn’t been a question, but because he knew she didn’t actually care.
John Lawson ignored his wife and pressed on. “You realize, son, that if you leave, you’ll be doing little more than admitting your own guilt and running away in shame?”
Carl turned away from his mother, who no longer seemed interested, preoccupying her attention instead on the young Cuban bartender whose biceps were at risk of bursting through the sleeves of his tropical style shirt. He fixed his father with a stern gaze and lowered his voice.
“Is that why you’re here? To convince me to stay on a world that would rather see me hung by the gallows because the firing squad would be too quick? There’s nothing left for me here. At least if I go, I can visit in a few years when things have quieted down. In time… who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to return one day.”
“No one is saying you should go on the Lens and draw attention to yourself, son, but if you stay and lead a quiet life, at least you can say you kept your honor intact and stood your ground.”
“Whose honor exactly am I protecting? Yours or mine? Better be careful, dad. You don’t want to be taken off the list of all those holiday parties you’re always invited to.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m past caring about whether what happened was your fault or not, but our reputation has already been blemished by all this as it is, and the only thing you can do to repair it is to stare your accusers in the face and refuse to admit defeat.”
“I already did that. Don’t you remember when they stripped me of my rank and all my accomplishments and held me up as an example to save face with the Chinese? No, I did my part thank you much. I think I’m well and done with all that bullshit.”
John Lawson folded his arms and glared at his son, watching as Carl swallowed that last of his beer.
“Don’t do this, Carl. Don’t expect a home to come back to if you do.”
Carl smirked at his father and picked up his travel bag before getting to his feet and throwing some anachronistic monetary coins down on the table. Physical money may have been extinct on Earth for centuries now, but for those traveling to the outer colonies, it was a necessity, not to mention for those few who knew to stop at this lovely hole-in-the-wall before departure. “Don’t worry, father. I haven’t been coming back to one since the day you tried to save your own face in all this at no one’s expense but my own.”
With nothing left to say to his father, he reached out and grabbed his mother’s arm before passing by her. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, knowing he’ll miss her despite all her faults. “Say goodbye to Lilly for me, mom.”
Eileen flicked her eyes away from her beefcake pretty for just a second. “Oh, your sister will miss you terribly. Won’t that help you cha…”
“Goodbye, mom.”
“Oh, well, goodbye, dear.” She turned back to her lustful desire and said nothing else.
Lawson looked back at his parents, now both ignoring him for completely different reasons. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. His own parents had turned their backs on him in a time when he needed them the most. When the entire world was against him, he should have been able to turn to them and expect comfort and reassurance, but no such sentiment existed, and he was on his own.
Carl Lawson versus the universe.
He turned and headed towards the door, stopping only briefly to take in the surreal atmosphere of one of the most unique places he’d ever visited. With a nod of approval he walked out into the dusty streets and turned north towards the only sign of progress and hope as far as the eye could see: the spaceport.
And his future.
High Earth Orbit /
ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre – Green Zone /
Command Deck – Bridge /
11.06.2595
08:35:16 Zulu
“Ship’s status?”
“All indicators save one show green, ma’am.”
“What’s the situation in Power Conduction Shaft – Delta? Are we on still on schedule?”
“Senior Chief of Electronics Jaheed is on it, ma’am. His controller indicates he should have the problem locked down well before our time of departure.”
“Good,” Ship Master Mei-Xing Na replied behind a hard smile, pleased at her new crew’s performance.
She abhorred incompetency – a cancer that had to be rooted out of as soon as it was discovered – and would not have been pleased with lackluster personnel. Whether her perfectionism was a byproduct of her Chinese ancestry or her own tenacity for perfection was anyone’s guess, but she knew that her own personal level of expectation came from hard work and a selfless dedication to the fruition of her life’s goals, and today would mark her first steps towards fulfilling her destiny. Today, she would take her first voyage as the ship master of an ISLAND Liner, and she wasn’t about to let incompetency blemish such a step.
“Ship Master,” another voice called out from her right. “Docking Control has indicated the first wave of shuttles are on approach. We should expect our first class passengers to arrive within the hour.”
Mei-Xing nodded, but a sneer crossed her face at the continued use of the Common language amongst her crew. It was an excessively antiquated speech, an ugly speech, burdened and littered with the drivels of the old English language.
It may have been the language of international trade, commerce, and cooperation centuries ago, but the galaxy is so much bigger now! She thought. With Chinese as the dominant language on more planets than any other, isn’t it time for us to speak our own language, with our own people, on our own ships?
She frowned. There was little hope to be found in such thoughts. The Americans were still too heavily involved in galactic affairs for Common to just go away, even if all they’d been reduced to was a security guard for planet Earth. There was also the problem that while all ISLANDs were crewed by Chinese, they were still staffed by their subservient Indians, creating yet another language barrier. Mei-Xing sighed to herself. Since Common was taught to every new born baby alongside their own native languages, there was no way to change the status quo now.
No matter how disgusting it felt on Mei-Xing’s tongue.
“Ship Master?” The voice spoke again.
“Very good, Mister Chen,” She said, glancing at the chronograph in the upper right hand corner of the oval Lens situated in front of her left eye.
08:36:02.
Only a minute late. She supposed that was within even her standard of punctuality, especially considering how complex the last twenty four hours before an ISLAND launch was.
She blinked and sent a slight mental nudge towards her Lens, and a visual feed of the docking bay sprang into view. She saw the deck crew scurrying about with guidance lights in their hands, red carpets sprawled along the deck to help facilitate the boarding of travelers, and concierges, ready at the beck and call of any passenger to set foot aboard the Sierra Madre.
Good, good.
With another mental nudge, the Lens feed shifted back to her To-Do-List, whic
h she kept as her default setting. She checked off the numbered event concerning the arrival of passengers and looked at the next thing on the list. She already knew what it was, but the internal comfort of continuously checking her lists gave her piece of mind. Item number five for the day was to rest until 14:00:00 when the next item on her list came about. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning, but she’d already been on the bridge for nine hours performing the ISLAND’s pre-flight check lists with her bridge crew. Feeling weariness creeping in, she stood and surveyed the bridge.
The bridge was built like the quarter of a sphere removed from the remainder, with the ship master’s at the very center, raised above all other stations by a semicircular platform about a meter above the deck. Arrayed around her from left to right, along the curved interior of the viewport that encased the bridge were her officers’ duty stations. Everything from navigation to communication to ship’s systems and a half dozen other flight sensitive tasks. Beyond these stations, wrapping around the entirety of the curved section of the bridge, was the transparent viewport that connected the bridge to the emptiness of space. It wrapped above and behind and around Mei-Xing as she stood at the foot of her dais, and all she could see was space. It was something she had enjoyed immensely since her first moment on the bridge of her new command only one week ago.
Immaculate, the bridge was lit with bright lights and streamlined interfaces. It had red carpeting on the floor and wood paneling along the bulkheads, luxury items that simply screamed: civilian. It was nothing like the cold steel and colorless white Mei-Xing had seen aboard the Allied Space Navy’s ships of war she had toured during her training.
Interestingly, she had to admit that she approved of the sterility of those ships more.
Finally, directly behind the ship master’s chair was the lift, which she promptly started for.
“XO,” she said as she stepped off her dais. A small man with a well-greased comb over straightened from his position overlooking the shoulder of the ship’s Communication Officer.
A Hunter and His Legion (The Praetorian Series Book 3) Page 54
