Annika peers around the Belovore's side, a look of sadness pulling the grin away from her lips. Perhaps that’s the look she'd always worn. She isn't growling at him, nor is she mocking him. She isn't the girl he'd seen at all. Her blonde hair hangs light over her soft, supple neck, teasing a face adorned with fear. Her frame is small and slender, frail. Her eyes well up with tears as Perry watches her lips mumble something he can't hear.
Velric kneels down beside the Admiral; the creature's form shifts back and forth in fluid motion as the Admiral's sight blurs. His leg throbs from the thigh down to his toes. "Your people, they'll die out there; I sent them to their deaths," Admiral Perry whispers, believing that each word was something he shouldn't hold on to. "I'm sorry."
Velric leans in close; Perry notices a small bullet sized indention on the Belovore's chest, right above where a human's heart would be. The hole didn't penetrate the armour, and the bullet wasn't there.
Velric places a hand on the Admiral's shoulder. It’s strangely soft, feathery, and even through the Belovore's thick plating it feels like there’s something kind and gentle . Two guards fumble about his body, ripping through his uniform and groping at the part of his leg that throbs with a pain that Perry's anguished mind can't comprehend. It reminds him of his early days in the Earth Militia, long before he'd known that Irene was a ship destined for his command. It triggers the scent of gunpowder, old and ancient; it brings out the taste of acrylic flash powder, the kind used in more modern firearms.
"You're going to be fine Admiral," Russell says while Benn cuts off the leg of Perry's pants. Benn wraps a long stretch of fabric around the bulk of his thigh. He catches stray strands of phrases mumbled by voices he can't place: "Damn, the bullet bounced back and hit you… had to put it on full power, didn't you … Well, at least Velric slowed it down…"
He watches Velric lean in again, stealing Perry's attention from his periphery. He can’t believe the bullet bounced off the Belovore and hit him – though he knows he deserves it. "We are stronger than you give us credit for, Langston Perry. Annika took your blame; the burden of our fate is no longer yours to carry.”
Admiral Perry sets his head back on the floor and closes his tired eyes. He drowns out the pain, the sound of the room, the murmurings of his lieutenant and the panicked voices of the crowd, to focus on the only memory he can muster: Velric walking into the Irene that first day, asking to touch the ship that they couldn’t believe existed. They’d had the future before them, the belief that they could make their new home a better place. In the crowded foyer, Admiral Perry inhales the first deep breath he can muster through the pain, and weeps.
He is forgiven. As are we all.
After we’d finished reading the story Davion had written, we sat in silence.
‘We wouldn’t be alive now without her,’ Davion’s words echoed off the walls. I could hear them in the back recesses of my mind, but I couldn’t fathom what kind of damage they’d done to Annalise. If we were to be rescued by whatever Father Corin and his Forgiven planned, the first place to look was in the book. The answers were there, true. But we could only sense the shape they’d hoped to make. If you can only see the shape now too, then maybe there is hope for my own salvation after all. But one thing was absolutely clear in that moment: if Annalise was to be saved from the fears and anger from the responsibilities now foisted upon her, then I had to save her.
Chapter Eleven:
Confrontation
After Annalise, Kayt, and I examined Davion’s book, we had time. None of us wanted to talk, so we sat on the beds and closed our eyes. I was more concerned with Annalise than Kayt. I could see that Kayt wanted revenge for Lancaster now, and had put the urge to blame herself to the side. Every sound from the corridor made her twitch, and she clenched her fists together in her lap. Annalise sat still, perfectly silent. Even when a large crate was dropped near our door, clamouring loudly against the stone, Kayt and I jumped – but Annalise acted as if nothing had happened.
The room wasn’t cold; however, it was not as cold as it could have been. An internal heating system piped in warm air from a vent on the floor next to the bed I sat on. I couldn’t imagine the vent systems built under all the stone and rocks that made the foundation. My mind drifted inwards as I shifted my weight around and rested on the bed. An unspoken thought rebounded through all of us, and maybe that’s why we couldn’t look at each other: the night would be very long if we were left alone.
We all sat in silence; we waited for Davion or Father Corin to return. I fell asleep without realizing it, completely oblivious to how tired I was.
Ever since International Aeronautics re-pioneered the commercial spaceflight industry, travel has gone in three segments – provided you’ve booked a one way flight. The first is transport to the main ship, the second is the journey, and the third is the disembarkation flight. Each ship is modified and geared towards its task, but you don’t pay extra unless you want a fancier suite on the primary flight. Many people experience long nights on the primary. It makes me think of an academic paper I read long ago, before St. Michel’s, about the sudden influx of topics such as ‘My First Star-Flight’ and ‘What I Did While Waiting For The Dis-Embarking’ on grade school papers, even up to grad school. A by-product of cultural change, the paper called it. They were all focused on how much time there was to think on-board. I understood exactly what that meant when I first left Earth, and hopped on board the Korsikov bound for Sondranos – many things could seem long, but when you have no sunrise or sunset, it feels like time has ceased to exist.
I’d been sitting in the air terminal, waiting for them to call the Sondranos ticket. I was surprisingly calm – my mind was still solidly made up that leaving Earth was a good idea, and that I had to get out before everything I loved was gone or downgraded. When they called it, I boarded one of the sixteen world-wide transports bound for the star-liner Korsikov. I was upgraded to business class for a small sum when the airline personnel discovered that only seven people would be making the flight. I asked the ticketing agent why the flight was still going, and the answer was succinct:
‘You don’t fly if you have no people these days, Mr Bishop,’ the ticketing agent scanned my ticket, checked my ID. ‘Colonies don’t run on warm bodies.’
Feeling awkward, but grateful for the distraction, I boarded.
I boarded with a family of three: a mother, father, and their teenage son. The boy wanted to be anywhere else but there. It could only have been a family vacation. Transport seats are naturally small, but smaller if you have a carry-on. I didn’t, so I enjoyed the leg room and the lack of something looming overhead on the wire rack. The family balanced three large suitcases and two smaller bags in the seats surrounding. I didn’t speak to them, and they didn’t speak to me.
I would be remiss to say that I didn’t consider what I left behind. Occasionally, my mind drifted alongside what I would be leaving behind: Daniel, St. Michel’s, and my rent payments. Taxes would build up, and so would late-payments, especially if they had to declare me as a delinquent on account of having abandoned the place. It would take Daniel less than twenty-four hours to know I was gone. I pulled out the computer touchpad situated in the armrest, and switched it on. That was when I started transferring money and put a hold on my Earth account. Daniel knew the password to my online information, and would have easily been able to see that I’d bought a ticket to Sondranos – however, locking the account froze all activity, blocking recent purchases from sight.
The Korsikov was the quintessential International Aeronautics vessel. Long and sleek, nothing like the bulky ancient derelicts or colony vessels. Two large beams stretched from port to stern, and the command bridge stared out from the front end with two large spotlights. The lights came from visual sensors which projected the surroundings to the bridge. Dozens of the same lights lined the top and bottom of the ship. Two on the bottom flickered sporadically, and I could already see repair crews in EVA suits fumbling out of a h
atch to fix them.
When I would see the Irene descending on Sondranos some time later, I wouldn’t even consider that they’d come from the same shipyard only four hundred some-odd years apart.
The Captain greeted us at the Korsikov’s hatch. The other passenger transports had been staggered for the last six hours. When we arrived, he’d received us with a book clenched in his hand and a tired look pulling down his features. His smile was the only thing about him that seemed welcoming – the rest was precise and methodical. I felt safe looking at him, which is exactly what I was supposed to feel.
‘Going straight to, or connecting?’ he asked.
‘Connecting where?’
‘You’re either going to visit Sondranos proper, or going to the Munich colonies half a dozen clicks away.’
‘Ah. Straight to Sondranos.’
‘Good man,’ he clapped me on the back. I wouldn’t see him beyond this moment, unless you count hearing his voice on ship updates or the videos they posted through the entertainment system, where he gave visual tours of the bridge and a couple instructional videos on spaceflight for the younger generation.
I started through the cabin hatchway and looked into the next compartment. Dozens of seats lined the wall, a couple with monitors attached to thin rods. Again, no windows. This was the waiting room. Beyond it was crew quarters, followed by recreational rooms, a theatre, a casual dining hall, a formal dining hall, and then the passenger quarters. On nearly every deck below us, –– this was repeated, save for the theatre.
Each floor had something different in place of the theatre. Ten decks and that was the only variation. My quarters were on the second floor, where the theatre space had been turned into a kennel. You might be wondering why they took off – much as I did. It took six days for me to learn why the Korsikov took off with such a small amount of people on board. Aside from crew, roughly eighty percent of the passenger quarters had been gutted and filled with anything the Munich colonies needed to rebuild after a powerful solar tropical storm. Giant locks were situated on the doors, and I only caught a glimpse when a crewman slipped inside to check on the foodstuffs.
Ironically, now that I think of it, there were enough raw materials and basics on the Korsikov that voyage to rebuild Sondranos into the Stone Age. If only they’d had the ability to shorten travel to a few weeks back when the colony was founded, ships like the Korsikov would have prevented the attack from ever happening. Then again, just like what I’m doing now, afterthought can serve as the answer to anything if you dwell on it long enough.
I turned back to the Captain before heading down the hallway to find my quarters, ‘Is it nice there?’
With nobody behind me, he’d opened his book. He looked up from it, beyond the rim of his glasses. ‘On Sondranos? Sure. Self-sustaining, so you don’t need to worry about going hungry. Wonderful night-life. If I wasn’t charging forward after disembarkation, I’d love to go down there for a night or two. There’s this wonderful little place called the Davies’ Pub. You should try it. Blend of old Earth cuisine with a high content nutrient base. You’ll be full for hours.’
‘What about activities?’
‘Well, depends on your pleasure. Do you like escapism, or involvement?’
I held back a nervous laugh. ‘Escapism, I suppose.’
The Captain brandished his book. I’m sure I would have recognized it if I’d looked. ‘Good, then you’ll want to visit the literary quarter. Apparently, Sondranos has a large collection of literature from the colonies and Earth. They say it’s how the colony was founded - on the backs of books. These things got spines that last for longer than you might think. Don’t know how it shaped them, though. Don’t much care as long as they keep doing what they do. They’re mostly digital, but they can print a book out for you if you haven’t got the device yet. It’s where I got this one.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. I started down the rest of the hatchway and smelled something cooking. I’d supposed it was breakfast time somewhere, and I hadn’t bothered with checking the time since the transport up.
‘You know, we got a fine selection of books here. Some my own private stock,’ The Captain called out. ‘You’re more than welcome to borrow one if you need something to read. What’s your fancy?’
‘I like historical.’
‘A man after my own heart,’ the Captain said. ‘Door’s open. Anytime!’
I walked the length of the ship, and the Captain’s words still rang in my ears. I would take him up on his offer and pick up a novel about the founding of the Munich colonies – since that was where the ship headed next. My reasoning was that it would give me an idea of where to go on vacation, although I’d also considered being a stow-away just to get further away from Earth.
While/As I shuffled through the compartments, showing my ID card given at the time of arrival and my digital passport, I surveyed the pictures on the wall. Digitally printed lines of text explained that the Korsikov had been making the Sondranos run for less than five years, having taken over from its sister ship. Every year, the travel time got shorter thanks to more refined Aurichrome and engine stability.
By the time I reached the end of that particular hallway – stopping long enough at the awards for cruise service and pictures of the staff – I felt like I’d been walking for an hour. It had only been ten minutes. At the end, a man greeted me wearing a white uniform with the name of the ship embroidered on the lapel.
‘Welcome sir,’ he said. ‘My name is Echols. I will be your steward for your journey. May I tell you about the amenities in your room now, or would you like to take a moment to settle?’
I said now would be fine and he led me to my quarters talking about the coolant system, the pressurized shower, and the dozens of other trinkets I’d take for granted. He then displayed a charge sheet for things I had no reason to purchase. He concluded by stopping at my door and placing his hand on his chest. ‘I would like to welcome you to the Korsikov. You are heading to a glorious place, Mr. Bishop. I would gladly spend my vacation time there if I ever landed on a route synonymous with the Sondranos flight schedule.’
‘It seems a lot of people would like to go there,’ I mumbled.
‘Of course, sir. Do you have any questions before I leave?’
‘How is the economy there?’
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘Jobs. How easy is it to find a job?’
‘Depends on what you know, sir,’ he said. ‘But Sondranos offers much in the way of business. Family run shops, historical centres, data processing, public service, anything you would find on Earth – except for private sector. Those jobs are requisitioned through International Aeronautics’ Defense Fleet ships. They have pretty good weapons control laws, so it’s not really an issue. Unless you like beating people up. Then you can probably find a job as a bouncer, or something.’ He smiled and winked.
‘Thank you,’ I said. I nodded politely, and he did the same. We left with nothing more than ‘Have a good night.’
The room I’d spend the journey in was a handicapped room. A large open space between the door and bed left an empty spot where I could have rested maybe a dozen suitcases. The bathroom was the same – large, no tub, and two steel rods between the toilet and shower that could double as towel racks when not being used as stands. As for the bed, the spread was thick, and I contemplated calling the reception area for something thinner. Once night came, I found it worked quite well if I put the air conditioning unit on high.
There was always something to investigate: channels offered on the video screen, movies listed in the digital database; the near-to-constant stream of buffets on deck seven; entertainment by the handful, from trivia to bingo; and all of it was at my fingertips. I managed to convince myself at one point that I was on a planned trip, having muttered aloud while lying in bed, ‘Daniel would love this.’
This is what I dreamed in our cell at the MacKinnon Commune, and when I woke, I wanted nothing more than to be back on t
he Korsikov -even if it meant embracing my ignorance, and placing higher importance on selfish matters.
Kayt woke me when Father Corin slid the door open, allowing the hinges to alert us to his presence. Annalise pulled herself off the bed. She popped her neck. Her lips flattened, her eyes fixed on a point ahead of her, and she even adjusted her shirt in a way that brought out her chest. If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn she was getting ready for a job interview.
“The meal is ready,” Father Corin said.
“That’s perfect,” I said. “What are we having?”
“The feast will prepare you for morning,” he said. “As such, we have prepared potatoes and a dozen cuts of meats and cheeses. And a tart for dessert. Davion helped in the preparation. His charge also informed us that all you’d had to eat was on the road.”
His charge? That’s what Melanie had become – I wondered if she was aware.
“Show us the way,” I shrugged.
Father Corin smiled. He stepped out of the doorway and held out his hand. “If you will come, I would be delighted to escort you to the dining hall.”
I let Annalise and Kayt leave first. Kayt took Annalise’s hand and clenched it tightly enough to make the skin blush. None of us made eye contact. Father Corin stood by me as we left the way we’d come in. Half a dozen more crates had been stacked along the hallway. I looked behind and caught a glimpse of the gunshot damage on the wall, over which someone had placed a DO NOT TOUCH sign. As far as I knew, those weapons relied on pulses of energy. Much like armour piercing rounds, they could penetrate the covering of anyone’s armour by collapsing the integrity of the plates while maintaining the force of the propulsion. They would make good weapons against the Belovores, provided they were used for that purpose. I had the feeling, however, that their use was to support the Belovore cause.
Sondranos: The Narrative of Leon Bishop Page 21
