by C. Gockel
“Like during the Fight,” Nadia said.
“Right. At least we have choices now.” Alvarez placed one arm around Nadia and held the wheel with the other. The sunshine warmed their faces. He closed his eyes, seeing the orange and red colors through his eyelids. There was something about real sunshine that just couldn't be duplicated in space. Maybe it was the atmosphere's filtering effect on the UV radiation, or maybe it was the ionized air. Designers argued that they achieved identical results in orbiters, but for Alvarez the feeling was different.
Alvarez watched Nadia, keeping his eyes mostly shut to hide his glance. He knew they would be okay. They had been through a lot together. Although their marriage wasn't perfect, they were both committed. But not knowing where his paycheck would come from next month gnawed at him. Nadia was an artist—ceramics mostly. Her work helped, but it wasn’t enough to live on. Theirs was a common coupling, a highly specialized industrialist with a skilled artisan.
They had savings, several months’ worth. But Alvarez needed a plan. The idea of buying a share of a farm orbiter was attractive, a romantic notion for sure. And Nadia could work from anywhere. But Alvarez had never farmed in his life. His only real skills were leading men through cold deep space conditions and completing an assignment. He was a finisher, but that life was behind him, and now he had no idea where he was headed.
“Is Adam up yet?” he asked.
“He's been up for about thirty minutes. He's playing that game,” she said. Alvarez peered out toward the horizon. He could just barely make out their destination, the island that looked like a faint brown smudge above the green-blue water. He released the wheel of the craft. Instantly, the computer sensed his release and engaged the auto-pilot.
“I'm going downstairs,” he told Nadia. “Let me know if I'm needed. The auto-pilot should be able to finish the rest of the trip.”
Alvarez descended into the main living quarters. His eight-year-old son sat on a couch. On his head was a helmet covering his eyes and ears. He waved his hands wildly in front of his face. At times his whole body shifted from side to side, small seizure-like jerks.
Alvarez walked up to Adam without making a sound, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had. In one swift motion, Alvarez pulled Adam’s helmet off.
“Hey, what’d you do that for?” demanded Adam.
“You've had three months to play games. It's time for you and me to do some serious fishing.”
Adam's expression softened. A new spark was in his eyes. “Right now, Dad?”
“Soon. We should land on the beach in a couple of minutes. You know, I don't think your mother planned it this way on purpose, but fish usually bite in the morning or early evening. There's a pretty good chance we could catch our breakfast.”
“Really?” the boy beamed. It was times like this when Alvarez knew he had made the right decision quitting his colonel’s position. Adam needed his father.
“I don't see why not,” he answered. “But we have some training to do before we get out there. Has anyone ever shown you how to bait a hook?”
“Dad, I know all about it. Cast-off is a virtu-fishing tournament. But nobody uses bait and hooks anymore,” Adam said, dismayed.
“Cast-off?”
“The game,” Adam said, pointing at his helmet on the floor.
“Oh, the game. If they don’t use bait…”
“These,” Adam interrupted. He reached over to what looked like a brief-case lying on the floor. He opened it and pulled out an object shaped like a snake. Proudly, he lifted it above his head.
“How are we going to catch fish with that?”
“This is the new Sportsman's Trophy-hunter 3000. You operate it with my Virtu-kit. We're guaranteed to catch more fish with this, Dad. It's like swimming as the ultimate fish predator.”
Alvarez smiled. “Son, there's more to fishing than catching fish. I'm glad you've been practicing, but I'm going to show you how to fish the same way Grandpa Jack showed me.”
“Okay, Dad,” said Adam. Alvarez had told Adam the Grandpa Jack story several times before, about the last time he’d seen his father alive and how he’d only been a couple years older than Adam was now. The Grandpa Jack story was a primary reason why Alvarez had quit his Colonel’s position.
Alvarez heard the hum of the vessel's engines change. Then a dull thud came from the hull. “I think we’re there,” he said with a grin. The two raced up the stairs to see.
Nadia was packing a picnic basket. “Now, Adam,” she said, “be careful getting off the boat.”
“I will, Mom,” he said as he ran down the ship’s now separated helm, level with the beach. Adam jumped off and yelled, “Whoohoo!” The boy sprinted along the water’s edge.
Alvarez grabbed Nadia, kissed her, and then picked her up over his shoulder. “John, what are you doing?” she screamed. He carried her toward the water. “No!” she cried as he threw her into the approaching wave.
“Now we're on vacation,” Alvarez said.
“Come on, Adam. Let's get Dad,” Nadia shouted after resurfacing. The two chased Alvarez a few seconds until he admitted defeat. Down on his knees Alvarez heard the wave approach from behind before it crashed, burying him under water. The currents tore at his body, and sand and seaweed abraded him.
The three were all smiles and wet head-to-toe. Each crawled from the water and collapsed where the tide broke. The sun warmed their faces as the sea tried to retrieve them unsuccessfully.
Adam moved first. He jumped to his feet and disappeared up the beach. Nadia, eyes closed, searched for and found Alvarez's hand beside her. They were still for a moment. An eight-year-old’s joyous exclamations battled intermittent crashes.
Nadia opened her eyes. “Are you sure about turning off the electronics?”
“Absolutely positive,” Alvarez said.
“But what if someone gets hurt, or the boat malfunctions?”
“Then we'll turn them back on. All of life's a gamble, sweetie. And that includes staying in our nice, cozy orbiter for too long. It makes me crazy. You remember that study about longevity and terrestrial contact, don't you?”
“Yes, I guess I worry too much.”
“So, what's the plan, my lovely tour guide?” asked Alvarez.
“I'm going to set up the cabana while you and Adam try to catch breakfast.”
Alvarez gave her a peck on the cheek, then walked to Adam who was writing in the sand with a big stick. “Kiddo, I need you to look for the perfect fishing spot, while I get our gear.”
Adam dropped the stick, turned, and shouted “Okay,” as he ran up the beach.
Alvarez returned to the ship and grabbed the two rods and his tackle box. His name was on it, written by his nine-year-old self. He walked back to the beach and found Adam who was picking up seashells and tossing them in the water.
“Did you find a good spot?”
“I think so. It looks like there's a reef formation out past the breakers. Should be a perfect spot.”
“Reef formation? You learned about reefs in third grade?”
“No, not in school. From Cast-off.”
Alvarez shook his head. “I guess that game taught you something after all.” He looked but couldn't tell if there was a reef out there. He knew Novos put down artificial structures to imitate natural reefs. They had to if they wanted a reef ecosystem to develop in less than ten-thousand years. “Here son, this was your Grandpa Jack's rod.” Adam took the rod cautiously, like it was a priceless relic. In a way it was. Adam was a sweet kid that way.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you,” Alvarez said. Adam smiled without looking up. “If we had arrived just a little earlier,” Alvarez continued, “we would have had time to dig for sand-beetles. Live bait is always better.”
“Ewww!” Adam squeeled. “Don’t you mean dead bait?”
Alvarez gently ignored him. “But since the sun is already up, let's use my old stand-by.” He lifted two bucktail jigs for Adam to see. Adam bit his li
p, a doubtful expression on his face. The bronze hook was only partially hidden by the white tail feathers, and the generic eyes on the lure appeared to have been painted by hand. Alvarez took out a couple heavy tungsten-shots.
“What are those for?” Adam said.
“To get the lures where the fish are.” He pinched the dull-gray sinkers onto the lines. “Okay Adam, I'll let you cast first. Hold the bale arm with your finger like this, and let it go when you cast it.”
“I'm going to see how far I can throw it!” Adam said.
“Just don’t throw the rod.”
Alvarez tried to correct his hand placement, but the boy grew impatient. “I got. I got.” Alvarez stepped back as Adam whipped the rod backwards, his eyes fixed upward on the lure. He shifted his gaze forward and assumed a posture of great determination. Swiftly he cast his lure in a near-perfect arc. Adam jumped with excitement.
“Hang on to it,” shouted Alvarez.
“Where'd it go?”
“It's still in the air.” Alvarez covered his eyes with one hand and scanned the horizon.
“What's that?” said Adam pointing with his rod.
Alvarez looked and saw in the distance a ship coming towards them. He stared for several seconds, his mind not producing an explanation. “Reel it in, son. And get back to Mom.”
In under a minute, the ship was on shore. A man wearing a red Novos Corp uniform stepped off the boat. “Are you John Alvarez?”
“Who are you?” Alvarez said.
“We've been trying to reach you. What's wrong with your communications?”
“I thought I was on vacation.”
“Your comms—didn’t you receive…”
“They’re off,” Alvarez said bluntly. “What do you want?”
“McKinley says we need you now.”
“I don't work for McKinley anymore.”
“Yes, about that. McKinley said to remind you about your contract’s reactivation rider.”
Alvarez was stunned. The reactivation rider was a clause built into everyone's contract, at least people that flew missions. He thought it would have been left out when he changed positions but...
“Look, I know you’re supposed to be on vacation,” the man said. “But technically you are still employed by Novos. McKinley has decided to reactivate you for an additional six weeks.”
Alvarez had never heard of anybody getting reactivated. It was too expensive for Novos. The clause had a payout for three times the certs normally paid for hazard duty, a veritable fortune.
“I just talked to General McKinley yesterday, and he said nothing about this.”
“Something came up. You’re to be briefed back at Novos.”
“You don't have to do it,” Nadia said.
She was right. The worst that could happen would be that Novos would seek judgment via private arbitration. If he was found guilty of breach of contract—and he would be—the court would enter the infraction on his record. There was no prison cell waiting for him. They couldn’t fine him. But it would be a huge blemish on Alvarez's record, his reputation, his credit. He would have a hard time gaining employment from any of the major corporate settlements from then on. A relegation to work in refueling stations, piracy, or non-corporate space trade was almost unthinkable.
Alvarez looked at Nadia. She was holding back tears. He said, “This is the last time.”
Chapter Eight
THE MAN FROM Novos Corp said little to Alvarez during the long trip back to Novos. As their shuttle approached the station’s dark side, Alvarez realized they weren’t headed for the main transfer station.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Alvarez said.
The man looked out the window but said nothing. Somewhere on the outer rim, the shuttle docked at a transfer station that was unknown to Alvarez.
“Colonel Alvarez, please follow me,” the man said. Alvarez didn’t know why the man kept repeating the same order. After their encounter on the beach, Alvarez had been compliant.
The two exited the shuttle. The station was void of all the strenuous check-in and processing procedures Alvarez expected to see. Instead, there were two armed guards at the entrance to the main corridor. They made no physical or verbal gestures, unalarmed by Alvarez and the uniformed man.
“Where are we going?” Alavarez asked.
“To Novos Corp central command.”
Alvarez didn’t know whether to feel like a VIP or a prisoner. He kept waiting for a PTU to zoom to their location, but none came. He figured they must be in an off-grid section of the station.
He noticed the artificial gravity. Scientists argued there was no quantitative difference between terrestrial gravity and AG, but he always noticed a difference after being on-world. It was a disconcerting feeling, but he knew he would soon adjust. He would forget about it after a few days. A few days, he thought. How long would he be gone?
At the end of the corridor, Alvarez and his escort reached a door, ostensibly for an elevator. That meant there was only one entrance and, apparently, one exit. Inside the elevator, there were no buttons, no console, and no vidfeeds. Without the uniformed man speaking a destination, the transport started to move. Alvarez wasn’t sure, but he sensed they were moving upward.
As they exited, Alvarez recognized their location. He turned back and looked at the elevator doors with suspicion. In all the times he had visited General McKinley's office, he hadn’t noticed these doors hiding in plain sight. Or if he had, he never thought they were for an elevator. The secretary behind the desk said, “They’re waiting for you. Go right in.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Alvarez,” the uniformed man said.
Alvarez said nothing. He entered the office and found McKinley along with two other men sitting at a long boardroom table. The three stood to greet Alvarez. McKinley, despite his years, possessed a powerful presence. He was unquestionably the largest man in the room, broad shouldered and a head taller than the rest.
“John, thanks for coming in,” McKinley said.
Alvarez was usually nervous in these situations. But today, he was ticked. “Didn't have much choice.” He paused, then added, “Sir.”
“I know, I know. I hated to do it this way. But you'll understand why in a minute.” He gestured with his arm. “This is David Parker. He's the best space-architect we've got.”
Parker’s eyes were fixed on the floor, and his arms were wrapped around his waist. He hesitantly looked up at Alvarez and extended his hand. Alvarez still wasn't in the mood for socializing, but he had a hard time mistreating strangers. For all Alvarez knew, he and Parker were in the same boat. They shook hands, and Parker quickly sat down.
McKinley continued, “This is Dr. Michael Brenn...”
“We know each other,” Alvarez interrupted.
Other than smirking, Brennen didn't move a muscle. Unfazed, he continued reading over documents.
“Well then. Let me get down to business. Time isn’t on our side. There was an incident with one of our space probes, NC-108D. John, that should sound familiar to you.”
“Should it?” Alvarez said. He recognized it, but he didn't feel like playing along. He wondered if they were trying to pin a problem on him, or convince him to fall on the sword for the corporate settlement.
“I know I told you not to take your work home with you, but surely your memory is better than that. Anyway, this is a probe that we've had out in deep space monitoring a star which was behaving in an atypical way.”
“Atypical, how?” Alvarez said.
McKinley turned to Brennen.
Without looking away from his documents, Brennen said, “It's getting younger instead of older.”
Alvarez didn't care about any of this. It was none of his business, and it didn't affect him. “Can you get to the point where you tell me why I'm here?” he said.
McKinley took a deep breath. “The reason is because of this video. It's some of the only data that we were able to recover from the probe’s last data-burst. Most of
it was lost or corrupted, but somehow the video feed got through. John, you’ve seen the first part of the feed. Dr. Brennen and his team were able to restore the rest of what I'm about to show you. After you see it, I think you’ll understand why I couldn’t brief you remotely.”
The screen behind McKinley's desk came to life, and the room darkened. There was a time stamp at the bottom of the screen that read 2171:322. A young man’s face appeared. To Alvarez he looked like he was in his early twenties. He wore a white suit, the kind that clung to one's body like long underwear. It covered his head, ears, and neck—a one-piece, fitted shirt.
The man spoke into the camera. “This is James Metchikoff—technician for research probe NC-108D. Today is solar day...” he looked at the wall beside him. “...three-hundred twenty-two, and today is the one-hundred and fifth day of my mission aboard the probe.”
Alvarez detected a Russian accent. He noticed the tech had no trouble remembering how many days he had been there. The day of the year was another story. The single manned missions were the most strenuous tests of the human psyche. Only the bravest or most desperate people took those commissions.
“We've been researching the nearby stellar events to confirm our astronomical readings and to determine, if possible, the cause of the phenomenon. As mentioned in previous logs, all readings here have confirmed our initial observations from the Winston Observatory. The star appears to be developing in reverse direction from all previously observed life cycles. It's gaining in mass and—by all appearances—getting younger. The reason for this entry is that we’ve picked up an anomaly that had been hidden until now. We recently got our first glimpse of it when we adjusted orbit.”
Alvarez noticed that the technician kept using the words we and us . Loneliness causes people to develop peculiar affects.
“The anomaly occurring on the other side of the star appears to be some sort of energy burst,” the probe tech said. “At least, that’s the assumption we’re working from. Thus far, the probe hasn’t come in contact with the burst, but we have witnessed a greenish-blue wave of light emanating from the far side. What's most unusual is that the burst seems to occur periodically, with a precision of regularity that's uncommon in cosmic phenomena. Novos, you should be getting the data with this entry. See for yourself.”
