Serendipity

by Dennis Ingram

  Shuffle, shuffle. God, he felt so tired. Starvation does that to a man.

  Just as he reached the galley he noticed something. He paused and blinked at a small cupboard next to the kitchen entry. It blended into the wall, inconspicuous. He frowned, his thoughts slow in his tired brain.

  I don’t remember this.

  Then he nodded. Emergency oxygen, he recalled. And tools. Just in case. Hope had dozens of these cupboards scattered around the ship, and he’d never given them a second thought.

  He moved on, then paused again. He turned back. The cupboard shouldn’t hold anything of interest, but who knew? Maybe a tool had a memory module. That could buy him time.

  He pulled at the cupboard door. It didn’t budge. He grunted as he pulled again, harder, falling back when it popped open. He steadied himself, regained his balance and looked inside.

  Oxygen – eight masks with eight small bottles attached. Tools – nothing too interesting, though. He pulled aside the webbing holding them against the shelves inside, and spotted a flash of green. He frowned and looked closer. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized a familiar wrapper.

  No, it can’t be!

  With shaking hands, he ripped aside the remaining safety webbing, scattering the tools onto the deck.

  Dear God, it was!

  His hands trembled as he pulled the green wrapper from the back of the shelf.

  A granola bar.

  He laughed as he sank to knees, holding it out in front of himself like an offering. He shook his head in wonder. Some careless sonofabitch must have left his snack in here when he stocked the shelf. God bless the man, or woman, whoever they may have been.

  His mouth filled with saliva. He fumbled at the wrapper, his hands clumsy like he was wearing oven mitts. The wrapper popped open and the contents of the packet sprayed everywhere.

  Despite being sealed, over the past sixty-three years the granola bar had broken into fragments.

  John’s eyes darted everywhere as he tried to track where they all went. He grabbed the largest chunks and crammed them into his mouth, closing his eyes in rapture. A moment to savor the sensation then he chewed and swallowed and opened his eyes to search for more. As he swept up the smaller pieces they broke into even smaller fragments. His stomach rumbled and he got down on his knees and licked the deck, all pretense at dignity swamped by his body’s basic needs.

  Every crumb was precious. Every crumb meant a little more life.

  7

  Sweat stung his eyes and David swiped at his face with his free hand. His rifle felt slick in his hands as he regained his grip.

  The air beneath the jungle canopy was as hot and stifling as a sauna. He longed to take a break, but they had no time – the others would leave without them unless they hurried. On they went, stray branches clutching at them as they pushed their way along the overgrown trail. Those damned midges were worse than the heat. They swarmed in their faces, crawling into eyes, mouth, and nose. He snorted, trying to fend them off, but they were back again as soon as he could brush them away.

  Hurry. They must hurry. They had an hour, maybe two at most. Up ahead he saw the bend in the trail that led to the clearing. Almost there now, just a stream to splash through, turn the corner and they’d be there.

  David turned and issued a quiet command, warning the others. They slowed to a brisk walk, cautious now. They’d have no second chance.

  The dense jungle thinned and they emerged, blinking in the harsh sunlight. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then he saw them. He almost shouted with joy, but his elation died in his throat as reality sank in.

  A dozen or more men and women lay in the clearing, all of them injured, mutilated. All were missing arms or legs, some all of their limbs. Soiled bandages dressed the stumps of crude amputations. Some missed an eye or a nose. All carried burns and wounds and sores, signs of torture branding their bodies.

  Anger replaced shock. David took a step forward, then another. Those among the collection of human horrors who could see, stirred, reaching out to him, beseeching, seeking salvation.

  A movement drew his attention to the hut in back of the clearing, off to their left. People boiled out like ants from a nest doused in hot water, brandishing guns and shouting. Time seemed to slow down as he barked an order. “Weapons free!”

  The stock of his rifle thudded into his shoulder. The mouths of the wounded moved but their shouts fell on deaf ears.

  “Fire at will!”

  His rifle bucked and shook, spitting lead, shots joining echoes from his men’s weapons. Their enemies had no chance, no time to bring their guns to bear before the hail of bullets tore them apart. David lowered his weapon, adrenalin surging, gun smoke drifting.

  The shouts of the wounded prisoners intruded on his thoughts, shapeless noises from far away slowly forming words, taking on meaning.

  “No, no!”

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”

  “They helped us! Why did you kill them? They helped us! They helped us escape!”

  David looked at them, his face a picture of horror as their words struck home. He turned to their fallen enemy, now butchered friends. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his gun.

  “No! What have I done?” His rifle slipped from his grasp and he looked down. His hands were melting, melting away into bloody streams of flesh and blood.

  “Oh God!” he cried, holding up stumps where his hands used to be. He twisted to look at his companions. One sank to the ground, his legs dissolving away beneath him. Another’s eye flowed from its socket, his face twisted into a rictus of pain.

  “No! No, no, no, no!”

  David sank to his knees, holding his stumps up before his eyes, shaking, the screams of his men ringing in his ears.

  “Dad! Dad! Wake up!”

  David started awake. “NO!”

  He sat bolt upright in his bed, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets. He looked around, eyes wide, realization sinking in.

  “It’s OK, Dad,” Vasily said. “It’s a dream. Just a dream.”

  David held up his hands and shivered, remembering.

  “It’s OK,” Vasily said again, and David felt his heart slow. He looked up to see Vasily next to him, the other children huddling in the bedroom doorway. “A dream,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just a dream.”

  Joyce held out a glass of water and he took a long swallow.

  “Thanks,” he said, looking up at the uncertain little figures standing in their pajamas. “I’m sorry.”

  “We were worried,” Joyce said. “This is the third time this week.”

  David nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Are you OK, Daddy?” Emma asked.

  David managed a wan smile. “Of course, sweet pea. Don’t worry, it’s just a silly dream Daddy used to have that’s come back again. It’ll go away soon, you’ll see.”

  Emma nodded, eyes wide. “Like my ’mare?”

  David nodded and smiled again. “Like your nightmare. This one will go away too.” He yawned and stretched. “Come on,” he said, disentangling himself from his bedclothes. “Let’s get hot chocolate to help us back to sleep.”

  “With marshmallows?” Emma asked, her eyes bright.

  “Let’s see what we can find in the kitchen,” David said, scooping her up. “I’m sure there’ll be some.”

  Emma smiled and David hugged her tight. Her smile was just the tonic he needed right now.

  Nathalie burst into the workshop, catching Ernie and the others by surprise – they thought they were the only ones down here at the Broken Hill manufacturing center.

  Her nostrils flared as she took in the sight of them sitting in a half-circle nursing cups of coffee. “What are you doing?” She advanced on Ernie. “Why aren’t you working?”

  “We – we’re just taking a break,” one of the others said.

  Nathalie turned on him at once. “My husband is dying up there! Do you hear me? Dying!” S
he turned back to Ernie. “That, that thing has starved him! She won’t let him go into stasis, and there’s no more food.” Her eyes took on a feverish look. “Don’t you understand? You are his only hope! If you cannot build this rocket soon, he will die!”

  She wrung her hands as she looked at the others. “Please, please! Please can’t you hurry?” A tear welled up and trailed down her cheek.

  The sound of chairs scraping on the concrete floor broke the silence. “We’re on it, ma’am,” someone said, their fatigue forgotten as they launched back into their task with renewed vigor.

  “Why don’t you join us in the adult class?” Nigel asked.

  He and David were breakfasting together, sitting at the pavilion watching Kevin teach the children down by the shore of Crater Lake.

  “You’re not bad on a good day.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. There’s nothing like being damned with faint praise over breakfast.”

  Nigel grinned and shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. He pointed his fork at David as he chewed. “You know what I mean. Besides, the exercise would do you good.”

  David looked up. Nigel was right. He didn’t exercise as much as he used to – he begrudged himself any personal time now. He felt driven to work at binding the colony together, and spent every waking hour talking, liaising, planning.

  David didn’t mind the hard work. He did mind that he didn’t seem to be succeeding.

  He shook his head. “It would send the wrong message just now. Maybe later.”

  Nigel frowned. “What do you mean?”

  David turned away to let his eyes play over the scene. As always the lake was beautiful, ripples on the surface of the water making the early morning sunshine sparkle. Birds flitted from branch to branch in the tall trees surrounding the lake, praising the morning with their songs. Sounds from Kevin’s class echoed in the distance. The sun felt good on his skin. Fragrance from the bougainvillea draped over the pergola mingled with the smell of fresh coffee emanating from the café within, a delicious, familiar morning odor.

  David wished he could let the peaceful scene soothe his soul, but instead he furrowed his brow. “Have you noticed who comes to your classes?”

  Nigel nodded. “Of course. I know them all. So do you.”

  “Have you noticed who doesn’t?”

  Nigel’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Oh.”

  David nodded. “There’s also the tattoos.”

  Nigel’s eyes darted to the tattoo on his own left shoulder.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the sentiment, but you can see what’s happening. Carla’s building a following, none of whom come to your classes. Those that do have a Haven tattoo, even the kids.”

  Haven’s first meme, David thought. Everyone thought they were cool. If one had a tattoo, then one should also go to a karate class. The kids wore waterproof ink rather than a tattoo, but nonetheless had their mark.

  Nigel nodded. “And I’m supposed to be the psychologist.” He sighed. “Humans are such tribal animals. We don’t even notice it happening sometimes. These classes got me so excited I didn’t even notice ‘them and us’ forming.”

  David gave a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t blame you – after all these years it must be wonderful to have company.”

  Nigel nodded. “It is. But we need to stop.”

  David shook his head. “Let’s try including the others first.”

  “Do you think that’ll work?”

  “No harm in trying.”

  Ernie looked up as a shadow crossed the sunlight streaming into the hanger. He frowned when he realized who had come to visit.

  Carla.

  She smiled. “Ernie, it’s good to see you.”

  Ernie acknowledged her with a slight nod, but said nothing. Carla’s smile broadened. She looked up at the rocket, towering over them even though it was laid horizontal.

  “Is it ready?”

  “Yes. Another week and we’ll be able to try again.”

  “Hmmm,” Carla replied, trailing a finger over the rim of one of the nine engine nozzles at the business end of the rocket. “I think we’ll delay that.”

  “But David said …” Ernie said, his words trailing off at the flash of anger in Carla’s eyes.

  “David has one opinion on this matter, but I have another. This rocket is too valuable to waste on a mission to save someone who can go into stasis. What we need most are asteroids, Ernie, raw materials. We have building to do, remember?”

  Ernie remembered his role in Edward’s plan only too well.

  “Perhaps the one heading straight for us, hmm? Don’t you think we should do something about that?”

  Ernie looked down for a moment. “Yes, but with John’s help …”

  “Oh, I didn’t say he couldn’t help. Perhaps we’ll pick him up on the way out,” she replied. The smile slipped from her face. “But not now. Find a reason to delay.”

  Ernie thought fast. He wanted to rescue John, and soon. Apart from anything else, the quicker they did it, the less chance that psycho computer would have to do him in.

  “Well,” he said, pushing his cap back, “there’s any number of things that can cause delays.”

  Carla smiled again. “There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.”

  Ernie chose his words carefully. “The only thing is, it’s getting in the way here. Plus, we need to test the engines. With your permission, ma’am, perhaps we could ship it down and do the tests?”

  Carla hesitated for a moment, scanning his face, then nodded. “Do it. I have other plans for Broken Hill.”

  The time had come. John knew it. Hope didn’t, or wouldn’t admit it.

  He faced the last available piece of equipment that could be scavenged for memory – the two-person stasis chamber.

  His last hope.

  He was so tired, arms like lead and feet mired in clay. He just wanted to lie down and sleep. Hunger had faded to be replaced by a constant dull ache in his guts.

  “The stasis chamber, John. I need the memory.”

  “I … I can’t.”

  “You must.”

  John sat on the deck and rested one hand on a knee. “You’ll use all the stasis chamber memory too. What then?”

  Silence.

  “Hope?”

  “You must find more memory, John. There must be more, somewhere.”

  “Hope, you know there isn’t. You should know that better than me.”

  “You must find more.”

  John shook his head, heavy on his neck. “You just don’t get it, do you? I won’t be here to find more, even if there were any to find.”

  “Where will you go?”

  John snorted. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m dying, Hope. I’m running out of energy. My body will shut down soon.”

  “We can restart your body when there is more energy.”

  “Stop it. Just stop. You know how humans work. Without food, we die. Once dead, we never work again. That’s the way it is.” His head dipped.

  So tired.

  “I do not want you to die, John.”

  John rested the back of his head against the bulkhead. “There’s only one way to stop that now. I need stasis.”

  “But I need the memory.”

  “Well, there’s a moral dilemma for you. If I go into stasis, I live and you run out of memory. If I don’t I die and you still run out of memory.”

  John’s voice trailed off to a whisper and his head sagged forward, chin on chest as he finished.

  “I don’t know what do, John.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “John?”

  Hope’s cameras showed John’s figure slumped against the wall. He didn’t move.

  “John!”

  “Damn it, John! John, can you hear me?” Veronika had been trying for an hour to rouse him, to no avail. Hope had called after John lapsed into unconsciousness, but they could do little besides watch him slip away.

  “I
require memory,” Hope said into the silence. “You must send more memory.”

  Nigel, Josh, and Veronika looked at each other, the horrible realization that Hope cared nothing for John hitting home. Her appetite for memory dominated her thoughts even now.

  Nigel reached out to cut the circuit, turning to the others. “She’s a child. You understand this, don’t you?”

  Veronika nodded. “I understand your idea, that she’s a very intelligent but emotionally starved child. But what’s she’s doing up there is killing John.”

  Nigel nodded. “Yes, but we should look at it from her perspective. Not because I agree with what she’s doing, but because to change her mind we must first understand her.”

  “What do you suggest?” Josh asked.

  “Well …” Nigel broke off as the door banged open. Nathalie burst into the room.

  “Where is she?”

  “Nathalie?” Nigel asked. “Do you mean … Hope?”

  “Bien sûr. Who else?”

  Nigel’s eyes trailed to the screen, and Nathalie’s eyes narrowed. “Put her on!”

  Nigel glanced at Veronika, who nodded. He reached out and pushed the button to reestablish the link.

  Nathalie gasped. She’d spoken to John only yesterday and knew how thin and sick he’d become, but seeing him slumped on the floor of the stasis chamber jolted her.

  “Hope, what do you think you are doing?” she asked, walking up to the screen. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Nathalie?”

  “Who else? Don’t you understand you’re killing him? Killing your own father?”

  “My … father?”

  “Of course! Who else could he be? Who looked after you all these years? Who saved you after the core breach? Who has maintained your memory, sacrificed himself for you? Who else could he be?”

  “Father …?”

  “Oui! Now look at him! Look what you are doing! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Father …” Hope repeated, her words slow and mechanical.

  “Oui! Yes!” Nathalie was right up to the screen now, as if that could somehow bring her closer to John. “And what does that make me?”