Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  “Every— Tobiah…” Sanballat stood and nearly rushed his compatriot. The taller Ceran leaned toward Tobiah and spoke in a hushed voice. “You can not sacrifice yourself like this, we—”

  “No sacrifice intended here, Sanballat. I’m just going for a walk.” Tobiah spoke with a confidence Sanballat heard from him often, but his eyes told a different, more rattled story.

  “Alright.” Micah said as a came toward Tobiah. He rested a hand on the Ceran’s shoulder then nodded. He silently expressed the gratitude of the rest of the ship’s crew with the gesture. “It’s settled. The lawyer will fix the ship after we stop, then it’s on to Earth.”

  With that, the assembled group broke up and moved to prepare for the ship stopping, a process which took almost hours.

  Notes from the Black

  9,045,790 Interstellar Units from Ceres

  Garreous sat before the long-range control panel and the same blue light from every board in the ship fell across his face. He sighed deeply and rubbed his chin for a moment, still uncomfortable with the beard he’d struggled to grow on the ship. The gifted young Ceran could almost hear Susa’s teasing laughter in his head as the words he’d written to her glowed on the comms screen.

  A beard… What was he thinking?

  “Resource conservation…” He mumbled to himself. Garreous coughed, cleared thoughts of his facial hair and the princess millions of miles away from his mind and continued to type.

  “…but sending someone like Tobiah to fix a problem like this certainly comes with challenges. Clearly, he’s the best of a handful of subpar options, which sounds far less complimentary of him than I should be right now… unfortunately, I don’t recall him excelling in the spacewalk simulations, but none of us really did… except for the two who can’t do the job because their hands are… massive. We’ve not really encountered anything like this break in our O-line yet and it’s got me pretty rattled… Sooz, I can’t help but feel, closer to our destination than you and Ceres, like coming on this voyage was a grievous error in judgement. The more I study the limited notes we have on the gates, the less I believe I’ll fully understand what I’m looking at if we actually do get the opportunity to repair the gate…”

  Garreous stopped typing and scratched at his eyebrow for a moment with one fingernail.

  “That’s really the key issue for me, isn’t it? I spent so much time convincing your father, your mother, everyone in the Pillar of my aptitude and ability to get the gates up and running… I didn’t really spend much time convincing myself…”

  “Did I ramble this much in my other letters?” Garreous thought.

  “I’m curious,” He typed. “Have my other communications with you been this… incoherent? It feels very much like I’m just thinking and typing without any particular goal in mind…”

  “Not that I’ll receive her response to that question anytime soon…” He thought.

  “Of course, I’m unlikely to receive your answer to that question anytime—” Garreous stopped typing once more and huffed angrily. After a short series of deep breaths, more words flipped onto the screen as he typed again. “—Soon. I’m going to send this now. I’ll write again when…”

  A stray, frightened thought hopped through his head wherein another message after this one never reached Susa because another was never sent… For obvious reasons.

  “I’ll write again as soon as is practical. As always, you’re in my thoughts and I remain hopeful you’re receiving these…” Garreous paused for a moment. What could these missives be called? Some of them edged toward the territory of love letters, wholly inappropriate and insulting to a newly married woman, surely off-putting to a newly married royal. Garreous wrote the letters to maintain a feeling of connection with Susa and, by effect, a connection with Ceres.

  The process of writing these notes and keeping the black void in which they floated between the ship and Ceres updated as to the mission’s—

  “Updates.” Garreous clicked out. The last word somehow glowed a little more brightly on the screen and the soft azure light flickered in his eyes for a moment. “Yours in service to the Pillar and the Crown, Garreous.”

  “Ugh.” Garreous scoffed at his own off-kilter words… Overstuffed and far too formal, he was sure Susa would giggle more at his salutation than anything else he’d written. Disappointed with himself but unwilling to invest more time in the letter, Garreous pushed a button and after a few familiar tones, ANDI’s voice came to the Comms cabin.

  “Message transmitted, Garreous.” ANDI said. After a beat: “Would you like a delivery status update?”

  “No, thank you, ANDI.” Garreous stood and stepped toward the port out of the Comms room. He’d waited weeks for status updates on his first few messages and found that waiting for a message was far more painful than never expecting one.

  Tobiah’s Walk

  9,045,790 Interstellar Units from Ceres

  “Full stop, Micah.” ANDI announced to Micah and his two senior officers in the Command Center.

  Meremoth, Micah and Garreous sat at different terminals in the Command Center, all along the first row of controls and chairs. “Thank you, ANDI.” Micah checked a few status screens and pushed a button. The soft click and staticky hum of the ship’s internal communications channel filled the Command Center.

  “Tobiah, how are you feeling?” He asked.

  “Like fifteen pounds of meat in a ten-pound sack.” The Barrister’s voice nearly knocked Micah back from his controls. It wasn’t too loud, but so low that the bass from the speakers shook the air around the Mimic aggressively.

  “No one likes a complainer, Tobiah…” Wes said with a hint of humor.

  “Additionally, a loose spacesuit would be quite dangerous during a mission like this, Tobiah.” ANDI chimed in. “There may be any number of opportunities for loose material to hook on a protruding part of the ship and a tear your suit while on a spacewalk would be most un-“

  “Thank you, Machine.” Sanballat said. Through the speakers, it was clear that Sanballat was nearer Tobiah than Wes. The ambient noise which came through when Tobiah and Sanballat spoke sounded like they stood inside an airlock chamber and a rush of pressurized, stale air blew around them.

  “He’s right.” Tobiah spoke to Sanballat with his suit’s communicator switched off. The white, light purple lined spacesuit fit the barrel-chested Ceran snugly and he shifted around in discomfort as Sanballat brought his helmet above Tobiah’s head. “One snag in this thing…”

  “You are Tobiah, Court Barrister of Artax the Second and most gifted legal mind of our time.” Sanballat spoke with stony conviction, eyes locked on Tobiah’s. “You will complete this task because you must and because you are shrewd and swift-minded enough for it.”

  “Thank you.” Tobiah said as he began to breathe a little smoother.

  “Additionally,” Sanballat said as he clicked the helmet into place. “Your survival is vital to the success of our mission, which begins once we reach Earth.”

  Less assured now, Tobiah simply nodded again. After a quiet moment, he whispered his thanks to Sanballat and turned toward the outer airlock door. The upper quarter of the steel door was quadruple paned reinforced glass, beyond which was the inky black of space, the void.

  The Comms system clicked again. “You ready for your walk, Toby?” Wes asked.

  Sanballat bristled at the nickname for Tobiah which the Courtier found insulting as he left the airlock chamber. The growth in familiarity between Tobiah and the Hybrids on the ship irked Sanballat as it began and had not ceased to confuse and annoy him during their voyage.

  “Yeah, Wes.” Tobiah replied.

  “Slow, even breathing.” Wes advised.

  “I remember.” Tobiah said as he pushed a button.

  The airlock door slid shut behind Sanballat as a shrill klaxon rang. “Airlock depressurization in thirty seconds.” ANDI said. The alarm’s tone grated on Tobiah for a brief moment and he shook his head violently to
clear his thoughts.

  “Releasing tether now.” Garreous said over the Comm.

  Back near the airlock door, a chamber flashed with yellow light then popped open with a hiss. Within the chamber was a black cord six inches in diameter. Tobiah grabbed the tether by a silver metal clip and snapped it into a steel loop at the small of his back. He reached behind himself after the click and pulled the tether, hard.

  A high metallic clink confirmed the tether’s security.

  “Tether attached.” Tobiah said. “Prepared for depressurization.”

  “Airlock depressurization in twenty seconds.” Another update from ANDI.

  Sanballat made his way to the Command Center, where he’d insisted he observe the execution of Tobiah’s mission. Even after more than a year together, he still felt Tobiah stood with him on opposite sides of a battle with the Hybrids and their allies.

  As the Courtier came as close to a running pace as possible for a man of his refined sensibilities, the PA clicked on once more.

  “Airlock depressurization in ten seconds.” ANDI’s voice bounced around the shining steel hallway.

  “—slow steps and be sure to activate the mag-tabs in your boots.” Wes continued to coach Tobiah as Sanballat walked into the Command Center.

  Sanballat strode into the room and took a position at a monitor to Wes’s right. On every screen in the Command Center, Tobiah stood in the empty airlock chamber and bent down slowly. His heels came up just a bit as Tobiah leaned down and they slapped back down onto the metal floor sharply after the Barrister clicked a button just below his calf.

  “Mag-tabs engaged.” Tobiah’s voice came through a lightly crackling PA.

  “Airlock depressurization in five… four…” ANDI’s voice rang over a new klaxon, this one a bit lower in pitch than the last. “Three… Two…”

  “I’m ready.” Tobiah whispered. His commlink to the Command Center was still active, so his self-assurance was broadcast into the room.

  “One.”

  “You are, Toby.” Wes said firmly.

  “Commence airlock disengagement.” ANDI said as oxygen hissed loudly on the way out the open airlock and into the black of space.

  On the viewscreens in the Command Center, Tobiah leaned forward slightly as the air rushed out of the chamber around him. “Ah!” He grunted in pain as his body leaned forward over his feet. “My legs, they’re—”

  “Tobiah! Release the boots in steps, alternating right and left until the cabin is depressurized!” Micah yelled.

  “How?!” Tobiah screamed as he looked down at the boots and then frantically at the button panel on his left forearm.

  “Palms! Second button from your wrist out!” Garreous screamed. Garreous spent the quiet evenings during their training reviewing and nearly memorizing the specifications for the ship’s systems and most equipment.

  The soft blue light on his left calf went dark and Tobiah took a step. He sighed as the pressure on his shins faded. The left boot light came back on just as it’s opposite on his right calf clicked off. Tobiah took a step toward open space then reengaged the right boot’s mag-tabs.

  Over the course of a few breathless moments, Tobiah repeated this process until he neared the doorway. With a wider base and the wind behind him ebbing, Tobiah’s breathing resumed but slowed as his pained panic faded.

  “Thanks, guys.” Tobiah clicked off his commlink to hide a loud sob from the Command Center group. He sniffled for a beat and reached toward his face to wipe a single tear from his cheek. A muted thud reminded Tobiah of the pressurized suit and helmet he wore as his gloved fingertip struck multipaned, reinforced glass.

  The tear would have to dry on its own.

  “Tether check, Tobiah.” Wes broke into the Barrister’s moment of lonely fear.

  He pulled on the braided black tether and relief washed over Tobiah when he heard the same metal-on-metal clink as before. “Tether engaged.”

  Meremoth made her way into the Command Center, nearly running through the doorway. “Is he out there yet?” She settled in in front of a monitor and keyboard next to Sanballat.

  In his fear, Sanballat forgot to be overtly cool to Meremoth and gave her a nod, wide-eyed.

  “He’ll be fine, Sanballat.” She met his eyes for a beat and gave the Courtier an affirmed nod before Meremoth turned her attention to her display. On her screen was a camera-view from the mag-locked drone which remained in place mere feet from the oxygen line’s leak. White droplets of ice flowed from the line, gaseous before touching the vacuum of space then immediately solid tiny bits of ice after. The droplets held their place for a beat within the unseen sonic inertial dampener’s field then drifted away from the idle ship, slowly.

  “Exiting chamber.” Tobiah said with a quiver in his voice.

  Step by step, Tobiah slowly moved toward the opening and open space. As he stuck his right foot outside the ship, Meremoth’s voice leapt from the comms.

  “Kit!” She yelled, more loudly than intended.

  “Hm.” Tobiah acknowledged her cry with a wordless grunt. He was momentarily shamed, as he’d nearly left the ship without the packed kit of tools and repair paraphernalia needed for his mission. “Kit is in my possession—” Tobiah said as he brought the kit up to his chest. The Barrister pressed a button on the rectangular black case and it magnetically locked onto his suit. “Locked in.”

  “Good…” Wes took a deep breath as he looked at both Garreous and Micah for assurance. They nodded curtly, both breathless. “Good work so far, Tobiah. Let’s go for a walk, buddy.”

  Tobiah nodded and copies of him on many screens in the Command Center did the same. “Just a walk…” As he had during the chamber’s depressurizing, Tobiah took alternated steps with his mag-locked boots.

  “Fifteen more feet, Tobiah.” Wes said after a few moments of step-lock-step across the outside of the ship.

  “If only my father could see me now…” Tobiah muttered to himself, comms off. His father, a famed legal mind in his time, had been incredibly proud of Tobiah when he decided to follow his path in law. At every opportunity which presented itself, his father would express pride and happiness that his son was “…no laborer”. Legal career, honored Courtier… now turned spacefaring repairman. Tobiah struggled to decide if his father’s pride would remain or falter with this new role. He laughed a bit and continued his walk.

  “Twenty-three minutes of air left, Toby. Let’s get moving…” Wes implored firmly but with a friendly tone.

  “Noted.” Tobiah said. Small bits of ice began to pelt his suit as Tobiah came to the leaking line. “I see it… I’m here.”

  “Alright, Tobiah…” Garreous leaned into the monitor. “Let’s get that line fixed and get you back in here.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Garreous.” Tobiah said as his eyes locked onto the spewing, open tube. Without breaking his gaze with the link, Tobiah popped open the case on his chest and took out a small black tool. “Alright… Let’s see if I remember all the steps…” He leaned down toward the line and dropped to his knees. As the suit’s kneepads hit the ship, they mag-locked to the hull along with Tobiah’s boot toe-caps with a click which would have been audible anywhere but the vacuum of space.

  Hanging By a Thread

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER

  “Alright…” Tobiah began, out of breath. He’d lost some weight during their training for the trip, but he still carried some extra which made his hunched over repair pose uncomfortable. “Check it.”

  For a brief moment, the newly repaired line glowed with the heat of Tobiah’s torch-like tool. Without oxygen, the tool didn’t emit a flame. It simply heated the tip of itself and he pressed it to the line after he’d patched it.

  Meremoth pressed a few buttons and a status screen appeared on her monitor. Green on the screen suggested Tobiah’s work had been successful. “All good. Great work, Tobiah. Tuck it, seal it and get back here.”

  “Got it.” Tobiah reached for the tubing, pushed it c
arefully back into the ship and slapped a thick steel pad onto the hole. Tobiah’s flameless torch glowed once more and he pressed in along the edges of the patch. The patch melted at the seams and looked like a lighter shaded patch of skin on the ship afterward. “Sealed. I’ll—”

  The monitor in front of Wes glowed red at the feet of the shape of a body.

  Tobiah’s panicked scream filled the command center over the comms.

  “What’s ha—” Tobiah’s question stopped when he came to the end of the tether, roughly thirty feet from the ship. The Barrister’s breath left him in a rush at the impact of the tether’s clip holding him. Shining steel on shining steel at the small of his back saved Tobiah’s life and he reached back to touch the clip and tether for reassurance. “Oh, thank Ahma.” Tobiah whispered with eyes squeezed shut.

  “Tobiah, can you pull yourself in? The tether doesn’t have a retractor.” Wes said. He gave Micah, Garreous and Meremoth quick unnerved glances and cleared his throat. Wes had no interest in Tobiah hearing his nerves. “You’re going to be fine. We’re not all that close to your time limit—” Wes lied as he stared at the mission clock as it clicked past twenty-seven minutes of Tobiah in the suit.

  Tobiah laughed as he began to pull himself toward the Virgalis by the tether, hand over hand. “I know that to be false, Wes.”

  “Oh yeah?” Wes challenged the Ceran with a smile on his face. “Why, exactly, are you calling me a liar, Toby?”

  “Two good reasons, Wes…” Tobiah said through shallow, haggard breaths. “One, I can count. Seconds and minutes. The benefits of a keen mind and legal education…”

  “Oh, counting was one of your classes in law school?” Wes joked as Tobiah continued to “climb” the tether.

  “The other reason is far more important…” Tobiah said more slowly, as he took raspier breaths. “I am running out of oxygen… in my… suit.” Tobiah’s eyes fluttered under the clear glass helmet cover and he began to slip backward on the tether.