“I think we might be in trouble,” Suzette mumbles, visibly shaken. The face of J.W. Anderson – the head of Mission Control – is paused on the monitor. She slowly rises from the chair, falling into my arms. I’m worthless in these situations, but I do my best to be comforting.
“Easy now. It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”
“You might change your mind after watching this.”
I sit, but Suzette does not. I don’t share in her fears because I have a good idea what’s coming. The message plays over from the beginning.
“Roger, is the channel clear enough?” J.W. asks from the command center at Mission Control.
“I’m receiving you loud and clear, J.W. Over.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, son…”
The rest of the video tells the story I had been expecting. The Vanguard mission was never one of space exploration, but survival. The Earth is spinning on borrowed time, just as the scientists had predicted. Our ships were meant to find a suitable planet that would support the human race. Unfortunately, less than half of the populace will fit aboard the few transport ships they’ve managed to build. That explains why the true nature of our mission was kept secret. If word somehow leaked about what we were really doing, panic would destroy the Earth long before any catastrophe could.
I begin to see how the pieces fit. Minimal two person crews meant less chance of a leak. Why else send the three ships to opposite ends of the galaxy if not to cover more ground? And why would each crew consist of one male and one female? Still, it’s strange to think Suzette and I were meant to carry on the seed of humanity should the worst happen. We get along well enough now, but Adam and Eve on a distant planet? I seriously doubt she’d be happy being guilted into playing house.
“What do we do now?” she asks after an extended silence.
“What they sent us out here to do – find a planet and turn on the porch light.”
“It’s just that easy? Aren’t you even the least bit depressed we’ll never see our home again?”
“I don’t have time to be depressed. We have a mission. I’m not giving up and neither are you. After we plant a flag on solid ground, I’ll mourn. Until then, we’ve got a planet to discover. You still with me?”
“It’s not like I have a choice. It’s just – this is a lot to process.” She bites her lip and lowers her head. “So much is riding on…”
“Suzette, stop. We take this one day at a time. It’s the only way.”
She stares out the viewport for a long while. When her eyes meet mine, her expression is solid concrete, determined and sure. It’s then that I realize what the commanders at Mission Control knew all along. If there was one person in the whole galaxy capable of carrying the weight we’re shouldering, it’s Suzette Connors. I know with certainty there’s no woman I’d rather play Eve to my Adam.
“Alright cowboy, what’re we going to do with him?” she asks with renewed confidence, pointing toward the sickbay monitor where Roger is stirring.
“I’m going down there to see what I can suss out about his attackers. Keep poring through those records to see if you can find out what happened to Joanie.”
“Dan, be careful. I’m not sure how much I trust Roger.”
“I never trusted him, but I thought you did.”
“The rules have changed – everything has after watching that video. We have no idea how he’s coping with the news, but we do know that Joanie is dead.”
“I’ll make it square. Just keep an eye on the monitor.”
I slide my 2028 pistol behind my back, just in case Roger is off his rocker. Better to be safe than dead. I pause outside the sickbay door, asking Isaac6 for an update on Roger’s vital signs. Aside from a slight concussion, he’s fine. The door opens and Roger noticeably flinches. I raise both hands in a peaceful gesture, giving him a moment to settle.
“Roger, it’s me, Dan. How are you feeling?” I ask, pulling up a stool to his bedside.
“How long have I been out?” he counters, attempting to clear the cobwebs.
“About an hour. I pulled you off the Dagger before she blew up.”
“She’s gone?”
“Afraid so, pal. Who was that chasing you?”
“Some hostiles from a planet called Quardia. I thought I had found the perfect place, Dan…”
“What happened to Joanie? Betsy6 reported her as deceased.”
“She didn’t make it off-planet. We were in the thick of it. I had to run.”
Ready to cut to the chase, I lean in closer, placing a hand firmly on Roger’s shoulder.
“Afraid I don’t follow. Why don’t you elaborate? Why were you fighting with the natives in the first place?”
Roger takes the hint and recites his version of the story so far. He mentions the transmission from J.W., how it changed the tone of the mission. He and Joanie doubled their efforts in finding a planet. Their best bet thus far was a place Joanie named Quardia, a purple-hued planet sparsely populated by what Roger assumed to be a primitive tribe of natives. Once it became clear that he and Joanie intended to settle there, the native Quardians showed their teeth. They opened fire, killing Joanie and forcing Roger back into space. The Quardians gave chase, routing him toward a wormhole that pushed the Dagger to our side of the galaxy.
Maybe some of that is true, but I can tell he’s hiding something. A glance into the security camera lets Suzette know I’m on my way to the bridge. I tell Roger to stay put and get some rest. On the bridge I find Suzette still poring over the remainder of Betsy6’s data. I take a seat beside her, reading from the opposite end of the logs while keeping an eye on the sickbay monitor.
“What do you make of Roger’s story so far?” I ask, while sorting through the records.
“He says one thing; these tapes say another. Open the logs I highlighted.”
The three documents Suzette has uncovered paint an uglier picture. One log details Roger having threatened the Quardians with a full-scale nuclear attack unless they cooperated in the annexation of their planet. The second log mentions Joanie’s opposition to Roger’s barbaric plan. The only remaining log has been completely redacted. Before I can process it all, Suzette closes down her terminal, pointing to the sickbay monitor. The bed is empty.
“He’s on his way up here, no doubt. What’s the play?” she asks.
“Act casual. There may still be an explanation yet.”
“Maybe, but I’d feel better with a gun in my hand,” she says.
I reach behind my back where the 2028 remains hidden, clicking off the safety. The bridge door slides open, revealing an out-of-breath Roger. He looks positively frantic, waving one arm in the air while steadying himself against the wall with the other.
“How many planets do you have left on the list they gave you?” Roger gasps. “How many?”
“Two,” Suzette answers, despite the fact we both know there are five planets we haven’t visited yet.
“What’s it matter how many we have left?” I ask.
“You damned fool! If we don’t find a home before the other ship, this isn’t a mission anymore – it’s a death sentence!”
To be continued…
-Fiction by Shawn Coots
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