Day Twenty-one ∞ Thursday early morning (PST) and Anno 6659
"ANYTHING AT ALL?" Jagg asked as he stretched out on the extruded, padded bench that would serve as his bed for the night. "You got no menu?"
"No," Lora said over her shoulder.
Tillman exited the hygienic wearing an army-green T-shirt over his spacesuit hanging like overalls from his waist. "Interesting bathroom you've got there," he said and sat down on his bench to open his seabag.
Lora spun her pilot seat around to face the three men, her lips curling mischievously. "Just say what you want."
"Roast beef. You've got that?"
"With?"
"Baked potato?" Jagg added.
"Atlas?"
Atlas studied her for a moment. "The same. I'll take it rare. The beef."
Lora nodded. "Tillman?"
"Nothing for me. I've brought my own supplies." Tillman lifted a metal lunch pan he'd pulled from his bag.
"Two roast beef with baked potato coming up in three minutes, one medium, one rare." Lora returned to the transparent fore, sweeping her hand at one of the virtual panels.
"Just three minutes?" Jagg asked. "What about turkey? You've got that?"
"Make up your mind, kid," Atlas said.
Jagg pushed himself up by the elbow and shot him a long look. Where did the dude come off calling him "kid"? Atlas met his gaze sharply with a blank face, no hint of hostility. After a moment, Jagg decided to let it go and dropped back onto the padding. At least the man hadn't called him "boy".
"You can get both," Lora responded.
"Cool."
The ubiquitous lighting inside the ship dimmed as a larger section of the fore turned transparent, providing a 180-degree view in all directions from Lora's seat. Beyond stretched the expanse of star-speckled space framing their destination, the distant moon. Not far to the left and a little ahead of them, the dark shape of Lora's sister's ship led the way. It would have almost blended into the background had it not been for the absence of stars in the area it covered, and the elongated wheel of containers on its side. It reminded Jagg somewhat of the belted wheels of an army tanker.
"Help yourselves," Lora said without turning. "When you have finished, put the containers back. Paulux will take care of them."
A lit compartment opened on the wall between the fore and Jagg's bench. Jagg swung his legs over the edge and sat up as Atlas crossed the floor. Atlas picked up an oval white box, opened the lid, and grunted with a lifted brow as the aroma wafted out. He grabbed a covered cup and returned to his bench.
Jagg inspected the compartment. Its walls were plain, only the ceiling section appeared to have panels that were closed. Luminous lettering next to a cutting fork on the lid of the oval box indicating <<Beef . Turkey>> faded after he picked it up. He grabbed the cup and sat down, placing the cup on the firm end of the bench. Then he popped the lid.
Two heaps of meat cubes, a heap of potato cubes, wedges of what looked like carrots and onion, and a heap of shredded vegetables filled the three-inch deep bowl. Jagg stabbed at a darker meat cube and inspected it. It had the color of roast beef, and it smelled like roast beef but it looked smoother than it should. Nor did it feel quite like it when he chucked it in his mouth. But it sure did taste good, and chewing took little effort.
"Smells good." Tillman leaned over to take a look. "How does it taste?"
Jagg nodded and scooped another forkful.
"If that's what's available then I'm saving my C-rations for emergency. Who's the chef?"
"What kind of beef is this?" Atlas asked between mouthfuls. "The texture's different."
Lora spun her pilot seat around. "Paulux has an extensive biochemical database of food and recipe formulae from several cultures and epochs. As long as it is in the databank, the food replicator can assemble it atomically. It adds all the necessary macro and micronutrients for balanced nutrition."
Most of that went straight over Jagg's head. "What, you don't have a freezer full of meat?"
"No, we farm not cattle, nor any animal for food. It is all plant-based."
Frowning at the cube on his fork, Atlas asked, "Then what's this?"
"Animal-equivalent protein constructed according to the formula for rare roast beef from Paulux's storage bank of plant-based molecules and dried blue algae harvested from the algae tank under your feet."
Atlas stared at Lora for a moment, then shook his head. "Okay... Just let me eat."
"Algae for food?" Tillman said. "I suppose it's the non-toxic kind."
"Of course." Lora stood up. "I shall rest for a few hours. You need not worry, Paulux is in control and will alert me if needed."
The compartment next to Jagg's bench opened again, and Lora reached for a covered cup that was half times taller than his.
"You not gonna eat?" Jagg asked.
"This food drink has all the nutrition I need right now. Bring your meal, I wish to talk with you." She headed for the other end of the ship.
He covered the bowl and grabbed his cup, then shrugged at Atlas who was eyeing him with his sharp gaze.
What's your problem? Jagg ignored his instinct of getting in the man's face. This wasn't the time nor place for a confrontation. Tillman gave him a thumbs-up as he strode past and entered the room beyond.
The door slid closed behind him as he paused to look around. Everything was soft white, softly lit from all directions. A second chair grew out of the floor next to the legless table beside him, and a padded platform widened on the opposite side. The walls formed flowing relief patterns, soft shadows tracing the outlines.
"You've got a cool crib here," he commented.
Lora tilted her head in query as she watched him with an amused smile.
"Bedroom," he clarified, putting down his bowl and cup next to hers on the table. Then he stepped into her, their lips locking hungrily to each other. He massaged her shoulders as she pressed against him, and slid his hands down her back to bring her harder against his body. As the fire started building, he reached for the neckline of her spacesuit. But before he could find that invisible zip, Lora rested her hands on his wrists and pulled back an inch.
"Not on Paulux."
"What?" He drew a deep breath to cool himself down and let his hands squeeze below her waist. "No privacy?"
"That is not the point." She wrapped her fingers around his nape and into his afro, studying him. "I can change the privacy settings any time I want."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Privacy settings, huh? Okay, whatever. But," he gave her a forceful five-second kiss, "can you sleep?"
Her gaze became distant. "This was my home away from home for a while." A furrow appeared between her brows."Before." She slid away from his grip and sat down, reached for her cup and thumbed the lip open before drinking.
Jagg recognized that look. He wasn't going to press her. "So what's up with the dude out there, Atlas?" He joined her at the table and uncovered his bowl. "He's not like the others."
She looked up thoughtfully. "He helps my sister."
"I got that. Did he come here with you guys?" He scooped a forkful of potato cubes and vegetables into his mouth, pleased that it was still warm.
"No. He is one of your people, and she trusts him."
"Well, I don't."
"Since she does, I do. Only three of us entered your world."
Jagg paused his laden fork. "Three? What happened to that weird chick? Didn't she come with you guys?"
"In a manner of speaking... yes."
"Then four of you entered our world."
A distant look fleeted across Lora's face. "Correct." Then she finished her drink and put her cup in a compartment that appeared in the wall above the table. "Put your utensils here when you finish. I shall return shortly."
She smiled as she rose and headed for the wall that opened next to the entrance. By Jagg's estimation, she entered the slick shower room he'd used before they took off for the mission.
"What about that Selina-Blanc woman-ghost thing?" Jagg called after her as the wall was closing behind her. "Where is she? I thought she'd be traveling with us."
—She is.
Jagg jerked at Lora's voice inside his head, almost choking on his mouthful.
—She is outside, monitoring the antimatter.
"What the fuck?" he spluttered. "You can do that too?"
—What?
He made sure to swallow properly before replying, "You're talking inside my head like that ghost woman. That's not normal, man."
—For most of us it is. Jagg got the distinct impression that Lora was laughing at him. It seems most of you here simply have not developed the skill. It is called telepathy.
"Right... Wait, have you been reading my mind all this time?"
—No. Telepathy is for communication, not for spying. We respect privacy.
"Then how come I've never heard you communicate like that before?"
Jagg finished his meal before Lora's answer came, much quieter this time, —I wanted to forget who I am.
∞
Relieved to be back in simple T-shirt and boxers, Danny leaned over Mickmi's bed to look through the transparent panel. Each end of the panorama was bracketed by the curve of containers mounted on the frames. To the left, the dark shape of Lora's ship appeared stationary against the bejeweled night-time Earth that filled most of the spacescape. Its rim inched into view, glowing with early dawn.
One less thing to worry about. But where's Nightstar now?
"You cannot see them with your naked eyes," Mickmi replied.
Danny turned to find her dressed in a long robe matching the color of the dimly lit room. He hadn't heard her coming out of the hygienic.
"But they are out there. Like a mist of smoke, following us."
He drew in her mild fresh scent as he wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her cheek against his chin.
"Man, it feels like ages since I got to hold you in my arms," he mumbled into her hair.
"Not that long. Only 22 hours."
"You're kidding. Just 22? It feels a lot longer than that."
Smiling, she cradled his face and met his lips. All of a sudden, nothing else in the world mattered to Danny. They were together, breathing in sync, and he could swear their heartbeats were too.
Mickmi's lips moved against his. "You are tired." She pulled back, gazing into his eyes.
"Yeah. But I couldn't sleep if I tried. I'm too keyed up by this... adventure." He grinned. "But all this here is an everyday thing for you, isn't it? You spent most of your life in space."
"More like... half of my life." She tilted her head. "Then perhaps it is time for another lesson. Are you up for it?"
"Sure. I'd love to walk on water with you again."
She chuckled. "Not to my retreat this time. Nay, this is an opportune time for space navigation, think you not? You already have the main database and formulaic tools installed, but you need to practice the techniques."
"O-kay." Danny stroked her chin. "What do I do? Sit in the pilot seat and swipe at those fancy screens of yours?"
"Nay." Chuckling again, she pushed him to step back as she stepped with him until the edge of the bed stopped him. "Abit more basic than that. Remember you the method we used last night to meditate?"
"Straight back, breathe into my abdomen, exhale through my mouth. And relax."
Smiling, Mickmi nodded and took his hand. She sank down on the bed, crossing her legs, Lotus style. The bed was firmer than he expected as he sat down to face her with his legs comfortably crossed. Then he closed his eyes and followed her voice.
∞
"Where are we?" Danny looked around at the pale blue walls and ceiling of a passageway that ended before him.
Mickmi passed him and a door slid open. Beyond was a room lit with ambient daylight. Its five walls gently curved, a beehive pattern decorating one section that merged with the ceiling. Lush foliage filled another side, framing a sculpture of a leaping dolphin with water trickling from its mouth. In the center, cushions surrounded a low oval table. It had a solid base attached to the floor.
"Come," she said.
He found himself stepping barefoot onto a firmly padded floor, each step creating a snug depression. To his right, a young girl in an aquamarine jumpsuit faced a blank wall panel, fiddling with a lock of hair by her ear. She looked familiar.
"Is that you?" Danny whispered in amazement. "How old are you?"
"Eleven," Mickmi replied.
"Is there anything for which my assistance is needed, Mic Wamba?" Danny didn't recognize the woman's voice that came from the vicinity of the girl, and he couldn't see anyone else in the room.
—Who's that? he thought, not wanting to disturb.
"My virtual caregiver. This was my home in space."
"Yes, Amaltea," the girl dropped her hand, "I want a cup of Kefir."
"Kefir, now, is it?"
"Oh yes! That's the preferred drink where I spent the last couple of months."
—This is one of your memories, isn't it? Why have you brought me here?
Mickmi met his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Wait and see."
The panel opened and a bright indigo cup slid out. Mic took it to the table, her ponytail bouncing as she made herself comfortable kneeling on one of the cushions.
—Looks like your favorite color is blue. He glanced at Mickmi in amusement.
"It was," she replied.
Mic sipped her drink in silence for a while before looking up. "Amaltea, what task do you have for me?"
She licked off the creamy white mustache covering her upper lip as a three-dimensional planetary hologram appeared above the table. Danny stared at it, incredulous.
—Wait, you studied space navigation at eleven years of age?
"I started long before that. My real training in space started when I was transferred to this cruiser vessel on my fourth year-day." Mickmi walked further into the room.
"What?" Danny blurted and snapped his mouth shut. But young Mic didn't react.
He caught up with Mickmi. —Seriously? That's way beyond kindergarten stuff!
"Remember you not what I told Doctor Kruger and Doctor Bogdanov two days ago? That is when my intensive training started."
Of course. He shouldn't be surprised. After all, the data he'd acquired so far hadn't reached high school level by Mickmi's standards yet, let alone university level.
More elements appeared in the holographic display as it widened to include more planetary bodies. Danny recognized the part of the Solar System featuring the heavily cratered Mercury and several planetary bodies nearby. Earth and other neighboring planets were further away in the distance. But the display wasn't as big as what Mickmi had demonstrated at the underground base.
"Today, you must calculate a trajectory from the present position to Terra Firma," Amaltea's bodiless voice said from somewhere above.
"Join the class." Mickmi dipped her head at Danny, grinning. "You and my younger self can be quasi study partners."
"Cool." He approached the table. "Hello, Mic Wamba. I'm Danny. Mind if I sit with you a while?"
Mic's hand froze on its way to the cup. After a moment, Danny realized she had stopped breathing and blinking too.
"I—she—can not hear nor see you," Mickmi said as she sank down to sit near the door. "This is strictly a replay of a memory. If you keep not up, you might get left behind. I will not pause the replay again." She smiled at him and pointed. "There. In case you need to write on something. Just use your fingers to write and erase, or scroll for more space."
Something looking like a big sheet of paper appeared on the narrow end of the table. As Danny sat down to study the 3D diagram, Mic came to life again, taking another sip from her cup.
Four green arrows pointed to a speck in the vicinity of Mercury with the words <<You are here>> and some data. The orbital cues he'd seen last time were missing on this display. Instead, the data visible only indicated mass, diameter, relative speed, and atmospheric composition. He also spotted several big asteroids.
"You need to determine the orbital values, and avoid any collision."
Danny looked across at Mic who was frowning at the display.
"Where's the usual vectorial information?" she asked.
"You have enough energy to reach your target," the ship's AI continued, "but only if you do not use it to avoid a crash. So, you have to draw a flight path as straight as possible while you simultaneously avoid coming too close to any mass big enough to trap your vessel."
Danny started sketching the nearest objects and recorded their values on the white touch page. Then he stared at them, contemplating what information might pop to the fore from his mental library.
"But how am I suppose to do that? There's hardly any information to make any kind of—"
"Mic Wamba, you cannot always expect the information to be readily available. Sometimes you can find yourself in situations where you need to take decisions with even less information than what you have now."
"Oh, really?" Mic leaned back on her heels. "And what kind of situations are those?"
"You could find yourself facing an unknown planetary system, for example."
Mic snorted. "How could we possibly go to another system? We don't have interstellar flight capabilities."
"Not yet."
Danny glanced at Mic staring up at the ceiling, apparently surprised. It took a moment for her to recover the use of speech.
"What exactly do you mean by 'not yet'? Are you preparing a new mode of travel and didn't tell me?"
"Of course not. Technology is continually improving, so it is better for you to be ready, as much as possible. And you never know when you might have to face the unknown. Thus it is better to be as prepared as possible for every scenario."
"So I'm not allowed to use the computer to give me a pre-calculated flight path?"
"No."
Sighing, Mic set her cup in the holder depression in the middle of the table and brought up a touch screen easel before her. Danny had already figured that this was going to be a tedious and painstaking job. First he needed to calculate the most probable trajectories and how the planets' gravity wells could affect the ship's mass and speed. But it wasn't as simple as that, because the easier paths always required more energy.
After a while, Mic looked up. "I'm going to need more energy. Can I recharge the capacitors?"
"No."
Mic's brow furrowed as she studied the diagram. "I could search for more energy to harvest..."
"No. You have a time constraint."
Mic drew a deep sigh.
Danny drew circles around the planetary bodies on his touch page, using a diameter proportional to their masses and elongated them in the direction of their most probable vectors. He made the circles bigger the faster they moved. Then he paused, looking across at Mic's work. She was doing something similar on her easel, but now she also assigned colors to each. After a moment, he realized she was grading their probability of collision.
Good idea, Danny thought. But how was he going to get colors? He tapped on a circle in the lower right corner of his touch page he hadn't paid attention to before. Up popped a number of selections along the edge, including a color swatch. Yes!
"I see you are using a quasi-geometric mode to calculate trajectories and probable kinetic vectors," Amaltea's voice said.
"Well, I find it easier like that," Mic replied. Sighing again, she stretched her back and reached for her drink. But it wasn't there. "Where's my Kefir?"
"Sorry, Mic, it is already recycled."
"Wha—," she spluttered, "why, you took it? I still wanted it!"
"I am sorry, Mic, I will give you a new one."
Crossing her arms, Mic turned her expectant gaze to the panel near the door, looking straight through Danny. The near eye contact took him by surprise. It was true... She was almost a spitting image of the photograph Atlas kept of his daughter Melanie.
— ∞ —
©2020 by kemorgan65