Adrift (The Sirilians Book 1) (4 page)

Karo’s ire didn’t diminish. “Those needs are intangible and thus unimportant,” he stated, sure that he’d struck a nerve.

“Wait, are you saying that my work is unimportant?”

He nodded. “That is a logical extrapolation.”

Aevum’s mouth fell open in shock; she stammered a couple of times before she wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood. She quickly ensconced herself in her jacket and fastened it all the way to her neck.

“Thank you for your opinion Karincin. I’m glad that we discovered our fundamental differences now rather than later, after we’d wasted more time trying to Pair Bond with one another.”

Karo sat immobile, shocked that she’d risen from the table. “You’re leaving?” he clarified, although he already knew the answer.

“I think it’s best, don’t you? Goodbye, and good luck with your work.”

Karo watched as Aevum quickly weaved through the tables of patrons and exited the restaurant. He saw several of the people seated nearby turn in their seats and look at him. It was clear that there had been an audience to their argument. Anger, shock, and embarrassment washed over him. He wasted no time paying their bill and leaving.

When Karincin entered his family’s building he was immensely relieved that his parents weren’t waiting at the door to ask about his evening. He would have been forced to tell them the truth—that his First Meeting with Aevum had gone so badly that she’d left after the third course and declared their pairing finished.

He couldn’t believe the nerve of her! Who was she to question his work?

Karo was madder than he could ever remember being. He stormed straight to his rooms, threw his jacket onto a chair, and began to pace back and forth as he analyzed exactly where the evening had went wrong.

Of course it was all
her
fault! She was the one who’d strayed from the recommended cue cards. She was the reason they’d broached the topic of the Scout missions, and it had been her who’d criticized his work.

Needing a better way to burn off the boiling anger than pacing a hole in the floor, he changed into light-weight clothing and headed to the building’s exercise rooms.

He contacted his closest friend Reus on his wristunit, and thankfully was able to talk him into a game of virtual ochtoball this late in the evening.

The Abishek family’s exercise rooms took up an entire floor of their building. It was sectioned into individual spaces that allowed for focus, but Karo only ever used one. Set into the back corner, his favorite room was packed with the latest in virtual technology, most of which he’d designed himself.

As he entered, the virtual system automatically configured the room’s lighting, floor density, and temperature to his predetermined specifications.

“Load program delta-two,” Karo barked at the virtual room.

The room changed again, this time transforming the window panes into solid walls and configuring them into an octagonal shape. Holographic equipment hung from racks near the entrance and Karo quickly selected his favorite racket. He waited impatiently until a holographic image of Reus stood in the middle of the room.

Reus also had a virtual exercise room in his apartment, which he and Karo had installed. They often linked their systems and played “together” using the interface.

“I’m assuming your first date didn’t go well?” Reus asked without preamble.

Karo’s response was a vicious glare at his friend’s holographic image.

Reus held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Whoa, I’m not the enemy! Direct your venom elsewhere!”

“Can we just begin the match and not talk about my evening with Aevum?”

“Sure. I just can’t remember us ever playing ochtoball this late in the evening. Thought you might need to get something off of your chest.”

Karo’s reply was to serve the ball. It bounced off one of the eight walls, and Reus took a few quick steps to get his racket within range.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Reus asked as he swung and hit the ball. It hit a different wall and flew across the room. 

“No,” Karo replied as he lunged to whack the ball before it hit the ground.

The match continued and neither man said anything for several minutes. It was Karo who broke the silence. “She insulted me,” he confided. “Compared me to an animal.”
Hit.

“That was rude,” Reus replied.
Hit.
“Why would she say that?”

Karo missed the returned ball, but another virtual one appeared in his hand.

“She thinks that our Scout missions will fail because we’re only sending one person per ship, and over time the pilot’s mental stability will deteriorate. She believes that we instinctually feel the need to be around other people, the same as animals.” He served the ball. “I told her she was wrong.”

Hit.
“You told her that outright?” Reus clarified.

Hit.
“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

Reus stopped and let the ball sail over his shoulder. He shook his head sadly. “Karo, for an intelligent man, you really are clueless sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” Karo faced his friend and put his hands on his hips.

Reus sighed heavily. “She gave you her opinion and you immediately disregarded it because it’s different from yours? Not a good first impression.”

Karo served the ball again, hoping to shut Reus up. It didn’t work.

“Why would she have an opinion on the Scout missions anyway?”

Hit.
“She works for the Department of Anthropology.”

Reus laughed loudly, and again the ball sailed past him.

“It’s not funny,” Karo chided.

“But it is, my friend.” He continued to laugh.

“Can we let the subject drop and continue with the game?”

Karo worked his body hard, finding that the grueling physical activity helped to ease his emotional state. He and Reus were both sweating and breathing hard when they took a break. They sat on the floor next to one another, and Karo looked over at the holographic image of his best friend; his confidant.

“You believe I’m at fault?” he asked.

Reus took a large drink of water before answering. “I think that you were quick to discredit her opinion, which is very unlike you. Could it have anything to do with the fact that she has three degrees of separation from you?”

Karo grimaced. He wouldn’t have thought it possible that he’d be biased against another social class, but his actions certainly undermined that. It
was
possible that her social class was influencing his behavior, and he wasn’t proud of that fact.

He had been born into a family that held some of the highest offices their society had; it wasn’t until he had joined others who were training to work for the Department of Space that he’d realized that not all people were raised in families such as his. Karo’s childhood had followed regimented guidelines that had been set forth by the High Council decades ago. He had done everything to ensure that he would have a successful life, so learning that his DNA would be his biggest barrier had been a shock.

Karo knew he needed to address the main problem at hand, but he was afraid of being honest with himself. Did he think Aevum beneath him because of her family’s lower social status? 

“Yes, I’m afraid that I let my pride get in the way,” he finally confessed to his friend. 

Reus didn’t respond for a long time. “I remember the day we met. It was the first day of advanced training for the Department of Space. I was extremely nervous because I didn’t know anyone, while the rest of you had grown up together. But you always treated me just the same as everyone else. We became friends because we have similar dispositions, despite having very different families.”

Karo knew that Reus was right. He liked and respected him more than anyone from his own social tier.

“I feel ashamed of myself,” he confided.

“I know. What are you going to do about it?”

It was such a simple question. What
was
he going to do? The answer could change the course of the rest of his life.

“I’ll start by apologizing… and hope that she gives me a second chance.”

Reus nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. If I were you I’d start practicing that apology now.”

They sat in companionable silence for a long time. Finally, Reus sighed and stood.

“My ass is getting numb,” he mumbled.

Karo chuckled.

“Hey, not all of us have virtual rooms like yours. The floor probably molds itself to your butt cheeks to minimize pressure points, or something crazy like that.”

Karo laughed harder at the mental image Reus’s words incited. “Yeah we’d better get to sleep. But make sure you shower first. Even your hologram smells.”

Reus laughed heartily before his image faded. Karo shut down the exercise room and made his way to the ion-shower in his chambers. He practiced different apologies as the warm mist cleansed his skin, but decided that the best thing he could do was be honest with Aevum. He hoped she would appreciate that more, as opposed to him reciting all of the factual reasons for his defensiveness during dinner.

He changed into casual clothing and stood in front of his large vid screen. He felt anxious, and took a couple of deep breaths before initializing the communication feed that would record his message.

Since it was so late in the night, he didn’t want to call her directly and risk waking her up. This way she’d see the message when she woke.

“Begin recording.” Karo cleared his throat nervously.

“Good morning Aevum. I want to send you an apology for the way I acted tonight… or… last night, since you’ll be getting this in the morning.” Karo sighed. This was already not going well.

“I was wrong to dismiss your concerns regarding the Scout missions. I’m hoping that you’ll allow our pairing to continue and agree to go on a Second Meeting with me.” Karo smiled. “I promise to be on better behavior.”

Karo had every intention of stopping the message at that point, but something dawned on him. He stood shocked for a moment as he realized that what Aevum had argued about him needing companionship was correct.

After arriving home Karo had had every intention of remaining alone in his rooms, but instead he’d immediately contacted Reus. It had been more than just relieving his anger: Karo had needed his friend in a time of turmoil; had needed to talk about his problems, work it out with another person, and feel the comfort of being close to someone who understood him. He suddenly couldn’t imagine his life without those who supported him.

Karo looked directly at the screen. “You’re right. I couldn’t handle being alone in space.”

The sound of alarms punctuated the quiet.

“Not again,” Karo grumbled to himself. He’d just gotten the damn things to shut up. If the environmental system was going haywire again he was tempted to just lock himself inside his stasis unit and say to hell with it all.

For several days he and LINK had worked on repairing the ship after the unknown aliens had attacked. Nothing could bring back his engines, but at least he wasn’t in any immediate threat of dying anymore.

Karo swung himself up from where he’d dangled while replacing a conduit. Wiping the grime off of his hands, he hurried to the ship’s main controls, slid into his command chair, and quickly scanned the consoles that surrounded him. The alarm was from navigation. Something had just appeared at a very close proximity.

What the hell?
How did they get past the long-range scanners?
Navigation should have alerted him well before anything got this close. He initiated a video feed and was shocked at what he saw: the sensors weren’t mistaken.

An unfamiliar ship was off his starboard side.

The cloak was still initiated from his last run-in, but nonetheless he watched the vessel closely. It didn't look anything like the one that had attacked, and showed no signs that they’d seen him. Karo breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d come out of this encounter unscathed.

“Doesn’t look like we’ll get shot at today,” LINK told Karo. “They don’t have any weaponry on-board.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”

Now that the initial adrenaline rush was ebbing he couldn’t help but feel a tendril of excitement.

From what his sensors could gather the other ship was impressive. It had a sleek design and gleamed black in its own exterior illumination. It wasn’t large, so Karo assumed that it only carried a small crew.

Who were these people? He easily searched through spacial frequencies and found the one the aliens were using to communicate—it wasn’t like there was much else in this part of space to conflict with the signal.

He didn’t want to risk contacting them and drawing attention to himself if they were aggressive, but he’d still like to listen.

Voices filtered through his speakers, and Karo felt relief at hearing others speak. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in far too long, and soon Karo’s auditory translator was filling his ears with words that he could understand.

“Haha! Deian, I told you they’d throw up! Three out of four, that means you owe me three-hundred credits!”

The man’s voice was jovial and celebratory, but Karo
could
hear the quiet sound of someone vomiting in the background.

“Alright fine,” another man—presumably Deian—replied. “But maybe we can come to some other arrangement? Something that doesn’t involve the pesky exchange of money?”

“Oh I have a few ideas…”

A woman’s voice chimed in, “Boys, enough! You can settle your bet later. For now can we please celebrate the fact that we just jumped through a fold all the way to the void?!”

Fold? They couldn’t be talking about folding space, could they? Karo’s race hadn’t yet reached that level of technology, but he knew that it was a sound principle of physics. It was entirely possible that these aliens had discovered a way of folding space as a means of travel.

“I’ll celebrate once we’re back home,” the first man said. “How did the TSF Bridge do? Is the wormhole stable?”

A man cleared his throat and sounded slightly shaky when he spoke. “The Bridge performed at optimal levels, and the wormhole is stable, sir. Jayda is clear to begin flaring the entrance for the return jump.”

“Understood. Initializing the funnel now,” the woman—Jayda—replied. She continued to talk about the procedure as if she were instructing others on how to use the ship’s propulsion drive.

Karo was entranced by the alien’s conversation, and didn’t want them to leave yet. He enjoyed hearing their banter, and more than anything, he just wanted them to keep talking. He hadn’t heard voices other than his own and LINK’s for years, and he didn’t want to be alone in his ship again—with the silence… the never ending silence.

He’d recently taken to playing music, audiobooks, sports matches, anything to fill the void of soundlessness that permeated his vessel. Before this mission he’d had no idea how lonely a person could get.

Although, sometimes he almost felt like there was someone else with him. He’d come around a corner and expect to see someone working at a station, or he’d begin talking out-loud, but then remember that he was talking to empty air.

He assumed it was because at the Department of Space he’d worked with an entire crew of scientists and programmers, and had rarely been working alone. He would have gone a little mad without LINK to keep him company. 

A proximity light began to flash on the console, but Karo was confused by what he saw: an intensifying gravity field was opening a short distance away. He brought up scans of the area, but there was nothing but empty space in all directions. There was nothing to be creating the gravity well.
Where is it coming from?

“Jayda, the funnel is at fifty percent.”

Karo’s ship began to tremor. Minor vibrations quickly turned into quakes, and soon the entire ship was moving sideways towards the alien vessel as if it was at the center of the gravity well. His ship was still cloaked, but both would sustain heavy damage if they collided. They could all be stuck out here in empty space.

“Ninety percent. Prepare to initiate the jump back,” the man said over the comm link.

“Understood,” Jayda replied. “Deian, do we still have clearance with the Defense Department to exit the fold in the Arathian system?”

“Yes, the sector is still cleared. We’re awaiting your return.”

It sounded like these aliens had figured out how to not only create a fold in space using immense gravity wells, but to keep the fold open long enough for a ship to travel through it.

“Karo, the gravity they’re creating is intensifying. Without propulsion we’re going to be sucked in with the other ship,” LINK stated.

“We have to do something,” Karo replied, but knew as he said it there wasn’t anything he could do.

“One-hundred percent,” a voice announced.

“Lukas, would you like to do the honors?” Jayda asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The good news was that the ships weren’t going to collide. The bad news was that he had no idea where the fold was going to exit. Karo strapped himself into his seat just as he heard Lukas say, “Initializing now.”

Without any onboard systems to counteract the massive surge in gravity, Karo was flung back into his chair as his ship was dragged into the fold.