Surviving The Theseus (14 page)

Regina stared at those blue eyes, looking for
a lie, and could not see it. She genuinely appeared sincere and, at
the very least, believed she was not responsible. But looks could
be deceiving. What else could she do?

“I will draft a protection clause with the
following conditions: if, upon successful completion of a series of
truth tests, you are found to be innocent of any direct
responsibility for a single death on this ship, the SOAD will
implement a protection policy requiring identity catharsis and
relocation. If you fail a single test, I will throw you at the
mercy of the Major Criminal Offense Elimination judgment panel,
which will lead to one of two possible decisions: a life sentence
on the prison planet Hell or you will be killed.”

Rachel looked at the others, and no one,
including George, looked her in the eyes other than Regina.
“Agreed.”

There was hope yet, though not entirely.
Rachel could always try to escape, which would cause her to be
hunted, not only by the SOAD, but also by some government who
apparently inspired fear in this woman. She had everything to lose.
Why lie? “I’ll draw it up. George, I’ll need your signature as
witness.”

George nodded.

Ten minutes later, Regina had drawn up a
document as she stated it would read. She signed it, Rachel signed
it, and George witnessed.

“Before you begin,” George said as he looked
from Rachel and then around at his crew. “Keep your devices active
and roving the cameras we’ve all set up. If you see anything, let
us know. The floor is yours, Rachel, and if you would be so kind,
as quick as you can tell us. Time is not on our side.”

Rachel sat back onto the front, right seat,
took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ll tell you everything I know,
but I have to start at the beginning.”

Rachel sat with her back against the ship’s
wall, looking up at the others as she spoke. She folded her legs up
and into her body, feet on the seat, and hugged her knees.

“How many of you know why space travel is so
restricted?” Rachel said.

“What are you talking about?” Brett said. “It
has always been that way. I assume to avoid people veering off the
path and getting lost.”

Rachel waited and nobody else answered. It
didn’t surprise her, because she just found out recently. “Have you
ever heard of the Theseus?” She waited and caught an impatient look
on George’s face.

“Just tell us,” George said.

“Sorry. It was a research vessel. One of the
first sent out to explore unchartered areas when the gates were
first developed for distance traveling.” Rachel looked over at
Regina who was actually listening intently, from what she could
tell. It surprised her a bit. Maybe Regina wasn’t all hard-core
killer like she seemed. Her only emotion seemed to be anger with a
mix of distrust.

Rachel looked back up to the others.

“Essentially, the Theseus was a gate placer.
It carried several gates, ten to be exact, in pieces, which its
crew of 1000 would assemble, get operational, and then set the next
coordinates for the next gate. It was a two year mission that they
never returned from.”

Rachel had their attention now, for sure, if
she didn’t before.

She continued. “The last known communication
was at what was to be their fifth gate setup, almost at the one
year mission status mark. The fifth location was near a system
with, what the crew believed, a habitable planet. They were asked
to investigate and were never heard from again.

"A search and rescue ship was sent to that
location, found their ship but no one on it. Not a sign of anybody,
other than pile after pile of clothing.”

“What?” Regina said. “You’ve just been caught
in lie number one.”

“I’m not lying,” Rachel said.

Regina’s right hand reached inside her
coat.

“Let her speak,” George said. “You have the
document, Regina. You have no authority at this time and place to
snap judgment. Hurt her and I’ll make sure you never have human
contact again.”

Rachel wasn’t sure that would bother Regina,
but she was glad somebody said something. The crazy bitch was still
holding her hand inside her jacket, probably caressing her precious
weapon.

Regina said nothing more. She glared, but
Rachel didn’t care. She had held so much of her life a secret that
it was actually a relief to tell somebody something, especially
this. Blair was right. Poor Blair.

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Rachel
said. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Little did the
rest of them know, but were soon to find out, how fucked they
really were. How do you survive what no one else has?

“Anyone ever tell you your hands are
ridiculously small?” Rachel said and smiled. She was talking to
Eric, a tall, lanky man with long, stringy red hair and a sporadic
red beard.

“No ma’am. Never heard that one before. Maybe
if you weren’t comparing them to your Sasquatch hands, they
wouldn’t look so small.” Eric laughed, an infectious, machine gun
laugh that brought an even bigger smile to Rachel’s face.

The two of them were inside a shuttle, in the
shuttle bay of Pyramid One. Three large, silver cylinders loomed
over them from the wall in the engine room of the shuttle. Eric
worked on the floor, marking two spots with a marker, three feet
apart.

Admittedly, she did have large hands, but no
matter. “Now, Eric, that’s no way to talk to a lady.”

“You be sure to let me know when you see a
lady, and I’ll watch myself.”

“So sassy.”

“Well, man, I gotta be me.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Eric smiled. “You sure about these
measurements?”

“Yep, that looks right. Six feet total. Go
ahead.”

Eric reached behind himself and brought over
a laser radius device. He set it up so one end centered on one
mark, and the other end he slid to line up a laser pointer over the
second mark. He pressed a button, holding the non-laser end, as the
other side cut through the metal of the ship in a circular fashion.
There were no sparks, but the metal sizzled as the laser cut a
perfect six foot diameter hole.

Before the laser made its full journey, Eric
reached behind himself again while still holding the laser cutter,
grabbed a large magnet, and THUNK! dropped it onto the cut metal
section. As the laser cut all the way around, Eric held the metal
from falling by holding it with the magnet.

“So where’s that other dude, the one supposed
to be overseeing this kind of stuff?” Eric said.

“Oh, he’s around, I’m sure.”

Just then, Blair walked into the engine room.
Rachel didn’t make eye contact, even though Blair feebly tried to
do so.

“Hey man, we were just talking about you.”
Eric genuinely smiled. He always genuinely smiled, from what she
could tell. He seemed to like everyone, even when they mocked him,
which she noticed Blair would do from time to time, but Eric
probably wouldn’t know it anyway.

“Really,” Blair said, making quick glances
over at Rachel. “Hope it was good.”

“Oh, it’s all good, man.”

“Hi Rachel,” Blair said.

“Blair,” she said and nodded to him.

“Awesome. You have the hole ready for
insertion.”

Eric laughed. “You bet, buddy. Insert
away.”

Rachel smiled.

Blair did not get the joke; she could tell
from his serious look.

“Any chance,” Eric said, “you can explain
what this thing is?” Eric looked over at a large, cylindrical
device, a big donut, with a thin metal ring around some green
globular gooey substance. It looked like the circular end of a
bubble-blowing toy, but one made for giants. It was six feet in
diameter.

“No can do, Eric. Sorry. You probably
wouldn’t understand it anyway. It’s pretty technical.”

Eric frowned for a second, and then a smile
spread across his face again. “No worries, mate,” he said in his
best imitation of an Australian accent, which sounded pretty bang
on. “As long as I get paid, I do as I’m told.”

Two hours later, after Eric told several
stories of dares and double dares, Eric was gone and the cylinder
was installed in the hole. It was secured flush to the floor,
sealed with a super epoxy Blair had brought. It was Rachel and
Blair alone.

“You wouldn’t tell Eric, but you can tell me.
And spare me the bullshit that I won’t understand.” Rachel looked
directly at Blair as she spoke, but he couldn’t maintain eye
contact.

“I can’t.” There was fear in his voice.

Rachel and Blair sat in one of the ship’s
many bars, away from a small crowd. The place was nothing special
to look at. Tall, round, glass-top tables, wooden stools, hardwood
floors, and a long, dark wooded bar against the far wall, with two
bartenders mixing drinks.

“I’m flying the ship. I have a right to
know.” Rachel stared at Blair, never wavering with her gaze. She
took two big gulps of a lightly colored, chilled beer, closing her
eyes briefly as its flavor washed over her taste buds. Her eyes
continued to stare into Blair’s.

Blair looked away. “It’s complicated, and I
don’t just mean the technology.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I could get in really big trouble, like
fired, or worse, dead.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Even though she knew
it to be true. He was leaving her no choice; as much as she didn’t
want to, she figured it was the only way. She had already been
arguing with him for an hour and was getting nowhere. She needed to
throw him off, fluster him, get him out of his comfort zone of
being the one with power over her. “I’ll fuck you, if you tell
me.”

Rachel watched as a dumbfounded look morphed
over Blair’s face. That did it. He was all hers now. The nerve of
him trying to hide pertinent information from her, information that
could decide the success or failure of her part in all this, in
getting paid. Getting paid was everything, the only thing, the only
reason she would consider having sex with Blair. After this, it was
all gravy. No more worries. No more lying to her mother and no more
shot nerves getting away with things. No more hiding. No more
pretending to be someone she was not. No more.

“W-what did you say?” Blair visibly
trembled.

“You heard me. I’ll give you a half hour.
Anything you want to do, at my discretion, of course.”

Blair’s face became a darker shade of red by
the moment. “R-really.” Rachel tried not to wretch as she noticed
Blair look her up and down through the glass top table, her skirt
intentionally short, her shirt tight against her body, and her
ample breasts. His greased down, long black hair was repulsive, and
that stupid, prickly goatee would not be pleasant on her skin. The
crooked nose was a distraction and she was not normally attracted
to overweight men, at least not one with a personality like
Blair’s.

Rachel uncrossed her legs and re-crossed the
other way.

Blair visibly swallowed. “Ummm, okay.”

Excitement and terror oozed from his pores.
He seemed a paradox of emotion, his face red, sweat beading on his
face, a drop collecting on his off-kilter nose. Blair swiped his
arm over his face, wiping the sweat away, sniffing after he did so.
Rachel cringed. She would need more beer, much more beer. Luckily,
Blair could talk endlessly about his work, so she had some time.
“You first,” she said, and Blair began.

“You have to understand that this is all to
be kept confidential. It’s proprietary to TRAST and I can go to
jail for telling you.”

“Of course,” Rachel said. Rachel tried to
remember what the hell TRAST stood for, and then it popped into her
head: Technology Research for Advanced Space Travel. It was known
as the place where geniuses worked. Several things came out of it,
including the gates used for traveling great distances in space,
and the matchstick markers. Some hefty technology few understood
the complications of.

“We’ve developed -- and by we I pretty much
mean me -- some technology, specifically for this . . .
mission.”

Rachel smiled. It was not easy, but she
managed one.

Blair sniffed again, his nose running,
probably from all the excitement. He started talking about the
Theseus and its doomed journey with a mystery ending unsolved to
this day. “Nobody was recovered, just piles of clothing like they
all stripped down and jumped out the air lock. The ship was in
orbit around the planet we are going to, with one warning written,
we think, by one of the crew. It was scrawled across the control
room observation window in white marker: ’Avoid Planet -- All Will
Die.’”

Blair paused, probably for effect, Rachel
thought. He sniffed again, loudly, a distinct sound occurred as
something moved in his nose. A booger, no doubt. Disgusting. He
continued. “Regardless of the warning, they sent a team down to the
surface of the planet, and none returned. They sent two more teams,
but they were not heard from again after they broke atmo. That’s
short for atmosphere, by the way.”

“Thanks, Blair. I’ve actually used the short
version before, too.” She had a tone of sarcasm, but Blair either
didn’t pick up on it, or he was too arrogant to notice.

Rachel looked around the table they were at,
buried in a corner of the bar. Nobody was around.

“After that,” Blair said, “they sent another
team up from TRAST, who inspected the ship and brought it back to
their main research facility, which is where I work. It’s the most
prestigious of their locations.”

Rachel did not respond, but it seemed
as if Blair was waiting for one, some recognition probably.
Yes, Blair, the great and amazing.