Exodus: Book 3 of the New Frontiers Series (A Dark Space Tie-In) Page 3

  “The wormhole is not traversable,” Councilor Markov explained. “So unless you have a death wish—”

  “You’re wrong,” Mr. Humphrey interrupted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The wormhole is traversable. Research has shown that with stronger hulls, better radiation shielding, and more precise nav calculations, a ship could theoretically make it through the eye of the wormhole.”

  “Even if that’s true, you’re talking to the wrong person—and you’re about a decade too late to find the right one. I can guarantee you that the Liberty is not designed to those exacting standards.”

  “Well, it should have been. We need to find out where the wormhole came from, and who’s waiting on the other side. That should be our priority.”

  “Again, wrong person, wrong timing.” A few people waved their hands to get the councilor’s attention, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to answer any more questions. I need to get back to my duties on the command deck. You may direct any further inquiries to the ship’s crew or prefects. Have a good night everyone.”

  Councilor Markov and Commander Johnson turned and headed back to the elevators together, while Sergeant Torres cleared her throat and asked them all to make ten lines according to their heights, from shortest to tallest. The Marines working with her helped to separate the group. Alexander ended up on the tall end and his wife on the short end. He waved to her, and she smiled back. Then Sergeant Torres and her Marines began distributing glossy black jumpsuits according to the heights of the people in each line.

  As they distributed the uniforms, Torres said, “In your outer pockets you’ll find physical keys for your assigned quarters. You can take them out now to check what room you’re assigned to, but please keep them with you at all times. Those keys are for emergencies, in case of a power failure or a mechanical failure. Under any other circumstances, you can open doors with your ARCs—assuming you have the proper clearance, of course.”

  Alexander received his off-duty uniform and fished through the outer pockets to find his room key. It was an antiquated piece of metal, designed for use with a mechanical lock. A small rectangular key ring identified it as key number 7-5070J|15070.

  “The first number on your key ring refers to your section, in this case seven. The second number will be five thousand and something. That’s your room number out here on the ring decks. There are 3510 rooms on this deck, with an identical number of rooms in the core’s ten dormitory levels, which brings me to the third number on your key ring—fifteen thousand something. That’s your room number in the core. Finding your rooms is easy. Just like an apartment building, the first one or two digits refer to the floor number, while subsequent digits refer to the room number on that floor.

  “Here on the ring decks ten corridors from A to J run between rows of sleeping quarters, so that’s what the letter after the number means. In the core, those corridors correspond to ten different levels from five to fifteen. There are three hundred and fifty-one rooms per corridor or level, at least ten of which are for the Marines and Navy, while room one is for your corridor prefect.

  “Prefects are elected members of the government, and they report directly to the section councilor. They are responsible for the people living along each corridor and the corresponding dormitory level in the core. Your acting prefect is Ana Urikov—she was one of the flight attendants from your shuttle.”

  Ana raised her hand and waved to the group with a well-practiced smile.

  Torres went on, “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this is a big ship. You can walk for a kilometer or more just to get from your room to one of the ten mess halls on this level, and you can walk for more than three and a half kilometers around each of the ring decks before you end up back where you started. The ship designers looked at a number of solutions to help make these distances shorter, but it was ultimately determined that the exercise would do us good.

  “That being said, Naval personnel, Marines, prefects, councilors, and various other types of crew have access to Patrollers to help us respond to emergencies more quickly.” Torres pointed to a row of gleaming white, self-balancing, two-wheeled vehicles along the wall behind her and the other petty officers.

  “To avoid accidents, please observe the yellow hazard lines running down the center of each corridor. Those lines denote emergency response lanes. Cross them with the same caution you’d use for a busy street. Walking in those lanes or otherwise obstructing them will result in immediate sanctions. Now, please follow us.”

  Alexander frowned, wondering once more what type of sanctions would be applied aboard the Liberty. He found Catalina through the crowd as the orderly lines of colonists flowed into a sea of bobbing heads. Sergeant Torres and the other Marines mounted their Patrollers and rolled off at a comfortable walking pace. Everyone in the group followed along, walking past corridors marked with glowing letters F, G, H, and I. When they reached J corridor, the Patrollers rolled into the right-hand side of the emergency response lane in perfect synchrony.

  “You should be able to find your rooms from here,” Torres announced from the front of the line of Patrollers. People were already taking her up on that and speeding down the corridor, eyes flicking between the glowing room numbers above each door. “Remember to activate your ARCs so that you can access the ship’s personnel directory, itinerary, and deck plans.

  “If you’re hungry, dinner will be served in the mess areas in just under half an hour, but make sure you change out of your shuttle suits and into your off-duty uniforms first. Keep the shuttle suits in the back of your closets; you’ll have to wear them again for landfall on Proxima B. On behalf of the Liberty and her crew, I hope you all have a good night. We’ll be seeing you again soon.”

  “So?” Alexander asked, turning to Catalina with a grin. “How do you like our new neighborhood?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, it’s a step down from our three floor lakeside mansion.”

  Alexander frowned.

  Seeing the expression on his face, she hurried to add, “But we’ll make it work. What’s important is that we’re together.”

  “Starting over is never easy, but we’ll get back to where we were. Just remember why we’re doing this. This is for our children, for their futures—and for ours. There’s no androids to compete with on this ship, no benevolent AI to rule us, and no threat of war or impending doom—just an endless void full of possibilities.”

  Catalina arched an eyebrow at him. “A void full? Quite an oxymoron you have there. Let’s find our quarters and get settled and then grab something to eat. Looks like the ten mess halls are each themed with different types of cuisine...” she said as brightly colored images flickered over her eyes. She was using her ARCs to check the ship’s facilities. “Just like a cruise ship. How about we try Asian food tonight?”

  Alexander smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Sounds great.”

  Catalina nodded and matched his smile with a less enthusiastic version. They started down the corridor together and found their room on the left side of the corridor. The number 5070J glowed brightly above the door. Alexander highlighted it with his ARCs, and yellow brackets appeared around the door. He thought the word open, and heard a chime sound inside his head as those brackets turned green and the door slid open. Lights bloomed inside their quarters, revealing a simple kitchen, living room, dining room, breakfast bar, and even a small terrace with leafy green plants growing along the sides. A glass railing ran along the back of the terrace, and beyond that, a holographic sun peeked up at them from the hazy edge of a rippled gray ocean. Clouds like crimson tongues of flame drifted across an amethyst sky.

  “A cruise ship complete with an ocean view balcony,” Alexander said, nodding appreciatively as he walked up to the terrace doors and mentally opened them. A warm, tropical breeze blew into the living room as the glass doors parted for him.

  As he watched, that ocean view transformed to a sandy bea
ch with curling waves crashing and racing toward them.

  “I’m afraid of heights,” Catalina explained, walking up beside him.

  Alexander grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He listened to the waves crashing on the shore and inhaled the fresh, salty air coming off the ocean. The illusion was convincing enough to make him forget that they were actually cooped up inside of a metal box. “Beach front property. Not such a step down after all.”

  “Maybe not,” Catalina agreed.

  Chapter 3

  Sergeant Torres was right about the Liberty being a big ship. The walk from their quarters to the Wok-King, Section 7’s Asian-themed mess hall, took twelve minutes, and according to Catalina’s ARCs she and Alexander covered 1,220 meters to get there. Most of that was spent just walking past the rooms after theirs to reach the end of J Corridor. Catalina shuddered to think how long it would take to evacuate the dormitory level in an emergency.

  The mess hall was well-decorated rather than utilitarian and cafeteria-style, adding to the cruise ship comparison she’d made earlier. A blocky metallic server bot greeted them at the door.

  “Welcome to the Wok-King,” it said with photoreceptors flashing bright green above its speaker grill mouth.

  Catalina sensed Alexander stiffen at the sight of the bot.

  It was the first one they’d seen, but a worrying sight nonetheless. The Liberty had promised no androids on board, but apparently that didn’t extend to older generation bots. It was just a short leap from there to the mess Earth had landed itself in with a well-meaning AI taking over and elevating the working-class machines to sentient androids, indistinguishable from humans.

  Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin to the bot. “What are you doing here?”

  The bot’s photoreceptors went from green to blue. “I am hosting guests at the Wok-King.”

  “I mean what are you doing on this ship,” Alexander specified.

  “My job is to make sure that unskilled labor positions are filled, thus ensuring that passengers and crew will be forced to seek employment in more fulfilling capacities.”

  “I thought there weren’t supposed to be any bots on board,” Catalina said.

  “Bot is a colloquial term for an autonomous robot equipped with some degree of artificial intelligence. It is also a derogatory term for an android. I am neither, for I do not possess artificial intelligence, nor do I have a human appearance. I am colloquially known as a drudge.”

  “You must have some degree of AI or you wouldn’t be able to answer our questions,” Alexander said.

  Catalina nodded along with that. She’d been about to point out the same thing.

  “My speech routines are advanced, but my other functions are limited to host and waiter.”

  “What prevents you from being upgraded to serve a higher function?” Catalina asked.

  “Upgrading my functions would be illegal and result in the immediate re-formatting of my core.”

  “Hmmm. I see,” she said. “All right, then show us to our table.”

  The drudge’s photoreceptors flashed bright green once more. “Of course! Right this way...” he replied, rolling away on two wheels.

  They followed the drudge into the dining area, weaving a path between dozens of tables and hundreds of other guests. The mess hall was massive. Catalina supposed that it would have to be with only ten such eating areas and over seven thousand people to feed in Section Seven. She guessed there had to be at least five hundred tables in the restaurant, but it was hard to tell with all the room-dividing furniture and Japanese folding screens to break up the space.

  “Alexander the Lion!” a boyish voice called out.

  Catalina glimpsed Benjamin waving to them from a table coming up on their right.

  “Shhh! Don’t yell, Benjamin,” his mother chided before looking up with a smile. Benjamin and his mother were seated beside a holographic aquarium full of colorful orange and white Koi.

  Catalina stopped beside their table. “It’s a small ship after all,” she said through a smile.

  “Hah!” Benjamin’s mother replied. “I think I burned more calories getting here than I’m going to get back.” She held out her hand. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m Esther.”

  “Nice to meet you, Esther. I’m Catalina. I believe you already know my husband thanks to your son’s fondness for history.”

  Esther smiled and nodded as she glanced his way. “Would you like to join us?” she asked.

  “That would be lovely,” Catalina replied. “Thank you, Esther.”

  Despite its inability to form an expression, Catalina thought their host looked flustered.

  “Crimson!” Benjamin crowed. “You can sit here, Alex,” he said, patting the chair beside his.

  “Benjamin! That’s Mr. de Leon to you!” Esther said.

  Alexander smiled, and took his seat beside the boy. Catalina sat between him and Esther.

  “A waiter will come to take your orders soon,” their host interrupted before rolling away.

  “Can I call him Mr. Lion instead?” Benjamin asked, ignoring the bot. “It’s easier to pronounce.”

  Esther looked puzzled, and a breathless silence blanketed the table as they waited for her reply.

  Catalina cracked a smile and laughed. “Let’s hear you roar, Mr. Lion,” she said, grinning at his expense.

  “Meow,” he replied, and they all guffawed.

  A server drudge identical to the host model showed up and took their orders. Their food arrived a few minutes later, whereupon hunger kept their mouths busy and conversations limited. Once they finished the main course and dessert arrived, they found more time for small talk.

  “What was it like growing up on Mars?” Catalina asked Esther.

  “Crimson. Totally crimson,” Benjamin dead-panned before his mother could reply. “Red sand. Red sky. Red clothes. Red eyes. Red, red, red! At least you see green when you close your eyes.”

  “How’s that?” Alexander asked.

  “You see it in your dreams.”

  Esther chuckled. “He’s lying. It was actually a lot like this—everything indoors, including green gardens and blue lakes for reservoirs,” she added, glancing reprovingly at her son.

  “But all under a red sky!” Benjamin insisted.

  “Yes, under a red sky.”

  “Sounds like a dreary place,” Catalina said. “I’m sorry—that was your home.”

  “Don’t be. It was dreary. Why do you think we left?”

  “Do you think Proxima B will be any better?” Catalina asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope so,” Esther replied.

  Catalina expected a barren wasteland like Mars with the possible addition of liquid water in the habitable band along the equator.

  “I wonder what the Proxans are like?” Benjamin chimed in.

  “The Proxans?” Catalina asked.

  “You know, the aliens who live there.”

  Alexander intercepted a worried look from his wife, and he shook his head. “I don’t think there are any Proxans.”

  “Why not?” Benjamin insisted. “Everyone keeps saying Proxima B is habitable, but if it’s so habitable, wouldn’t it already be habited?”

  “In-habited,” Esther corrected.

  Alexander cracked a smile at the boy’s logic. “Well, evolution isn’t a sure thing. Even if you have a planet with all the right conditions for life as we know it, the odds of it evolving there are very slim. For all we know, we’re the only intelligent species in this galaxy.”

  Esther shook her head. “We’re not.”

  Catalina regarded her with eyebrows raised. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’ve met them.”

  “You met... them?” Alexander asked. Skepticism was written all over his face.

  “Aliens,” Esther replied, nodding. “I was abducted.”

  Catalina was about to say I’m sorry, but that didn’t seem to fit. “What was
it like?” she asked instead, wondering how much she should humor Esther’s delusions before changing the topic.

  “I was standing in Benjamin’s room one night, seven months pregnant, looking up at Phobos and Deimos, and I saw a silver speck darting around in the sky. I wondered if it might be a drone. Then I saw a bright light, and suddenly I was falling into it. Something caught me and carried me into the light.”

  Esther shook her head and winced. “The next thing I knew, I woke up lying on a table, naked, with them all around me. It was so bright in the room—they were the only thing I could make out clearly. They were naked, too, but sexless, with wrinkly gray skin; giant, hairless heads; bulbous, slanting black eyes, and tiny noses and mouths. They were short, like children. Two arms and two legs like us, but only eight fingers.” Esther grimaced and swallowed thickly, obviously struggling with the memory.

  Catalina was having a hard time taking her seriously; she struggled not to smile. This had to be a joke.

  “You’re talking about the Grays,” Alexander said.

  Catalina turned to him with eyebrows raised. “The aliens she’s describing,” he explained. “There’s thousands of abduction stories like hers—no real proof to back them up, but they all more or less agree on the general appearance of their abductors: gray skin, big heads, naked, hairless, and genderless.”

  Esther nodded along with that. “I didn’t know anything about abduction stories before they took me, but that’s what I found when I did my research after the fact. It was reassuring to know that I’m not the only one. Some of them were taken multiple times. Thank the Architect they didn’t take me again. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to board the Liberty. Maybe they wouldn’t know how to find me at Proxima.”

  “Hold on,” Alexander held up a palm and smiled, unable to hold back his skepticism any longer. Catalina shot him a warning look, but he ignored it. “You believe in the Universal Architect, and aliens?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Esther asked.

  “Nothing if you don’t mind logical inconsistencies. The Bible predicts that the end of humanity will coincide with the end of the universe, but if that’s true, then it stands to reason we must be alone in the universe, because it’s unlikely that a creator would end all of the alien civilizations out there just because humanity’s time is up.”