The Lookout
Fiction - by Dennis Kohler
She would spend most days in the station looking out into the void in the observation deck. There she’d sit for hours, inspecting the void, looking for what never came, looking for hope. As usual, hope had left for a better locale. She’d find despair. Despair, loneliness, and the void.
In better times, the lower observation deck had served as a room for galas, and once a daughter of a king married a young Navy commander there. When she closes her eyes, and listens, she feels the music through the steel floor. She hears the slow shallow breaths, in and out, of the dancers as they push themselves past their endurance. They would dance and dance with each additional band-struck tune. They would, with a power only brought on by youth, hope for a chance of love.
She had been there, when the hall was full of life. Now it was empty. War had a way of changing things.
The cushions lay in haphazard arrangement against the overstuffed settee where the brave young commander had plucked a garter from his lady love's thigh, wistfully sniffing at it before he tossed it in a high arc into the inevitable rugby scrum that followed.
That was before the news of the invasion. It was before the station changed into a refugee camp, before the long faces of young widows were covered by tears. It was before the front moved forward and left her alone to stand the final widow's watch.
She wondered, as best she was capable of wonder how many of those young, proud men remained. If the losses among them were anything like the rest of the human population, then only one in every three of those young men were still alive.
She looked down into the raised pillows. Since the station had gone on reserve power, it was getting harder and harder to get good physical care from the service bots. This combined with her age made her thankful for the short distance she had to drop before she settled into the pillows. She tried not to think about what would happen when the day finally came that she would be unable to get up. Instead, she focused on the great expansive void.
“Three thousand light years from the cradle of humanity,” she said, thinking back to the days when she had served as guide to the flow of visitors the station received. It was a good break from her regular work in the comfort rooms. “Three thousand light years, an impossible journey made possible because of the imagination and tenacity of the greatest animal the universe has ever produced, humankind.”
She realized how naïve the statement sounded now.
She jacked her receiver into the station's main computer and waited for it to run a complete diagnostic. She couldn't tell if it was her imagination, or if it was the fact that, like her, the computer was getting old, and starved for energy. Two long beeps greeted her and she saw the assisted display light the lower observation window.
Not too long ago, she would have been up in the command center, with her hands on the computer itself, but she could not bear to return to command. Instead, she counted on the display she had cobbled together from pieces of holographic entertainment systems scrounged from the now useless entertainment deck. It was not as precise, or as clean as the one in command, but to her, lower observation was the last safe place on station.
She started her scan. It was the same scan she performed two times a day since her last and only friend left her. It was her promise to him. Rest with the alarms on, and scan the sky twice daily.
She calmed herself and tried to waste as little motion as possible while the computer performed its task. The green light of the visual feedback swept across the sky and compared station rotation, and travel across three axes. She watched as the projector traced the position for the last 12 hours of every object, however faint out in the void. In a single snapping motion, she watched as the image corrected itself for time and space.
A single red dot appeared in the lower right hand corner of the observation window. She wondered if at last the computer had folded..
She focused the controls and asked the computer to calibrate against the motion, but the dot remained.
It was harder than it ever had been to lift herself off the cushions, but she needed to know what was going on inside the control room. After the long walk, after the hesitation at the door, she tried to ignore the blood stains.
There was no scent of him, or his fluids left in the air, but there were signs of him everywhere. There in the lockbox was his father's pistol, exactly where she had placed it after she had taken it from his limp hand. There, cued to play over the system was his voice frozen in time.
“Welcome to Frontier Seven,” it said, “welcome to freedom, and the fulfillment of your dreams.”
She longed to hear his voice again, but she held back her hand. She didn't want to tax the old computer while it was working.
Confirm inbound object.
The letters blinked on the HUD.
She interfaced with the control chair.
As she reached for the trigger, she felt the presence of him in the DNA that he had left behind.
Confirm inbound object.
The letters scrolled and changed.
ETA two hours.
She remembered she had left the trigger next to the cushions.
Rest with the alarms on and scan the sky twice a day, she recited over and over again as she made her way back down to the lower observation deck. It was a mantra against memory loss.
She looked at the red tracking line on the window for a moment before she flicked off the switch. She reprimanded herself for not powering down earlier. Too many mistakes.
The trigger was where she left it. She knew when the time came, it would require a certain amount of finger gymnastics, but once she could span the gaps made for much larger hands, it would let her trip the trigger from anywhere on the station. She reminded herself of the standing order she had given herself. Never let it leave your sight.
She groaned down and moaned back up, but it was a job worth doing when once again, she had the device and all the power that came with it in her hands.
When once again she found herself in his chair, she fought off the sadness of the command center, and allowed herself a bit of happiness knowing that she had seen his last wish through to the end. She had been here to receive the visitors.
Since the beginning of the war, there had been two realistic possibilities: The first, was that whoever or whatever it was who had destroyed the outer colonies would come. Most likely they would then do what they had done elsewhere. In the first days of the war, the communications system was as active as it ever had been. The network of ships carried burst transmissions of the news and though The Frontier was as remote as any piece of humanity had ever been, they still maintained contact. When the ships started disappearing, and the whole of humanity drew in to protect its historical center, the news stopped. The last complete message spelled out that mankind had its back against the wall.
The second option for visitors was humanity, once again reaching out to distant stars. This for her was a better option, but Jack always told her, don't trust just because they are human. A human ship could be pirates as easy as rescuers. In the case of pirates or attackers, she had the trigger.
The station didn't have built in defenses, but Jack was an engineer, in fact, he was a damned good one. That was why, when he volunteered to stay, his suggestion was acted upon. The commanders knew that without support from the fleet, the station would need care from a person who knew it inside and out. There was no better person than Jack. They even ignored his age.
Nobody asked her to stay or go, she just woke up and found herself alone on station, alone that was until she found Jack.
It took six days for the ship to arrive. As it got closer and closer, her suspicion that it contained humans got stronger and stronger.
The first hint was that it traveled alone, raiders, generally traveled in packs. The second hint was the condition of the ship. Even at such a great distance, the station's remote sensors read the engine leaks. It was the kind of radiation that indicated a serious core breach. She knew this because before Jack left, he had saved the station from such a fate. After it was over, he made her study all of the safety protocols.
“I won't be here forever,” he said.
He was right.
On the sixth day she sent a greeting. They were the words, his words, the ones she wanted so badly to hear.
“Welcome to Frontier Seven. Welcome to freedom, and the fulfillment of your dreams.”
She felt the sadness overtake her as she waited for the signal to make its trip out to the ship, she waited for the crew to process, she waited for the signal to return.
When it came, it came as a relief.
“This is Terran Ship Boa Ogoi, request permission to dock.”
The station read the underlying sub frequency, deep within its brain it held the keys that had been implemented in every outpost since the beginning of their collective push outward. The recognition sequence triggered the reception system.
“Permission to approach high luminous side 22 degrees above rotational axis. Yield control of vessel in Earth standard, seven minutes.”
Then there was silence.
She took the pistol from its place of honor, then fulfilled another promise she had made years ago. She hid.
During the several hours the station guided the ship to its dock, she watched on the small monitor Jack had installed in a maintenance compartment in secondary engineering.
Jack, her only friend, Jack the forward thinking, had rigged the whole system to look like nothing more than an auxiliary lighting system. Even with complete access to the station's computer, nobody would know she was there.
She rested until the ship came into contact with the hard outer shell of the docking column. The whole station shook. The inertial dampeners of both ship and station on their best days would have interfaced and negated the contact, but the best days of most things human were long gone.
The sound of the echo through the dimmed halls of the station did as much to wake her as the vibrations, then almost as quickly as it started, the vibration was gone.
When she changed the view on her monitor from external to internal, the image had a light blue tinge of aging equipment. She saw two figures, dressed in standard issue vacuum suits exit the gangway.
“Run the diagnostics,” one of them said.
The second, the one to whom the order was given keyed a box at her side.
“No sign the bugs ever got here,” a woman's voice answered.
“Virus scan negative, contaminants, negative, atmosphere, breathable, but thin. Earth normal minus four. Some organics detected, but nothing dangerous.”
The larger one reached up, cracked the seal on his V-suit and started to cough.
“You didn't warn me about the smell,” he managed through his raspy breathing.
In a gesture of common, shared misery, she saw that the air wasn't going to kill him and took off her own mask.
“There may be some usable salvage here,” she said.
“Sure, when we get the resources to get back out here again.”
“So why are we here?”
“A promise,” he said.
“What?”
“A promise, now, kindly use your onboard and tell me which way the control center is?”
She peered down into the device that was strapped to her neck and pointed.
“Lead on,” he said.
The cameras on their path from the landing bay to the control center were worthless. Even if they worked, which most of them didn't, she would have been unable to use them. The station had long ago cut off peripherals to preserve its brain. Like a living being that had fallen through the ice, the station was in a permanent state of shock.
She ran some juice to the control center. Her sense of them was split between a perceived vibration of them entering and the hazy image on the small screen. She willed herself to hear and not be heard.
“This place is a wreck,” the young woman said.
“What do you expect after all these years?”
The man then spoke in a voice that held the tone that he was speaking through communication equipment. She heard only one side of the conversation.
“Carlo, you eavesdropping?”
“No, but you should be watching the radar.”
“Right, I'll get it out of you later.”
“No, I need a favor.”
“Any possibility you can get some power into the station without leaving your post?”
“No, I don't want anybody outside.”
“OK.”
“How long?”
Then his voice was back to the normal register.
“Carlos thinks he can run a bot over to reroute some of the power in our auxiliaries. He says 15.”
“Good,” the woman said, “that will give you just enough time to explain this promise.”
In the closet, she could sense the man sigh without seeing it. She could tell he had given in to the young woman's persistence because of his low voice.
“This is a rescue mission.”
“For who?”
His voice became staccato, upset at the interruption.
“This is a rescue mission for a hero. Back before the war started, before we knew exactly what we were up against, this station was an example of the greatness of humankind. It was an outpost at the edge of the unknown. At first it was a scientific concern only, but as time progressed and more and more people took to the stars, it drew in a class of people who wanted to see more. This station became the St. Moritz of the spaceways. Everybody who was anybody wanted to say that they had been to the edge and returned. With all that wealth came a group of people who could provide anything money could buy. This became the greatest playground mankind had ever known. Behind it all were the people who made it work. When news of the invasion came, The Frontier was first a way station, then in the end it was abandoned to the front. One man stayed behind, he was a Technician Level One who was responsible for the upkeep of the entertainment systems. His name was Jack, and he volunteered to stay. There was a little girl, who witnessed it all. She was barely old enough to understand when her mother promised Jack that they would come back for him when it was safe.”
His story was interrupted with a buzzing noise that the woman in the closet heard.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
“No power?” the man asked.
“No, the power is in the pipe already. The problem is what the interface showed when the screens lit up.”
“Which I am sure you are going to tell me.”
“You are sitting on a bomb.”
She felt the energy surge through her. It was as if the entire air was full of it, and she was soaking it in from every angle. It was the power that allowed her to hear both sides of the conversation. It was the power that allowed her to jump to her feet, something she hadn't done quickly in decades, and step out of hiding.
The man's reactions were fast. Faster than the woman’s, and, though she couldn't be certain, faster than Jack's had been.
He turned, drew and pointed his gun at the perceived threat.
“Don't shoot,” she managed through a voice box that hadn't spoken in a great long while. She realized how scratchy it sounded, calmed herself, and tried again.
“Don't shoot,” she repeated. This time she knew it sounded sexy. She stepped forward, keeping the trigger, now vibrating with its new energy hidden behind her thigh.
The man lowered his gun slowly and the woman stepped to the side.
She realized that she didn't like the attempt at a flanking maneuver. She had read countless military histories with Jack and understood what it meant. She took the trigger out from behind her thigh and held it up for the both of them to see.
“With the most recent information that Carlos has told you, you no doubt know what this is.”
The man holstered his gun.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said.
“I am, ship's captain, Lucian Deitweiler of TSS Surveyor Boa Ogoi, at your service. This is my ship's science officer Maritana Leiu, who despite any appearance otherwise,” he said the words with a force that stopped the diminutive woman in her tracks, “is here to serve you as well. Might I ask, your name madam, and if you are cold.”
She could see the eyes of the little woman light up as she struggled to stifle a giggle. It gave her a good feeling to know that even in danger, she was among people who could see the humor in things.
“My name is Maybelle, Captain, and I do not get cold, However, if you would like, I will pull on a pair of coveralls.”
“As you wish Ms.”
She wished to avoid the distraction that her scientifically designed and biologically augmented frame had on the captain.
The only man she had seen in years was poor old Jack, and he had lost whatever interest in her, clothed or unclothed, had at one time existed.
To some, however, the science officer included, she looked more attractive in the oversized technician's uniform. They both noticed, however, that the trigger never left her hand. When she finished dressing, she felt she had both of their attention.
“Where are my manners?” she said, “Won't you join me? If we have power, that is, for a drink.”
“Carlos,” the captain said, “See to it that deck–” he paused.
“...4 ring 15,” she said.
“Deck 4 ring 15 has power, and turn on the damned air scrubbers.”
The Cantina, for the first time since the last of the refugee ships had left was lit, and the air smelled like the ocean.
“Ah,” Maybelle said, “the good old days.”
She closed her eyes and imagined what it had been like when people with nothing on their mind but how to have a good time walked among the gaming tables.
A serving bot creaked and tried to wipe the dust from the bar.
They sat.
“A double mosquito for me,” Maybelle said, half expecting the barkeep to die on the spot. She turned to the captain, “somewhat of a specialty.”
“Same for me,” he said.
“Suits,” said the science officer.
The drinks arrived, cold, and boozy. Maybelle raised hers to her lips.
“First drink in I don't know how long,” she said.
The small talk came easy. The captain allowed her to savor the moment, then got down to business.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Jack stayed, and I stayed with him. He made a promise to stay and watch out for the whole human race, and when he...”
She found that she didn't want to believe he was gone.
“What did you do with the body?”
“He shot himself in the head,” she said, “He shot himself in the head, and he didn't tell me. He shot himself in the head and left me to clean up the mess.”
“What did you do with his remains?” This time it was the science officer who asked.
“I gave them to the clean up crew, and instructed them to place him in the deep freeze.”
“Carlo?” the captain asked.
“On it, boss.”
Three drinks later, Carlo's voice cut through the haze.
“I back tracked it to your level. There is a record of a storage entry in the consumables log. There is a cooling compartment behind the processors. Apparently rich people like to pack real food.”
“You two get to know each other,” the captain said and walked toward the rear.
In the dark, he found the end of his long journey. In the room that had once been cool now lay nothing more than the history of what had been. The delicacies that had cost millions to ship to The Frontier, now were nothing more than dust and stains. In the middle, however, was a single shape that reminded him of pictures he used to see down in the bunkers during the war. There was a human shape, wrapped and placed on boxes labeled with the names of foods that hadn't existed in a generation.
He reached down and peeled the sterile wrap off the body.
Under it he saw a dessicated human skull with a single hole above the right orbital ridge.
“Hello Jack, great grandma said we'd be back,” he said.
Boa Ogoi, underway, had the size and speed to allow it to sneak between strongholds of the bugs. Now they knew the new map of the universe, everything that was left of the old spaceways was meaningless.
The captain sat up in the bunk of his private room. For the first time in the life of Boa Ogoi, space was not a premium, everybody had their own room.
“Enter,” he said when the door chimed.
“She's resting,” the young science officer said, “it took up until an hour ago to determine what the problem was. She is a Mark IV, The type of work they were designed for meant that they didn't have any permanent memory. She was supposed to wipe clean every night, and return to the pleasure houses. Something went wrong, she has distinct memories of every day for the last 300 years, and for all but 10 of them she has missed Jack. I want to know if I should repair the deletion code.”
“I think maybe we should talk to her.”
When the door opened, she thought it was Jack, he had a habit of waking her when he wanted to play a game of chess. She enjoyed the games, even though she had to find something else to do to keep her mind occupied while she played down to his level. She started to say she'd set up the board, then stopped when she saw it was the captain, not Jack.
“I need to talk to you,” the captain said.
His voice had a kindness in it. It reminded her of an old friend. When he was finished, he reached up and brushed the tear off her cheek.
“A lot has happened since you decided to stay at The Frontier,” he said, “things are different now. Humankind is on its heels. It is as simple as that, when you were created, you were an object, now you are a sister, never again will you serve. Never again will your sentience be questioned.”
He explained her choice, simple to speak, near impossible to comprehend.
To live and to love, to live and forget, or to die.