The Ship – A Sci-fi short story – (For Gordon and Hazel)
‘Well Liz, fancy a quick drink?’ Captain Cole enquired as I completed my watch.
‘Don’t mind if I do, Captain’ I replied happily. I was aware that the Captain always had the best tipple you could anywhere on ship. It was exceptionally good and a pleasure after a long difficult shift controlling the lurching and groaning of a ship this age.
We left the bridge to the Captain’s private quarters.
‘What’s your poison?’ Captain Cole enquired.
‘Whatever you are having, Captain,’ I said.
‘There’s no rank in my rooms when we’re off duty,’ Captain Cole said cheerfully as she poured out two generous portions of amber nectar, ‘just Hazel and Liz in here.’
‘Right you are, Hazel,’ I said, settling back and taking the drink I was being offered. This wasn’t the first time we’d shared a drink or two after our watch but I liked to follow the protocol and wait until asked. It was a matter of respect.
‘How was the ship today?’ Hazel enquired as she sat herself down.
‘Oh, you know how it is with these older models,’ I replied, sipping my drink and relishing the flavours, ‘they become more awkward to control as they age. And this one has never been one of the easy ones. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard of one with a worse reputation.’
‘I know,’ Hazel grinned, ‘I was never sure if it was a good move taking over responsibility for this one. It’s an awkward sod. Perhaps I’d have been better off joining the pioneer squad.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I replied, quite shocked. I’d never heard Hazel grumble about this old ship. She’d always seemed really fond of the old blighter and quite happy to be in control. ‘The pioneer corps is pretty much like a suicide mission, if you ask me. You’re better off in a ship, even if it’s an old rascal like this. Only one in every hundred thousand ever land anywhere habitable. The rest drift around hopelessly until they die a lonely death. You wouldn’t want that.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Hazel said, with a chuckle, ‘but when I was young I was quite keen on being a pioneer.’
I looked at her aghast.
‘Yes I did,’ she grinned, seeing the look on my face. ‘I liked the glamour of it. You had your training, and your period of fame and adulation. People looked up to a pioneer.’ She grinned wickedly.
I pulled myself together. It was hard to think of Hazel in her younger days, dreaming of being a pioneer, heading off on missions to find other habitable lands and ensure the survival of the species. Pioneering was heady and exciting. I’d been tempted myself. But we all go through our young, mad days, then reality kicks in. Fortunately for me, reality kicked in before I signed up or I could have found myself living a short, lonely life in the wilderness. Very few pioneers ever achieved the fame and prestige of setting up a new colony. But the Captain – she seemed far too capable and responsible. I couldn’t imagine her ever having a wild youth.
‘Well I’m glad I did not opt for that kind of short career in the pioneer corps,’ I said, ‘and I’m glad you didn’t as well.’ I had a lot of respect for the way Hazel controlled the ship. She seemed to have her finger on the pulse. She knew what was going on in every department and somehow kept tabs on it all. I couldn’t imagine working for anybody else.
‘Thank you,’ Hazel said, accepting it as a compliment.
We sipped our drinks.
‘It is true though, Hazel said. ‘This one has always been a difficult one to control. I knew that when I took it on. The records are full of it.’
‘Yep,’ I nodded. ‘Right from the earliest accounts; this is one cantankerous animal.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Hazel agreed. ‘But that makes it all the more rewarding. To deploy all your resources is more fulfilling than merely performing a monotonous task.’
I hadn’t considered that before. The ship was challenging and there were times when I had to pit my wits and apply all my skills in order to stay in charge. Yet I enjoyed that. At the end of my shift I was often exhausted but the time had passed quickly and I had the satisfaction of having achieved something.
‘Hazel,’ I said, ‘you are right. I enjoy my work and wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.’
We were quiet for a minute, savouring our drinks and thinking.
‘I find it quite daunting at times,’ Hazel mused. ‘Being the Captain of this magnificent beast is sometimes quite a frightening experience. Both you and I, as first mate and Captain, follow a long line of masters going back hundreds of thousands of generations. We are part of that unbroken history. This ship has always known masters who have skilfully guided it to success. Now it is our turn. And in a short while we will hand over to the next generation. If none of us makes a terrible mistake this old rogue will be good for many hundreds of thousands of generations to come.’
‘That is what gives me nightmares,’ I said, shaking my head and looking concerned. ‘If I were to lose control, then that’s the end. It would be the finish of countless billions of us.’
Hazel laughed. ‘I have those same sleepless nights,’ she said. ‘But that is why we are good at our jobs – we care. We work hard, prepare well, and keep on top of the task. We’re excellent at it. This is a demanding old rascal but we know how it operates and keep it on the straight and narrow. This ship has sent out more than its share of pioneers. It has successfully established countless colonies and propagated our kind. There are probably trillions of our progeny out there right now, because of the work you, me and our forebears have done. Just think of it, Liz! That should make you feel proud.’
‘Oh, it does,’ I responded pensively. ‘I love my work and I do take pride in it. But sometimes I wonder if there shouldn’t be something more? What is this life all about? Surely it has to be more than merely living from day to day and spreading our offspring through the universe?’
Hazel regarded me with one of those amused smiles of hers. ‘Liz,’ she said, ‘you think too much. Life is much more than work – even doing a great job like ours; it is about moments like this, when we can sit pleasantly with friends, share food, a drink, talk and discuss, crack the odd joke and reminisce.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘but sometimes I think there has to be more than even that.’
‘But there is,’ Hazel exclaimed. ‘You and I are immensely privileged. Unlike most of our fellows, we are able to see a lot of the universe. Most of the poor devils never even glimpse what is going on. Theirs is a life of drudgery. We see the beauty. We sense the wonder. We have an idea of its scope and immensity. Surely that is sufficient to fill you with awe?’
‘I suppose so,’ I replied tentatively. ‘There are certainly wonders and marvels that you and I are privy to that make life worthwhile.’
‘Sure there are,’ Hazel laughed. ‘You’re just feeling a bit down. It’s been a long day. Drink up and mellow out.’
Hazel was right. We were privileged. We had so much. Life was good.
We drank up and ended on a cheery note.
The next day the Captain and I were involved with the next batch of pioneers. They had completed all their training and had their long furlough in which to live life to the full. Now was the moment of truth. They were to be blasted free of the ship, the nurturing beast that sustained us and provided all our needs. They were going to leave behind all their love ones and everything they had known, in the hopes of discovering new fertile homes where they could establish fresh colonies and win a future for our kind. One day our ship would lose the battle and fall into decay and disrepair. When that day came, hopefully many hundreds of thousands of generations hence, it was essential that our species had established itself elsewhere. The pioneers were our hope for immortality.
We surveyed the grave young people lined up on parade. This was their big day. They looked serious but determined. They knew the statistics. The vast majority were doomed to wander endlessly and find nowhere suitable to sustain life. They would live and die in a solitary bubble. But maybe one of these brave youngsters in front of us now would be blessed, maybe this time, on this occasion, we would hit lucky and a new ship would carry our DNA into the future.
‘You carry the hopes of all of us,’ the Captain finished her speech. ‘Now go forth and multiply! May you all strike lucky and prosper! May you pass on our genes, our culture and our history for eternity! May you sail the tides in your own ships and discover new continents! Go with all our blessings, all our love, all our respect and all our dreams. Onward to glory! May luck go with you!’
The pioneers cheered like crazy and jumped madly in the air. Then they streamed off to the launch site to prepare for their momentous blast off into the unknown.
There were tears in my eyes as I watched those brave young volunteers facing what for most of them was miserable death – such courage.
Now it was down to me. Part of my task, as first mate on the ship, was to inaugurate the launch of our gallant pioneers. That was no mean task. I had to coax the unwieldy ship to undergo an intricate manoeuvre. It was an exercise that was devilishly difficult to perfect and it was not without its dangers.
All the pioneers were at their stations, steeling themselves for the explosive force that would propel them forth from the life they had known to a dubious and frightening future. I bet, for all the resolve and strength of courageously spoken words, there were more than a few quaking nerves and regrets. This was the moment of truth. They knew their race depended on them and they were prepared, like so many generations before, to make the ultimate sacrifice.
I set the events into motion and began the delicate task of stimulating and irritating the body that was our ship.
Gordon was sitting in the lounge of the Marco Polo feeling rather sorry for himself. His head ached, his throat was sore and he had a cough that was making his lungs hurt. He’d had it for five days now and was debating whether to make that move and go and visit the doctor. He’d heard all the rumours of how it cost a small fortune but he was long past caring. This was well beyond a joke. He was experiencing difficulty breathing and his wheezing was keeping him awake.
He could feel the sneeze starting. It began as a tickle in the sinuses, progressed to an uncontrollable reflex that built up into a fully-fledged explosion. He just had time to pull a tissue out of his pocket before his eyes screwed up, his head went back, his mouth opened to suck in air and then his face jolted forward as his diaphragm and intercostals jerked and forced air out of his tubes at a rocketing hundred miles an hour.
‘AAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!’ He blasted, droplets of moisture and mucous out of his nasal cavity with the force of a hurricane. Gordon caught most of it in the tissue but some of the virus ridden aerosol escaped and were airborne drifting on the currents, in hopes of a chance inspiration.
26.2.2016
(I wrote this story after reading that 99 out of every 100 cells in a human body were non-human. I imagined humans being farmed and controlled by bacteria.)
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