M Darusha Wehm
Beatriz walked down the darkened corridor, one hand along the bulkhead as a guide. She cursed under her breath. This was the fifth outage in as many cycles – clearly someone had lost the plot down in power management. But, of course, she was the one who was woken and asked to crawl around in the dark to fit a new fuse. Typical. It was going to be a long night.
There was one advantage to this recurring problem, though. She knew her way to the green sector power relay in her sleep. She strode purposefully down the hall, knowing that she’d reach the access panel in a few seconds. She felt the outline of the hatch and stopped, finding the release catch and popping open the recessed door. She carefully set the cover next to the now-exposed hatch and peered into the opening. She couldn’t see a thing.
She knelt down and crawled into the service tube. This was the worst part. She could feel the walls of the small space closing in on her, even though she knew they were solid. She fought with herself not to turn on her headlamp, knowing there was only enough power in the cell to keep the light ablaze for fifteen minutes. She also knew that it could take that much time to switch out the fuse, so she had to conserve.
Not for the first time, she cursed the poor planning that left her with such an underpowered light. ‘You can tap into the ship’s power from anywhere,’ they said. ‘There’s no need for portable lights,’ they said. She let her annoyance smother her fear as she crawled as quickly as she could to the fuse box.
She palmed open the box and felt around in her pocket for the new fuse. Only when it was in her hand did she finally switch on her headlamp. She squinted at the sudden brightness, then began the task of determining which fuse had blown and replacing it.
When she was done, a low hum filled the space and the lights blinked back on. She took a breath and began backing out of the tube. She felt something brush her leg and she let out an involuntary squeal. She rolled on to her back and sat up, her heart racing. She saw a flash of movement and turned toward it, her hands clenched into fists. She was just about to lash out when she recognised the source of the movement.
‘Thomas?’ she asked, her face screwed into a frown. ‘What are you doing here?’
The young boy shrugged, and Beatriz shook her head. Thomas was her sister’s boy, and he had always been a bit odd. Quiet; not the rough and tumble handful her other nieces and nephews were. At first, Beatriz had found the boy’s calmer nature to be a relief, but as he’d grown older it had become a little off-putting. And now he was following her around.
Great.
‘Does your mother know where you are?’ Beatriz asked, as they scooted toward the glow of the hatch’s opening into the corridor.
‘How can I know what she knows?’ Thomas asked, methodically moving along the ground in front of Beatriz. It was as if he’d been here before. She felt a shiver go up her spine. Kids. They were creepy at the best of times. These were not the best of times.
‘We should probably be getting you home,’ she said. ‘Your mom will be worried.’ Thomas didn’t answer, and Beatriz wondered if he could tell that she was trying to get rid of him. She wanted to go back to her quarters, pour a drink and relax. She hadn’t had a decent sleep since the first outage and it was starting to take its toll. She hoped she’d be able to keep her temper with Thomas.
They reached the hatch and Thomas scooted into the corridor. He made no move to leave, just stood across the hall waiting for Beatriz. She pulled herself out of the hatch, grunting with effort, and stood. She patted her pockets to check that she’d remembered all her tools, then lifted the hatch cover back into position. It clicked into place and locked with a hiss of compressed air. Beatriz turned to her nephew and a chill passed through her body. He was staring at her with an intensity that she did not enjoy.
‘Come on, buddy,’ she said, turning down the corridor. ‘Let’s get you home.’
They walked toward the habitation sector, alone in the corridor. It was off-cycle and few people had cause to be in this part of the ship. Beatriz often marvelled at how much empty space there was on the enormous starship. A few generations down the line some of these areas would become habitation sectors, but now there were whole sections that were almost as empty as the vacuum on the other side of the hull.
They turned a corner, and Beatriz realised that Thomas had been staring at her the entire time. She didn’t know what to say to a six-year-old, but the silence was worse than an inane conversation.
‘You’re pretty quiet. There must be a lot going on up there,’ she said, tapping her own temple.
Thomas made no response. It was as if he hadn’t heard her at all. She stopped walking, and he stopped as well, his attention never leaving her face. She knelt in front of him. His wide-open blue eyes never wavered from her gaze. ‘You OK, buddy?’ she asked. ‘Staring at me is kind of weird, you know?’
‘I just want to see if there’s anything there,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ Beatriz said, forcing a laugh. ‘You know what they say? “The eyes are the windows to the soul.” That it?’
Thomas frowned. ‘What’s windows?’
Beatriz laughed, legitimately this time. She stood and waved Thomas over to the side of the corridor. ‘Like the ports in the observation deck. They let you see what’s on the other side. Like this.’ At the wall-mounted terminal, she hit a few keystrokes. A live feed from one of the exterior cameras filled the screen. She lifted Thomas up so he was facing the image.
He scrutinised the picture for a moment, then repeated, ‘Windows to the soul.’ He wriggled around in Beatriz’s arms and stared at her again. His eyes were so clear, so blue, like the images of Earth’s sky she’d seen once. He looked at her intently for what felt like forever. Finally, he blinked once and said, ‘There’s nothing there.’
Beatriz put him down. He was no longer looking at her, but rather up at the screen, its display still showing the darkness of space. ‘There’s nothing there,’ he repeated, then walked down the corridor toward his quarters.
Beatriz didn’t follow him and he didn’t look back at her. Why would he?
Back in her quarters, Beatriz poured a large drink. She sat, sipping, thinking about Thomas. He was just a child. He didn’t know anything, was probably just going through some phase. She didn’t envy her sister, that was certain. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said.
What if he were right? What if there was nothing there, nothing for them to aim for, no planet for them to one day call home? What if they were out in the void, literally going nowhere?
And, worse, what if there was nothing inside either? No-thing special about humanity that made them worth saving?
Beatriz downed her drink and poured another. It was going to be a long night, indeed.