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They headed back up the metal staircase and closed the door behind them. Jack punched a second code into the keypad that provided additional security to the powerhouse. Casey was the only other person in the four-person crew who was aware of the code. Now that they were to be awake (with nightly six-hour sleep intervals) for the duration of the trip, they would change the four-digit codes every week.
Why the tight security when the entire crew was not only friends but could be trusted implicitly? Casey wasn’t entirely sure how he knew this, but in 2135, space was still the final frontier, and it could have strange effects on the people who explored it. By then, they’d been locked inside a long, cross-shaped tube for six months and would continue to be for another three months at a minimum. Claustrophobia could be an issue. Anxiety and even irrational anger could show themselves at a time when you least expected them.
That’s why Casey, as a Space Force combat non-commissioned officer, was placed aboard in the first place. To keep things in order should someone get violent and/or out of hand. It meant everyone outranked him, but he had full authority to put someone down if they posed a direct existential threat to one or more of the others. In any case, that’s clearly the program that the A.I. had installed in his brain for his present life in the metaverse.
“Imagine me acting the role of the cop when apparently the cops who lived in the Metaverse were after me for crimes I committed over a century ago on planet earth. Not that I would find any of them up here or on Mars for that matter...”
“Listen, Jack,” Casey said, “I’m not getting in that cockpit elevator without a coffee. Do you really think another minute is going to make a difference?”
The barrel-chested African American man pursed his lips, and ran his meaty hand over his bearded face and thick head of hair, both of which he usually maintained by shaving them clean.
“Come to think of it,” Casey thought, “I could use a shave and a haircut, and so could the Captain.”
He also realized the only reason Melissa had cropped hair was that she’d shaved her head bald just prior to lift-off. It was a smart move, but it was also the fashion in 2135.
“We’ll bring coffee for the crew,” Jack said. “Then we’ll all get some food in our bodies, and after that, we’ll make a plan for repairing the hatch.”
“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Casey said.
“Don’t call me, Stan, soldier,” Jack said, as he headed for the galley located below the cockpit.
The galley was narrow, but it provided everything the crew needed to make some pretty great meals. That is, you didn’t mind rehydrating freeze-dried food. While Jack went about making four coffees, Casey escaped to his bunk where he grabbed his electric razor. He made his way to the lavatory, where he drained his bladder, and then shaved off his beard leaving just some stubble. He also cut his hair down almost to the scalp.
Washing his face and head, he dried himself with one of the towels that hung from a wall-mounted hook. Gazing in the mirror mounted above the stainless steel sink into his big brown eyes, he found himself grinning.
“How the hell did I get here?” he whispered to himself. “How are they doing this to me? I’m dead, but I’m also living. I’m flesh and blood and flesh and blood can die. Or can it?”
“Casey, where you at?” Jack barked from the galley.
“Coming,” Casey yelled back.
Reentering the galley, he saw the four coffees set on a tray. The coffee mugs were white, with the U.S. Space Force logo printed on the sides. There was also a small container of sugar and one of condensed milk. The galley smelled good. Like home cooking.
“What are you cooking up, Jack?” Casey asked.
“Bacon and eggs in the pressure cooker,” he said. “Should be ready in a minute or two. Let’s get these upstairs first and give the pilots a report.”
“Aye, aye,” Casey said.
The two exited the galley kitchen and stood before the narrow elevator door that accessed the lift which would take them up to the cockpit. Jack held the tray of coffees in his hands. He faced the elevator, anxious for the door to slide open. The information he had to reveal to his superiors was of the utmost importance.
Casey Smith’s eyes were focused elsewhere. Away from the door. He felt like he was being watched. The sensation was so intense, that he felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. As the elevator door slid open, Casey was certain he saw something scoot past inside the dimly lit corridor. It made his pulse race and his mouth go dry. He would have said something to Jack about it as he was stepping onto the elevator, but Casey could not be sure if what he saw was real or imagined. Perhaps it was the result of having been up in space for so long that his mind was playing tricks on him. He didn’t want to come off as sounding like a crazy man this early into the non-hibernation portion of the mission.
In a word, Casey couldn’t be sure if what he saw was real. But one thing was for sure. What he saw was dark, like a shadow, and it was shaped like a giant moth.