Darren Wearmouth: Critical Dawn

It was strange for Ben to hear Jimmy being poignant. He probably was the closest thing Ben had to family. He was also usually the life and soul of the place. He was going to be missed.

“Say hello to Billy and Tracey from me,” Ben said.

“I’ll let them know things haven’t changed. Same food, same clothes, same movies, same old Ben.”

“If you can send us a message through the supply hatch, let us know what it’s like?” Erika said.

“You know I can’t do that,” Jimmy said. “I asked the same thing before seeing my first retirement. Why take a risk once you’re out of here?”

“I wouldn’t,” Ben said.

Jimmy was the third retirement since Ben started in the Operations Compartment. He tried to push the jealous feelings to the back of his mind. They’d done their time, and he was next.

“Have you said goodbye to Maria?” Ben said.

“Five minutes ago. She didn’t want to watch me leave. Thought she’d give you the pleasure,” Jimmy said.

A faint, whooshing noise came from behind the airlock door. A white light winked above it.

“Thought this day would never come,” Jimmy said.

“I haven’t seen that door open for two years,” Erika said. “Not from this side.”

“Any final words, Jimmy?” Ben said.

“I’ll see you soon. Don’t work too hard.”

The airlock door smoothly slid open with a hiss. Jimmy stepped into a bright, silver space and turned to face Ben and Erika.

A neutral female voice came from a speaker next to Jimmy. “Door closing.”

“Good luck,” Erika said.

“See you soon,” Ben said.

Jimmy raised his hand and smiled. The door slid shut.

The corridor returned to its usually gloomy state after the airlock timer blinked off with a low click. Ben leaned against the chilly wall.

“That’s it?” Erika said.

“Yep, that’s it. I’m going back on shift.”

“What do you think he’ll—”

“Not now, Erika. Not now.”

The whooshing started again. Jimmy was on his way. Watching the door close brought his departure firmly into reality. Ben had to keep his emotions in check. If not for himself, for the other three. They had ten years plus left in the compartment. As the senior member, he wanted to keep up morale.

“We’ve got to complete our weekly aptitude tests by tonight. You done it yet?” Ben said.

“I’ll get it out of the way now,” she said, and headed back toward the common room.

Ben returned to the Operations Room, finding Ethan and Maria hunched over the console in conversation.

“Going through the procedures again?” Ben said.

“Repetition, repetition, repetition. That’s what you told me when I first arrived,” Maria said.

“I’ll be quickly up to speed,” Ethan said.

Ben resisted the urge to crack a cynical, time-related joke. He sat next to them on the spare plastic swivel chair. After decades of shifts, cream foam was visible through the worn, blue threads of the cushioned seat.

“How’d it go? Any tears?” Maria said.

“It was all bit abrupt. I’d prepared myself, but…”

“I get what you mean. You’ve been together years. It’s impossible to prepare for something like that.”

“Where’s Erika?” Ethan said.

“She’s doing the weekly test,” Ben said. “We all need to complete it today.”

“Weekly test?”

“Forgot to tell you about that,” Maria said. “We get a set of twenty multiple-choice questions on a weekly basis. Most are around the Ops compartment, pretty basic stuff. There’s a couple about our mission statement that never change.”

Ben stiffly saluted. “We gave today so they could have tomorrow.”

“Where do we take it?”

“You take it on your own in the common room,” Ben said. He glanced at the two small cameras in opposite corners of the Ops Room. They were positioned all around the compartment. Did other crew members really monitor their mundane lives? He hated the thought of it.

“What if I fail? Know anyone who has?”

“There’s a rumor that one guy did thirty years ago. Apparently, a pair of huge men in protective clothing grabbed him—”

“Stop teasing him,” Maria said.

“You’ll be fine, trust me. A chimp could pass it.”

“Is that rumor true? What if someone refuses to do their job or screws up?” Ethan said.

“You need to drop the paranoia. Seriously, give it a couple of weeks and you’ll wonder what you were worrying about.”

Ben had heard stories of people refusing to comply, going crazy in the isolated environment just as he’d heard the rumor about the test failure. It was always large men in protective clothing appearing out of the lift and dragging the crew member away.

The clear embellishment was the offenders being fired out of the waste disposal hatch into space. How could any of the shift know? Besides, it seemed these stories were passed down through the decades. He’d never met anyone who had physically witnessed it or knew a person who had.

“There’s a comments section at the end of the test. You’re supposed to report any strange behavior from other crew members,” Maria said.

Ethan frowned. “Like what?”

“We’ve got an agreement to leave it blank,” Ben said. “It’s sort of a tradition—”

A loud scream echoed along the corridor. Erika.

Charlie stopped a few doors away from The Rusted Shovel and waited for Greg, whose voice was cutting in and out through Charlie’s cell speaker, to stop moaning about the cancellation of the trip.

Eventually, his old friend from Charlie’s time as a National Guardsman stopped for a breath.

“I know it’s super last minute, but something’s come up at work, and I’ve got to stay over the weekend.”

“You know we’re psyched about this one. We won’t have another chance until next year. This was the last weekend they’d keep the place open to visitors,” Greg said, the disappointment all too clear even over the crappy line. For the last few days, Charlie had noticed that it was becoming increasingly difficult to make a solid call. There was something on the news about increased electromagnetic interference in the atmosphere these days.

“I’ll make it up to everyone,” Charlie said. “Next trip is all on me. With this work we’re doing at the moment, I should be in line for a big fucking bonus, and I’ll share the wealth, bro.”

“It’s not the money, Chuck, it’s the time. But fine, I get it. I know it must be important for you to grovel like a whiney bitch.”

“Yup, that’s me. Okay, I gotta run. The boss is giving me daggers. I’ll be in touch next week when I know my schedule better, and we’ll arrange something else. Say sorry to Manny and Bill for me.”

“Will do. Laters.” Greg hung up just before his words were cut off from a blast of static. Charlie pulled the cell away from his ear before dropping into the front pocket of his cargo pants.

The truth was, as eager as he was to make the climb and meet up with his buddies, the discovery just wouldn’t leave his imagination. He’d only got two stations away when he knew he couldn’t concentrate without digging further into it. And then there was of course the opportunity to share a beer with Pip, something he hadn’t had a chance to do in months.

Since they took on the Nat-Geo contract, it had been fifteen-hour days for everyone. Not that he thought he really had a chance. She was his boss for one, out of his league for another. Her parents were some big shots in D.C. He doubted she’d be the model daughter if she showed up at their mansion with a bottom feeder in hand. Charlie didn’t even own a suit: just cargos, chinos, and jeans.