Michael Siemsen - Exigency

Minnie’s compassionate smile disappeared, replaced with fret. “Oh no… you didn’t—” She sprang to her feet and surveyed the area, frantic. Her cute little fairy face left behind ghostly tracers as it darted about.

She really was cute. But not in a lusting older guy kind of way. More of a “You know, I can admit that’s a good-looking girl” kind of way. He’d seen her coming out of the shower half-covered (and not really caring) enough times to assemble an imaginary full picture if he’d wanted to, but this line of thought assailed him with an instant bout of self-loathing.

“Sorry,” he said, but her concerned face thought he was talking about the drugs. That was good. No need to correct her. Mind purged.

She squatted back down, lifted the top of his survival bag, and found his stash. “How many did you take? How long ago?”

He tightened his arm around the little case, though she had yet to try and pull it away.

“You’re cute.”

Oops. That was out loud. Stop it! What’s with this cute stuff?

“That’s great, John. Appreciate it, really. How many damn pills did you take?”

It was two. Well, two recently. How many at the EV? One. No, one on way there, one on way back?

“Sorry,” he said, trying to unmuddle his thoughts. “I think… how long’ve you been gone?”

“About four hours. You took one a little before I left, and I gave you two more for—wait, how did you even—” She peered back outside, probably spotting the drag trail leading to the EV. “Oh no… John … I’m so sorry! How bad was it? I can’t believe you pulled yourself all the way—Oh crap, your wounds! Let me look at you!”

She unzipped the survival bag to the bottom and carefully peeled away the top. The case of meds slid from his cradling arm, tossed aside to a pile of supplies on the opposite wall. As she hunched over him, examining the damage he’d done to all her hard work, his hypnotized eyes hovered on her orange hip. Beyond that curve lay his meds. Not so far. He could get there in a quarter the time it took to reach the EV. If she left them there. Oh, but there was no way now. He’d never see that case again.

“Wrecked, John,” she murmured, dragging the medkit across the floor. “Just wrecked. It’s all my fault. We can’t head north tomorrow. Not now.”

A cloud floated aside, exposing a small patch of clear thought. He looked up at her as she tried to sop up his leaky body with sponge pads.

“Hey,” he said. Fraught eyes locked onto his. “Not your fault. I said five. Was much worse. Thought I could handle, I guess. Stupid.” She dabbed the sweat from his head with a clean sponge. “Listen… I have to tell you something. A secret I’ve kept a long time.”

Minerva’s face scrunched. “Oh please, no. I don’t need any secrets right now. Save it for when your judgment’s on a bit more solid ground.”

“No, nothing weird. There’s nothing like that. I promise. Now listen… listen before I start swimming again. A decade—no. A decade and a half after launch, a pod was sent up. Special pod. Huge. Inside, an RRM—Rapid Return Module. Major upgrades all around. All over. Back to Earth in almost half the time to take to get here. To took. Ah, dammit… half the time it took! Eleven years.”

Minerva’s expression had morphed into a familiar chilly intensity. “When is it supposed to arrive?”

“Fourteen months.”

Calculations seemed to scroll across her eyes. “Fourteen months until orbit . Until it attempts to dock with a nonexistent station. A hell of a lot of good it’ll do us down here.”

“No, that’s the thing…” A wave of euphoria drifted through his brain. He shut his eyes for a second… juuuust a second—a light slap from Minerva on his good cheek. Eyes open. “Right… look, it has a lander. Full escape capability. If it can’t dock with station, it automatically sends the lander to our original rally point.”

She considered this information. “BS. Why exactly are you feeding me this crap? We hadn’t even arrived when your supposed RRM launched. I didn’t set our rally point until seven years later.”

“Retro update, Minerva.” He smirked. “Remember that whole thing we all learned about the speed of light? Laser comms?” The term escape capability struck him funny. He murmured it to himself. “Escape capability. Escape cape. Scapecape.”

“So this isn’t a load of crap?” Her hopeful gaze searched his face. “Then hang on. How long have you know this?”

“Only a few years.”

“Only? Dammit! Do you realize that none of this would have happened if you’d just shared this tidbit of info? If that looner bitch knew there was a way home—an escape from walls and tiny rooms and monotony—she wouldn’t have felt the need to blow the place up! She’d still be alive. My friends — Aether —would still be alive!”

This was true. He hadn’t been thinking about this quite disturbing hypothetical.

Hypothetical… Ish would still be alive?

“You found Ish,” he said. Minerva nodded, stone-faced. “Dead.”

“Thoroughly,” she said. “Thanks to secrets and effing rules.”

“We don’t know it would’ve made a difference.”

“Oh, good one! That’s brilliant. When were you going to tell us? Or was it supposed to be a last-second surprise? ‘Hey folks, guess what’s showing up in ten goddamn minutes?’”

His head was again sinking into a muddy abyss. Vision blurring. “Two months… orders… not before ETA twelve months.”

Minerva slapped both hands over her face and produced a stifled maniacal laugh. “Two months. Eff me… eff you . Hahaha, ridiculous.”

She struggled to her feet, all strength appearing to have drained from her body. Her boots skidded across gravel as she shuffled outside. John thought he could hear her weeping as she left, but his ears had dipped below the surface. The real world returned to some intangible realm just out of reach. And he didn’t mind so much.

Minnie set her bag on the kitchen counter, slid open the pantry, and browsed the empty shelves for a snack. On to cold storage. Equally vacant, of course. The shelves and coldstore existed here solely as décor. If she cared to take the time plugging in Qin’s food hack, she could slap a full banquet across every counter and gorge herself into a coma. If she was hungry.

She walked into the living room and peered out the panoramic window to the dock and lake. Some kids were standing in a canoe, playing balance. So carefree in their perfect world. Well, it probably helped to be only a vis. The kids were, essentially, animated paintings with zero AI. That would change if she went outside and actually interacted with them.

“Meh,” she said, plopping down on one of her crescent sofas. Across from her, she spotted a bundle of luxurious silver fur. Emilie was curled up between two pillows on the opposite sofa, sleeping as usual.

“Wake up, you,” Minnie said, and lazy lids rolled slowly upward to reveal a pair of lethargic cat eyes. “I’m home!”

Emilie stretched out a leg, splayed the paw and claws, began to purr, and settled back into an even more luxurious slumber.

Minnie threw a pillow at her. “You suck. Where’s Noodle?”

Emilie opened one eye. “Probably destroying something,” she said. “Check the attic. You see I’m trying to nap here, right?”

“I’m up here!” Noodle called from the attic, appearing a second later, orange tail swinging as he dangled by a single paw. He let go, dropping to the hall floor, and skittered into the living room. He hopped into Minnie’s lap, curling and twisting, his incredibly soft fur caressing her hands. “Where’ve you been? It’s been weeks!”