J Mauldin - Final Solution

I removed one of the tiny cubes from a jumpsuit pocket, peeling the plastic strip off its back, and stuck it to the wall facing engine maintenance.

I flipped over my wrist and called into my watch, “César.”

My chipper assistant returned the page, choking on his words, “Hey, I… Call back. Señor. Alto! Alto!” His voice choked. “Señor. Is nothing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop playing footsie and get to the engine room. We have a leak to fix.”

“But I’m not, señor, I…” An excited, female voice bled in through the watch’s microphone. “I’m—on my way!”

Okay. So maybe I shouldn’t have been all that worried the pup would be underfoot. He had more than enough to keep him distracted for the time being—ten feet of legs, a set of rosebud lips, two bright eyes and a spitfire attitude. He was wrapped all the way around her little finger.

We fixed the leak without incident, bringing the thrusters back up to full in less than an hour. It was a failed seal, no big deal, a replacement piece and a few corrections to the software algorithm. Issue resolved. I informed Navigation of the shift in power and the proper course corrections were made. No lost time to be had.

As we made for the forward end of the ship in search of grub, a task well done behind us, I lagged back, letting César go first. Every few feet I placed another of the cubes on the wall, facing it down the hall, color blending perfectly into the ship’s pale bulkhead. I prayed no one noticed them.

“Señor, what flavor you feelin’?” César asked, standing beside the microwave, ready to heat up our slop. “Indian? Yellow curry? Maybe chicken fried rice? Ooo, you know what would be real good? Some très leches. Pero , no good por cena . Que pena. ”

“None of the above.” I waved a hand and kicked back in my chair. “Let’s keep it simple. Comfort food. Double bacon cheeseburger?”

“Comfort for you maybe.”

“Objections?

“Not at all, that’s good too. But, señor, can we bow our heads in prayer first? Time to give thanks.”

I might not have been the most religious person aboard, but I was certainly more so than Liberty. I obliged César’s prayer request each time, putting a piece of my heart into it. I genuinely hoped God, or someone, was watching out for us.

Inevitably, I would reflect on the war while he whispered what was in his heart, our eyes closed, room silent. For as many times as I considered it, I could never figure out who was in the right. It’s not as if the Brethren had clean hands. We’d killed our fair share of Jovians, men, women, and children. Done terrible things in the name of the cause. What made our actions any more justified than theirs? A flag? A symbol? An idea? Seems a weak defense to hang your soul upon at judgment day.

My heart rate continued to rise as I worked through the ship, cautiously meeting eyes with all those I passed. I began to suspect that everyone was the target, even the Nurse, Doc, Griffin, that newcomer Kelly, Ernest in maintenance, and of course, Dour Face. Then there’s Lank Hair, security #2, and Higgins, who looked very much like the sidekick from Magnum P.I. , security #1. I didn’t think XO, Navigation, or the Comm would be our threat, but that was just a hunch. Devins or his assistant? Doubtful. And the Captain? Why would he say anything if he was the culprit?

Each odd glance, each hushed whisper, I felt certain whoever it was had noticed my change in attitude and was already altering their plans. They’d likely seen me with the Captain yesterday, though he’d summoned me by text. Maybe they’d spotted one of the cubes. This stress was silently producing an acute paranoia compounded by my current difficulty in finding good sleep amidst the attacks. The target was everywhere, ready and willing to introduce us to hard vacuum.

The supply of cubes vanished faster than I’d thought. Before I knew it, I was putting the last one into place at Forward Observation. I scurried back to the crew quarters, faking an upset stomach to flee César, and made for one of the bathroom stalls. I closed the door, knees coming to rest against it. With a flick of a finger my tablet lit up, allowing me to key the unique ID number binding the cubes together over our internal LIFI network. They whispered to life, rewarding me fifteen, 4k digital video feeds. I routed these back through the ship’s secondary information network, applying transport layer encryption to ensure only the computer in the Captain’s quarters with the proper security token could read it.

GOOD WORK. My watch read a few moments later. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. I let out a breath and almost laughed.

I felt like an honest to God spy, a James Bond or Ethan Hunt, working deep undercover to save the world from terrorist agents. Too bad I didn’t have the ass kicking skills to go along with it. From now on, the Captain and I could keep watch on the ship’s critical systems even more so than normal. This operation had effectively doubled our camera coverage, though I had been careful to leave blind spots for my own needs. The arboretum had no cameras, and it needed no cameras.

César sounded as if he was going to pass out, the recycled air not quite getting in him fast enough. He halted in his stride, one hand on the bulkhead, the other over his chest, eye squeezed shut, searching for inner strength. I gave him a couple of moments to collect himself, repeatedly bouncing on the balls of my feet to keep up my heart rate.

He swallowed, raised a weak hand and waved me on. “Okay. V ámonos .”

The ice-grey halls of our ship rushed past in an unsteady blur. I was pushing him hard, trying to take his physical training to the next level. He’d added several more weights, and that was good, but faster times and increased endurance was still a challenge. The kid was nine years my junior, so by default he should be better at running laps, but that wasn’t the case. All my hard work had turned me into a lean marathon machine. I had to slow myself considerably just so he could keep up, not to mention, I had on twice as many weights.

Score ten points for the almost thirty club.

“Señor, you’re going to kill me,” he hissed. We pounded over the gangway of the arboretum, Devins and Jack whooping from below. “Why can’t I just use VR goggles and work the elliptical?”

“Because it’s lazy,” I said, slowing the pace just a little. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Intervals worked best anyway. Go hard for five or ten minutes, then take a few moments’ rest without stopping. Keep up your heart rate, strengthen it, then do better next time. “Just keep moving. Just keep moving.”

“Wait, isn’t that from that old movie? Like, the one about a fish?”

I shrugged and caught a glimpse of one of the hidden cameras. I’d used our laps to ensure they were still in place. None had moved as much as an inch, so presumably, they hadn’t been discovered. This was good news.

My watch buzzed with a message. Captain: AS THE OPPORTUNITY ARISES, ASK EVERYONE WHY THEY SERVE THE BRETHREN.

It was a benign question that could go a long way in directing us towards the target. Then again, it could blow our cover easy. I would have to tread lightly. César would be the simplest to ask. Might as well start there.

“Damn, why do you run so much?” César wheezed through gritted teeth. The weights were pulling his arms lower and lower, his right foot now scuffing the floor every fifth step.

“To get my mind off things,” I replied. “To try and not focus on the fact that I’m trapped in a tiny, tiny tube with nowhere to go, and will be for quite a while longer. It’s maddening, some days, being trapped in here with nothing but empty around us. Makes me want to bang my head against the bulkhead.”