J Mauldin - Final Solution

I know my father would have understood. He’d always told me to follow my heart and damn the rest.

The day after Liberty and I had shared the simulation we tried meeting in person. After a couple close calls between the Captain and Navigation, we broke it off, deciding it was best not to happen.

Nevertheless, we talked constantly over our private signal, dropping flirtatious promises wherever possible. My body practically buzzed with the prospects our future held. This wasn’t an if anymore, it was a when . When would all these sardines just go to sleep, one happy, slumbering school? All we needed were a few minutes alone to release the tension. And to be honest, I was getting tired of being reminded of this during staff meetings when my jumpsuit went tight.

“Father’s been focusing on his tablet a lot lately,” Liberty said as I strolled towards the aft of the ship, passing Lank Hair and Higgins, and trying not to meet their eyes. I was getting tired of the ill gaze Lank Hair had been giving me. It was as if he was saying, you killed César. But I knew it wasn’t true. Right?

“Is that so?” I swallowed. “What’s he doing?” Hopefully not watching my every move. If he watched too closely, Liberty and I were caught for sure. She didn’t know that, of course. I wondered if I should tell her now.

“Can’t tell, he keeps the screen hidden from view. I think he’s talking to someone. Maybe someone at command?”

My watch vibrated, a message appearing on the face: SECURE NUCLEAR STOREAGE AND LOOK FOR ANY TAMPERING. CHECK RAD LEVELS.

I rolled my eyes. That was part of my weekly routine. I was off to do it anyways. No ill signs had appeared as of yet. I was starting to wonder if all this worry was over nothing. I’d found no real signs of tampering. No evidence of anything seriously damaging, just regular wear and tear. With every day that passed, I was starting to believe less and less that the target had beaten me within an inch of my life. It was probably just some hopped up idiot playing knight in shining armor. Could have even been Devins, that asshole. I watched my back just in case.

“He’s doing it again,” she said. “Right now.”

“Where are you?”

“The bridge’s conference room. I’m waiting on Rosaleigh to get back so we can finish our game of gin.”

“Gin rummy? Too bad.” I leaned against the bulkhead of the power core, trailing a finger over fresh graffiti. Two stick figures were facing one another, pistols drawn, their lines in black marker. “Seriously, you’re playing gin? Hot damn, isn’t that an old person game?” I turned to the right and saw the drawing’s companion. Who’d done this? It was almost exactly the same as the first, but in this frame the cartoon man on the right’s head was exploding, while as the man on the left was leaning to the side attempting to dodge the bullet heading straight for him.

“Perhaps, but there’s been no action lately. Nothing else to do. Though, Davie, I’ve been trying to find some of my own. Heh. Either we’re still hidden or the Axis just gave up.”

I chuckled. “Maybe we scared ’em off. I wouldn’t be shocked if they could smell our nervous sweat from here. It has to stink to high heaven.”

“Whatever. Think you’ll be able to sneak off to my forest base later? There’s a stretch of soft dirt I wouldn’t mind being laid out on.” Her voice purred at the end. She sure got off on being bad.

“I’ve got the right tools for the job,” I assured her. “And a bit of practice beside.”

“Practice? Wait, hang on. How much practice we talking about?”

I twisted to face the port hallway. Griffin was plodding towards me. This was as good a time to flee an uncomfortable question as any. “I gotta go, Lib. I’ll contact you later.”

“Right. Right. Bye, Davie.”

“Bye.”

“You rang, sir?” Griffin asked, attempting her best to stand at attention without actually saluting. Her hands remained clasped behind her stiff back, a smoldering anger clinging to her expression. I didn’t really care. Protocol seemed unnecessary at this point. Not like I had a hungry ego that required it, unlike our Captain.

“I did.” I pointed over my shoulder, finger trembling like a spider’s web in the breeze. “I need help going through nuclear storage, looking for micro shielding holes and checking guidance computers.”

She sighed and slowly raised her eyes. “All fifty warheads? Sounds like busy work to me. Does the computer not monitor these on its own?”

“It’s sixty warheads, not fifty, and yes, it does. Is there a problem? Do you have somewhere better to be? Would you rather the Captain drop you off at the next convenience store so you can hitch a ride?” My face started to get hot.

“No, it’s fine.” She climbed the eight-foot ladder into storage, tools tapping hollowly against the rungs. Her motions were as limp as a deflated balloon, the weight of César’s death still heavy in her every action. I couldn’t blame her; she had grown very close to him in a short period of time. I desperately needed to apologize for my actions, but every time I tried, the words were unconjurable. It was hard to apologize after being beaten up in retaliation. If César hadn’t died, none of this would have ever happened.

Griffin stuck her head through the hatch. “Actually, it’s not fine.”

“What was that?” My eyes fixed on hers.

“I said, it’s not fine. Why don’t you just do it by yourself?”

My hands tightened into fists and my head felt swimmy. “This is your fucking job. You will do as I order you.” My back broke out in a sweat, the power core feeling unusually warm.

“He did everything you ordered him to and look where he ended up?” Her voice became a snarl. “You know why he was out there? It was because of you. Because he wanted to impress you, show you he could do it on his own. And what happened to him? He died trying to impress you!”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” I shook my head and grinned sardonically. “Because he was a good crewmember? Because he was willing to put himself at risk for all of us? Listen up, buttercup, I would have gladly put myself in his place. If I could go back, even now, I would.”

“Then why didn’t you? Huh? Why?”

“Why?” I sucked in a full breath. “What the hell are you talking about? I was locked in that damned hyperbaric chamber. How could I have done shit to help? I ordered César to come back inside but he wouldn’t listen. Not to a single word. That hard headed little shit wouldn’t listen!” Pressure built behind my eyes.

She licked her lips. “Little shit? I see what you think of him now, just another worthless Colombian you can throw out as fodder. You’re just like the rest of those Arsia assholes.”

“You back off, Griffin. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t want to do or say anything I’ll regret later.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and vanished inside the hatch.

“Fuck,” I growled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I’ll apologize only when she does.

My forehead thudded against the bulkhead, air wheezing in and out of my lungs. God, why the hell was this room so damn hot and cramped. It was making me dizzy.

I reached for the first rung and paused, a soft, precarious whisper vibrating my eardrums. Everything I did here reminded me of him, even her. He was like the little brother I never had. He’d had his shortcomings, but his heart had been set to a better moral compass than anyone on the ship—especially mine. I had hoped I could save him from himself, but I’d failed. Griffin had failed. We’d all failed. The compressed madness of this place had crushed his heart and driven him to his end.