J Mauldin - Final Solution

As I crossed the arboretum a scream came from the back of the ship. I whirled around, but it was nothing. Kelly was congratulating Griffin for her stellar work in an almost too friendly manner. A worry rolled around in the back of my head. I was missing something. Something very important. It was just on the tip of my—

Next thing I knew I was slammed against the wall, shoulders throbbing from impact. The air whooshed out of me and my hands trembled as I struggled to suck in breath. My lower flight suit brushed against a set of perfectly pressed black uniform pants, and the region grew interestingly tight. I drew a desperate wheeze and allowed my body to do what it did best.

Liberty forced her lips against mine, hard but sweet, tongue desperately seeking conference in a sloppy, hot mess. I worried for an instant we might get caught, but when I twitched to flee, trying to slide away and regroup, Liberty only pressed the offensive. She was far stronger than I had guessed. Her hips ground into me. Every nerve crackled like lightning, spidering from my arms, through my heart, and down beneath my boxers. After a moment of heavy breathing, a bit of shoving and near painful hair pulling, she disengaged, licking her lips while staring at me like a hungry animal.

She ran fingers through my hair, humming the melody to Love in an Elevator, by Aerosmith.

I croaked, “But what if—”

“Shut up, Davie,” she growled, and took me by the hand.

I wasn’t so much led into the arboretum as forced, routed down a single path without escape. I can’t say I didn’t like being pushed around a little, but I knew there were cameras nearby, though at the time couldn’t recall just where I’d placed them. If the Captain found out…

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, and threw me down on my ass in our secret hiding place. “But I want you and I’m gonna have you. You hear me, David? I’m gonna have you.”

I nodded, both excited and slightly terrified.

She ripped my jumpsuit in half, zipper shooting off into the trees, then peeled the clothes from her sweaty skin. She was glistening with the tension of our attack, eyes wide, brain running high on adrenaline. I stopped trying to be in control and let her take over. The heart shaped birthmark on the right of her neck blazed bright red. Only a few nuisances of clothing were in the way. She freed what she was after and a devious grin found its way onto my face.

Her open palms pressed down on my chest, pinning me to the dirt as she positioned her firm legs across my lap, her uniform jacket still on, its tail brushing against my thighs as she ground her hips into me. Time passed in a colorful blur of emotion, a sexual kaleidoscope of pleasure, rage, connection, empathy, fury, pain, and finally, precious peace—elation and release.

Liberty screamed so loud the whole ship must have heard.

She collapsed onto my chest and sighed.

I folded my arms around her, drawing damp, soft flesh against me. Something cool and wet dripped onto my chest. Liberty was trembling. I drew her ever closer, squeezing hard as I could, running fingers slowly through her hair and savoring her musty aroma like an expensive perfume.

A whisper rustled in the leaves. “She can’t save you.”

I glared back at the voice, invisible as it was. This was our moment, our crossroads. What I’d learned in life by now is that it’s not always what you do that you regret, it’s what you don’t.

I was done with regrets.

Three days later everyone gathered in the hall beside the bridge. The crew stood shoulder to shoulder, the stench of nervous sweat and rising paranoia as thick as conductive gel. No one but Officers were permitted to stand inside, which left the rest of us on the outs, hatches closed in our faces, left with bated silence.

Kelly let out a dry cough and a couple crewmembers gave him space. Griffin glanced at me for an instant and turned away. Doc sidled through the crowd and came up beside me. His elbow dug into my ribs. With everyone jammed so close together, I had to be careful. There might be witnesses here, but then again, it might be hard to identify the culprit if I got shanked in a press of bodies. Shit, as hard as Doc’s elbow jabbed into my side it might as well have been a knife.

I leaned against the bulkhead to find a modicum of personal space, furtively sliding the earpiece on. I could see Liberty through the glass from where I was standing, but couldn’t hear her. This moment wasn’t hers. She was just as much a spectator as the rest of us.

Rosaleigh Head, Navigation, looked nervous, her twitching fingers poised over the controls. The Captain was standing directly over her shoulder watching every move. XO’s pensive gaze was fixed on the main display, an image of our ship and inertial trajectory.

“Time?” XO’s voice over the earpiece.

“One minute,” replied the Comm.

Rosaleigh glanced at Liberty, seeking support. Liberty gave a slight nod in reply. I could almost hear the encouraging thought. You can do this. You’ve done this a thousand times. It’s simple.

Time had come to turn the ship, to begin deceleration for the second half of our journey. Might seem a little strange if you weren’t familiar with the process, but this was just as important to our journey as reaching the apex of our velocity. If we didn’t slow, we’d never stop. If we never stopped, we died.

Dour Face squeezed up beside me, pushing Doc ahead. He crossed his arms. “I don’t know why everyone thinks this is such a big deal. We’re just turning around. How about you, hot shot? Why do you think it’s such a spectacle, eh?”

I shrugged. “Tradition? Superstition? Like giving away a penny for a pocket knife, or throwing salt over your shoulder. We do it ’cause we do it. There’s never any real sense to it.”

“Maybe so.” He removed a small black marker from his pocket and began doodling on the wall. I frowned. It was too early to tell what he would make of it. “Grams did always said her prayers about now. The back hill slide. Should we start?”

My eyebrows crinkled. “Why not? But how about silently.”

He nodded and kept drawing. What started as a circle soon had symbols forming around the outside, working their way in. Part of the Brethren’s insignia began to appear in the seemingly random strokes of his marker, the center rotating around an inverse line. He studiously kept it up, details clean. I squinted my eyes and trailed it’s path. The pen’s thickness was the same as on the other drawings, as was its style.

“Steady, Navigation,” the Captain said over the earpiece, drawing me back to the spectacle.

Rosaleigh swallowed and began her countdown from thirty. “Three… Two… One… Mark.” She pressed a couple keys and jets of air hissed from the exterior hull. We watched the main display as our ship slowly rotated, fifteen degrees, twenty degrees, forty five degrees.

Dour Face grunted and stowed his pen. He was dispassionate at the result.

I looked at the image. It was the Brethren’s insignia, though an earlier inception from decades ago, set upon an inverse axis with open palms clasping it in an almost loving embrace. It was two ideas put together by force, yet with a sense of freedom represented at its center. But what was it really? A delusional machination of Dour Face’s subconscious, or a symbol of our hardline enemy, those evil, socialist bastards orbiting Jupiter?

“Hard time the other day,” Dour Face said, leering. He rubbed his deep set eyes and sighed. “So much happened, so many close calls. Could have crammed a hunk of coal up my ass and had an engagement ring after it was done. We’re all getting a little restless and folks have been poking around where they shouldn’t, engaging in questionable activities without regard for military standards.” Several crewmembers pushed against him, but his fixed attention didn’t waver.