Патрик Томлинсон - Children of the Divide

“Good work, Atlantis . Smooth sailing.”

“Thank you, Flight. Atlantis out.”

Kirkland let out a long breath, then allowed a small smirk to curl up her cheek. “Well, that was exciting.”

Jian couldn’t help but agree. “Hell yeah it was.” Jian unbuckled from his seat and faced the rest of the team. “Spread your limbs and get comfortable, folks. We’ve got almost a day and a half to kill in this can.”

They soon filtered out to fill not only the flight deck, but the enormous passenger/cargo compartment beyond. The harvester techs passed their time going through and checking their inventory of tools in preparation to fix their wayward unit. Meanwhile, the rest of the team focused on set up for their half of the mission.

On the “dark” side of Varr, final construction was underway on an enormous radio telescope. The telescope’s dish was built directly into an ancient impact crater on the moon’s surface. There had been plenty of craters to choose from. The Tau Ceti system had ten times the proto-planetary material of the Sol system, and therefore ten times the asteroid strikes. Finding one of the right diameter and depth facing away from interference from Gaia was easy. Finding one that wasn’t marred by secondary craters had actually been the hardest part.

The telescope was anything but an idle pursuit. Instead, it was to be the crown jewel in an orbital Early Warning array of space-based telescopes scanning the entire EM spectrum, from IR, to visible light, all the way up to a gamma ray observatory set to launch from the Ark in two months.

It was to be the Trident’s eyes, tirelessly scanning the skies for any trace of another attack from whomever had killed Earth.

Because two hundred and fifty years later, they still didn’t know. Didn’t have the first clue. All anyone knew about the beings who’d murdered an entire solar system was they could control black holes, and a vague direction from which the killer singularity they’d named Nibiru had been thrown. Whoever had killed Earth were like the monsters drawn into the margins of ancient maps. Nothing more than placeholders, humanity’s abject ignorance given form to make it easier to digest.

Jian tried not to think about it too hard. The attack that had killed his mother was bad enough, but those villains had faces, they had names. And most importantly, they were very, very, dead. That closure made coping a little easier. Besides – he’d never known Earth. The last person to have ever set foot on it died a century and a half before. His home was the Ark. He had many friends who lived on the surface in Shambhala, both human and even a few Atlantians. Chief among them was Benexx, an Atlantian adopted by humans as a larva. Jian couldn’t get angry over the death of a planet he’d never seen, but he would fight tooth and nail to protect his friends and everything they’d built together.

All their new radio telescope needed now was a receiver array. Which just happened to be packed into crates in Atlantis ’ s cargo bay.

Kirkland came floating up to Jian as he took inventory of the equipment. Again.

“How many more times are you going to double-check those crates? We’re in a sealed, pressurized tube. If they suddenly go missing, it’ll be the least of our problems.”

“I know. It’s just, I…”

“Want to make sure it’s done right,” Kirkland finished for him. He nodded. “You always obsessively checked your answers on the orbital mechanics tests, too. You wanted the rest of the class to think you were being thorough. But I knew you were scared of getting the answer wrong.”

“And you weren’t?” Jian let a little more bitterness slip into his tone than he meant to.

Kirkland shrugged, ignoring it. “I knew there was no point second-guessing myself. I always take my best shot on the first pass.”

“Guess you never made a pass at me, then.”

“Damn right I didn’t. Spoiled son of the captain? Sorry, Jian. You’re cute, but I’m not going to be someone’s ornament.”

“Obviously not. Ornaments are pretty.” Jian flinched as the punch landed solidly on his shoulder and sent them both drifting away from each other. “Ow! You just struck a superior officer!”

“So go tell daddy, and I’ll tell him what you said to earn it.”

Jian put up his hands in surrender. “Anything but that. He’s still trying to set us up.”

“Since when?”

“C’mon. Do you think the captain invites all pilot potentials over for Chinese New Year? In his penthouse?”

“Point. What year is it on that calendar anyway?”

“Hell if I know. Iguana?”

Kirkland’s face switched from playful to pensive. She nodded toward the crates. “You really think this is necessary? It’s been hundreds of years. We’re twelve lightyears away from the scene of the crime. What makes you think they’re even looking for us?”

“I hope they aren’t. I hope they haven’t given us ants a second thought in centuries. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be looking for them. Even if it’s just to stay out from under their boot.”

“That’s reasonable, I suppose. Still, it’s a lot of resources and man hours to spend.”

Jian shrugged. “Let’s hope it’s all a big waste.”

“I’ll drink to that when we get back.”

“It’s a date,” Jian teased.

“That’s one thing it isn’t.” She pushed away, deeper into the cargo bay.

Jian returned to the flight deck and to his private sleeping alcove. It was barely larger than he was, but in micro grav it felt larger, and he didn’t have to share it with anyone. Once settled in, he turned on the screen and flipped through his messages. There were well-wishes from his friends and flight classmates, a personal message from his father that he left unopened, and…

Ah, what’s this? A vid message from Benexx. Jian opened the file and hit “Play.”

“Hey stud,” said the Atlantian in flawless, unaccented English. It was zer first language, after all. “Sorry this is just a recording. We’re going to be down by the lake when you launch and there’s no com tower there yet.” Jian glanced down at the time/date stamp in the corner. Four days ago. Ze must’ve set up a time delay on the delivery.

“Anyway,” ze continued. “Summer is wrapping up. I’ve got less than a week left before I have to go back to Shambhala and everything that comes with it. You know the score.”

He did. Ze’d been nothing but a star-struck kid when Jian was already an adolescent. Kind of a pest, really. His father was friends with zer parents, and he’d insisted Jian humor zer during their frequent contacts. But ze’d grown into a symbol of unity for both of their people, and something of a celebrity in zer own right. It wasn’t a role ze was particularly comfortable with. He could relate.

“I just wanted to say good luck on your big first mission, hot shot. I’m sure you’ll do great. And don’t be mad at your dad if he tries to get mushy. He’s proud of you, you know. This was a good summer, like the ones we used to have. Lazy days and late nights. Sakiko says hello, by the way. Get home safe, and it wouldn’t kill you to come down the beanstalk for a visit.” Benexx backed zer face away from the camera so zer whole head and torso became visible. Then ze raised an arm in a mocking salute. “Cadet Benexx, signing off.”

The video ended. Jian watched it again, then closed the screen and quickly dozed off.

The rest of the outbound leg passed uneventfully. With nothing to do but coast along their ballistic trajectory, Jian and Kirkland took turns monitoring things on the flight deck while the other exercised, slept, or otherwise occupied themselves until it was time for their final approach.