Aubade: Chapter 11
Aubade has action, mystery, futuristic tech and yes, romance too! All you need, right? Here you can read more about how it all began.
What’s it all about?
You’re a woman who’s woken up out of stasis and you find yourself onboard the spaceship Aubade escaping Earth. Forever. Last thing you remember is going to bed. On Earth.
Westport Cargo
As requested, at 800 she stood waiting for Stapleton at the port. She wore her semi-formal black uniform. Perhaps to look more together than she felt.
She watched him step out of the dusty shuttle and take a few strained steps before he'd shaken off the mask and the rest of the protective suit. No throw ups. He was not even pale. His second crew member was equally alert. Once the helmet came off she recognized Fleur’s blond hair and contagious smile!
"'Lo," Stapleton nodded but didn't show any signs of smiling.
Fleur greeted her with her confident and bright smile:
"Tengel regrets that he couldn't come, so I sacrificed and made sure we arrived OK." Stapleton did show some type of twitch that could be interpreted as a smile.
"I assume you want to see Jack, I mean Henley," she asked as they walked through the hallway into the civilian compound.
"Yes, and afterward we'd like to see Sirta."
Sara wasn't sure how to proceed from there because she had not requested a meeting with Tanaka Sirta, Meadows's stand in while onboard Aurora.
"Of course, follow me." She had to improvise.
They entered the sick bay and were met by Paulon.
"Greetings, greetings, and may I add that my day has brightened considerably," he smiled while slightly bowing toward them. Sara laughed and wondered which holo he had adapted that one from.
"Paulon, good to see you, we hope to see Henley."
"Of course, of course, follow me." His rapid walk separated them by one room's length but it was a small place and Sara knew where to go.
Jack didn't look too happy at the sight of his Commander. Sara remained standing by the door while Stapleton sat down near Jack. Fleur walked over to inquire about Jack's health, exchanged a few friendly insults, and then walked back to stand next to Sara while letting Stapleton continue.
Somehow she could sense a strong feeling of embarrassment coming from Jack. He did not look at Stapleton when speaking and he kept his own talking to a minimum. Stapleton reassured him he would be back in no time, and that this could have happened to any of them. This was just a sick welcome gift from this planet.
To this Jack responded past Stapleton and looking directly at Sara:
"Special request, Sir, will you take this message back with you? Tell 'em that I would rather roll into a bloody meat ball in the company of our new Amazona friend than have to smell their ugly stench."
Stapleton slowly looked over his shoulder at her with a half-impressed look. Fleur snorted out staccato laughs while standing straight. Sara was not prepared for such an impressive compliment, and could only join the laughter.
"Just a few more days, Jack, just a few more days, and we'll all be greeting you back to our smelly armpit of a home," laughed Stapleton. Jack was a bit more talkative now, and propped himself up to a seated position.
"Sir, you saw the tapes. It was unlike anything I've seen. I mean everything went dead on us. Had I had enough oxygen perhaps I could've got us back faster. I don’t understand how the oxygen supply could have been so low." Jack broke out into a coughing fit.
"Everything has been reviewed, and everyone, I mean everyone agrees that both you and Miss Hanley here acted to the best of your abilities, and perhaps beyond. Now get enough rest so we can put you back to work!"
This really seemed to cheer up Jack who reached out his hand to give his Commander a strong handshake. Sara gave Jack a quick smile before they left the sick bay. She could feel his smile on her back as she left with Stapleton and Fleur. It felt unusual and made her feel self-conscious, as if everyone could tell she had an admirer. He was obviously still waiting for that hug.
Sara remembered their request to see Sirta, and she decided to take a risk and just bring them over. Sirta was no fool, he was informed. He must have spoken to Stapleton many times during the entire set up of the colony and was most likely expecting him.
Tanaka Sirta didn't like people. He was slightly disgusted by how the ebbs and tides of peoples' emotions drove them into foolish acts. That is why he kept himself heavily sedated with the highest quality nests, and it made him appear cold, distant and sharp.
Sirta had managed to eliminate most of his useless compassion in favor of strategic skills. Needless to say his temporary office, which soon and any day now would become Captain Meadows's quarters, was spotlessly clean and lacked any type of dispersed items that even the emptiest room might still have.
Sirta considered items useless. He only needed his notebook, his anti-aging regimen and his suppressants. His face was smooth as silk and the only thing that moved when he spoke was his mouth. His brown eyes bordered on green and due to his lack of fear or intimidation and the latest rejuvenation eye drops he would rarely blink and usually stare down anyone without even trying.
Sara was informed that she would be waiting outside the Captain's quarters and Fleur was assigned to stand guard outside. Sara sat down and examined her notebook. She found a collection of images from the Coast in one of the design files. Coastal structures were considered somewhat simple and archaic, but the structural components were so carefully thought out that even the most modern solutions often had to take inspiration from these straightforward buildings. This colony had used many of the same solutions.
She looked around the small room. Fleur remained still but she noticed her stare and gave her a quick puzzled look.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Fleur being on duty just shrugged her shoulders.
"Did you know Sirta is said to watch only abstract holos?" Fleur reacted to this statement by snorting out loud. Sara smiled.
The door opened and out walked Sitra with Stapleton in tow. Sara quietly prayed Sirta hadn't heard her. Fleur was wrestling with inner demons to regain a straight face.
"Sara of Hanley." That is all he said when he saw her. She couldn't figure out if that was a good or a bad thing. Just her name. Stapleton gave her a nod but immediately straightened his back as Sirta turned around to address him:
"Impressive Historian. I saw both reviews and I approve. She must become part of the Board."
At no point did Sirta actually initiate a discussion with her or otherwise welcome her to speak. So she remained quiet. She wondered if he was even more appalled by women than men.
"Yes, Sir, I agree." Stapleton's eyes revealed a moment's amusement.
"I will make my recommendations to the Captain in the morning. Pleasure talking to you, Stapleton. Again, send my regrets to your man, Henley?"
Sirta gave Sara a glance as he said "Henley", but as with most of his behavior it was impossible to glean anything beyond that actual message of his expression.
"Henley, yes." Stapleton nodded.
Sirta opened the door to the hallway and extended his arm into a farewell motion. Sara saw his face contort into a weak smile. They walked out in silence and Sirta closed the door.
No one spoke before they had reached the end of the hallway and neared the mess hall.
"Henley knows how to order chicken soup from those dispensers," Sara walked up to the food dispenser and entered a code.
Fleur laughed and said: "Not bad, not bad, but wait 'til you see this..."
Fleur entered another code into the dispenser, waited, and held up another cup. Sara leaned over to sniff it. Creamy clam chowder! Her eyes opened wide and Fleur quickly snapped the cup out of reach.
"You got the knife, I got the cookbook!" Sara didn't feel like telling her she had not brought the dagger with her.
Stapleton entered his own code. Something steamy came out but he didn't offer any of them to take a whiff so they decided to guess what it could be.
"Gruel with apple jam?" Sara tried.
"Nah, nah, more like gruel with gummy bears," Fleur winked at her, "Commander here likes his nutrition to be steamy, hot and strong."
Stapleton let out a chuckle.
"It's more amusing to let you keep guessing than to reveal the truth!"
They finished their lunch and Sara offered them a tour of the Library. Since they weren't scheduled to depart in several hours they agreed and so they walked over to her quarters.
She activated two terminals and let them browse through the public Library as they wished. It was a breath-taking experience for many visitors. Sara had created an impressive structure to each branch, and even the oldest publications came across as having enough entertainment to match up with some of the newer ones.
It was difficult to tell what exactly the two guests chose to watch since neither of them worked with retinal options. But a glance over at the main terminal told her that they both were looking at publications from the Coast the weeks before the departure.
A call from Stapleton's notebook sounded. He answered:
"What?"
"Sir, we're detecting another storm. Our best advice is for you and Fleur to stay put until further notice. Copy that?" Stapleton swore and nodded.
"Yes, thanks Stormare. Copy. Tengel's in charge, copy that?"
"Yes, Sir, we'll notify Tengel immediately."
"What is the prognosis? How long will it last?"
"Probably the same amount of time. If communication is cut off we'll follow regular procedures, Sir. Copy?"
"Yes, good. Regular procedures with Tengel at the top. No surprises, OK?"
"No, Sir, no surprises!"
"Good luck Stormare and we'll stay in touch. Call me as soon as you have more news. Over."
"Yes, Sir, over and out."
"So this means we'll be staying over," Stapleton said bitterly and looked over at Sara, "which means you'll have to find us a spare quarters." Sara nodded and tried to remember where there would be any spare rooms. Most of the fifty quarters were full, and the rest were used as storage for now, and the rest had not even been built yet.
Somehow she doubted Sirta would welcome anyone into his large space. Sick bay would definitely not take anyone in. Evelydia? Certainly not. Paulon, perhaps but his status probably involved an already crowded and shared space. It didn't bode well. She knew she would have to invite at least one of them to overnight in the Library. What would the rest of the civilian crew say?
"Give me a moment," she replied. There was a general meeting room that had several spacious seating arrangements. She suggested this to them, and Fleur accepted the idea immediately. She could tell she didn't mind some free time and the mentioning of holos made her departure very swift.
Stapleton would stay overnight on her couch. Sirta called in a bit later on his notebook to ask if he needed anything, but did not offer any accommodation. Stapleton did not mention the arrangements but did say they had decided to remain there overnight due to the storm. Sara was appalled but not surprised. Sirta was probably uploading and too stale to realize his inappropriate and inattentive behavior.
Meadows had sent in more work for her that needed to be done but it was difficult to focus with Stapleton present. After some awkward moments both of them engrossed themselves in work, she on her task of sifting through thousands of design propositions with the AI, while he examined topographical scans of the nearby region.
Neither of them broke silence for several hours, but once Sara was done with her task she remembered it was gym night for her and she walked into her room to change. As she was leaving Stapleton looked up from his work and asked:
"Where to?"
"Gym."
"Ah, enjoy!"
"Thanks."
Another reason she wanted to get a moment to herself was that she wanted to check in with Jack. She had thought about him during the day and wanted to make sure he was holding up OK. After her usual routine in the gym she walked by sick bay.
Jack was asleep, but with Paulon's permission she was able to tip-toe into his room, and just as she was about to remove her hand from Jack's leg, something she did whenever she visited his room, he opened his eyes and grabbed hold of her hand.
"Lullaby time?" he croaked.
"I tried your chicken soup recipe today." He liked hearing that and smiled.
"Don't try to speak. Paulon told me your lungs are expelling dead tissue which makes you hoarse. Just focus on getting better, OK? I will be back in the morning." She squeezed his hand and felt the rough calluses. He squeezed it back and kept looking at her. His eyes told her everything he couldn't say. The embarrassment of incapability could no longer be hidden. There was also anger. Anger that he could not be where he was needed, and probably more but she didn't know him that well.
His hand remained closed around her wrist a bit longer. It was almost as if he was feeling her pulse. Perhaps that was exactly what he was doing, she thought. It was so similar to Stapleton's touch on her neck! It was both frightening and comforting. She wanted to linger and feel the growing safety. His cough made her open her eyes and she quickly pulled her hand back.
"Come back tomorrow," he whispered.
She leaned over and held his shoulders so that her head met the side of his head.It was warm, and he immediately grabbed her arms almost desperately. They held onto each other a moment too long, and she gently raised herself back up.
"I will," she whispered back. Now she felt a growing sense of dread. Three men circled in her thoughts. Where was Peter? On another ship?
When she returned to her quarters she heard the shower. A nervousness spread through her body. Stapleton was in her room, using her facilities, standing in her small private space, at this moment. She remained in the library and retrieved bedding to keep on the couch. The library was the coolest room since all the terminals needed the correct temperature to function at maximum capacity.
The sound of the door and his steps caused the sudden nervousness in her to escalate.
He was wearing a gray long sleeved tunic and pants in similar soft material. It almost looked amusing to her. But he was a person who could carry himself in almost any kind of outfit and still remain respectable.
"I hope this will be comfortable enough. It can get quite cold at night," she was nodding toward the terminals, "because of those, but I put an extra blanket there just in case."
"Thanks, and I apologize for using your facilities without asking first. Those dust particles are killing me, I just had to wash them off!"
"Of course, no problem. Besides, I think I owe you one."
"One thing, I didn't realize before I turned on the shower that you had it preprogrammed in your name, stupid of me not to think of it, so I ended up using a few minutes of your time before I noticed it and changed the ID."
He, as everyone else, knew how precious those shower minutes were. People could get pretty nasty if anyone stole minutes. It was considered very rude to snatch minutes.
She chuckled: "I'll let it slide this time." She quickly tried to calculate how she would manage to wash up after a very hard workout using only half of her already short shower privilege.
"Truly sorry, I did figure out how to add some of mine on yours, so you got them back!" He looked genuinely apologetic.
"That's very nice of you. Speaking of which, I'll be back in a few, gotta wash up myself. Make yourself comfortable, you know how to use the library." She closed the door between them and went to the shower.
She took a peek into the library once she was done and saw he was stretched out on the couch and was pecking on his notebook.
"You've got the entire global library at your fingertips and yet your notebook remains the most intriguing item in your life."
"Not necessarily," he replied, "what do you suggest I devote my time to instead?" He craned his neck and looked up at her from the couch waiting for a response.
"Well," she really didn't have a suggestion, "do you want to play a game?"
She knew betting games were very popular among Defense crew and assumed he was no different.
"What do you have in mind?"
"How about Cadro?" A card game with rising bets.
He smiled and sat up.
"And what are we betting on?"
She gave it a thought and said:
"I'm willing to put in some shower minutes."
Stapleton laughed and quipped:
"You sure know how to bet against a Commander."
She pretended to not know what he was talking about, and retorted:
"Well, what do you have?"
He thought for a while.
"I have some files that may interest you." He looked at her to see her reaction, "But it depends on what else you're willing to put on the table, see, shower minutes doesn't quite cut it."
So the game had already begun. What could she offer that would be desirable to him? She was bursting with curiosity as to what files he thought she might like to see. She knew it must be something personal, probably relating to why she was here. Then she caught herself; he was bluffing! But it was too much fun to let him know she knew so she played along. And to play for such a prize was both ruthless and immensely exciting! Then she figured it out.
"Tell me the title of your favorite childhood story." This might work, she thought.
He shook his head.
"What?"
"Your favorite childhood story, what's the name of it?"
He laughed and mumbled that he didn't remember.
"Sure you remember, now tell me the name of it," she demanded,
"The Hidden Forest," he finally said.
"The Hidden Forest with the two kids finding a hidden forest?" she asked in a surprised and silly voice. The same story she and Pandora had loved and read together every night for years?
"That's the one," he said in a resigned voice, "so now that you have embarrassed me enough, what are you going to bet?"
"A paper copy of that story." She prayed to every god she had ever heard of that this would work. It was a very popular story a long long time ago, especially on the Coast, but had it been important enough to bring along on board Aurora? She thought so, but was not entirely sure.
She hadn't even taken time to open the paper library. It was in climate control and restricted to visits by the Librarian only, which also happened to be her. She smiled, and feared at the same time that this would fall completely flat.
Stapleton was a man who appreciated valuable items but didn't necessarily collect them for that sake. However, since arriving on this planet he had begun to see the value of owning personal items. He had only been permitted to bring a small personal container with a few choice items. Everything except weapons and explosives were permitted. He had filled most of it with the best quality whiskey he could find. That was about twenty bottles, and he had already gone through one. But he counted on production of this product becoming possible in the coming months once everything had been calibrated and set up properly. But a children's book? What the hell would he do with a stupid made up story? There were no children around.
Then he thought that last part over again, and realized that something had just occurred. She had just hinted at the future. And for this colony to survive it needed children. Or was he just imagining things? They must have planned all this and he doubted anyone would have to resort to the so called perverted ways of the Old to keep the generations going. But just in case, he decided to accept this offer.
"I accept that offer." He walked over to the bag where he had brought with him and returned with a glass bottle. Westport Whiskey. Sara froze inside. Without speaking two glasses of liquid were poured and downed. He stared at her in disbelief as she slammed the glass on the table and splashes of liquid fell on the screen between them.
Something in the moment seemed very familiar to her, and in a split-second she was taken back to Westport and some crazy nights at the family’s whiskey distillery. Sara hoped Vince hadn’t noticed anything. They both burst into laughter and the mood elevated.
"Good, great!" she opened up the game and sank down in a chair near the couch. They began playing the game.
"I didn't know the Med Techs read stories to you when you were little. Didn’t you have AIs for that?"
She gave him a sneer.
"Of course they did, I'm sure I heard more stories than you ever did."
"That's possible, but then again I wasn't strapped to my bed every night at eight o'clock," he snapped back at her with a smile.
They spent some time quietly playing the card game.
Sara enjoyed the friendly fight and raised the bet. Stapleton had a very poor hand and had to retreat. A new hand was dealt. Stapleton refilled their glasses. He wanted to see if she would keep drinking. She did. And held up well. Probably due to her muscle endurance strains or whatever genetic manipulations they had given her.
"So do you miss the Coast?" Sara casually asked while displaying an exceptionally good hand of cards. Stapleton remained quiet while considering his options but he had a decent choice of cards.
"Funny that you ask," he threw down a finishing hand, "I did bring a few mementos with me." He won the hand, flicked his fingers against the whiskey bottle label and looked at her. Westport Cargo. Peter’s family’s distillery.
“Did you say you have a connection to the Coast?” Vince asked.
She reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses. She wasn’t going to get into this now, but she had to say something.
"I spent time there when I studied History... Victory!" she raised her glass toward his, he barely tilted his in her direction before they both downed their drinks.
"And where did you stay?" he asked.
Sara was however lost in a haze of whiskey and did not hear.
Their card playing skills rapidly deteriorated and the game progressed with cards after cards being thrown forth with careless abandon, just to fill the slots. Both players had entirely forgotten what was at stake and were now more focused on refilling each of their glasses, and calling out "Victory!" in unison instead of scheming or raising the bets.
When the bottle finally had been emptied of its content they considered the game over, and agreed to let the review take place in the morning so that a proper score could be set. Sara stood up by supporting herself on the table in front of her, and the game score accidentally was erased. Stapleton thought this extremely funny and suggested they would instead insert their birth dates as stand in numbers for their scores.
Sara replied she had to think about it, and reached out her left arm toward a fast approaching wall. Stapleton noticed the situation and attempted to assist. Neither of them recognized the chair in between as an obstacle and a moment later Sara had stumbled past the chair and vanished into her sleeping quarters while Stapleton's arms were still held out reaching out into empty space.
Stapleton was too curious and intent on helping out and entered the room the moment Sara flipped herself on her back and opened her eyes. He swayed only for a second before he took a long step, to make sure he'd avoid another sway, toward the bed.
Sara knew it was Stapleton, but she was so damned tired of calling him Stapleton, or even thinking the name Stapleton that she decided to call out:
"Vince." Since she couldn't find anything else to utter at the moment and an evil headache distracted her, she slid off the bed and aimed for the bathroom to get her nose spray to remove the headache and restore sobriety. She snorted in the vapor, looked into the mirror and waited. Another image appeared in the mirror. He was standing behind her, looking amused.
"You probably could drink some of my men under the table, but you're no card player."
"Hey I won, and besides, wouldn't want to waste any more of your precious Westport Cargo," she spoke to his mirror image. This was perhaps not the best choice of words, she realized immediately afterward, but Westport had a tendency to make her talkative. His smile transitioned into a look of surprise. Her nasal spray was kicking in and gave her an interesting mix of clarity amidst the drunken roll.
"How do you know it was Westport?" he asked slowly and tilted his head in anticipation of an answer.
"Oh, once you've tasted Westport you never — forget it?" she attempted, but he was shaking his head.
"No no," he took a step toward her and inspected her face up close, "you know Westport, but how? I am very curious." She could smell his alcohol breath, and was sure that she too reeked. He had forced her to lean up against the sink and had no more space to move.
The back of her head almost touched the mirror now. How dared he stand so close to her? He was violating all privacy rules, as if oblivious to any common standards. This perverted behavior was typical for someone like him, who had grown up with the Old. She couldn't believe she had just thought that. She knew full well what was happening and that it was not perverted.
"About eight years ago I learned to know Westport really well," she said and met his eyes in the mirror, "that's how, now please move." She twisted around but he remained in place. Their hips were touching. In a very calm voice he replied:
"And since Westport is sold only on the Coast, you're telling me that you drank it there or you had some damn good connections, which I highly doubt." He whispered: "What did you do on the Coast during the war?"
She shook her head slowly and whispered:
"Please, don't ask me these things." His lips were now quietly waiting by her left ear and as she slowly turned her head they followed a path across her face until their lips met. When they parted neither one was able to speak. Instead they both instinctively reached a hand up to their own faces, as if to confirm that what they just thought happened really occurred.
She held out her palm toward him as if to put a barrier between them. His eyes fixated on the scar on her palm.
"This, this should not have happened," she whispered. He looked up at her with a sudden sobered look.
"I apologize, it was completely foolish and I regret having compromised your honor this way."
His voice was low and bitter and it sounded very much like someone from the Coast would speak. "I have only one thing to ask of you before I will leave and that is to not speak of this to anyone, ever." She knew that if this became known to anyone, at least at this point in time, it would very likely jeopardize both of their positions. So she nodded once to signal her agreement.
He reached out his hand to seal the promise. She saw the scar in his palm and her heart raced back to a confusion. It was impossible for him to avoid noticing the impact of this moment, and his hand was shivering as their hands met.
"I knew Westport, and some of its people very well," she said rapidly while she still held his hand, "now leave." He looked genuinely surprised, and could only nod and give her hand one last squeeze before he returned to the library. She heard him gather up his belongings and leave the quarters. She lay awake until the morning cursing Westport Cargo.
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