Racers of the Night: Science Fiction Stories by Brad R. Torgersen (40 page)

Leah and me … well, we never got to be anything other than friends. And I think we’ve both come to agree that this is for the best. We’ll still want to be friends when we get to the new world, and introducing sex or romance into the equation … that would complicate things more than either of us wants.

Besides, with Leah, there’s no mystery. No adventure. No getting to know somebody for the first time. When I decide I want to be with someone, I want it to be fresh. I want her to be brand new. At least to me. And hopefully me to her, too.

Ordinarily I’d have chatted about all of this with Kevin, but now that Kevin is asleep I am realizing I don’t know Ben well enough for he and I have to have the kinds of talks Kevin and I used to have. Which makes me very sad. Kevin wasn’t quite a dad to me, but he was the only other man onboard with whom I could sit down and have a frank, honest discussion. And now that he’s in stasis, I find myself missing him terribly.

And Cassie too, though for different reasons.

I hope they are each having wonderful stasis dreams. Either, of the new life waiting for us when we land, or of the life they left behind. Back on Earth. Which is now so far away from us even the ship’s telescopes have to spend several minutes carefully looking, in order to find it.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,000

I’m still awake.

I’m almost 20 years old, and I am still awake.

Laura told me they had to pull me out of the stasis bed because of irregularities in the readings, once I was under. I don’t remember anything about that. Going to sleep for stasis felt just like going to sleep in normal life, only I was hooked up to a nest of wires and other medical stuff that constantly fed data to the ever-watchful medical bay computer.

Leah’s down. Nice and peaceful. I was staring at her in her stasis bed today, with her own nest of wires, and her body gently immersed in the special stasis jelly that they developed for us back on Earth—to help slow down the human metabolic process to a fraction of its ordinary rate.

Ben calls it being one degree warmer than dead.

I’ve learned Ben can have an occasionally bleak sense of humor.

Laura blames it on Ben’s time in the military.

Ben is an altogether different guy, compared to Kevin. Ben’s got a quicker temper, talks in shorter sentences, and often phrases things as commands, rather than requests. But he’s really got a talent for working with hardware. He spends almost more time patrolling the internals of the ship, doing manual inspections, than he does in the gym. Laura tells me that Ben used to be a Navy man. Submariner. Worked on the missile boats. The kind of lifestyle and pedigree that had earned him a spot on the trip to Delta Pavonis.

Therefore I did what I could not do when Cassie was awake: I showed Ben my three-dee designs for the guns I was sure we’d need when we got to the new world.

Ben slapped me on the back and was grinning ear to ear. He liked the idea so much. He also said that while Cassie was a fine lady, she had some odd ideas about how the universe ought to work, as opposed to how it
actually
works, and that I was right to be concerned about what awaited us when we landed. Ben and I have thus been refining my designs—with his practical knowledge and input—and we’re probably going to actually try to build a prototype before too long. That is, unless Laura can figure out what’s causing the problems when I try to go into stasis.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,513

That’s it. I’m screwed.

Laura has officially diagnosed me with stasis instability syndrome.

There’s no cure for it, and there’s no way to screen for it in advance. Back on Earth the statistics are that one in ten thousand have the potential for it. After three tries in the stasis bed, I can’t risk a fourth try without putting my life on the line. My body can’t handle it, apparently.

What would Kevin have called it?
Dumb luck.

Ben can barely look me in the eye. Not because of anything he did or I said, but because he knows that I’ve been handed a death sentence. The average healthy human male on Earth lives to 84. By the time we get to Delta Pavonis I will be pushing 90. And there sure as hell isn’t any chance of going back to the solar system.

I’ve been sitting in my cabin for two days now.

Contemplating suicide.

Seems like the most rational course of action at this particular point in time. So maybe it’s a good thing for me that Ben and I haven’t actually put together a working gun yet? I’d probably have the barrel in my mouth right about now. The only other option is to go down to the maintenance bay, step into the airlock without a suit, and press the CYCLE button.

If ever there was a time I wish that I had my father—Papa, who slumbers blissfully and without awareness—it’s now.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,515

We were supposed to have woken up four more children.

Turns out Laura woke up three kids … and one woman.

Li is one of the rare adults: single.

And she’s a solid dozen years older than I am.

Look, I get it. I’ve been pretty messed up since Laura gave me the news about not being able to use the stasis beds. I think Ben and Laura both were getting desperate. In their position I might have done the same thing. But what the hell is Li supposed to do for me? Sing a song? Do a puppet show? I’m not a child anymore. I’m a man. Who has been told that his entire life is going to be lived out on an interstellar prison, with no possibility for parole.

Laura says Li is a medical doctor with specific training in longevity treatments, geriatric therapy, and knows her way around the stasis bed technology. Li’s already hard at work in the medical bay labs trying to come up with a “cure” for my problem. Not that I think there’s a hell of a lot one person can do that all of the specialists and doctors and technicians on Earth can’t. If Earth hasn’t been able to puzzle out the solution, I am thinking Li’s just going to frustrate herself.

And I’m having a wickedly difficult time slapping on an optimistic face. There’s simply no way to “fix” this. It is what it is. All that’s left for me now is to decide: is my life worth living even if it’s spent living inside a steel can slowly hopping from one star to the next?

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,518

Ben’s taken me off all technical and maintenance duty. I am not sure how or why he thought he had the authority, but I’m in no state of mind to argue with the man. Instead he’s asked—not ordered, and that spooks me—me to devote my time to the three kids. Since I was in their place over a decade ago, it stands to reason that I’ll have a connection to them that the other adults may not. Sounds perfectly reasonable. Presuming I can make myself presentable and decent. I’ve not been shaving, nor bathing. And I am pretty sure last time Li had me come down for some tests, I peeled the paint off the walls with my demeanor. I am not a good guy to be around when I am still trying to figure out if I should
off
myself.

But I’m going to try my best.

The new kids are named Carlos, Tanika, and Edward.

All between 8 and 10 years old; or roughly the same age I was when I boarded the shuttle to Earth orbit.

I think the original plan is a good plan: get the kids used to their new world—altogether different from what they knew before—and phase them into added areas of responsibility that will not only make them feel like they have a purpose, but will help train them to operate and maintain the
Osprey,
in the event that me and the other adults get taken out of the equation at some point.

I won’t know—until I’ve worked with them a little—how intelligent these kids are. Supposedly the selection process for the trip involved testing the children as well as the adults, so there shouldn’t be any dull bulbs in the bunch. But you never know. Kroger was a dick to me for ten years, and there were times I considered doing him harm. Would either of the two new boys wind up being another Kroger? Could I resist the urge to murder if such were the case?

Murder. There I go again. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

My God, I need to talk to my parents.

Things are really going to hell in a handbasket.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,525

I have to admit, I am starting to like these three kids.

Unlike Leah, Kroger, and me, these kids apparently know each other from before we left Earth, and while they’re not related by blood, they behave more or less like two brothers and a sister. Oh, to be sure, a squabble here and there. But all in all they behave themselves, they help each other out, and miracle of miracles, I have even observed them saying the words
I am sorry
without being prodded to it by an adult.

Laura came to my cabin and visited.

She notes that I am not looking quite so devilish as before.

Yeah, well, don’t go thinking it’s all better, lady.

The most aggravating thing about my situation is that it’s out of my hands to resolve. I can’t get out and push the
Osprey
faster. I can’t go down and wave a wand over one of Li’s test simulators and make it come up with the magical answer to stasis instability syndrome. And now that I am getting to know these kids … well, let’s just say I don’t have the heart to whack myself while they’re aware of what’s going on. Lord knows how it would have affected me if Kevin or Cassie had committed suicide while I was younger. And as much as I hate life right now, I can’t hate these kids enough to inflict my pain on them out of selfish fear.

So I am just kind of taking it day by day.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,545

Li has asked me on a date.

That sounds quite ridiculous, given the circumstances. And I am pretty sure Laura put Li up to it. But I had an e-mail from Li waiting for me this morning, asking me if I’d like to go spend some time in the third observation bubble—which is one of five scattered across the exterior of the ship. We’ll have to take suits outside to get there. No way to use an internal crawl space or corridor. We’ll pack a dinner, and a blanket, and have a picnic. Or at least that’s what the e-mail says.

Would it be silly of me to admit I am nervous?

I’ve never been on a date.

I’ve heard about them. Read about them in books and articles and news from Earth. Seen them in movies. Although Ben informs me that the movies are mostly bullshit about that kind of stuff. He and I were in the gym earlier and I confessed my anxiety. He laughed, but then he got serious and told me he thought it was one of the best pieces of news he’d heard since being woken up—that I’d be a fool to not take Li up on it.

So, I wrote Li back, and now we’re committed.

For the entire time she’s been awake, Li’s been entirely clinical in her appraisal of me. A bona fide date suggests romantic interest. Or at least interest of a kind so personal I am not sure I am prepared to go there with her. Last woman I knew on any sort of level like that was Leah, and we’d known each other so well we’d become like gloves to one another. Or smelly socks, depending on how you look at it. What could I possibly have to talk to Li about? Our lives, our experiences, are so different, it’s like we’re aliens to each other.

Well, I’ve got the rest of the week to figure myself out.

The kids? They’re all giggling about it.

Teacher has a girlfriend!

Yah. Riiight.

Teacher has a complex, compounded by a morbid problem.

I think I’ll skip journal entries until the date’s over.

For better, or for worse.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 4,550

Li is actually pretty cool. With a sense of humor that she keeps wrapped up tightly when she’s working. Not a talkative sort.

While we ate—out under the stars of the observation bubble—she came out of her shell. Showed me a side of herself I’d not seen before. And honestly, as hard as I tried to stay grumpy, she had me smiling by the time we were suiting back up and leaving for our return across the hull to the maintenance bay airlock.

So if Ben and Laura’s ultimate plan was to get me to take the proverbial razor blade off my wrist—and return to the land of the truly living—it might actually be working.

The kids have been a lot of fun so far, and Li …

Well, we’ve arranged to do a second, similar date—and one each week thereafter, for however long we feel like it.

Goodness, does that mean we’ll be going
steady?

I’m actually recording this with my portable digital recorder; while down in the medical bay. Li’s gone to sleep for the night, after this last session of labs on one of my blood samples. And I’m just staring into the stasis beds my parents have occupied for the last twelve and a half years.

When I put my hand on the glass, right about where my father’s hand is, I realize that I am his size now. With the same thick fingers. How old was he when we left? Maybe 36? Maybe? I honestly can’t remember Papa’s age. When I look in the mirror, I see Papa’s face, but younger. Like in the old photos from the family digital album that began when Papa and Mama first got married.

Which is, perhaps, another reason I can’t put myself into an airlock without a suit.

Neither of my parents would ever forgive me.

Worse yet, they wouldn’t forgive themselves.

I suspect the key to pulling people back from the abyss is to remind them that however hopeless they may be, or however hurting, their permanent absence will hurt the lives of many. And that there are other things to live for, besides purely selfish motives.

Okay, enough with the self-psych speculations.

I am sleepy, and it’s time to get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day with the kids. And Ben’s challenged me to a double workout in the gym.

Audio Journal Transcript: Day 5,000

Li is almost ready to throw in the towel.

It’s been over a year, and she’s still no closer to solving my problem than when she woke up. She tries to put on a brave face, but … well, there’s nothing she can tell me at this point that’s a surprise. I’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the fact that the
Osprey
is likely to be the only home I’ll ever know. If that idea used to terrify me, now it just sort of … is. Like getting a brain cancer pronouncement, but the cancer’s not spreading and it can’t be operated on. Maybe one day the tumor will kill me, but for the moment I’m perfectly healthy. So I’m stuck trying to find usefulness and meaning onboard this great big vessel—which has also suddenly become very, very small.