Chapter – 11
It was 4 a.m., and the only life stirring on the ship came from the earliest of risers. Even they, in most cases, were only walking thanks to the powerful stimulants in their coffee. Everyone had a different blend on their way to work, if they bothered to go at all.
Robert Peters bothered, every morning, to struggle out of bed, throw on some clothes and make the trip to his station. Once there, the difficult part was over. There was no need for him to be there, and no authority figure to force him. Still, he went. He needed to believe there was a point to getting up in the morning.
Everyone knew the alternative.
Robert walked down a silent hallway, cup in hand, his eyes half open. This particular hallway was very unimpressive, considering where it led. Its destination, the ship's command deck, should have some level of prestige. For whatever reason, the ship's designers tucked this location away from the rest of the ship, treating it like a storage room. This suited Robert fine. He didn’t enjoy attention.
He entered through the only door, stepping into the familiar space. The room was large, filled with diversely designed stations, all arranged in a classroom fashion. The only exceptions were the stations against the walls. The Terran symbol was painted on the smooth front wall.
Amanda was already at her station, a beautiful young woman, though she was much too young for Robert’s liking. However, in Robert's opinion there was no better company than Amanda's. She was always positive, which helped Robert forget the state of things.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile.
Robert raised his cup slightly, as if to salute her. He moved to one of the foremost stations, leaning over it and examining the text. It was the same as yesterday.
“New clothes?” Amanda asked, looking back to her computer screen.
“You know that massive donation program they launched before the fleet left?" Robert asked. In response, Amanda lowered her voice to imitate a masculine tone, then repeated the slogan they both knew so well.
“Donate to the cause, the cause of humanity’s survival.”
The imitation was funny. The mass donations happened when Earth's population was split between those who would be evacuated, and those who had to be left behind. The UN couldn’t afford to supply most of the fleet, so they asked everyone being left behind for help. The program had mixed results.
“Yeah,” Robert responded, looking to his oversized tshirt and sweat pants. “I got these out of a bin this morning. My other clothes weren’t very comfortable.”
Their usual clothes were navy blue, one piece uniforms. Everyone on duty in the fleet earned those clothes, but now had no reason to wear them. After the captain’s death, few people followed the rules, including the dress code. This room should have a complement of fifteen people. Robert and Amanda were the only two here today, and it would be that way tomorrow, and the day after. Neither of them had any authority. No one on the ship did. People with essential jobs did their work. The rest stayed in their rooms, or took the alternative.
The captain had taken the alternative.
Robert took another drink from his cup, feeling its usual sting. Amanda’s cup was already empty. She was awake.
“Did you hear what happened last night?” Amanda asked.
Robert spun around in his chair, eyes wide. He knew what she was going to say. “Another one?”
She nodded grimly. “Another three, actually. They diverted course nearly an hour ago. They’ll catch up with the other heretics in a month or so. Idiots.”
Robert shook his head with disappointment. Almost five hundred ships had changed course already, over three million people. They were fools for following Schulz.
“Wait,” Amanda continued, “They only diverted an hour ago. That means they haven’t gotten very far,” She looked at Robert expectantly. She then raised her eyebrow, asking the question.
Robert shook his head. “No. I don’t want to see it.”
“Come on,” Amanda persisted. “It’s a reminder of what life is like out here. It reminds us what a difference two degrees can make.”
Robert continued to shake his head. “I don’t want to know what two degrees can do. It isn’t worth watching.”
She looked at him sternly. “If you won’t do it, I will. We need to see this, to keep ourselves sane.”
Robert hesitated for a moment, then sighed heavily. He set down his cup and stepped away from his station. He moved to one of the side panels, easily recognized for its many buttons in the upper right corner. Reluctantly, he entered the seven digit pass code, and watched it glow green with approval.
They both turned to the smooth wall before them. The Terran symbol was all they could see for several moments. Soon, the wall slid upwards, giving them the spectacle. On the other side was a thick glass window, as tall and wide as the wall had been. On the other side of the glass was the black of space, dotted only by stars, and the Terran convoy of thousands.
The ships were of every conceivable shape and size. Some were civilian, others were government, many were military.
“There they are,” said Amanda. They were barely noticeable. Three ships, all three rather large, were drifting to the left, away from the convoy. They had only turned two degrees.
Robert trembled when he saw the ships. They were full of people, families, all of them floating into oblivion. They were all doomed, but they didn’t believe it.
He innocently and unconsciously slipped a hand into his left pocket, and immediately felt them. His hand closed around them, and withdrew the five, shining pearls. One was silver, while the others were a pale blue. They were all connected by a thin golden chain, which looked new and untouched.
They were beautiful…