Chapter – 14
Robert fought to keep control as be went about his duties. He was overwhelmed with thoughts of taking action, working through every scenario just long enough to talk himself out of each. They would all end in his death.
It was sheer terror that stopped Robert. He could take action, and for the sake of everyone in the convoy, he knew he should. He didn’t want so many lives in his hands. He wished so dearly that someone else had discovered the virus. This knowledge belonged in the hands of a leader, not Robert Peters.
Robert Peters, coward.
He added relaxants to his coffee this morning. They didn’t help much. He entered the command deck, his hand trembling slightly. He shot a nervous glance to Amanda, who smiled and wished him a good morning. He responded quietly, then sat down.
Media traffic in the convoy had increased since he was last here. No doubt it was because of the UN’s speech. The upcoming celebration clearly caused a stir.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Amanda asked, beaming with anticipation. “We’ve been invited to the UN flag ship!”
“What?” Robert asked in disbelief. He checked his computer, and sure enough, there was a message addressed to Robert Peters. It was decorated to stand out from all others messages, honoured with the UN seal.
“They’re inviting all command crews!" Amanda said. "It’s going to be a fancy ball! The rest of the crew is probably heading to one of the larger ships nearby, so I don’t feel quite as guilty.” She smiled happily, bobbing in her seat.
Robert froze at this news. The situation had changed, and he felt a weight lifted off his shoulder. He'd forgotten about the celebration. Most people would be moving to the largest ships for parties and gatherings. That meant, on a ship so small as his, Robert could be left alone. He could change the ship's direction hours before the point of no return, and not have to face his own death. The UN faithful could make their own choices, while Robert made his.
“It sounds perfect,” Robert said. Suddenly, only his life was in his hands, no one else’s. He turned to Amanda and smiled. As he looked at her though, guilt welled inside him again.
He would be leaving her to die, he realized. Yes, she believed in the UN, and she probably couldn't be convinced to make the course correction. She would die, but would it be because she was following a lie, or because Robert was unwilling to try saving her?
Robert turned away, ignoring the possibilities. These were dangerous thoughts. If word got around of what he planned to do, it would all be over. Still, he hated the idea of being on this ship alone for the remaining months it would take to reach Mars. He wanted his best friend to be there. If he could save anyone, he would choose her.
He summoned all his nerve, and turned to Amanda. “You know why they’re inviting all the command crews, right?”
She looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they’re keeping an eye on the guest list,” Robert hinted.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean…”
“Most ships couldn’t safely adjust their course without the command crews, people that have been trained, and are experienced with such a manoeuvre.”
She just continued shaking her head, still not following.
“They are worried," Robert continued, "that ships plan to adjust course the evening of the celebration. They think people might get scared in the last few moments and do something stupid. So, they are getting everyone in one place, to keep them from taking the chance. If an entire command crew for any particular ship doesn’t show up to the celebration, you can safely assume that crew plans to change course.”
Her mouth opened a bit, a little in shock.
Robert Peters, pessimist.
“You don’t think…”
“That ships will turn? That the UN doesn’t trust us? That they are prepared to do something about it? Yes.” Robert gave her a moment, then took a very deep breath. “Amanda, if a ship’s command crew didn’t believe the UN was correct…if a ship were to turn, it would need to wait until the main crew was on another ship. They’d need to be ready…”
“Stop,” Amanda cut in, looking a little alarmed. “Let’s just…not talk about this again, okay?” She looked back to her computer, ignoring him.
Robert turned back to his own screen, sighing heavily.
…She'd made her choice.
The feeling of failure was overwhelming. If he were a better speaker, or had taken his time, or had done countless things differently, he may have been able to convince her. He simply wasn’t good enough to save a life.
Looking up miserably, he saw that his computer had gone to standby, the screen a humming black. There he saw his reflection, and found that it looked oddly calm. He wasn’t happy with what he saw. He wanted to look as awful as he felt, to do the emotions justice. He stared into his own eyes, willing them to cry.
Something suddenly came to him, a question screaming to the forefront of his mind. Seeing his reflection reminded him of something. How could he have not noticed it before?
Pushing away from his desk, Robert rose and exited the command deck without a backwards glace. He knew Amanda was watching him, maybe even with suspicion, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the answer to this question.
He didn't slow down until he reached his private room. He locked the door behind him and dimmed the lights. Marching straight to his mirror, he put his face inches from his reflection and spoke.
“You said few had the option of seeing themselves.”
The reflection nodded.
“You said most of the people who do have the chance turn away out of fear.”
The reflection nodded again.
“Well then!” Robert stormed. “Why could a coward do it? Why did a coward have the strength that others didn’t? Answer me that!”
The reflection portrayed its usual face of indifference, looking back calmly, then a smile curled its lips. Robert’s anger faded quickly. He recalled full well what this reflection was capable of. It leaned forward as well, speaking.
“Because there is more to you than what you are. There is also what you can become. The knowledge of one, however, must come hand in hand with knowledge of the other. Now…are you ready to continue?”
Robert was a little taken aback. He hadn’t come here to continue the torture, only to have his question answered. The prospect of continuing filled him with familiar dread, but his question couldn’t be ignored. Being a coward was something he could barely live with. If there was the slightest chance he could overcome cowardice, he had to pursue it.
He gripped the small table in front of him tightly, then steadied his footing. Calming himself, he faced his reflection, nodding in readiness.
Again the reflection smiled with approval, then everything became chaotic. Again he could see himself, the same pain and disgust raging to the surface. Initially he flinched, but forced himself to watch.
The truth never came in words. Robert was shown things from his past. He saw himself through an observer’s eyes, every important decision, everything that defined him. He filled in the words for himself.
Robert Peters, systems specialist.
Robert Peters, crewmember.
Robert Peters, coward.
It was becoming too much to bear. Robert tried to pull away, to surrender to his cowardice, but the reflection did something incomprehensible. The reflection’s hand reached into reality and locked on each side of Robert's head, demanding his full attention. He couldn’t look away.
Again and again the darkest facets of his personality were revealed. Some were villainous, others were childish or weak. Painfully few were strong, confident, and capable. He couldn’t ignore his own faces, smiling, frowning, crying, screaming, it was all there, ripping at his perception of self. As the mayhem went on, he could feel his heart slamming against his inner chest, and he began to feel light headed.
“We’re almost there,” the ref
lection said.
“I…I can’t,” Robert responded dreamily. His legs were growing numb, and his arms useless.
“Just a few more seconds,” the reflection promised. Its grip on Robert tightened painfully, then let go. “There,” it said. “You’ve done it…”
Robert hadn’t realized how much of his weight the reflection was holding. His legs buckled, then he fell to the ground.
__________
The transfer of knowledge wasn’t complete. The difficult part was over, or at least Robert hoped it was. The process had been difficult, but oddly relieving. Robert had a new respect for himself, knowing he'd achieved something so many others had shied away from. Even a coward could stand his ground.
Next, the mirror would show him who he could become. The mirror had already hinted at what this potential might be. It said there was more to Robert, something to defeat his cowardice. Robert starved for that knowledge, as if, somehow, it could set him free.
He did indeed feel trapped. Sitting at his usual station, he couldn’t bring himself to accomplish anything. Every now and again, he could see Amanda in his computer screen’s reflection. He wanted to apologize to her, for keeping his heresy a secret, and for leaving her behind with the fleet. He couldn't apologize for what he was about to do, and thus couldn't be forgiven.
He wanted to be set free.
He felt close to tears. Luckily, Amanda was too busy preparing for the UN ball to notice. Every excited sound she made, every comment she gave, every smile on her lips tortured him. Everything about her looked so helpless and innocent. He wanted to save her, but couldn’t think of a way.
The ball was tomorrow.
He buried his face in his hands, exhausted. He could feel the weight of his decision on his shoulders again. It would be the greatest risk of his life to approach Amanda with his intentions. He might be thrown into the ship’s reactor, but at least he would be without guilt. For five hours he sat there, his mind running in circles, coming to the same dead ends.
She yawned. Leaning back in her chair, she smiled with droopy eyes. “Shift's over,” she said. “I need some sleep. We’ll need it for tomorrow.”
Robert nodded. “Yes we will,” he said, faking a smile. She stood and walked away, humming to herself. As she left the room, he had the powerful urge to say goodbye.
He didn't.
Now alone, he looked down at his feet. He felt the guilt again, stronger than before. If only he could act. If only he could make the difference needed to save her life. He knew he was a coward, and that was all he knew. How could he be any different?
How?
His computer went to standby. His reflection appeared, watching him curiously. He turned in his chair to face it. He could feel a tear running down his face, but it wasn't in his reflection.
“How?” Robert asked the screen, realizing how hoarse his voice had become. He wiped away the tear. “What else am I?”
The reflection smiled. “What you are is best shown by what you can do.”
“And?” Robert persisted. "What can I do?"
It shook its head.
Robert frowned, looking away from the screen. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the reflection was trying to tell him. Again he looked at his feet, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t see the reflection, but he knew it was listening.
“Can I save her?” he asked quietly
“You, Robert, can save everyone on this ship.”
Robert straightened immediately, turning to the screen in disbelief. It was serious.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s what you can do, Robert.”
“But…what can I become?”
The reflection smiled again, watching him fondly. “…I think you know.”