Crimson Dawn

Lex was strapped in, sitting with most of the crew in the launch cabin, eagerly watching through the small window as orange-tinted clouds swirled past. The acceleration pressed him deep into his seat. Suddenly, the ST SAMSON burst through Limbo’s all-encompassing cloud layer, and the ship’s rough shaking transitioned into a smooth glide.

Lex held his breath. No more time to think. Something at the window caught his eye, momentarily blinding him. He leaned forward, and at the top edge of the window a small sun reappeared. Tau Ceti hung high in the sky, behind the thin veil of a star-speckled atmosphere. It was so faint that he could stare at it for a while. Then, it finally disappeared from view.

It was the first time he saw the sun. Ever. He leaned back into his seat, exhaling deeply. Even though the ship had stopped accelerating, he still felt like he was being pressed into his seat.

At a speed of 8.3 meters per second, they left the moon’s atmosphere behind. After some time in space, the artificial gravity field kicked in, and one by one, the seat belts clicked open. Lex was the first to unbuckle himself, slipping out from under the Y-shaped harness and dashing out of the launch cabin. He rushed around the corner, gripping the metal walls of the ship for balance. A glass sliding door opened ahead of him, and he sprinted into the ghostly quiet mess hall, where a glowing spiral staircase led up to the star deck. Cool white LED strips glowed under each step.

When he reached the top, he touched the holographic lock, and the door slid open. Lex stepped into the observation deck. And froze.

Before him was a massive panoramic window, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, nearly five meters tall. Through it, he watched the stormy northern hemisphere of the prison moon slowly shrink away. From his vantage point, it didn’t seem like much was moving. Quietly, lightning flickered in random spots deep within the moon’s never-ending storm clouds.

He stepped up to the observation window and pressed his hand against the cold glass, staring into the sluggish eye of the massive Vortex, as if it were staring right back at him. The eye of the storm had to be the size of two sectors—bigger than all the settlements combined. He tried to imagine the raging, all-destroying blizzard tearing across the moon’s surface below. But from where he stood—far away on the observation deck—the storm’s movements seemed awe-inspiring, almost graceful, and completely silent.

There was something surreal about the view from the panoramic window.

Everything that had happened since he found the Black Orb felt unreal to him in a similar way.

******

The boy sat at a table in the mess hall with the head doctor, the Lieutenant Major, and two other crew members. A ship technician, who they called Tardino, joined them, sitting across from Lex with a plate of food. He took off his beanie, placed it on the table, and started eating quickly. The meal was overcooked rice with some dried-out chicken strips in a bland curry sauce.

"How’s it taste?" Tardino asked, chewing as he spoke.

At first, Lex didn’t realize the question was aimed at him. "It’s the best thing I’ve ever had," he finally replied, blowing on his steaming spoon.

Tardino shook his head.

"And that’s lemonade," the doctor said a moment later, as Lex gulped down his drink.

"It’s pretty good too," he said, wiping his mouth.

The technician looked up at him, raising his licked-clean spoon. "I’ll have to tell Flint what you think of his cooking. Hopefully, he doesn’t think I’m messing with him. Even he doesn’t believe anyone likes his food."

Lex stopped chewing.

"You guys don’t like this?" he asked.

The doctor chuckled, glancing towards the kitchen where several pans were sizzling and the chef was busy handling multiple tasks at once. "It’s definitely not top-tier," she said with a small shake of her head.

"The what?" Lex asked.

Tardino brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face, but it fell right back into his food. He looked up with blue eyes and a face stuck somewhere between boy and adulthood. His patchy beard hadn’t been shaved in about three weeks, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail. "The kid’s got a point, Pris," Tardino said. "We’re old enough to be honest: the only thing worse is that protein paste from the prepackaged meals."

Lex scooped more rice onto his plate and ladled extra curry sauce over it. "Sir," he said, addressing the Lieutenant Major, "do you know anything more about the Black Orb I found?"

The officer shook his head. "You probably know more about it than the entire crew, including the captain. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s carrying. None of us saw this thing—or whatever it is—when we took off. Maybe it’s better that way, not knowing too much."

"What do you mean by that?" Lex asked.

"Exactly," Tardino chimed in, "what do you mean, Hemold? There’s a whole squad of mercenaries on this ship. And I, the lead technician, need special permission just to enter the cargo bay. I’ve got to explain in writing why I need to be down there. Me, as Chief Engineer. The cargo bay’s like my second home! My weights, my workbench, my bed, and my locker full of antique books are all down there."

"Magazines with old ladies don’t count as antique literature," the doctor said with a laugh. "But you got a point," she said after calming down. The doctor had thin red lips and dark, thick hair tied up with a long clip. Like the Lieutenant Major, there were already streaks of gray. "This trip really doesn’t feel like it’s our ship anymore."

"It’s not, Pris. They’ve even got mercenaries posted on the bridge to keep an eye on Tessar. Do they seriously think we’re going to run off with that thing?" He glanced around the table, shaking his head, then gave the doctor a look heavy with meaning, as if to say that nothing could insult him more than being suspected of betrayal.

"That explains why the captain’s in such a foul mood," Lex said.

"Partly," Tardino replied. "But mainly, he’s in a bad mood because he can’t believe we’re transporting a convict on his ship."

"Earl."

"I’m just telling it like it is: our captain’s a racist. He’s got a very clear opinion about people from the prison moons. To him, they’re scum, less than human."

Lex stayed quiet.

"Anyway, none of us are trusted anymore, and every decision gets made over the captain’s head by the corporation." Tardino shrugged, poking at his food. "What happened to King? That corporate puppet. Back when the business was still his, he would’ve never let any of this happen."

"Who’s King?" Lex asked.

Tardino looked up at him, then used his thumb to push some rice onto his fork.

"Moving on," the doctor interjected. "Have you thought about what you want to do when you get to Vega Prime?"

Lex paused. "Well, I’m already a mechanic, so I’ll probably stick with that."

"Doesn’t sound like you’re too excited about it. Maybe it’s time to try something new? I mean, you’re starting a whole new life—why stick with the same old job? Most people I know want a fresh start because they’re sick of their jobs."

"I’m too old for something new. I’m already eighteen."

The table went silent for a moment. The doctor gave him a kind smile. "In Vega Prime, kids your age are just starting their training."

"Seriously?"

"You’re definitely not too old. And you’ve got something over the competition—an actual qualification and years of experience. If you ask me, the world’s wide open for you."

"Are my qualifications from Limbo even worth anything?"

The doctor looked thoughtful, her age showing a little more in the moment. "Honestly, I’m not sure," she said. "But they didn’t just throw the winner of the Selection Program out on the street with no support. I’m sure you’ll get your shot."

"Do you know who the winner was?" Lex asked.

She shook her head.

Silence.

"If I could pick, I think I’d like to be a starship technician. That seems like the right fit for me."

Tardino, still unimpressed, scraped the last bit of soup from his bowl. "Then do it," he said.

"You apply to Starship Technology Corporation, or STC for short," the doctor added. "Just shoot them an email. They’re a subsidiary of the TC, so they should already be listed in your PDA’s directory."

"They are," Tardino confirmed. "Starship Technology got bought by the corporation a few years ago. It’s been on the system ever since."

"Exactly. And Chester D. King is now the admiral of the First Fleet, which Tardino here has a big problem with." She stuck her tongue out at the technician, which made Lex glance down at his food, a bit confused.

"The admiral. The admiral, Pris. You make it sound so grand when you say it. But if you used to own a monopoly on spaceflight technology and made your dream of advancing humanity come true, being an admiral is a joke in comparison."

"He did a great job before, and he’s doing just as well now."

"If you mean a cranky captain and a frustrated crew, then yeah, he’s doing better than anyone else. But that’s not the point. He loved what he was doing before."

"Well, I guess you haven’t read his biography. It says something else entirely."

Tardino froze, every movement pausing as he focused his entire being into one intense look at the doctor. "He used to be my best friend," he said quietly. "I know him better than any biography written by the TC."

"If you were his friend, then you should know that it was King’s childhood dream to become an admiral."

"His—what? The biography is full of crap, Pris. The whole publishing market is just a corporate playground. They write whatever suits them. Or did you read the part where the TC bled his company dry by being the sole buyer of his tech and basically forced King to sell Starship? Funny how someone has to be pushed so hard to ‘fulfill’ their childhood dream."

"Watch what you say, Tardino," the Lieutenant Major warned. "Don’t ruin your reputation—or ours."

"You don’t need to tell me that, Hemold. I care about the crew just as much as you do. All I said is you’ll never find anything bad written about the corporation. And that’s the truth. There’s only ever one truth, and when I say it, it’s got nothing to do with my political stance. I love the TC." He grinned, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. The clatter of cutlery filled the awkward silence, and the chatter from nearby tables became a kind of comforting background noise in the uneasy quiet.

After a while, Tardino shook his head. "Gotta get goin'," he said, slurping down the last of his meal while standing.

"Hey, Chief Engineer," the doctor called after him, "why don’t you take the boy with you for your shift? We’ve got over a week until we land. He could learn a lot from you in that time. It’d be like an internship for him. I bet none of his competitors have flown on a starship! It’d look great on his resume—and who knows? Maybe you two will get along, and you won’t have to be so lonely down in the engine room."

"I’m alone down there, Pris, not lonely. You know the difference, right? Starship engineers are their own best friends."

"Oh, come on, don’t be like that. It would be important for the kid."

"It’s touching how much you care about him, but I just don’t have the time to mentor anyone right now. The SAMSON got hit by thirteen lightning bolts when we flew through the clouds. One of them damaged the hull, which caused a short circuit in the metal shields over the meeting room. They won’t close now. Looks like the fuse box is fried, and pretty much all the wiring needs replacing. We can’t fix the fuse box until we land, so I’ve gotta go outside with Siggi to repair the shield servos and manually crank the shutters closed. We’ve got exactly"—he glanced at his watch—"22 hours before we hit the asteroid field. And I really don’t want to fly through that with the windows wide open. Once that’s done, the kid can come join me, but not before." He stopped abruptly and shook his head in disapproval. "Windows on a starship," he said with a scoff. "I’m with the Captain on this one: staring at the stars is for romantics, but we’re on a ship, and windows have no place here."