Ad Astra by Jack Campbell
Varasan flipped his own hand into the general vicinity of his brow in response, then went back to his meal, ignoring her as she left.
She veered through the kitchen, coming to a halt near one of the cooks. The cook glanced down at her and smiled. “Francesa. What brings you here?”
“Are there any leftovers?” she asked, trying to keep the neediness from her voice.
The cook’s smile turned rueful. “Before most of the Officers and Crew have even eaten? Not likely.” He turned away, hesitated, then shoved something toward her. “This bit was ruined by a new apprentice. Get rid of it, will you?”
Francesa took the roll, her hands shaking. “Aye.”
The cook glanced at her for a moment. “The harvest isn’t too good, I hear.”
Francesa nodded. “My friend Ivry works the fields.” As bad as working around the Officers and Crew could be, at least most of the time Francesa was sheltered inside. Those in the fields took the brunt of the weather for their entire work shifts. “She says the weather went cold too early.”
“The weather’s always cold,” the cook remarked gloomily, his eyes straying toward a high slit window where a small patch of pale sky could be seen. “Though it seems colder now, in truth. Will there be enough food this year?”
“I…” Francesa looked down at the roll in her hand. “I don’t know.”
“Not enough, maybe,” the cook murmured. “Third year in a row. Not that there’s ever been enough, not since I was younger than you, but it’s worse lately. The Officers say the Captain’s angry with us. And the Officers and Crew must be fed before workers like us. Captain’s orders.” He touched his brow with his right hand.
Francesa kept her face calm despite the anger that surged inside. Nodding politely, she hastened from the kitchen and wolfed down half the roll. She managed to pause after that, staring down at the bread and thinking of a little brother with a belly as thin as her own. Biting her lip, she wrapped the other half carefully in a scrap of rag and stuffed it into a nearby hiding place where it would be safe until her work shift finished.
The morning bells sounded, calling them to Report. Francesa joined a slowly growing column of workers like herself as they shuffled toward the Bridge. Once inside, she shoved her way toward the back, finally leaning against the cold stone and looking upward. Carvings rioted across the stone above, telling the story of the Wreck and the Survival, the Ordeal and the prophesized Rescue. Francesa felt the cold reaching through the thin cloth of her shirt, sinking into her back, and forced herself to stand away from the stone wall. She’d have to do it soon, anyway.
The lower area filled with workers, some of them casting wary eyes on the members of the Watch who also entered to stand lining one side of the room, while other workers steadfastly pretended to ignore the Watch’s presence. With security assured by the Watch, the members of the Crew filed in, proceeding to their seats on long benches set on a platform raised a few feet higher then the floor on which Francesa and her peers stood. Francesa rested her eyes on the seated backsides of the Crew and remembered for a moment that she’d once been able to find humor in that view.
After the Crew came most of the Officers, going to individual chairs placed in front of the Crew benches.
Then the Third Officer entered, standing and looking around to ensure everyone was ready. “Attention!” he yelled.
The Officers and Crew came to their feet, standing rigid, while the workers around Francesa shuffled into more erect postures.
First Officer Garvis Skein entered and walked slowly to the third level of the Bridge, set a few feet higher than that on which the Officers’ chairs and Crew’s benches rested. The third level was much smaller than the other two, bounded along the back by a semicircular shelf of stone. On the stone shelf, which had been polished smooth and shiny, were set many polished stones of various sizes and colors, their settings forming patterns on the slab of stone.
Garvis stood before the small shelf of stone, waiting until the Third Officer handed a lighted lamp to him. He waved his light over the shelf, making the flame dance and causing the polished stones to wink rhythmically in time. “All systems report errors,” he intoned, then paused.
His audience chorused the reply, the Officers and Crew loudly and enthusiastically while the workers spoke the words with varying degrees of emotion. “Corrective action required.”
“All systems failing!”
“Corrective action required,” the reply came again.
“Our actions have failed! The Captain orders us to leave the ship!” Garvis thundered.
“Show mercy, Captain!” the audience cried.
“Rescue will come!”
This time the chorus held the note of finality. “For those who trust in the Captain!”
Garvis sat down the lamp, turning to face the crowd full on. “Those who trust in the Captain will be rescued! They will be taken up to the stars from whence we came and live in a place of plenty with the Captain just as our ancestors did. Those who do not follow will be left behind to toil in this world of pain to which our ancestors were banished for their failures to serve the Captain well.”
Francesa had heard it all so many times she could have recited it in her sleep. She tuned out the droning voice of First Officer Garvis, thinking of the cold, the poor harvest and the thin bodies of those in her family. When the call to duty was made and everyone bowed their heads as Garvis intoned thanks to the Captain along with promises of obedience in all things, Francesa couldn’t help wishing the Captain would send them something better than a promise of eventual rescue. After well over two hundred ‘standard’ years, as carefully measured and recorded by the Second Officer, she didn’t see rescue coming with nearly the certainty of hunger and cold.
But she didn’t say such thoughts out loud. Two lashes today would be bad enough.
First Officer Garvis eventually finished his instructions, holding up a copy of the writings with reverence. “Here are the rules, set forth by the Captain. Heed them. Always ask your Officers for what the rules say and what they mean. Do not attempt to read them yourself and spurn those who offer what they claim to be true copies. They are only seeking to mislead you. Only the copies of the rules kept on the Bridge are the true words of the Captain, and only the Officers may read those rules, by order of the Captain.”
Once again everyone touched their brows, Francesa thinking as she did so of her father’s disdain over the claim that no one but an Officer should read the writings. Tattered copies still existed among the workers, treasured and read by any who asked. Francesa had read them herself, finding comfort in the old words and their firm advice on how life should be lived.
The First Officer left, followed by the other Officers, then the Crew. Even as the last of the Crew left the Bridge, stern members of the Watch left their posts against the wall and began herding the workers out. “Back to your labors! Earn the mercy of the Captain by your sweat!” The workers openly grumbled before the Watch, but went as ordered.
The Report had eaten up more than an hour, granting a tedious but welcome respite from work. Unfortunately, the remaining hours of the morning saw Francesa scrubbing the stone walls of the Crew’s lodgings. After a short mid-day break and a too-small food ration, Francesa was ordered to tend fires again.
The afternoon was well along before that task was handed off to another weary worker. Francesa peered through a high window at the light, judging the time left in the work day, then reluctantly headed for the quarters of the Watch. If she didn’t get her lashes soon she might not get them today. She didn’t particularly care if that displeased the Captain who had already banished them to this cold hell, but the displeasure of First Officer Garvis could be an ugly thing to bear. If he found out she’d avoided being punished two lashes would seem like a mercy compared to the First Officer’s righteous wrath.
Francesa went across a cold passage and down the slope slightly to the dwellings of the Watch. Two members stood at their st
Francesa walked toward the Watch station, already feeling her back muscles tensing in anticipation of the bite of the lash. As she stood before the Watch members, ready to report, something distracted them. Both turned to look further down the hill, their mouths dropping open and their eyes staring. Francesa couldn’t help looking in the same direction.
She wondered if her own mouth had fallen agape. Something very large, larger even than the Bridge, was dropping gently down from the sky, shining even in the dim light of the red sun which managed its way through the ever-present cloud cover. The great object, moving silently, came to rest in the big courtyard which separated the homes of the Officers and Crew from the houses, farms and workshops of the workers.
“The Captain has come,” one of the Watch members gasped. He turned to Francesa, smiling like a drunkard. “He’s come to take us up!”
Francesa was still staring when the man turned and started running, down through the upper quarters and toward the round shining object as it settled onto the stone of the courtyard. Even from here, Francesa could see the heavy paving stones buckling around the edges of the huge craft.
But she didn’t smile and she didn’t run. Her mind full of a strange haze, Francesa veered off to recover the half-roll which she’d hidden that morning, then walked slowly toward the courtyard. There seemed no reason to run. If the Captain had truly returned, he certainly hadn’t done so for her.
Most of the other workers seemed to feel the same way. As a column of Officers and Crew hurled themselves toward the strange object, crying out devotions to the Captain, the workers followed behind, moving with a sort of quiet resignation.
By the time Francesa reached a point near enough the thing to see and hear what was happening, it seemed the entire town had gathered around it. Closest were the Officers and Crew, most with faces beaming in anticipation. The Watch stood behind them, their faces both hopeful and worried. In the outermost ring stood the workers, shivering in the cold, their numbers far larger than the others, craning their necks or climbing on anything that might offer a view. Francesa scrambled up on a column marking one corner of the courtyard, putting her toward the very back but giving herself a fairly clear look over the heads of most of the crowd.
Garvis Skein stood closest to the strange object. Francesa narrowed her eyes, but couldn’t tell if Garvis was really shaking with either fear or excitement.
With absolutely no warning or fanfare an opening appeared low in the side of the object. The rectangle seemed large enough to hold several people, but only two stood there. A low moan swept across the crowd as the two stepped down to the stones of the courtyard. Francesa squinted again, trying to make out details, then as the two walked forward was able to tell one was a man and the other a woman, though both were garbed in outfits which seemed impossibly wonderful to her eyes.
The two stopped before Garvis Skein, standing side by side.
Garvis raised his right hand to his brow. “The First Officer greets you in the name of the Captain!” he cried. Then, his voice holding the first note of humility Francesa had ever heard from Garvis, a humility she was sure was totally false, he spoke more quietly to the man. “Are you the Captain’s image upon this world?”
The woman cleared her throat. Garvis gave her an annoyed look before focusing back on the man. “We are obedient followers of the Captain. As you know, of course,” Garvis added hastily.
The man spoke with apparent care, his voice oddly accented, his eyes looking toward the woman. “If you want the captain, I can introduce you.”
“He’s not here?” one of the other Officers blurted.
Garvis shot an ugly glare toward the offender before smiling at the man again. “But if you are the Captain’s image, or . . .or representative . . .”
The woman finally spoke, her crisp voice carrying clearly to Francesa. “If you want the captain -.”
“Excuse me,” Garvis interrupted with a frown. “I know you accompany the Captain’s representative, but I am the Captain’s First Officer. I speak to Him and to his other Officers.” Garvis ended with a smile toward the man.
“The Captain’s a man?” the woman asked, sounding not the least abashed by Garvis’ rebuke.
A shocked murmur ran through the crowd of Officers and Crew. Garvis frowned again, deeper this time, his face reddening in a way Francesa knew all too well. “Of course the Captain is a man. It is clear that only a man can be the Captain. How could it be otherwise? The Captain we knew was a man, every First Officer chosen to speak for Him on this world has been a man, and it has been foretold that He will return. Is this a test?”
Far from appearing intimidated, the woman smiled tightly. “Perhaps it is a test.” The man with her started to speak. “Oh, no, Kayl. Let this man tell you what he wants to say.”
The man addressed as Kayl nodded at the woman’s words. Francesa watched, her puzzlement growing. The man Kayl actually seemed to be deferring to the woman, though if he was an Officer or even Crew she couldn’t possibly have any authority over him. And surely Kayl was an Officer. Who else could have come in such an amazing craft?
But First Officer Garvis seemed oblivious to the by-play between the man and woman. He faced the man called Kayl, his arms spread wide. “We are ready to depart with you.”
Kayl’s face grew wary. “You’re descended from survivors from the Verio, right?” A murmur arose from the crowd and everyone, Francesa included, brought their right hands to their brows at the mention of the ship’s Name. Kayl seemed startled, then nodded. “This is a pretty empty area of space. Ships very rarely traverse it. We’re only here because the Bellegrange was chartered to make some observations that required the properties of this part of space. That brought us close enough to detect the distress beacon the Verio left orbiting your sun. But even after we report on survivors here it may be a long time before anyone comes back again since you do appear to be able to survive on this world independently.”
Garvis smiled and nodded even though Francesa doubted he really understood what the man had said. “You have come and that is all that matters.”
Kayl shook his head. “I have to explain. That’s important because even though our ship is much bigger than the one your ancestors came here on, the Bellegrange still has limits on internal space and life support. As much as we’d like to, we can’t take everyone,” he stated with the air of someone declaring an unpleasant but unchangeable truth.
Francesa felt her heart sink as the little hope there vanished. All around her, other workers slumped in resignation, but she could see Garvis and the other Officers and Crew smiling, and see how Kayl seemed surprised by the happy reaction among that group.
Garvis spread his arms again. “It has long been known that all would not be Rescued. That only those deemed worthy would be taken up to the stars again. The worthy stand before you, those who have accepted the authority of the Captain without reservation, who believed He would return for his chosen and obedient followers.”
Kayl looked around, his expression wary, then at the woman with him as if, Francesa thought, he was seeking guidance, absurd as that seemed. The woman murmured something so low that even Garvis frowned over not being able to hear. But Kayl obviously did. He gave Garvis a confident look. “We’ll need whatever census data you have. Information on everyone here.”
The Officers and Crew shuffled their feet, looking at each other in open surprise. Garvis also seemed to wonder at the request. “Everyone? But -.”
“Everyone,” Kayl repeated firmly.
Garvis couldn’t hide the puzzlement he felt, then an Officer behind him said something and the First Officer’s face cleared. “Another test. Of course. Whatever you ask we shall provide.” He nodded, his smile fading into the first traces of uncertainty. “And then we shall be taken up?”
“Once we’ve reviewed your information we’ll be able to proceed.” Kayl smiled reassuringly. “I
Garvis managed another smile in return. “We have waited long already and can surely wait longer if that is the Captain’s pleasure. We are obedient to Him.” Once again Garvis touched his brow, a gesture mimicked first by the Officers and Crew and then in a more ragged fashion by the workers watching from a greater distance. Then he waved his hand vigorously at the Second Officer, who ran off toward the Bridge.
Francesa watched the Second Officer go, knowing he was after the population records meticulously kept up to date and stored for safekeeping in the Bridge. Then her eyes returned to Garvis as the First Officer swept his hand around again, this time from the tone and volume of his voice addressing everyone in the courtyard. “The day of Rescue has come. The obedient faithful shall be rewarded. Members of the Watch! Pray you have enough obedience in your hearts to be among the faithful, and send the unworthy back to their labors.”
The people making up the Watch turned and began shoving back the workers, yelling out commands. Francesa, far enough back to avoid their attentions for a few moments, gazed at the woman and the man Kayl, who were speaking together again. Both of those individuals seemed troubled, though by what Francesa couldn’t guess. Perhaps they’d expected more worthies among the people who lived here.
An arm swept toward her as a member of the Watch aimed to dislodge Francesa from her perch. She dodged with the ease of someone who’d avoided blows all her life, scrambling down and joining the other workers as they hastened to their homes, occasionally looking back to the ship that sat like an impossible vision in the courtyard, forever out of their reach.
But once the workers had cleared the courtyard, heading down the slope toward their homes, the Watch turned back, forming a guard around the ship. Francesa joined up with some friends, but aside from the briefest of greetings none of them talked. What was there to say? Finally Francesa grinned into the silence. “At least once the First Officer leaves I’ll never have to build his fires again.”
A hand fell upon her shoulder, momentarily shocking her with fright, but then her father’s voice came. “There’s that, little lady. No stars for us, eh? Except the relief that’ll come from being free of the ‘worthy.’” A chuckle spread among the crowd, but it held little real humor.