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Chapter 1: Abe.

Abe hated outer space. He hated the drafting captain who abducted him into service. He hated the idiotic and paranoid restrictions placed upon him. But mostly he hated the smell. The room smelled like burning tin dipped in melted plastic.

Abe checked the oldtype list the cargo manager gave to him, tapping each item on it with his pencil as he made his rounds. He moved slowly down the slightly curved hallway, sliding his hand over one of the mag-belts absent mindedly. There was a brief moment of panic as he felt his body drift awkwardly while his hand was anchored painfully to the belt. He tore it loose and cursed the tedium which dulled his senses.

More than anything else right now, Abe wanted to smoke. The strange scent of the room reminded him of the old alien pipe he used to smoke back when he was a writer. Ami gave it to him while they were on the Falkoon homeworld, Ch-ghi’sa’ha, where there was more than enough air to use. Now he was on a starship, and had to live by certain rules. He had actually gotten into a great deal of trouble with the captain once for sneaking a pack onboard. Immediately after lighting up sirens blared, blast doors came crashing down and the room filled with sickly yellow foam which Abe soon discovered tasted like industrial soap and dirt.

He drifted on, thinking wishfully about Cha-ghi’sa’ha. Of its green forests lining its tall mountains, of those beautiful tower cities which seemed to reach the skies. Of Ami.

It seemed to Abe that he had been young then.

Of course, that was only a year ago now. But time in space would inevitably change you. He did his exercise each day and was glad to have such a physical job. He and the other cargo workers often made wisecracks about the bridge crew, who would probably fall apart the first time the landed on solid earth. But still, he had noticed himself becoming weaker. He couldn’t hold his breath for nearly as long in the pool area. Lifting heavy burdens was becoming more and more difficult as well. The work of operating the heavy machinery used to sort and stack the crates was taxing even in peak health. All of this frustrated Abe. He was not an old man by modern standards, but he still felt as though he was withering away like a cripple.

Three shrill chirps erupted from his wrist, arresting him from his self-pitying episode.

He touched the comm-link pad and immediately regretted it. Ami was on the other end. There was a brief pause, and then Ami spoke in an unusually calm tone of voice for a Falkie.

“The Captain would remind you of your appointment tonight. Meet him at the L’arc en ciel restaurant at sixteen hundred hours. Please be punctual.”
Before Abe could respond, she switched off her comm-link.
“Nice to see you too.” He said in a voice entirely without mordancy.

As much as he hated to say it aloud, it was her fault. He had loved her as she was- an expressive, outgoing and unabashed Falkie. He enjoyed their candid talks which would switch gears as often as blackflies bit.

But after she enlisted for this expedition she started to change. She told him at first that she was only researching standard rational behavioral patterns so as to better integrate herself into the crew. But eventually she stopped speaking in her own language, as though it was a secret shame. She filtered everything she said through the siv of terran conventionality.

Whenever he tried to talk to her about it, she would grow defensive and ask him to be happy for her. And he was, of course. But she had changed so much from the woman he knew. He could barely recognize her anymore. Eventually they split up. It was four weeks before Abe was enlisted for different duties aboard the same ship.

But the thing that cut most deeply was the fact that she had done all of this in an effort to impress him.

He finished checking the cargo bay and calculated, roughly, the amount of times he could have saved their relationship had he said the right things. Of course the number came out to be about twenty five thousand or so, give or take.

It was just going on seven twenty in the morning, so Abe had time to catch up on some sorely missed sleep. He glided to the exit hatch and began the work of stripping off his work suit, each layer peeling off like a rubbery black banana peel. He cursed himself for trying not to think of Ami, since that only made her appear hauntingly behind his eyelids each time he blinked.

He stepped into the resuiting room holding his work clothes under his arm, and his ears popped as a sense of false gravity was restored to the room. He pressed a button on one of the lockers, opening a small circular hatchway, into which he dropped his radiation-soiled work clothes. The hatch closed, and his locker opened.

When working in the outer areas of a ship, there was always the chance of radiation poisoning, although the engineers have been getting better and better at screening it out. Most people wouldn’t even need to enter this area of the ship, although it was in fact the largest. It contained a single cargo hold specifically made to hold radiation resilient materials for use on the ship, the power relay stations and the S.S. Conduits. All in all, there were only about twenty crewmen who would need to enter this area, and perhaps a few hundred in the whole fleet.

Normally, the resuiting room was empty, but now young Timothy was climbing into his work suit. Perhaps they really were having trouble with the solar sails.

Abe waved to the boy, who simply nodded at the gesture. It was hard to read Timothy’s emotions even if you knew him well. He was quiet, reserved and nearly impossible to engage in conversation.

Timothy put on his suit efficiently, each layer attaching with the dull ease of repetition. Abe stepped out of the room, quashing a slight pain in his left knee.

It was going on ten by the time he made it to his living quarters. Upon entering he fell onto his bed, not even removing his shirt before falling asleep.

He awoke at three to the memory that he had to meet with Captain Samuel in a few hours. He took a synthi-shower, did his required daily exercise and made his way to the city-like central ring. It took him about an hour to get to the restaurant district. There, standing in front of a small terracana buffet was the captain.

They were seated by a Keppish waiter whose gleaming brain-case was polished to the point of absurdity. Tiny vines of deep blue coiled and shuddered under its opalescent skin. Captain Samuel ordered a vegetarian stir fry, and Abe had ordered a steak. As they awaited their meals, they continued their little game.

The Captain started.

“’I have broken many stars’” he started in a deep baritone. “’What harm may a spear bring me?’ to which the boy answered ‘This star knows of my worth, and it sends along its blessing. The hand is my hand- the hand which will thwart you. And the spear itself is what shall pierce you.’
And with that, the boy plunged the spear into the beast’s head, shattering its skull and piercing through its brain.”

Abe had to think about this one for a moment. It sounded Keppish, but it could be human. Humans used spears more often than the Keppish, who found more use for smashing weapons. But of course, the heroes of these stories often challenged the norm and fought against terrible odds to survive. Also there was the fact that the stars were mentioned. The Kepprii worshipped the stars as patron deities.

Abe knew the captain. He was smart, so he wouldn’t be likely to take the most obvious route. Abe played it safe by picking the less conventional answer- that it was a human tale. He was pleased to know that he was right. Now it was his turn. But this time he would be ready.

“My god, it’s full of stars!”

He was obscenely pleased to see the Captain’s eyebrows furrow in deep thought. That was the thing about Captain Sam- he never read Sci-fi.

The two sat in silence. Abe smiled smugly as the captain seemed to seek advice from the table, staring at it intently while he ran through a list of hundreds of possible mythologies in his mind.

“I’ll hazard a guess and say that it’s Lu’ddish.” Said the captain, unenthusiastically. He was wrong.

And so it went, back and forth like this until their meals arrived and more serious matters would be addressed.

“We’ll be leaving the belt tomorrow,” said Sam. “Of course, that means you’ll be packing up tonight. It’s really unfortunate that we’ll have to say goodbye again so soon after my transfer, but so it goes.”
“Ah, about that- I don’t think I’ll be leaving as planed. Dr. Alert says that he’s been short staffed since we got to Claymire, and I know more about Falkoon psychology than most aboard.”

The captain nodded uncertainly. "That is true, but you've been spending an awful lot of time on ship. You need to start thinking about your health."

What he really wanted to do was patch things up with Ami. He still loved her, despite their recent coldness. It was hard for him not to. They had grown together the way a Hachu vine would cling to a stone wall.
Stones seemed to fill his mind every time he thought of her.

Abe said “I’ll be fine. The regs say I can stay swimming for another twenty months before I need to make planetfall.”
The captain shrugged. “Just a friend’s concern. I’d be happy to keep you aboard, no matter what role you play.”
The two men finished their meal, savoring the Smalltalk their jobs had deprived them of.