c. 2024 Rod Ice
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(9-24)
Kelly Strafe had been impatient with the limited capabilities of her Ibid carrier, throughout the return journey to Planet Earth. But she stayed busy with scientific experiments and mapping, as a distraction. The span of four weeks seemed to crawl along at a snail’s pace. Piloting the vessel alone, she mused over details of her suspension, imprisonment, and resignation on a daily basis. Sometimes, she would vocalize her rage out loud. Then, laugh at these displays of uncontrolled emotions. It was not the sort of behavior that reflected having a career in military service.
“FUCK YOU, HORNELL BLOCK! FUCK YOU, COREL NAUGA! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!”
Her fists would bounce off of the controls when these episodes occurred. Afterward, the cabin always seemed unusually silent. Except for the humming of Gibidan impeller components, in the craft’s tail section.
Upon reaching their ancestral homeworld, she experienced a moment of awe. The massive, blue sphere was lovely when viewed from space. It gave off no vibes of war or conflict, or death. Without the interference of human minds, it was simply a giant rock, traveling around the sun. A part of cosmic machinery, always in motion.
She hailed her former cohort on all frequencies used by ships from the Mars colony. But there was no reply. Only static and background noise. When she scanned the area near Lake Erie, where the ruins of Evergreen Estates were located, her search program failed to ping on any results. Other than animal inhabitants, and wild vegetation, the analysis read blank.
Her tone softened when repeating the calls for contact.
“Juddy! I’m back, you must’ve known I’d get here somehow! What happened to you? What happened to that trailer park in the pines?”
Her sensors should have picked up an echo from the Digger shuttle. Yet the presence of such a transport was not indicated. She widened her look incrementally, until it included most of what had been the western side of Pennsylvania. Each query brought back nothing. She had stationed the Ibid in a geosynchronous orbit, directly over the abandoned park. But as hours passed with no yield from her observations, she began to realize that something had gone sour.
While fiddling with settings on her control panel, a signal beamed through from across the solar system. Her erstwhile superior had opened a data channel from New Cleveland. He sounded anxious, and exhausted. But hopeful that she would have good news to share.
“Lieutenant, this is Commander Block. I calculated your arrival time, and set a reminder for myself, one month ago. How are you finding conditions on our old homeworld?”
Strafe wanted to spit at her viewscreen. Still, she appreciated hearing another human voice, however loathsome it might have been to her ears.
“My rank is gone, Big H! Remember? I resigned my commission. That also means that I don’t have to address you as sir. I think ‘asshole’ would be more descriptive, and accurate!”
He gasped lightly, and rolled his eyes.
“Maybe I deserve that...”
His departed junior hissed and howled at the communications display.
“OF COURSE YOU DESERVE IT! YOU SOLD US OUT, AND NOW MUST BE FEELING GUILTY! DUMPING THE PROFESSOR HERE WAS A MOVE TO SAVE YOUR SKIN! I’D CALL IT A COWARDLY TRICK! BUT I’M GUESSING THAT IT DIDN’T WORK COMPLETELY, RIGHT? NOW YOU FEEL GUILTY. AND THE ADMIRAL DOESN’T TRUST YOU. HOW ABOUT THAT?”
Block felt his stomach grumbling. He had been nailed, verbally.
“You’re very perceptive, Kells. You always were...”
She cackled and raised her hands in the air. Her long ponytail flipped victoriously, as she nodded.
“So, you’re calling to do what? Apologize? Kiss my ass for forgiveness? Or to explain what you had intended, originally? I’ll just say it straight, I don’t give a damn! I don’t care about anything you’ve got to offer. It’s done. I lost my place in the force, and you kept yours. Go riding around on the Morningstar, and seek out new vistas among the stars. Feel good about yourself. Be content. And... I hope you gag on your gold medals!”
The commander cleared his throat, and scratched through his crew-cut hair, while thinking.
“Look, I contacted you because we’ve run the ship’s log through our computers on Mars. It takes time to sort everything. The meteorology of that stone you’re circling has changed greatly from what our forebears knew, a century ago. There are cyclical storms throughout the year. Generally, at least one cataclysmic event each month. From what our analysis indicates, something would have just happened in that part of the North American continent. I can’t predict what conditions that might have created at Evergreen Estates, but you can wager on bad weather returning, very soon. They shot off a lot of munitions in the Great Uprising. With chemicals and radiation and explosives of all sorts. Mankind was just developing some incredible capabilities at that point in our history. But it was squandered on killing neighbors and former allies. I’ve never understood the propensity of sentient beings to attack each other. It's a characteristic I am glad was bred out of our DNA. Imagine that kind of folly in a sealed environment, like the colonies we inhabit, now? There would be no people left to mourn, or hold funerals. We would have extinguished the candles lit by our ancestors. And died alone, in the darkness of outer space...”
Strafe snorted at this soliloquy. She had grown tired of listening.
“Are you done with your sermon? I think if you want to preach, then do it to a mirror. Ask for healing, ask for comfort, whatever you want. You’re no better than the slugs who ran away after ruining this planet. They fouled the air and water, and land. Then headed off to our red horizon, and a new beginning. Maybe that was a good thing, because it created the gene pool that birthed all of us, okay? But if you won’t stand on principle, then what did it solve? Instead of thinking about your career, why didn’t you ponder all this horseshit we’ve been fed? A hundred years of lies about what really happened. You knew that nerd scholar wanted to dig up evidence, and find the truth. Why didn’t you help him, instead of running like those ancient residents of Ohio?”
Commander Block had to hold his gut with one hand. He wanted to vomit.
“Damn you, Kelly! I always hated it when your conscience caused dissent. Or when you started asking questions that made me feel uncomfortable. Most of all, I hated it when you were... well, right!”
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