Every year around this time, I kick myself for not being better prepared for the holidays. And every year I vow to do things different next year. Hah! I'm such a procrastinator. Despite my tardiness in buying gifts and decorating the house--don't even mention sending out cards--I'm taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm.
A story always slows me down. A story where I can lose myself in another world. As you know, I'm a regular contributor to The Roses of Prose blog. Every year in December we post short holiday stories. Here's my story from last year.
Christmas in Space
This was the last place I expected to spend
Christmas Eve. They told us we would land before then. They told us we would
wake up sooner. They told us we would not dream.
They lied.
Like my five companions, I lay in a cryosleep
tube, frozen, all my bodily functions monitored by the ship’s computer and a
medical robot. A joker back at Titan Mission Control christened the computer
“Hal.” Even though we were headed for Serenity—not Jupiter like the astronauts
in 200l: A Space Odyssey—the thought of
a computer that could end our lives terrified us all, though we didn’t let the
joker know.
The Powers That Be told us cryosleep would
freeze our minds as well as our bodies. Hah!
“Commander, this is your wake-up call,” Hal intoned
impatiently, as if this wasn’t the first time he called.
Finally, they were waking me. That must mean
the freezing mechanisms had been turned off and my body was slowly warming up.
No wonder I was aware.
“Wakey, wakey. Eggs and bakey.” That was MT, the
medical robot. She had named herself after her proper designation, Medical
Technician 447 because she liked the play on her initials though her mechanical
brain was far from empty.
She lifted the lid of my unit then began
disengaging all the tubes and wires to which I was hooked up. “It’s beginning
to look a lot like Christmas,” she sang as she worked. Then she switched to
“Santa Claus is coming tonight.”
My first real breath hurt my chest. They told
us we might be nauseous and uncomfortable when we were brought out of
cryosleep. Might be? That was like saying childbirth was mild discomfort—not
that I’d ever experienced that phenomenon. Dizziness swept over me and I hadn’t
even moved.
“We’ll get you all fixed up for Santa,
Commander.” MT gently wiped my face. My eyes had difficulty focusing, but I
think she winked.
“Is Ma— Is anyone else awake?” I wanted to
ask. The noise that came out of my dry throat sounded like a bullfrog.
“You must have many questions, Commander
Grenard,” Hal said. “It is 24 December 2175, Earth time.”
Five years since we left the station on Saturn’s
moon, Titan. I’d been a popsicle for five years. No wonder I was shivering. Of
course the fact that I was naked might have something to do with being cold.
Even though I’d gotten over my normal modesty, I was glad MT looked like a
girl. I pretended Hal couldn’t see me.
At least we would all be awake for Christmas.
I could not imagine celebrating the holiday alone. Alone out in the black with
only a computer and an A.I. for company.
“We are two Earth days from our destination,”
Hal continued. “You must wonder why our arrival was delayed.”
Of course, I wondered. We were supposed to
have landed already on our one-way trip to the “Goldilocks” planet we’d named Serenity—our
hope for a peaceful world. We would be the first inhabitants. Three men and
three women, matched for our compatibility and our talents to terra-form an
alien planet. And populate it. Although I looked forward to that part of the
mission, we’d been forbidden to “practice” in case we became pregnant. No one
knew the effects of cryosleep on pregnancy.
During the final planning stage, we talked
about the first Christmas on Serenity. Supplies had been sent ahead. The cargo
containers would be our homes until we built permanent ones. We planned every
detail, from decorations to our celebratory meal in our temporary home. Disappointment
oozed through me that we would not accomplish our goal.
“She doesn’t need to know everything all at
once,” MT protested.
Yes, I did want to know. I needed to know
everything that had happened since going into cryosleep. Hal understood. MT
didn’t.
I tried to lift my hand to encourage Hal to
continue. My hand reacted like cooked spaghetti.
“We were delayed because a near collision
with an asteroid necessitated a course correction.” Was that defiance in Hal’s
voice?
“You idiot. Give her a chance to wake up.”
“I am not an idiot,” Hal responded with righteous
indignation. “I am the most sophisticated instrument Healogin Industries has
ever constructed.”
To me, MT said, “He really has an
overinflated ego, you know. He thinks he knows everything and doesn’t hesitate
to share that opinion.”
“I do not,” Hall huffed. “It is my purpose to
utilize my superior intellect.”
MT snorted. “Now, upsy daisy.” She tucked her
arm under my shoulders to help me into a sitting position.
Retching wracked my body. Vertigo threatened
to topple me over the edge of my cryotube.
“Easy, Commander. Just take it easy.” MT held
me steady. “You’ll be right as rain in a jiffy.”
I wanted to ask how she knew, but my throat
hurt too much. She placed a flex tube in my mouth. “This will feel good. You
don’t have to sip. Just let the liquid flow naturally.”
Oh my God, that did feel good. Greedily, I
swallowed again and again. The sweet cool liquid coated my throat. I could see
more clearly now. The gray walls, the narrow space through which MT maneuvered
around the cryotube, the monitors with green on black readouts of my functions.
Nothing had changed in the five years since I climbed into the tube. Not that I
expected it to.
“That is enough for now.” MT removed the
drink. I moaned in protest.
“It is my unfortunate duty to inform you—”
“No.” MT whirled around to face the comm unit
on the wall. “Wait until she is back to normal.”
“But—”
“No, Hal. You must give her time to orient
herself.”
“I—” I cleared my throat. “I need to know.
What happened?”
“Hah!” Hal sounded triumphant. As if he’d gotten
his way over MT’s protests. There I went again, giving Hal and MT human-like
attributes. When machines, even artificial intelligence, spoke like humans, it
was difficult not to. “A malfunction occurred in the cryotubes.”
No. My mind cried out when my vocal cords did
not respond to my brain’s command. What
happened? I wanted to ask yet afraid of the answer. The six of us were pioneers
to an alien planet. Dependent on each other. We were more than colleagues on a
dangerous journey. We were a family.
That wasn’t the only reason. Marsh.
Please, God.
Let Marsh be safe. Guilt swamped me. I was selfish. What kind of Christmas
spirit did I have to be willing to sacrifice the others so that my love could
live?
“Malfunction?”
I managed to croak, barely a whisper. I struggled to rise, tried to pull myself
up by grasping the tube’s rail. So weak. I fell back against the thin pad I’d
lain on for over five years, jarring my head.
“Commander
Grenard, you must take it easy.” MT patted my arm. “Hal, you dope. Why did you
have to tell her?”
“She is in
charge of the mission. I must give her all the information.”
“Help me up,
MT,” I demanded in a whispery voice that even a bunny wouldn’t obey. I had to
see for myself. I had to see what had happened and to whom.
“Commander, the
mal—”
“No.” I tried
to signal to Hal to make him stop talking. Instead, my hand flopped back in my
lap. Damn weakness. “Get me out of here. Right now.” That was more like it. My
voice had regained some strength, unlike the rest of me.
“But,
Commander—”
“That’s an
order, MT.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She helped me swing my legs over the side. I barely felt her hands. But when my
legs dangled, pins and needles jabbed at my thighs, then my calves, and finally
my feet. Oh, God, that hurt.
Determined to
discover if Marsh was alive, I stifled my cry of pain. If MT knew how much I
hurt, she would use restraints to keep me down. I kicked my feet and slapped my
thighs, anything to return feeling to my extremities. I had to be able to stand
or MT wouldn’t take me to see the others’ tubes. I craned my head, trying to
see down the long, narrow walkway. Our tubes were in line. None of the lids
were raised.
Oh, dear God.
No one had survived.
“But, Commander—”
Hal began.
“Stop. I will
see for myself.”
MT pulled a
light green gown over my head, letting it pool at my waist. “Are you sure you
want to get up? You should take it slowly. Now sit here quietly while I get an
anti-grav transport.” She bustled away.
“No, MT,” I
called after her. “I will walk. Come back and help me.”
“She thinks she
knows best,” Hal said in a snide tone. “She is very irritating. You would not
believe the arguments we—”
“Shut up, you hunk
of junk.” MT had returned, lightly steering a pallet that hovered at waist
height. “You are nothing but a bunch of circuit boards, chips, and wires.”
“And what are
you?” he retorted. “Artificial skin covering circuit—”
I raised my
hand to my head. “Enough. You two are giving me a headache. MT, I said no
transport. I need to walk. I have to see—” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard
to hold back my scattered emotions.
MT put my hands
on her shoulders then supported me as I slid over the edge of the cryotube. My
knees had the stability of Jell-O. I clung to her shoulders, aware that her
slenderness was deceptive. Even though I’m six inches taller and forty pounds
heavier, she held me up.
The metal
grating of the floor cut into my bare feet. I shivered at the cold. Maybe I
should have used the anti-grav transport. No. What kind of a commander gave in
to discomfort when the fate of her crew remained a mystery?
Doubts assailed
me. I should have allowed Hal to give his report. Wouldn’t being prepared be
better than shock?
Clinging to the
little med tech robot and holding onto the edge of my cryotube, I babystepped
to the end. From there I could reach the next tube. Gloria’s. My friend, my
confidante, the first one I told of my budding romance with Marsh. I stopped
and closed my eyes. Please, God, let her be all right.
When I opened
my eyes, I peered into her tube’s face plate. Empty.
My heart
stopped. Oh no! Her body had already been disintegrated.
I hurried to
the next cryotube and the next. Empty, like Gloria’s. No. Please, God, not all
of them.
Marsh’s was the
last. I couldn’t look. I had to. I held onto the edge. Empty.
My knees gave
out. Despite MT’s efforts, I sunk to the floor. Tears streamed down my face.
Grief battered my heart, squeezing, burning, until my chest felt as empty as
the cryotubes.
“Commander.” MT
struggled to help me up.
“Leave me
alone.” I wanted to die right there. Our mission had failed.
Come back tomorrow for Part Two of
"Christmas in Space."
