A Good Son

The shuttle circled Shaanxi, over three hundred kilometers above the mountainous planet dappled by great oceans. Traian’s sharkskin suit was out of place in the workaday craft with consoles nicotine-stained and greasy from heavy use, wisps of stuffing poking through the cracked naugahyde seats. Cheng noticed through sideways glances that Traian wore a look of impending sickness brought on from the force of acceleration.

They circled the planet twice, rising with each orbit and Traian tapped his foot with nervous energy. He swiveled in his seat, right and left, glimpsing the world below out the small side windows. “Fuck, Cheng,” he said. “Where is she?”

“Almost there, skip,” he said. “Next turn.”

“Christ…”

There was little for Cheng to do as they spiraled away from the planet, searching for the orbit of The Lenora. He made minute adjustments via the navigation console but left the stick untouched since leaving Shaanxi’s atmosphere. He flipped a switch cover up and down, aluminum clicking high then low.

“So…,” he said.

“What?” Traian looked at him over a pair of sunglasses with bloodshot eyes. Cheng noticed the lack of spikes in his hair, the gel crushed by days of gravity and twitchy hands run through.

“Sorry to hear about you and Liz,” Cheng said.

“What, we’re scuttlebutt now?”

“You got to admit, skip, it does kind of make things awkward.”

“For who?” Traian asked. “You? She was my goddamned girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but we all like her. I’m just saying, it’s kind of a shame.”

Cheng shrugged, his head bobbing from shoulder to shoulder. Traian pointed out the forward port and Cheng saw The Lenora, first just a lighted speck in the distance like a dim star but growing with startling speed. The heads-up display found the ship just after Traian and surrounded the dot with a bright green LCD square. Numbers outside the box displayed the computer’s calculations of distance, speed, and ETA.

She was a large ship, a rectangular steel hull stretched under a long platform, cranes and retractable tools along the sides. Two massive fingers reached out toward the planet, each little more than a skeleton of steel between three articulation points synchronized in movement by hydraulic tubing within.

The platform was lit with five-by-five meter square LED lamps built into the surface, blazing up into space like a beacon. The light flooded into the shuttle and Cheng lowered a visor. Traian sank into his seat, pushing the sunglasses up his nose.

Cheng glided the shuttle in under the platform, finding purchase on a ledge beneath. The steel clanked together with a small bump and the HUD showed confirmation that it was linked into the ship’s computer via hardwire and was receiving power. Cheng flipped a switch and the shuttle was pulled inward, forming a seal between the airlock and hatch. It pressurized with a hiss of stale air.

The artificial gravity clicked on and Traian held a hand to his mouth as his stomach somersaulted and head spun. He was out of his seat before Cheng and punched the hatch button. The two doors opened in synchronicity and Traian searched the relative dim for familiar faces. His nose itched with the acrid scent of burning metal.

“Hey, skip,” Cheng said, his voice quiet. “Go easy, okay?”

Traian replied with an ugly look and stepped over the threshold into his ship, leather-heeled loafers clanking against the steel grating on the other side. He shivered from the moist cold that penetrated his thin clothes. Holding his arms across his chest, Traian cut a path through the passage, taking mental notes of things out of order. It was a mixed bag, from the minor to the major: a burned-out bulb in an overhead fixture, a water leak in an inner-hull seam, a foul odor coming from an oxygen recycling vent. But along the way, he did not encounter a single member of the crew.

Banging rang down the metal passages and Traian followed. The sound dived to the decks below and resurfaced through holes cut for ladders, coming from everywhere at once. But Traian knew his ship. He homed in and walked with an ear cocked toward the source.

He swung open the hatch to the engine compartment and found nine members of his crew tugging on chains through pulleys, grunting with each fresh effort. A hole had been cut through the decking where the old power plant had been mounted. Now it was gone. A new one, free from the accumulated grime, hung from the chains, swinging above the empty cargo hold on the lower deck. Wei, the engineer, hammered at the edges of the cut, kicking the plant through where it caught.

Traian watched the chaos of the compartment, his arms folded as he leaned against the hatchway. The piping and wiring that had run over the hole were removed and piled along the bulkheads, the cut deck plating nowhere to be seen.

The crew hoisted until the engine hung midway between ceiling and deck, a long tube of intricate piping. The engineer ordered it tied off and the chains were fastened to hooks welded onto the rusted walls. A collective sigh of relief was released when the chains held.

“Anyone want to tell me what the hell this is about?” asked Traian.

“Oh hey, skip,” Wei said. The crew turned their eyes to the deck or became involved in the long and complicated process of lighting cigarettes. “Just, you know, doing an upgrade. Keeping her fit. You know… Day to day stuff.”

“Do I?” Traian asked. “Was something wrong with the old plant?”

“Not, you know, wrong, skip. Just this one is… better.”

“It’s a Rayo,” Davey said, chiming in.

“Yeah, a Rayo,” Nafiz agreed.

“Yeah,” said Wei. “More powerful. One of the new XTECH models. Should give old Lenora a little extra kick. Got a great deal on it.”

“I bet,” said Traian. He stepped into the compartment and ran his fingers along a taut chain. “How long until we’re online?”

“A day. Maybe two. Hardest part will be welding the floor back together.”

“And you didn’t think I’d like to know you were doing this?”

“Oh… well… sorry, boss,” said Wei. “But I think you’ll be pleased with the results anyway.”

Someone coughed.

“Hmm,” Traian said. He circled the room, looking into the eyes of each man. None could linger for long. “What?” he asked. “What’s going on with you monkeys?”

The compartment filled with shrugs. Traian was the smallest of them, the others as large as bears but with new expressions of shyness he found disappointing. He made another round, throwing up his hands. “Okay, so you’ve all heard.”

“Shame to hear about it, skip,” Davey said.

“Yeah. It’s too bad.”

“Look, it didn’t work out,” Traian said. “But if you’re going to act like sulking little babies about it, I’ll fire all of you and replace you with some truly dangerous people.”

“You know it ain’t like that, skip,” said Nafiz. “We’re just saying…”

“Yeah,” said Wei. “It’s… you know… uh…”

“Yeah,” said Traian. “I know.” He shook his head. “Get this squared away, right? We’ve got a job and I’d like to get out of orbit sometime this week. We’re paid by the manifest, people,” he said, leaving. He paused, turning around. “Better to find it before it’s been spread all over hell and back.”

Traian stomped down the passage, shoes clanking and toes going numb inside. A shiver rattled down his spine and he paused at an oxygen vent to test the temperature. It hissed out just above freezing. Traian tried to rub some warmth back into his numbed digits. He made his way forward to the quarterdeck and pushed through the hatch.

“You’re trying to turn the whole crew against me, aren’t you?” asked Traian. His voice was loud and higher than he might have preferred.

Liz swiveled in the pilot’s chair and crossed her legs, shaking her head with a little grin. She wore her ship’s uniform, a pair of black leather-looking trousers and a matching work shirt with the ship’s name on a patch over one breast pocket and her name over the other. She had on a pair of black fingerless-gloves and tapped the arm of her chair with a trimmed fingernail. Liz’s hair was pulled back into a short top-knot, to keep her blond hair out of her face.

“Those drugs have made you paranoid,” she said. “Besides, I can’t help if they like me more than they like you.”

“You know, I could have fired you,” Traian said. “But no. Because I respect what you do I thought you’d still be a valuable member of the crew.”

“Get off it,” said Liz. “You didn’t fire me because I’ve been here so long you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

“I had other pilots before you.”

“What,” she laughed. “Like ten years ago? Sure. Okay.”

“Now the crew is dividing into factions and you know that’s never a good thing.”

“There’re no factions,” Liz said. “They’re all on my side.”

“Perfect,” said Traian.

He wandered toward the co-pilot’s station and fell into the chair, kicking his feet up onto the console. His eyes were so heavy the struggle to keep them open was becoming impossible. And the cold didn’t help.

“Look,” Liz said. “If it turns out it’s too weird, I’ll quit after this run.”

“Whatever,” Traian said, waving away the thought with a hand. He searched the pockets of his jacket for a packet but found only empty bags. He sighed and let his arms hang to the deck.

“Might do you some good to be off that shit for a while,” said Liz.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, a little while.”

“I have more in my bag in the shuttle.”

“Still, a limited supply–”

“We’re going after a coke boat.”

“So you’re stealing cargo these days?” asked Liz. “Very nice. No, no problem here.”

Traian looked through the tiny slits of his eyes and saw Liz leaning over her console, head in hands, breathing in frustration. He pulled himself upright and rubbed away the sleep with his fists.

“I get what you’re trying to say,” he said. “And, even though I think it’s totally annoying and unwarranted, thank you.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, Traian,” said Liz. “Such an asshole.”

“Sorry.”

Liz sighed, standing and walking over to Traian. She held out a hand and he accepted the help to his feet. In her boots she towered over him. Liz ran her hands along the lines of his suit, brushing off the lint that collected on his shoulders and arms and straightening his lines.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” she said. “Sleep, shower, shave, and then we’ll work out a search plan for this boat we’re after. How does that sound?”
Traian shrank with each passing second and he nodded in limp acquiescence. Liz turned him toward the hatch, giving a slight push in the hope that the momentum might carry Traian the rest of the way.

---

Jacob’s recovery was a long one. Much of the muscle in his thigh needed to be removed, leaving just his hamstring and enough ligaments to keep his leg together. For two months he sat in his chair, foot propped onto a stool, listening to the community elders and Samantha’s children whine and cry. The topic varied but the tone between them was much the same. And each time his rotten teeth ground down another nanometer.

When he had had enough Jacob summoned Lydia and Benjamin to his home in the eighth week of his recovery. They entered, finding him limping about with the aid of a wooden cane. He moved with no ease, the force of his will driving each step. Lydia saw his twisted face and pulled her husband back, allowing Jacob to finish his exercise before Benjamin could interrupt and face his wrath.

They watched as Jacob circled the living room, swaying too far to one side as his weight leaned on the damaged leg and cane. He charged into the kitchen, back out, and once more around the living room, before collapsing into his chair. Jacob breathed through his teeth, the air whistling past ivory. His jaw clenched and unclenched as new waves of pain arrived with each pulse of blood past the wound.

Lydia slipped behind him, the floorboards squeaking as she stole into the kitchen. She put on the kettle and returned with tea, serving it out with a look of deference until acknowledged. The brew contained an analgesic and as Jacob’s throb subsided so did the ferocious curl of his lips.

“Thank you for coming,” Jacob said. He waved for Benjamin to sit at his feet and Benjamin did as was asked. “You are a good son. And Lydia a good daughter.”

“I hope you are feeling better, elder,” Benjamin said. “You seem to be regaining the use of your leg. It is a miracle.”

“Some things are the acts of the Almighty,” Jacob said, a fresh sneer crossing his face. “Some things are the work of men. This wound was inflicted by a man and it is because of my will that I refuse to be crippled by it.”

“The other communities have already pledged to no longer trade with that ship.” Benjamin rubbed his sweaty palms across his trousers. “Though their medicines have saved many lives.”

“In that He will provide,” Jacob said. “Other ships come and all seem to know what we will trade for.”

He met Benjamin’s eyes and found agreement but Lydia focused on the floor. She curled the string of her apron around a finger and then off again.
“I require something from you in duty,” Jacob said, turning his attention back to Benjamin. “As a son would for his father.”

“Certainly,” Benjamin said.

“You must care for Samantha’s children while her cousins and I fetch her back.”

Lydia drew a sharp breath, attracting the men’s attention. She covered her lips, trying to take back something already gone. She wrapped the apron string with nervous speed, chewing the corner of her lip.

“Something you wish to say?” Jacob asked over his shoulder. “If so, do not hold back.”

Lydia glanced toward Benjamin for support but found none in his eyes. She stumbled over the first word, stuttering until finding her footing. “Is it not true that before we left Earth, children were given a chance to explore the world before returning to the community?”

“That was the way it was,” Jacob said. “But that was when others were all around us and could not be hidden. And only if the children had no obligations. Samantha has many.”

“Father, Samantha is gone,” Lydia said. “She has escaped from this place into a world we have not been a part of for over fifty years. Can we not just let her go?”

“You sound as if she had something to run from,” Benjamin said. Lydia was unaccustomed to the harshness in his voice and her chin dug deep into her chest.

“Your husband is right,” Jacob said. “Her cousins and I would merely like to bring her home. Reunite her children with their mother. Samantha has acted against God and her family and we wish to save her.”

“That is very noble,” Benjamin said.

Jacob nodded. He shifted in his chair to see Lydia. “Do you not agree?”

“If she no longer wishes to be a part of this community, I do not understand why she must be brought back,” Lydia said. Her voice was small, like the echo of a thought forgotten. “If we do not choose to be here then how can we be said to have chosen Christ as our savior?”

Jacob sneered. “This is nonsense,” he said. “As the head of the household, will you do this for me, son?”

“Yes,” said Benjamin. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Then you may collect them now,” Jacob said. “Please, while I speak with my daughter.”

Benjamin stood, straightening his trousers, shooting his wife a suspicious glance as he passed. Lydia came around and stood before Jacob, a tremble in her hand from the raw fear and disgust she had for her father.

“You will care for Samantha’s children as if they are your own,” Jacob said.

“They are your children too,” Lydia said, meeting her father’s eyes for the first time. “Why is this never mentioned?”

Even with his bad leg, Jacob leapt from his chair and slapped his daughter. A copper taste filled her mouth as blood began to dribble from her nose. A snarl curled across Jacob’s lips and the hairs of his nose blew in and out. Lydia held her stinging cheek.

“You do not even know where she went,” Lydia said. “How will you know where to look for her?”

“The ship will lead me to her,” Jacob growled. “And God will lead me to the ship.”

“Is everything okay?” Benjamin asked. He held Elmo in his arms, Isaac by his side. His eyes darted between father and daughter, concern evident on his plain face.

“Everything will be fine,” Jacob said. He sat with ginger ease into his chair, the throbbing returning with a new ferocity. He rubbed the wound with probing fingers and shot a quick look toward Benjamin. “But your wife could learn to respect her elders as well as you do.”