Carpathian Forty-Three

Carpathian Forty-Three - Part 3

Rhianu likes the command module, the top of Carpathian 43, my head, if you will. It has an unobstructed view of the stars ahead of us, the void that we ply as a trade. They make excuses to check on the systems there, but really, they just want to float and stare into space. That's what they're doing now, the large irised view port opened to the stars. I've never asked them about it. Discretion is a large part of being a sentient operating system for a long-haul cargo vessel. Well, it's a large part of being a good one anyway.

"You are difficult to find," Ward says, interrupting Rhianu's solitude.

Our Earth-born 'Doctor' is the thickest member of the crew, both physically and mentally. Ward joined us this cycle, along with our First Officer, Stephen. The crew took to Stephen's quiet grace. They haven't taken to Ward's obtuse reserved belligerence. The odds were stacked against them, being from Earth. We are a crew of Martians, Spacers, and Lunans, myself included. I was built at the Phobos Shipyards, twenty-three cycles ago. We don't like Earthers.

To Rhianu's credit, I don't sense any tension in them at Ward's presence like the other crewmembers. Rhianu is a person of quiet, Captain Voclain has said smoldering, passions. The two were closer before. I would almost say they were more than close, but my discretion would prevent that. All the crew, apart from Thak, are quiet. It works out well, here in the void, hundreds of days from any other soul. People who get lonely don't last at Carpathian Cargo. We have always run lean. It's how we're profitable. That, and Thak knowing what palms to grease.

"You could ask Fort. They know where we all are always," Rhianu says, their eyes glued to the void.

"Don't remind me," Ward says, casting a glance at the camera on the bulkhead door to observation. I'd wink at him if they camera had an iris. Alas, it does not.

"I came to see how you were doing," they say.

"I'm doing fine," Rhianu says.

I believe it. Rhianu is sensible, logical, and perhaps a bit fatalistic. The first two points engendered them to Captain Voclain. The last point has been contentious throughout their relationship.

"Okay. Cool."

Ward lingers uncomfortably in the zero gravity. Their thick hand clutches a handhold tighter than it should.

"Did your manual instruct you to pause for a few seconds to allow me space to convey an emotional response that I may not volunteer when directly asked?"

Ward blushes. Rhianu doesn't need to turn to perceive this.

"It – ah, yes. Yes, it did." Ward manages.

Rhianu lets the air smolder, for a moment, an eternity. They turn and fix Ward with their piercing, pale green eyes.

"Have you spent much time off Earth, Doctor?"

'Doctor', could be a sarcastic slight coming from another of the crew, but not Rhianu. It is a courtesy, a pleasantry that they are bequeathing to Ward.

"Ten years," Ward says, growing at the title Rhianu has graced them. "Mostly on Mars. I had one cycle to Calisto and back."

"I see. Did you enjoy the Jovian system?"

Rhianu floats 'down' to the deck, their feet reaching for the metal there, the electrostatic charge they have gently pulling them towards the carpeting that covers it. Their long, thin Spacer legs tendrils.

"I did," Ward says. "The transit of Io was beautiful."

Rhianu pushes against the deck weakly, sending themselves into a slow arc towards the bulkhead, towards Ward.

"I've never seen it," they say. "I've never been to the Jovian system. Just between Mars and Saturn, very rarely Luna." They pause, for effect I suppose.

"I am a Spacer, Doctor. I was born into Darkness and into Darkness I will return. I am deeper than your manual can fathom, and when I say that I am fine, I am. Do you understand?"

They're calm yet menacing. Rhianu isn't usually this... Rhianu isn't usually this.

"I think so," Ward says.

"Should I require your service Doctor, I will not hesitate to engage you. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Rhianu waves at the iris controls for the portal. It begins to close as they launch themselves past Ward and down the spine. For any other member of the crew, dangerously fast. Not for Rhianu Gwynne though. Not for the engineer that has kept Carpathian 43 running for eleven cycles.

Ward watches them disappear down the spine, then fumbles a handhold to make their own way back to the Camel's Hump, eventually to the Ring.

I'm worried.

I watch Rhianu rocket down the spine, gliding like a swimmer through air. I should talk to them, but they speed past any speaker that I might use. I suspect they know this. Of the crew, Rhianu is perhaps the most aware of my presence. They are the engineer after all, they repair me, they have had their hands in my brain, in my heart. They have replaced most of the speakers and cameras on Carpathian 43 over the cycles. They know how to be alone on the ship, better even than the twins.

I won't wait.

"Rhianu," I say as they speed past a speaker. They ignore me, pretending they didn't hear me. I know they did. I can see it in their skin response, in the flick of an eye to the speaker they sped past.

"Rhianu," I say again as they pass another speaker. I could close a bulkhead, cut off their route. It feels overly dramatic.

They glide through the Camel's Hump, dodging to port as the corridor of the spine splits in two. Lights activate as they approach, deactivate as the pass, a cocoon of light that follows them down the spine.

Ward was just being Ward. The Medic has no bed-side manner, nor do they need one. Ward is here to tend to our cargo of sleepers, to make sure that the people in suspended animation make it to Titan intact. They don't need a bed-side manner when their patients are comatose.

Rhianu slows, reaching out and tracing their hands along the corridor, occasionally slapping a hand against a bulkhead, letting the friction and strikes absorb some of their momentum.

"Rhianu," I say a third time, sure that they will deign to hear me.

"Not now Fort," they say, floating past the speaker I used.

"You are being uncharacteristically distant."

They stop, three quarters of the distance to the drive module. There's nothing but dark corridor ahead and behind. They cling to a bulkhead at frame seventy-nine, their long thin fingers white from the intensity. So odd, so like Ward's fingers grasping the handhold in observation. Ward was afraid of the void. Is Rhianu afraid of the claustrophobic corridor with its bubble of light that surrounds us?

No.

"You wouldn't understand."

"I understand fine, though I have not experienced mortality," I say.

Their hand releases the bulkhead and the float into the corner between the bulkhead and the corridor, their back pressing into the insulation that covers the bulkhead. They relax. Somewhat.

"I'm not facing mortality Fort. No more than any of us have all these cycles. The Darkness take us anytime, without reason."

Spacers are oddly spiritual. Religion followed humans to Luna, to Mars, to Jupiter and Saturn. Spacers found their own though. Spacers found The Darkness.

"This isn't The Darkness though. This is cancer."

It's harsh. I should have phrased it more comfortably.

"I'd prefer the later," Rhianu says weekly.

"I know."