The Millionth Week
An almost imperceptible disturbance woke Cleo.
An unidentifiable strangeness hummed in her heart.
She remained in bed with her eyes closed, seeking the source.
An audible dissonance? No. An errant vibration?
No. An increase or decrease of temperature?
She pulled the blanket down, exposing her bare arms. No.
A malfunction in the air plant or a clog in the waste-water treatment plant?
Breathing deep, she sampled the air. No and no.
She opened her eyes and scanned her bedroom.
Soft bluelight outlined the half opened door, revealing a bureau, night table, and lamp.
Nothing was amiss. Rolling out of bed, Cleo padded into her living area.
Couch, chair, desk, and a small kitchen.
Spartan and clean just as she’d left it only—she glanced at the clock, hour twenty two—only two hours ago.
The knock at her door was not a surprise.
“Captain? Sorry to wake you—”
“But there’s an emergency.” Cleo finished, letting Commander Mazin in.
“We’re not sure,” he said.
That was new. She waited.
He brushed a lock of shaggy brown hair from his equally brown eyes.
It immediately swung back. All Insiders had brown hair and eyes.
The dominate genes the only survivors after one hundred and forty-two generations.
The only difference was length, style, and cut.
Insiders’ skin color also matched as well—a sickly tan color.
“The chief engineer will explain. She’s waiting for you in the control room,” he said.
Cleo suppressed a sigh. Ofira loved the drama. There had been plenty of it these last seven hundred weeks as one system after another had needed emergency repairs.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said.
Mazin nodded and left. As she changed from her tank top and shorts to her uniform, Cleo considered what the problem could be this time and who would win the bet.
The fact the control room officers had placed bets on which system would break down next, best summed up their endless progression of woes.
The captain’s quarters on the command level were just a short walk from the control room. Bluelights shone in the hallway, indicating a sleep cycle. The murals on the walls took on a blue hue, dimming the otherwise bright colors.
When Cleo entered the control room, she squinted in the daylights, which were always on. The people who worked here, monitored all the vital systems that kept their people alive.
Chief Engineer Ofira Narelle leaned over Ensign Hieu. She tapped on his computer screen. “Check the power plant again. Maybe it’s the cause.”
“It’s operating at one hundred percent,” he said. “Could be a glitch in the wires. Has anyone—”
“Yes. My team already visually inspected every millimeter and tested each connection. It’s not a glitch. What about the thrusters? Did they engage?”
“No. There’s nothing that we need to avoid.” He tapped on his keyboard. “The next obstacle is over a hundred and fifty weeks away.”
“What’s the problem, Ofira?” Cleo asked.
She turned. “There you are Captain Ashon.” The unvoiced finally hung in the air. Ofira wasn’t known for her patience. She had even cut her hair bristle brush short so it wouldn’t get in the way when she worked.
“And I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Inside is slowing down.”
More bad news. They were, after all, traveling through Outer Space to Outside, their destination. This problem would extend their trip. It had already been 999,800 weeks. A hundred and forty-two generations of people have been born, lived, and died in Inside.
“Can you fix it?” Cleo asked.
“I can if I know what is causing it.”
“Did you check the schematics?” The builders of Inside had left diagrams of all the equipment on the walls of the top level of Inside just in case the computers failed or were sabotaged.
“Of course I did.” Ofira huffed in annoyance.
“I think I found the problem,” Hieu said.
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Ensign,” Cleo said.
“The transmission has engaged.”
“On its own?” Ofira asked.
“Apparently.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Ofira said. “Inside reached terminal velocity at 500,000 weeks. We can’t go any faster.”
“But we can go slower.” Cleo’s comment tugged at a faint memory. She strode to her work station and accessed the command files.
“Check the operational parameters on the transmission,” Ofira ordered Hieu. “We’ve been doing routine maintenance on it as required, but I know my people haven’t been overly diligent since we all figured it wasn’t needed anymore.”
Cleo concentrated on the files, searching for a reason they would need to slow down. Under her breath she cursed the Trava takeover for erasing so much information. This wasn’t the first time she muttered about short sighted ancestors.
The right file proved elusive. She tried every trick she knew, and it was a significant amount. Dread rolled in her stomach at the thought of the next step.
“Captain?” Ofira interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“The transmission is rotating in the opposite direction,” Ofira said. “That’s why we’re slowing. We might be able to reverse it and accelerate back to terminal velocity.”
“Might?”
“We never done it before.”
“I want you to investigate how to reverse the direction, but don’t do anything yet.”
Ofira frowned. “Every kilometer per hour that we lose will prolong our journey.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you? Our resources are maxed out. People are—”
“Under my protection. I don’t want to jeopardize their safety. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Report back to me when you have the solution.”
Clearly unhappy, Ofira returned to Hieu’s work station.
Cleo checked the work schedules and headed to the exit. Mazin caught up to her. “Where are you going?”
“To find Zavier.”
“What for?”
“I’ve a hunch and I can’t verify it.” Zavier’s expertise with the historical files was unparalleled. Too bad, he wasn’t exactly a team player.
“Worth the aggravation and frustration?”
“Unfortunately.”
She crossed through the command level to reach the lift.
This level was the top most level of Inside and it contained not only the control room, but the senior officers’ quarters, the spaceport, and the transport ships.
The eight oversized vehicles could withstand the lack of air, of heat, of the nothingness that was Outer Space.
Cleo hoped they would be able to make multiple trips as the population of Inside had grown exponentially since the original nine families began the journey.
The fifteen levels below were packed full, and the citizens had been asked to limit the number of children born to two.
Of course, there were accidents and those who failed to understand that one more mouth to feed meant less food for everyone else.
The lift opened and Cleo pushed the button for level one. She exited into Quadrant A1, which used to be a recreation area, but was now part of hydroponics. In fact, five of the nine sectors on this level had been taken over by hydroponics and livestock to meet the demand.
Cleo breathed in the scent of living green—a rich clean aroma laced with moisture—as she navigated the hallways.
If the walls weren’t covered with vines, they were stained with rust. The humidity needed to keep the vegetable plants alive ate through the metal walls.
And maintenance had given up replacing the patches.
Despite the mantra that rust and dust were the twin evils of Inside, the interior walls were not as important as rust on the life sustaining equipment like the power plant.
She entered Quad G1 and found Chief Horticulturist Ivette elbow deep in—she paused as the acrid stench hit her.
Ivette noticed Cleo’s grimace and laughed. “Can’t grow plants without fertilizer.”
“I know, but why are you mixing it? Don’t you have a machine to do that?” That being transforming excrement and pulped dead bodies into a nutrient rich spray.
“We do, but it’s broken. Again.” She waved a muck-covered hand. “Maintenance has been called, but we’re pretty low on their priority list.”
“You could delegate. You are the chief.”
“Don’t worry, we all take turns, including me. Not that I mind your company, but is there a reason for your visit?”
“I’m looking for Zavier. He’s scheduled to work this shift.”
“I sent him to Sector E1 to pinch off dead leaves. There’s a fifty percent chance that he’s actually working, which is why I assign him work that’s not critical.”
“Fifty percent is better than zero.” Cleo kept her tone light. Zavier had bounced from job to job since he was fourteen hundred weeks old. Hydroponics seemed to suit him the best so far, and Ivette tolerated his quirks.
Zavier didn’t respond well to authority and even though he had the intelligence to be one of the officers in charge, he refused to take on any responsibility. Frustrating.
Ivette grunted and returned to her work. Cleo headed to Sector E1. She found a container half full of dead leaves on the floor. After searching the entire sector, there was no sign of Zavier.
Good thing, she knew his hiding place, or rather his room that he commandeered near the power plant. It was small but conveniently located next to Sector F1, which was also now part of hydroponics.
The noise from the plant dominated. She nodded at a few workers before banging on Zavier’s door with both fists.
The room had been insulated with thick foam.
For any other person in Inside, she could have messaged them a request to come to the control room, but not Zavier.
Oh no. The man refused to heed any summons.
She pounded again. Perhaps she should have sent Commander Mazin.
The door opened abruptly and she stumbled inside. Zavier caught her arm, steadying her.
“You don’t need to throw yourself at me, Captain. My offer has no expiration date.”