Worries from the Sleep-Deprived Idiot

[Tachyon 0]

“Worries from the Sleep-Deprived Idiot”

September 20, 2005

Lieutenant Dave Grey

--------------------------------------------------------

 

Foamy waves lapped sanguinely along the sandy beach, their gentle motions making it seem as if the ocean beyond were breathing deeply. Dave’s bare toes lay just inside the range of the waves’ influence and received regular splashes of refreshing water. He lay on his back on the beach, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him.

 

A football hit him. It landed squarely in his right eye, causing the world to shatter in an explosive pain as Dave instinctively reached up to touch the wound. His eyes flew open and then he winced, struggling to do too many things at once. After a few moments he had managed to sit up and ascertain the football had not caused any serious damage, so he turned in the direction from which the projectile had originated.

 

“Wake up, Dave,” his sister Harriet teased him. She ran past him to retrieve the football and gripped it menacingly. Dave reluctantly climbed to his feet.

 

“Wake up, Dave.” The voice was clear but concerned. It sliced through Dave’s unconscious and landed at the back of his brain.

 

“Sir?” it asked. “Sir, are you all right?”

 

Grey’s eyes flew open again, this time to be confronted with the bright artificial light of the launch bay, only to realize that he had been dreaming the entire memory. There was no beach, no football, no Harriet. He was alone, emotionally if not physically, for the person to whom the voice belonged stood next to him.

 

Their expression still betraying apprehension over his condition, a person whom Grey perceived to be a MACO stood to his right. Grey waved a heavy hand at them and nodded reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

 

“I know how you feel,” the MACO replied, genially taking Grey’s bag of science stuff just before the science officer released it to the unforgiving launch bay floor. “Times are changing, you’re in the middle of it, and you feel like everything you do isn’t enough.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Not bothering to contradict or even respond to the statement, the MACO tossed the bag into the shuttlepod, then drew his phase pistol and started to fiddle with the settings. Grey watched this for a few moments before starting, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

 

“Corporal Sam Watterson, Lieutenant.” Grey had only just gotten used to hearing that title, and its pronunciation, used in lieu of his name. The MACO—“Sam,” Grey supposed—continued, “Me and Corporal Dolan are coming down in the shuttlepod with you.”

 

The shuttle descended rapidly, speeding over the surface of the planet toward the habitation dome. Faces pressed against the concave inner surface of the window, Dave and Harriet looked down at the rock below with childish glee. Although it was dull red and conspicuously unimpressive, this was their first glimpse of an alien planet up close, and both seven-year-olds were excited. When the green light above the airlock went on, Dave and Harriet were among the first out the door and onto Mars.

 

The first thing they noticed was the lighter gravity, something their parents had mentioned on the trip over. Second, the smells. Everything smelled differently, much like the shuttle, but also with an exotic aroma that they couldn’t quite place. Used to traveling, the twins knew how to treat an adventure, and their parents struggled in vain to keep the children under control. But Dave and Harriet would hear nothing of it. . . .

 

“Please don’t do that,” Watterson requested.

 

“Do what?”

 

“That thing. You know, that thing you do. Where your eyes glaze over and you seem to be a million light-years away.”

 

Grey chuckled half-heartedly before inhaling deeply. “No, not a million,” he sighed. “Just back home.”

 

“Happy birthday to you!/Happy birthday to you!/Happy birthday, Dave and Harriet, happy birthday to you!” everyone sang. The birthday siblings sent each other a smug glance that said it all before smiling at the assembled company: family, friends, and guests. A friend, Sam, returned Grey’s sigh with a mixture of understanding and inquiry.

 

Grey, however, had no wish to continue the conversation. His diaphragm filled to bursting with emotion and he turned away, walking around to the other end of the launch bay for some momentary solitude.

 

Of course he needed sleep. Everyone needed sleep, and if it weren’t for the impressive artifact on the surface of Kappa Persei V, Grey would be in his quarters. But he was not, and he had to do the best he could to track down that Bolian, Nagen. After the understandable failure to track him through his quantum signature, Grey was not feeling any better about the situation.

 

Yet he could not stop thinking, of all things, Harriet. She would be celebrating her 26th birthday with him today, if she were not in a coma. The image of her motionless, thoughtless form lying on the white bed hung heavy in his heart. In truth, it was guilt that gave him pause. Guilt over tampering with the laws of physics instead of spending time trying to save her life. Guilt over drowning himself with work to block out the feelings that welled up whenever he had a moment alone. Guilt preyed upon him, and he knew it wasn’t his fault, but since when had that stopped anyone from suffocating with self-pity?