Earth Can Wait

The tell-tale chirp of the proximity alert roused me from that strange in-between place where sleep overlaps exhausted consciousness.

I’d been in and out for the last eighteen hours. You’d think after being asleep for twenty-five years that you’d be a little more chipper, but you’d be wrong. Cryo messes you up bad. It’s like a hangover that’s been ratcheted up to the highest setting. Drinking makes you choke, eating makes you puke, and breathing makes you cough.

The stars were not meant for humanity.

QB-13 was the thirteenth planet that was discovered by Quai and Bernstein, the dynamic duo of astronomers who didn’t even speak the same language. Discovered two hundred and twenty years ago, deemed habitable two hundred years ago, and a seed ship had been sent to set up a colony on it one hundred and fifty years ago.

And twenty-five years ago, I, Captain Ayan Ko, accepted a fifty-year hauling contract out to QB-13 and back to earth again.

Eventually, when I got home, no one I know–or knew–would be alive. But that was always kind of the point. A fresh start for me. A fresh start for…

Tamra.

Where was she now? Last time I saw her, she was slamming the door in my face. She’d be, what, fifty-two? Fifty-three? I wonder if she ended up getting married and having kids after all. For her sake, I hope she did.

I shook my head in an effort to clear it. Not wanting to think about it anymore, I decided it was time to start prepping for my arrival at the QB-13 orbital port. So, I brewed a bulb of coffee, sank into the ancient and cracking leather cockpit seat, and got to work running through my checklist.

My C-class hauler, The Rumble Mule, was moving a delivery of what I suspected were seeds, water, and foodstuffs based on the environmental conditions required for transport. They’d been maintained perfectly through the last twenty-five years of transit, so no surprises there. The orbital port was a ring station tethered to the QB-13's surface by a space elevator. Just like Luna, the port I’d left from, in what felt like just a day or so ago.

In a matter of hours, I’d completed all of my final approach adjustments, input my nav vectors, and sent the appropriate hailing messages, code clearances, and docking requests. All I had to do was wait for the station to acknowledge, validate my CSMI code, and give me a landing pad.

And so I waited.

And so I spiraled.

I couldn’t stop imagining Tamra as an older woman. Then, again, against my best efforts, I couldn’t stop imagining myself as an older woman with Tamra. What would our children look like? Would we have had a house?

What did I do?

“Approaching spacecraft, please identify yourself,” an even-toned and genderless voice said, snapping me out of my melancholic daze.

“This is C-class hauler Rumble Mule. Captain Ayan Ko speaking, go ahead QB-15 control,” I said, holding the comms key down. “I’ve already sent a docking reque–”

“Please transmit CSMI codes and standby.”

I punched my Celestial Mobile Service Identification number into the console, a bit angrily at the rude demand, and hit send. A few minutes later, the panel chirped, and that toneless voice returned.

“Permission granted for docking. Please make your way to landing pad zero seven. Repeat: Landing pad zero seven. Set down and await further instruction.”

That was weird.

Typically, there was just a digital signature sent to the comms panel, a credit transfer, refueling if needed, and then I’d be back off. Most of the time, I didn’t even leave the cockpit. After all, decontamination protocols in most ports were a bitch. But why were these guys telling me to wait for further instruction?

“Uh, okay, control. Rumble Mule out.”

Sketchy… but, whatever. I didn’t come all this way just to turn back from a sketchy port authority. This was a totally other world after all, so why not see how it shakes out? So, as the hours went by, the giant wheel of the QB-15 orbital port drew ever closer.

I guided the Rumble Mule into the open bay doors like a pro, because of course. I might be a shitty partner, but I’m a damned good pilot. I have to be honest, it felt really good to nail that docking procedure. I literally stuck the landing.

The whole ship shook with a loud bang when the docking clamps grabbed onto the Mule. I heard the familiar clicks and whirs outside the hull as the port service cables and articulating arms went about their tasks. In a few more moments, I felt the weight of real gravity–or at least of very good artificial gravity–hunker down on me. I unbuckled my safety harness, stretched, and then again, for like the hundredth time this trip, waited.

“Rumble Mule, this is QB-15 port authority. Please come in, over.”

“This is Rumble Mule. Go ahead.”

“Delivery parameters require in-person sign-off. Please exit your craft and await further instruction.”

Oh, come on.

“Uh, port authority, I don’t think that was in the terms of the contract. Can you please check with a…” I scrolled through my contract details to find the name of my company and my contact. Just as I got there, the robotic voice cut me off again.

“Harbinger Consortium. Sponsor, Daniella Hadded.”

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

“The terms of the contract have changed.” I felt a metallic thunk against the port hull and knew that they had just extended a docking umbilical that sealed itself to my airlock. “Please exit your craft and await further instructions.”

When the voice rattled off the exact phrase again, it confirmed what I suspected: it was an AI flight controller. I was not in the mood. “Port authority, may I please speak with Daniella Haddad directly?”

“Daniella Hadded is deceased. The terms of the contract have changed.”

Oh shit.

“I would like to talk to a person, please. Someone else from the consortium,” I demanded, trying but failing to keep the nervous quaver out of my voice.

“Please exit your craft and await further instructions.”

I slammed my fist against the airlock release. I might have been worried for a minute, but now I was pissed. The door dropped back into its frame and slipped into the space between the inner and outer hull. I looked down the metal gangplank, spotless and blindingly bright from the lights strung along the umbilical tube's plastic shroud.

There at the end of the passage, stood an honest-to-goodness, for real, for real, robot.

It was tall, with thin, telescoping limbs, a metal body at its center, and a stupid, humanoid head with two lights for eyes. It was an aesthetic that the designers no doubt gave the machines so they wouldn’t scare the ever-loving shit out of the station workers. At this, they exceedingly failed.

Regardless of how scary it looked, I stormed right up to that robot, looking right into its dumb light eyes. Unfortunately, I nearly ran right into it because it didn’t back up or even flinch as I approached. It just looked down at me, not saying anything.

“What the hell is going on? Why isn’t there a person here to meet me?” There was a metal clank and rattle to my left, and I looked over to see that we were standing in a large concourse outside the docking bay. Other robots were loading crates onto automated cargo skiffs. My crates. “Hey, what the hell?! That’s my cargo. I haven’t received my credits yet! I want to speak with a person!”

“Malloran Chatterjee will see you now,” the robot intoned from its mouthless head. It spoke in the same cadence and tone as the AI flight controller.

“Finally! Where is she?”

The robot turned and began walking briskly through the concourse. Not knowing what else to do, I chased after it. After a long cryo sleep, it was hard to keep up, but I managed as we left the concourse and began moving through what seemed like endless, windowless, and brightly lit hallways. My legs were cramping, and my head was quaking when the robot stopped. It turned and gestured toward a doorway.

The letters above the large double doors read Orbital Elevator. The doorway slid open, and there was another umbilical that led to an open hatchway on the space elevator’s passenger car. They wanted me to go down to the planet.

“Whoa, whoa. I’m not going planet side.”

“Malloran Chatterjee will see you now.”

“Now? That’s a space elevator, pal. It takes like a week to get to the surface of a planet on one of those things. You’re a robot. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

“QB-15 possesses the most state-of-the-art Orbital Elevator in the solar system. Your estimated transit time is two hours and fifteen minutes. In-person signoff is required to receive payment.”

I did a lot of things all at once. I paced, swore, threw up my hands, and shouted. It was all a jumble of motion and noise so profoundly confused that when I was finished, even I wasn’t sure what I had done or said. Not seeing any clear path out of this, though, I pushed past the damned robot, marched down the umbilical passage, and right through the hatchway.

The hatch led me to a small hallway that opened up into a beautiful, and I mean beautiful, lounge. I came to a complete stop and even felt my mouth fall open. Comfy couches circled a fake fire pit at the center of the circular room, and all around the outer ring were giant glass viewports that looked out onto the inner ring ot the elevators' port station. Beyond were the stars in their desolate beauty, and below the planet with its lush and vibrant promise.

But the most beautiful thing was that bar I saw over in the corner.

Another robot, this one wearing a denim apron, sort of adorably, waved at me. Without even thinking, I waved back. Then, I slowly turned, taking in the lounge with its amenities, including men's and women's bathrooms, a stocked snack bar, and a large viewing screen.

Then the hatch closed shut, and a tremor went through the lounge.

“Aren’t we going to wait for more passengers?”

I looked toward the bartender as it was the only thing I could address.

“Our manifest contains one passenger today: Ayan Ko.” An LED smile appeared just below the robot's two light eyes on its face plate. “A drink, Miss Ko?”

“That’s Captain Ko!” I corrected the robot. “And I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”

Two hours and two G&Ts later, I was lazing on a comfy sofa, feeling loose, and watching distant mountain tops ever so slowly ebb into view through the viewports. I had used the bathroom and washed my hands and face in an actual water faucet. Despite my initial alarm, I began to wonder whether they had a shower on the surface. That’d be worth the trip alone.

The robot bartender nearly scared me to death when it spoke from behind the couch, where it loomed, unseen for who knows how long. Beyond almost having a heart attack, I nearly dropped my glass onto the pristine white carpet. “We’ll be arriving at the Thomas Harbinger Welcome Center in about four minutes. Can I get you anything else, Captain?”

“No, thank you,” I said, trying to catch my breath while handing my glass to the robot. “Do you know who I’m going to see?

“Malloran Chatterjee.”

“Right, but who is she?”

“She is the facility caretaker.”

“Oh, okay. So like a manager. She’s an important person here on QB-15?”

The robot's fake LED eyes blinked, and it cocked its head.

“She’s the only person on QB-15.”

I kind of froze right then. It was a good thing I wasn’t still holding the glass, or else I probably would have dropped it for real this time. The robot took my silence to mean I was done talking, and it stalked off back toward the bar, which was for the best, because it took me a few minutes to process that information.

These seed colonies were supposed to have hundreds, if not thousands, of colonists. Self-sustaining communities that could, hopefully, populate an entire planet.

Only person?

The hatch to the elevator car opened, and this time, there was no umbilical. Back on a planet's surface, it was just, well, outside. I stepped through the hatchway and was met with thick, muggy air, actual atmosphere, and the feeling of true sunlight hitting my skin. Aside from a shower, this was also worth the trip.

Another robot, identical to the others, stood by a set of sliding glass doors. It gestured to them, and they slid open. I’d come this far, so what the hell?

The robot and I walked through the Thomas Harbinger Welcome Center, which was all at once impressive and eerie for its emptiness. Then, we entered a service entrance and walked through a labyrinth of hallways for what seemed like forever, down several flights of stairs, through a door, and entered onto what I could only describe as an engineering level for the entire structure.

I heard a buzzing and some loud snaps to one side of the room, and, turning to look, I saw a blue flash and recognized the telltale signs of a welding torch at work. A figure–a human figure–was hunched over a segment of pipe with a welding mask pulled down over their face. Behind them, another robot stood, holding a whole array of tools and items, obviously assisting with the work.

The human, a female, stood up and snapped the torch off. She was thin and muscular, with bronze skin glistening with sweat. She wore coveralls with the top pulled down and the arms tied around her waist. Her A-shirt was stained with grease and sweat, and it clung to her in certain places that made me feel like I should look away.

The welding mask flipped up and came away, revealing a shock of frizzy blonde hair and a beautiful smiling face.

“Hi there!” she said cheerily.

“Uh, hey,” I murmured.

“I’m Mal,” she said. Then she rolled her eyes, seeming to remember a more formal way to introduce herself. “Malloran Chatterjee. You must be Ayan Ko?”

“Captain Ayan Ko,” I corrected, but not as harshly as with the robots.

“Aha!” she said with a stiff, mock salute. She put her tools down, wiped her hands with a rag, and said, “Do you like ice cream, Captain Ko?”

Mal plopped down in the chair across from me at a table in a large, empty cafeteria. Between us, she placed a small cardboard cylinder and pried off the top. Lo and behold, there was actual ice cream inside. Just vanilla, but real ice cream nonetheless. She slid a spoon across to me and then casually began to scoop into the creamy goodness with her own.

“Look, I’m really sorry about making you come all the way down here,” she said before taking a bite off the lump of ice cream on her spoon. “But since Daniella’s been gone, things have changed.”

“The terms of the contract?” I asked, now carving into the ice cream myself.

“No. Just like, things in general.” She looked down at the floor sheepishly, a few strands of hair falling over her face.

My heart slammed against its cage.

Stop it, Ayan. You barely know this person.

“I woke out of cryo five years ago when Daniella got sick. She was old by then, and it was my shift.”

“Shift?” I asked.

“My turn as caretaker while we waited for the first food and seed shipment to arrive. Daniella passed after a year or so, though. So it’s just been me down here.”

“So you really are here all by yourself?”

“Well, not technically. There are three hundred and four colonists in cryo, but not enough water for the recyclers, food, or crop seeds to wake them up yet. So I’ve been keeping up with the place until someone like you showed up.”

“Oh, wow!” I said, genuinely surprised. But then the reality of Mal’s situation hit me. “Don’t you get lonely?”

“Very,” she said. “So again, I’m sorry that I had you come all the way down here, but it will be months until I get enough of the environmental systems spun up to start waking people up. So I guess,” she looked at me then with those big, dumb, cute, brown eyes, “I wanted to talk to a person,” she said, her smile reaching all the way to her eyes.

In the time we’d been together, I hadn’t thought about the past or what the future held. The present encapsulated me, and for the first time in a long time, it felt good.

“Well, anyway,” Mal was saying as she put the lid back onto the ice cream pint. “I’ll transfer payment,” she slid the pint of ice cream across the table. “Take that with you. A little something to remember me by on your way back to Earth.”

We both stood, and she shot out her hand.

“It was lovely meeting you, Captain Ko.”

“Ayan. And it was nice to meet you, Mal,” I said, shaking her hand.

She turned and began walking away. As she did, it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck me. This was where I needed to be. This is where I wanted to be.

“Hey, Mal!” I shouted. She turned and looked back. I grinned my big dumb grin. “Could I stick around a little while?”

She lit up immediately and said, “Of course! I could always use the help and the company. But what about your people? What about Earth?”

I shrugged.

“Earth can wait.”