Christopher James

Guess I’m going to post more than I intended here. No real updates, so here’s another chapter.

STARSHIP FABLE – CHAPTER TWO

In the beginning, we didn’t plan to leave the entirety of our life behind. That was too big of a step and felt too bold, despite our circumstances. Sure, we had enough in savings to do whatever we wanted, and it would cover us for a good long while. Fear, though. Change. So, we would keep the apartment, keep the kids enrolled in school, and I would take an extended leave of absence from work. Over the years, we often talked about going on various vacations, though it never amounted to anything more than talk. The kids were young, things were hard. Marie, who stayed at home with them, could attest more than anyone to how hard it can be – raising three children. 

As a result, my vacation time had accrued to max capacity and I had plenty of time to cover whatever small adventure we could devise. Two months. We had two months and loose plans. Our first trip. We would go to planet Solace and visit the Caverns of Heaven. We would go to one of the 200 moons of the planet Idris, whichever caught our eye and was least explored, and plant a flag. There were endless adventures we could take ourselves on, even if we were just going to stay in the Liberty Sector.

Our sector of the galaxy, controlled by the Liberty Republic, was largely considered to be the safest and most civilized of the populated sectors in terms of space travel. As a result, taxes were considerably higher here than in other sectors and the law was ever-present. Crime, while it still occured in it’s minor forms with reckless abandon – on the various stations and settlements throughout – was at an all-time low when it came to interstellar travel within the sector. The Liberty Sector was considered by many, especially those who lived in the Liberty Sector, to be the pinnacle of modern civilization and led by the greatest government that had ever existed. A democratic republic, the Liberty Republic was a natural progression of the old American government on Earth – with the kind of meaningful significant changes that only time and revolution can bring. The flag of the Liberty Republic was forest green, decorated in the center with seven gold stars – each star representing one of the founding seven systems.

Liberty was bordered by the outer rim, which was largely considered lawless. Each planet within the outer rim was a sovereign entity, and no government controlled or monitored the surrounding space. Any freighter travelling to the outer rim was often accompanied by at least two support vessels, piracy was prevalent and expected in most cases. As such, living on one of the worlds in the outer rim offered no guarantee of outside support – if you couldn’t sustain life with what you had on planet, or station, you had better pray that what you needed was coming – and that it wouldn’t be hi-jacked before it got to you.

Directionally spinward was very corrupt Roth Sector, which was governed by the Roth Alliance. Travel through this sector allowed for protection under Roth law, however, it was those who enforced the law that you needed to worry about. Extortion by these law enforcement officers was part and parcel with travel in this sector, unless you were traveling on behalf of one of the many recognized interstellar corporations – or officially recognized as a trade entity by the government. The Roth Alliance flag was half navy blue and half crimson red, with white solid circle in the center. The circle, I’m told, represented the planet where the alliance was formed.

Opposite Roth, and coreward, occupying the majority of Liberty’s border, was the Kominsky-Abramov Dominion, or simply, The Dominion. The Dominion was ruled by imperial law, and while safe, was subject to those laws which were not always kind of outsiders. Following this law to the letter and observing all Dominion cultural niceties was highly advised if you were travelling this sector. The Dominion flag was a light amber with a black sword and shield in the center – the sword laying across the shield, displaying its prominence and priority.

And so, early in our explorations, we would stick to the Liberty Sector. That didn’t mean that we were at all confined, the Liberty Republic was massive and claimed over a thousand stars. I have never been outside of Liberty space and I cannot say I was thrilled at the prospect of travelling outside of it for the first time with my children. My wife had no desire to return to Jericho under any circumstances, and while there were wonders to behold in the outer rim, they would perhaps wait until the children were much older before this was something we would even consider.

On the subject of children, I would like to tell you a little more about mine. Our first child, and first daughter, James, was fifteen when we took our first trip. James had long, thick blonde hair and sky blue eyes, just like her mother. When she was just a baby, she had a large hemangioma on the top of her head – often referred to as a “strawberry” – which the doctors all said was harmless and would disappear by the time she was five. It never quite went away, and was visible on her scalp if her hair was parted a certain way.

She had the spirit of an adventurer and the heart of a creative. James would spend all her time drawing, imagining, and writing. She was as brave as her mother, too, and feared nothing that wasn’t another person. James also had a sophisticated side to her, she was a princess – in more ways than one. She was our first. You always spoil the first child more than others, perhaps because it’s your first time and they are new. Perhaps because you have the time to spoil them, and no other children to distract you. I don’t know, but she was the epitome of a first born.

Two years after James was born, we had our (only) son Joe. Joe who was thirteen and, like me, wore thin brown hair and deep, coffee bean colored eyes. Thin framed and lanky, Joe was always sweet and kind from the moment he could express such things.Joe had a penchant for puzzles and was easily, and quickly, drawn into video games where he could spend hours solving various problems. We did our best to provide him with educational media in this format, though I can’t say he didn’t consume mind-numbing drivel from time to time. He was a tech savant, though. Joe, like his father, had a short fuse – especially when it came to tech. His capacity to manage his frustration would quickly spiral out, and on more than one occasion he would throw his game controller on the ground in a rage. 

I could relate, more than he knew. Regardless of his temper, his ability to extract information, parse it, and use it was haunting. He picked up complex ideas faster than I could explain them, sometimes, and I would find myself wondering who it was, precisely, I was trying to explain these concepts to. Him, or myself? When Joe was five, he fell off the kitchen counter and his face – the left cheek – landed, somehow, on the corner of one of the stools. He needed six stitches and the scar is still there, just below the corner of his right eye. 

Trixie came two years after Joe, our second girl and the baby of our family – now crew. Like her sister and mother, Trixie had sky blue eyes and thick, blonde hair. She came from the womb with a perfect, beautiful rounded face – like a doll. Where James had an elegance that commanded attention, Trixie had a voice. If James was a princess of the royal court, Trixie was that court’s jester – she was hilarious and had a commanding presence from the moment she could hold her head upright. 

Trixie was destined to be an entertainer, fearless like her mother and sister but with no bounds. Everyone she came into contact with was just a friend she hadn’t met yet. She would say hi to every passing stranger as we walked the paths of Voss Station, asking them “what’s your name?” She always loved to draw, often imitating and looking up to her older sister. If there was ever a question about who Trixie looked up to, who her idol was, that question wouldn’t remain unanswered for very long – it was James.

There wasn’t a lot of time between us purchasing the starship and our first trip, I think it was maybe a little over a month. Maybe a month and a half. I have a tendency to obsess over things I’m excited about, and as you can imagine, I was very excited about the starship. This resulted in some very long days in that month and a half – the first portion of my day was fulfilling my duties as a shuttle pilot. After, I would head back to the apartment on Voss Station and spend some time with my family. We would have a family dinner and talk about our days, then I would head down to the warehouse where Fable was being dry-docked and work on outfitting her with the accommodations I mentioned in the previous chapter.

The Freelance Courier Pro was meant for a crew of three; a pilot, a co-pilot, and a systems engineer, with the thought that at least one of the three would be a reasonably fluent mechanic. As such, it had living accommodations for three adults, plus the cargo hold. My job in that short month and a half was to transform the cargo hold into living accommodations for vibrant and youthful children.

I was up to the task, having fooled around with various construction hobbies in my adult life and considering myself somewhat-capable mechanically. A friend of mine advised me on registering Fable officially as a working vessel. In doing so, I would be able to write off all the expenses for the modifications I was doing. The only catch was that I needed to form, and register Fable, to a small single-owner corporation. The financing would be done through this corporation as well. 

So, I would own a small corporation – Danner Logistics Corp. A corporation that would be considered a separate entity from myself, something that would save us more than once on this endeavor. A corporation that would have to, occasionally, run the odd bit of freight to the odd distant world. It would be simple enough, given our stated goals of traveling the stars. 

Drop a box off, pick a box up… hell, it might even take us somewhere we didn’t intend to go. This little corporation could lead it its own kind of adventure, I remember thinking. And it would, though it wouldn’t be the kind of adventure any of us were signing up for. It would turn out to be the kind of adventure that left you cold and alone, stripped of all safety and comfort, and praying for some kind of miracle. It would be the kind of adventure that would require gross and incomprehensible negligence on the part of a parent to expose their child to such a thing. It would be unforgivable, and devastating, and it would change our lives forever. 

“I want all of the accent pieces to be an earthy, warm tone. Browns. Lots of brown!” Marie said with a sweet kind of authority. She was looking for my opinion on the matter, though any disagreement with her sentiment would only lead to her digging in.

“Of course, that’s a great idea babe. Brown it is.” I responded, knowing my place in the matter. Marie had very specific design and decor sensibilities. 

When she got something in her head, how she wanted something to be, it was decided. You could try to influence her, or get your own way, but you wouldn’t get very far. She already made up her mind – and what’s more, I trusted her. I adored her sense of style, and while brown may have not been my first choice for the interior of my lifelong fantasy, I would defer to her on these matters, great or small.

Any relationship, whether it be romantic or platonic, subordinate or boss, was ultimately about compromise. As you get to know someone, as you learn who they are and what’s important to them the methods and means of compromise become more clear. I learned a long time ago that, just as I value my wife’s opinion on the style of bunks I would be making for the children, I also wouldn’t appreciate her trying to re-design them with her limited sense of construction. So, when it came to accent colors, designing the starship interior’s aesthetic and the like, I would always defer to her. I would always support her. Even if I really, really didn’t like brown.

“Don’t just agree with me because you don’t want to argue about it. Do you like it or not?” An exasperated Marie blurted out, hands on her hips. She continued; “This is our starship. Ours. We don’t need to agree on everything, but I want it to feel like home. I want you to love it, the way I love it.” She started slowly, walking towards me with intent, hands still on her hips.

“I love… that you… love it. If you love… I love it.” I barely got out, fumbling over my words. I really didn’t love the idea of brown, though what I said was true.

“I love you.” She whispered to me, as she pressed her chest into mine – standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“And I love that you love me…” I said, smirking. Her expression turned to puzzlement and then quickly to a goofy, childish smile, slapping me on the chest with her left hand. She took a step back, returning her hands to her hips, and saying:

“Okay, Captain. So, when are we leaving? The kids won’t stop asking me and I never think to ask during the three minutes you spend home from work before you rush off to the dry-dock.”

“In a few days. I’m finished, I think.” I said, lookin up to the ceiling at nothing in particular as I said it.

Honestly I was unsure if I would ever be truly finished. I felt ready, and Fable felt ready. This was our first journey with her, so whether she was truly ready, we likely wouldn’t know until it was too late. In truth, there was always going to be something to change, something to either make better or replace or redo. This was a living project, and it would like be that way for the life of the ship. We were in a good place with her though. 

The next few days were spent gathering supplies for the two months we would be gone. Plenty of paste for the food fabricator, filling the water tanks – all the fun stuff. I had some children’s Extravehicular Activity (EVA) suits commissioned, in case of dire need. Maybe some spacewalks too, if they were good. All that was really left was to officially file for leave with my boss, Jace, and speak to my associate Aaron about my time away.

Aaron was an acquaintance I made at the gym I frequent in the hab concourse of Voss Station. A few years ago I got really into physical fitness, and wanted to do more than just get into shape. I wanted to build a physique. I found myself doing research regarding substances and enhancements, purely out of curiosity, with little intention of ever partaking in them. Or that’s what I told myself. AsI said before, I get obsessive about things.

Intention isn’t always a standard, and sometimes our best intentions crumble under the weight of our own hidden desires. Maybe not so hidden, you might say. I found some dark corners of the Voss system net, found some suppliers dealing in various substances, and placed some orders. Voss Prime was a heavily populated world, and there were all kinds of goods and services coming through the station. 

I managed to become familiar, through my research and my day job, with a supplier of illicit, performance-enhancing substances. He was willing to sell quantities to me for a price I simply couldn’t believe. I had no use for that kind of quantity, but the price made it hard to pass up. 

I was only looking for something to enhance my own performance, make my physique a little easier to build – my muscularity a little more defined. I couldn’t say no to the price. He wanted the same price for twenty vials that other sources charged for a single vial.

Now, I know what you’re thinking reader. A lot of things probably, but most of all: that the substance was obviously fraudulent. It was not. I had it tested through a friend – I had a lot of useful friends – and it was not only real, it was pure. The supplier was from the Roth sector, he picked the stuff up as a favor and now was in Liberty sector stuck holding the bag, and he had a ton of it to get rid of. He just wanted to offload it before he was set to leave Voss system. And this is how I became acquainted with Aaron.

Aaron lived most of his time on Voss Prime, though he would do month-long shifts working the docks of Voss Station for overtime pay. He was a hulking mass of a man and tough as nails. He was a foot taller than me, bleached blonde hair always slicked back. He was covered in tattoos.

We would occasionally small-talk when we crossed paths at the gym, but I wouldn’t even consider him an acquaintance at that point. It wasn’t until I made contact with the supplier, and by some serendipity, that the subject of performance-enhancement came up in one of our brief conversations. It may have been the changes in my physique that made him ask, or that fact that his own source had dried up. I’ll never know why, but our discussion that day changed the course of my life. He didn’t outright ask, he beat around the bush about it just enough to draw me in. It was almost like he was baiting it out of me.

He wanted to know if I could get my hands on a few different substances, all performance-enhancers, which he listed off. I told him that I could, and for a good price. In fact, I told him, I had some in stock already. His eyes lit up, and our conversation went on for the next few hours as we planned. What followed was a type of business arrangement that was, in every way, completely illegal. 

I began purchasing mass amounts of stock from the Roth supplier, and selling it to Aaron. I would quintuple the price and it would still be cheap for Aaron, who would then turn around and sell it for even more. We had a simple arrangement. I would take the supplies to work, in a bag, onto the shuttle. Aaron would arrange for a pickup at the city I was flying to. His man would swap bags with me. It felt harmless and foolproof, and it was easy. Sure, I was a drug dealer. But these weren’t abusive drugs. These weren’t even designer drugs. They were almost medicinal, used to enhance one’s own health. These were the kind of drugs law enforcement themselves used. The kind of drugs athletes used. The kind of drug that doesn’t raise red flags, or invoke the ire of politicians. This is what I told myself.

The Roth supplier’s time was not guaranteed, nor was his stock – I certainly wasn’t his only buyer – so I invested all of my profit from Aaron into buying him out. I bought all of his performance enhancing stock, which was a significant amount of drugs. Around twelve cases of vials, I would sell maybe 1/5th of a case to Aaron at a time. I would keep it in the closet at home, the one in my bedroom. As you can probably guess, this is the venture that funded our starship purchase. 

Anyway, I needed to tell Aaron that I would be out of system for a few months, and arrange for a final delivery before I left. His supply would dry up for a bit while I was gone. This would likely just lead to a bigger order and some frustration on his part, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. We were essentially partners in this, afterall. 

So, the next few days came and went. I arranged a meeting with Aaron when I was on Voss Prime after one of the transits. He took it a little harder than I expected, and had a lot more questions than I felt comfortable with, but that’s life. He placed the largest order he had placed to date, so that was good news. I spoke to my boss at Voss Station Shuttle Services, Jace, who was supportive and understanding and said something along the lines of:

“I hope you’ve still got a job when you get back!”

I laughed, although I did feel a twinge of guilt, and fear, that he might not be joking. The drug money was all profit, extra income. It allowed us to finance the starship. I couldn’t live without my pilot’s salary though. I would lose sleep that night thinking about my life decisions, thinking if I would have a job to come back after our adventure. 

Were we doing the right thing? Was this all one massive mistake? I found myself worrying like this anytime I made a decision that felt like it was something big. Regret. Concern. My mind would dash through all the reasons why it was mistake, why I was doing the wrong thing, the worst thing. I would ultimately conclude, every time, that I had made the worst decision possible. Of every possible decision, I had selected the absolute worst and now I had to live with it. Of course, this was never the case. 

Until now.