Terminus Cycle Read online

  But what if? What if he was wrong? That device that they just found was not like anything else he had ever seen before. That, added to the military training, was beginning to make the mission to Omega seem a bit more dangerous. In fact, things felt a bit more sinister to Jonah, like they had been lied to for generations and were now heading into something that would see humanity’s history of bloodshed continue.

  Jonah stumbled into the locker room. His head was barely focused on his training at all, and he fumbled not once, not twice, but three times while entering the correct combination into the keypad of his locker.

  What if they really weren’t alone? The thought made him giddy for a second before the crushing reality hit him: He was gearing up for his one night a month of training for the Ministry Military. He looked around and noticed how empty the locker room was, which meant that he was later than usual.

  * * *

  An exhausted Jonah found himself back in his bed, inside of his undersized living quarters with his holoscanner in his lap, unable to sleep. Everyone had told him just how lucky he was to have his own quarters, especially as a caretaker’s son. The small, dark room was the last thing that his parents ever gave to him, and it -- much like his lot in life -- was a letdown. Jonah’s father wasn’t a caretaker by birth but one by choice. Well, “choice” wasn’t the right way to say it, seeing as though he hadn’t outright said to anyone, “I want to be a caretaker, and for my son to be a caretaker,” specifically. Instead, he was born to be an engineer, and he had a natural aptitude for it. He was in a rare position where he could embrace his profession, but he didn’t choose engineering.

  Instead, he followed in his brother’s footsteps and attempted to become a journalist, a profession in which he failed miserably. It was the story of Jonah’s father’s life: trying to catch up to his brother and somewhere along the way, sacrificing his personal identity as he attempted to get out from under the long shadow that his brother cast over him. Jonah had always resented his father for that -- for opting to fail instead of pursuing his passions and talents to somehow prove himself to his brother.

  Then again, who wasn’t trying to prove themselves, especially in a community as small as the one aboard Omega Destiny? Everything felt like a competition of sorts. The best jobs and positions of authority were always dangled in front of them like carrots, and they were always just out of reach in the end.

  His father had slipped further and further into depression and the bottle over the years until an accident on the job had put him in the hospital after a fuel line burst. A chunk of paneling as large as he was had flown at him and left him in terrible condition. The doctors had told Jonah that they could keep him alive, push him into Cryo and hope when they found their new home that they could, after a while, have the proper tools to revive him. There were no guarantees that he’d ever be the same again, or even show any signs of brain activity. It was the easiest tough decision that Jonah had ever been forced to make in his life. Jonah knew that his father, for all of his faults, would never want to live his life like that. He didn’t deserve to live like that, either.

  Jonah’s mother was an entirely different story. She was still somewhere aboard the ship, but it had been years since Jonah had spoken with her. She had chosen years prior to leave Jonah and his father for her boss and the increase in stature that came with marrying a foreman. There were a few times when Jonah’s duties meant he’d have to go to the B-Deck and handle an issue, and of those few times, there were two occasions when he had run into her.

  The first time, he was caught off guard by her. She was walking out from the library, and he was delivering some paperwork to his boss after work, but they conversed like you would seeing a distant relative for the first time in years. The second time, Jonah simply kept walking with a sinking feeling overwhelming him, either unsure of how to process the situation or unwilling to; he hadn’t decided yet.

  There were times when it felt like Jonah’s heart would explode in his chest from caring too much. Those were the rare moments when he was alone with his thoughts, just truly alone in the vast universe, drifting through the ether as a lone organism reflecting upon existence. Sometimes the beauty of it all was so overwhelming for him, knowing that no matter what, he couldn’t freeze that moment in time and simply be. Instead, time would have to keep moving, and this moment would be lost forever. No one was dying, no one was warring or fucking, so the historical significance was less than zero, but to Jonah, it became more and more difficult to breathe.

  Every part of his existence felt, for those brief, fleeting moments, like it was simply temporary and completely insignificant. Did it matter that he was laying on a bed of composite, synthetic feathers inside of a cold room of twisted, forged steel inside of the belly of a giant, lumbering beast of a starship? There was a floor-to-ceiling window that he could switch open, the steel shutters lifting up, and Jonah was, for those moments, simply alone with the space around him as long as the lights from the ship were dull enough. It was those moments when the ideas of being a cog in the wheel, the tireless military training and the bustling world-within-a-ship slipped from his being, and it was simply the cold darkness that mattered.

  The past few years had aged him more than could ever be visible to the average onlooker, more than his closest friends had ever been able to understand. Most of the time, Jonah had found himself trying to recapture those moments of extreme clarity and existential reassurance that required him feeling like he was the last person in the universe, as if everyone else had simply become a blip on a radar that no longer registered. Those were the times when Jonah understood that none of it really mattered, that the mission to colonize the new planet was simply a red herring. It was like a set of blocks given to a toddler to keep them from wandering outside of their pen or destroying something of value. What was the point in finding a new home when the home that they had left behind was one of the few truly beautiful and unexplainable things found in nature?

  Humanity had destroyed it, left it bleeding out much like Jonah felt he was doing as he stood at the window, staring out into the cold sky. In space, there was no night or day; those were simply labels created by humanity due to their understanding of their own existence, the conditions dictated by the sun and their moon. Light and dark became so overwhelming for humanity, serving as a stark reflection of their true nature that played out before them on a daily basis. From his reading, Jonah understood that there existed places on Earth where the sun was sometimes out all twenty-four hours of the day, and that with this came cases of madness stemming from insomnia. Jonah had always assumed that being exposed only to light, only to the idea of being good and wholesome, was enough to drive any man crazy, because it was simply not human nature to be just good or bad.

  His heart was exploding, he concluded. There was no other way to explain feeling like he did while looking off into the distance at all of the stars. Medically, he was fine, but he could feel his heart inside of his chest and how alone he was in his reflections. It hurt him sometimes that he couldn’t bring his father back, but sometimes it hurt more that he understood that even if he could, it would not save either of them. Jonah was alone before and alone now. His only regret was not saying goodbye or maybe getting that extra time to sit down and talk about how vast the universe was or how his favorite songs made him feel when he sat alone in a dark room and listened to them on a set of headphones. There was never a lot of overlap between the two of them, but they both understood the power of certain forms of art, like music, and how it could completely overwhelm and change your outlook.

  Neither of them had known peace, and at times, Jonah hated himself for not being able to sacrifice himself and what he believed in to simply move forward and be that cog that he was supposed to be. Jonah’s father understood his own failings, but he ultimately became a productive member of society. It didn’t matter that he had to drink to get through each and every day because to him, what he was doing was not for him -- it wa
s for his family, for Jonah.

  Jonah didn’t want to be a victim. He didn’t want to grow up to become his father. But while he reflected on space, he began to cry at times, knowing that it would be so easy to fall into the same hole and continue falling until there was nothing but a Mad Hatter with a riddle for him. What was the harm? And what was the point, really?

  Many had come before Jonah and felt the same way, had seen humanity for all of its horrors, for all of its darkness, and tried to embrace it. It was hard to embrace something so hideous, so terrible in nature, yet so beautiful and innocent, blissfully unaware of their shortcomings and tragic tropes. Yet there he was, and who, really, was he? Who was Jonah Freeman to give a pardon to the years of war, the years of greed, the years of suffering and ignorance?

  Jonah reached out and placed his hand on the glass in front of him, and for just a brief moment, he forgave everyone. He forgave because it was the only way that he knew to live with himself, the only way he could live with the fact that he was his father’s son but could not be what his father was.

  It was the idea of letting go and being himself, the idea of swimming upstream no matter the current, even if it meant being washed away and forgotten. He had never been to a river before, never seen the ocean or even a stream, but they spoke to him endlessly. The idea of the power of something as simple as water was overwhelming to him. In a universe that was dictated by mass and light, with the energy of the stars fueling the very light of existence, something as simple and pure as water was the vital element in the concept of life. Just as easily as water could give and sustain life, it could wipe it out as well, making it a thoughtful -- yet vengeful -- god.

  If there was one thing that Jonah could witness before he died, he would want it to be a natural water formation, so he could touch it, feel it and experience it. There was no God, Jonah had decided a long time ago, but if he could reach out and touch an ocean, he could touch the face of God and maybe understand better why anything even is.

  Maybe all hope was not lost, he thought to himself. Maybe on this new planet, there were mighty oceans, the kind that could give and take life with the coming and going of tides. Doctor Cox had assured him that their new home would have just this kind of water, and it would have tides that he couldn't even imagine. The planet had two moons in orbit around it, with the moons being the gravitational forces that made tides come and go.

  That was enough to keep him going, enough to keep him from his wits' end and collapsing into a heap. He knew he needed to sleep. He knew that he was tired and that his feelings were directly correlated to his exhaustion, but moments of clarity like this were so rare and so beautiful that he didn’t want to let go. Letting go of that moment meant returning to reality; it meant waking up in a cold, empty room, knowing that anyone who had ever loved him had abandoned him or died. It meant reporting for duty, to a duty he felt had no connection to in the truest sense of the word, just like it meant his slumber being interrupted by an alarm searing through his subconscious and disturbing him on a base level.

  He left the shutter open like he was apt to do. A part of him didn’t mind the idea of a meteoroid colliding with the window and space swallowing him up whole. Not because he wanted his life to end but simply because the idea of becoming more than just the sum of his being and rejoining nature after a lifetime aboard an artificial shooting star felt like the only fitting way for a life such as his own to conclude. Jonah sighed to himself as he glanced over at the time, noticing that it was late, and at that point, he was probably only going to get about three hours of sleep.

  002. Search and Seizure

  Captain O’Neil

  The room was dark with just a few lights on a console pulsating and cutting through the darkness while Captain Peter O’Neil sat in his chair, staring blankly at the cold, steel wall, deep in thought. His days as captain had weighed heavily upon him, especially the past few months while they inched closer and closer to the planet that they called Omega. This day was a day just like any other, with an endless stream of status reports from around the ship, including the usual problems that stemmed from flying a giant ship the size of a city full of people.

  There were disputes and unrest among the people, incidents that his private honor guard could ignore for the most part and leave to the civilian police force to handle, but his own forces kept an eye on every situation to ensure that nothing got too out of control. They couldn't lose control, not this late into the journey, not when they were so close to their destination. What was frightening to Captain O’Neil was the increasing reports of violence among the lower decks while they grew closer, as if the idea of their journey finally ending was driving some people mad.

  It made sense to him in an odd way because life aboard the Omega Destiny was the only life that they had known at that point. Only a select few older passengers had been on Earth for any real period of time before the journey began; the rest were born and raised on the ship, in space, and had never set foot on solid land before. It was his job to be strong and talk about what could happen when they hit land, but he knew what might await them. He found himself trying to push the innate fears out of his mind to keep himself focused.

  “Captain.” The door whizzed open, and light flooded in, causing him to squint for a split second before turning toward the door and recognizing his first officer.

  “Yes, Officer Dumas?” The captain was staring down his first officer, Jack Dumas. Dumas was just a few years older than him, but at this point, the captain looked at least ten years older than him. Command has that effect on men, he figured. Dumas was lean, average in just about every way compared to the shorter, more stout captain. “What is it?”

  “Well, we’ve found another one, sir,” he said, tensing up. He held up his holoscanner and tapped it a few times, forcing a projection of a small device into the room.

  “Another one?” he aid, shaking his head. This was the fourth one in as many days. The closer that they got to Omega, the more headaches he had to deal with. It probably wouldn’t be long before they started discovering full satellites in plain view of all of the decks. That was why they refused to share any of the long-range images until they were certain, one way or another, of what they were dealing with on this new planet.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, placing the scanner down on the table and activating the room’s lights. The lights felt blinding to the Captain, but he just grunted in protest.

  “Well,” the captain grunted again. “What’s this one?”

  “Some sort of energy converter.” Dumas pulled up a report and quickly scanned through it before laughing and looking over at the captain. “So we think, at least.”

  “You think?” The captain rubbed his temples and sighed. “What do you mean, ‘We think’? This is the fourth piece of debris we’ve found in the past few days, and we don’t know what this one is either?”

  “Captain.” Dumas's smile washed away. “This is beyond our means right now.” He flicked his finger, spinning around the projection of the device, the image hanging in the air like a specter.

  “I understand that,” he said, sitting back down in the chair and gazing up at the projection. “What are we getting ourselves into, Jack?” the captain asked candidly, breaking the formal tone. “I don’t like this one bit.”

  “None of us do, Captain,” Dumas nodded, frowning. “It is getting more and more difficult for us to hide what is going on now, too.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “This isn’t public, is it?”

  “Well...”

  “Is it?” His voice raised up as the feeling of desperation rumbled inside of him. “Because that is the last thing that I need right now, Jack.”

  “It isn’t exactly public, no,” he said, breaking eye contact and stiffening up his posture.

  “What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” The captain pushed himself up to his feet, walking up close to Dumas, who was still not making eye contact. Dumas seemed to shri
nk next to the captain, even if he was taller.

  “A few of the deckhands discovered this one.” Dumas gulped hard, still doing his best to avoid eye contact. “They were apparently not briefed in protocol and delivered it to some physicist.”

  “Are you kidding me?” The captain swallowed, shaking his head and feeling a knot grow in his stomach. “Who did they deliver it to?”

  “Dr. Julian Cox, I believe.”

  “I know that name.” He stopped, taking a deep breath and scanning his memory for the face. “He does work for us, doesn’t he? The guy whose kid offed himself?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dumas nodded, turning and making eye contact with the captain. “Our forces have confiscated it from him without incident.”

  “Our forces? By our forces, you mean government, military forces?”

  “Yes, sir.” Dumas flicked at the device again, trying not to seem intimidated, but the captain could smell it on him. A part of that made him laugh in some primitive way -- he still instilled this level of fear in someone whom he considered a friend -- but he dared not laugh aloud, understanding the gravity of the situation.

  “So you sent the military to scoop up a device from one of the brightest minds aboard this ship.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, reminding himself that he hadn’t shaved in four days now. “As opposed to sending civilian police, which would raise less suspicion?”

  “We thought that...”

  “You didn’t think,” he barked, correcting him. “You think that someone like Cox isn’t going to catch onto something being wrong with this? Christ.” He pounded his fist gently against the console in front of him, looking over the array of controls and monitors, shaking his head. “We’re so close. We can’t let something like this blow everything wide open. It isn’t time yet, Jack. It just isn’t time.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said, exasperated. “I just thought that it was paramount to get it into our custody.”