Samantha took the man’s hand in hers and ran her face along his knuckles, “You can’t blame me, Tripp. I didn’t know. USARIC told us you didn’t make. They even paid for your funeral.”
“They did what?” Tripp huffed and yanked on his inner-suit collar, “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”
She turned to the man and waved him away as gently as necessary, “Please, not now, Charley.”
“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he bent over and picked up a toddler in his arms.
“Who’s that?” Tripp gasped.
“Oh, sweetie,” Samantha tried to block the lens with her hand.
“No,” Tripp slammed the desk in fury, “Who the hell is that?”
“That’s Tracey, Dad,” Rogan said. “My little sister…”
“No-no-no…” Tripp stammered and felt his left arm tighten. A tingling sensation morphed into an agonizing jolt of pain down his left arm. His fingers moved from his ears and scrambled at the surface of his console, “I c-can’t,” he huffed and slid off his chair.
“Tripp, sweetie?” Samantha leaned into the screen, trying to see where he’d gone.
Everything went black.
When I was a little boy all I ever wanted to be was an astronaut.
I used to spend every waking second looking at the stars and the constellations. Before they became USARIC, the Space Agency used to show reports on Individimedia about what they found.
I remember when they found the first flat surface planet in Andromeda Twelve. It was so exciting to me. Imagine, a planet that wasn’t like the shape of a giant soccer ball.
A place where, if you traveled far enough, you could fall off the edge of the universe.
My second love was my cat. I don’t remember her name because it was so long ago. One day, we had to put her down because she was sick. The medician said she was in a lot of pain and I didn’t like it. We never got to see the medician inject her and I liked that I never saw it.
I don’t know about other people. When I think of things that happened in the past, I see them as images.
Right now I can see a bright new star in the night sky. It’s not far from the Great Bear. You know it. The arrangement of stars that looks like a frying pan with a wonky handle.
I remember my teacher asked me one time, “Tripp, why are you so in love with space?”
I couldn’t answer her.
Why do I love space so much? Because out there are billions upon billions of stars. The law of averages says there must be at least a million other lifeforms out there.
There has to be, right?
I don’t regret my decision to put my health, family, and friends behind my first, true love.
Does that sound selfish?
The only thing I would have regretted was indecision…
Jaycee’s thumbnail lay on the floor. It projected an audio waveform in the middle of the Fit Room.
He wiggled his gloved fingers on his right hand, taking an unusual interest in their operation. He lifted his head and looked at the soft padding stretched across the wall.
The USARIC logo stretched across the padded canvas.
He clenched his fist and turned to the projection. As he spoke, the waves rose up and down, recording his voice.
“My name is Jaycee Nayall, USARIC weapons and armory. I hope those in charge can hear what I’m about to say.”
THWACK!
Jaycee’s fist connected with the ‘U’ in USARIC. He pulled his arm away and spun his wrist three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, resetting for another hit.
“When I was drafted into the Opera Beta program I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for. If I’d known what I know now, I would never have gone.”
Jaycee lifted his fist and threw it against the padding with all his might.
SLAMM!
The plastic flaked out upon impact. The wall shuddered a second later.
“We’ve made a discovery,” Jaycee twisted his hand around and took one step back. The “S” in the logo seemed to laugh and taunt him, “We don’t know the full facts, yet. But know this. It’s a discovery far beyond anything any of us can comprehend.”
SCHLAMMM!
His punched the canvas so hard that it rocked the Fit Room.
“You can’t see this,” Jaycee moved back once again as the waveform slipped up and down, “But the noises you hear are me taking out my frustration on my employer, USARIC. One punch for every member of my crew that lost their lives. Every husband, wife, son, daughter… who are no longer around because of USARIC and their bottom line.”
THWOCK-SCHLAMM!
A furious double-punch, this time to the “A”.
“That’s for you, Maar Sheck. Two As in your name, and two extra special blows to your face. If you’re listening to this, just know that I want answers. And they’d better be damn good.”
Jaycee pulled his elbow back, ready to strike the “R”.
“And this one’s for Bonnie Whitaker. My friend and colleague who’s no longer around to ask you anything.”
Jaycee went to throw his fist at the canvas, when he heard a wallop coming from the other side of the door. He lowered his arm and squinted with confusion.
“Huh?”
He made his way to the door, “Stop recording.”
The audio waveform flat-lined and beeped.
“Save message?” asked the holograph.
“Yes, save and send. Now.”
Jaycee approached the crew quarters and spotted Tripp’s door was wide open.
“Hey, Tripp? Are you there?”
He peered inside and saw Tripp unconscious on the floor.
“Jeez,” he moved in and clocked Samantha and Rogan on the screen waiting for her husband to return to the screen. They were unaware of what had happened.
“Tripp?” she asked. “Where are you?”
Jaycee leaned into the tiny lens above the screen. The inset picture in the corner of the screen showed his face enveloped the whole square.
“Samantha?”
He crouched to the floor and slid his giant arms underneath Tripp’s. It took thirty seconds to lift his passed-out friend up to his feet – and another thirty to set him down on the chair.
“Jaycee,” Rogan beamed with delight, “You’re alive, too.”
“Nayall?” Samantha gasped. “Is that you? Where did Tripp go?”
He removed his right glove and felt Tripp’s neck with his fingertips.
“He passed out. Hey, Rogan. Look at you! You’ve grown into a handsome, young man.”
“Yes, it’s been years.”
“What happened, here?”
The seconds whizzed by as Jaycee adjusted his friend’s head against the back of his chair. “Healy? It’s okay. I think you passed out.”
Samantha held up her hands, shirking responsibility, “I don’t know. We were just talking and he vanished.”
Jaycee stood up and pointed to Tripp, “He must have fell—” he stopped talking when he saw Charley carry their daughter in his arms.
“Samantha? Who’s that behind you?”
Jaycee turned to the unconscious Tripp. Two and two slotted together in Jaycee’s mind, “Oh no.” He turned back to the screen and scowled at Samantha.
“It wasn’t my fault, Jaycee. What was I supposed to do?” she sniffed, “The wait was too much.”