Ages in Oblivion Thrown: Book One of the Sleep Trilogy (2 page)

Because she had finally relented,
there had been more than a few nights of surprises for them both.
She did not regret her change of heart in the slightest. To be with
Tark, she’d rejected suitors of her own species who were seen as
highly desirable by other females back home. Naturally, she was
considered quite mad back on her home world.
A mad scientist
, she thought
cheerfully.

“
Don’t worry, I’ll handle assignments.
You go and have a breather, maybe try that cafe that opened a few
months back.”
And take a nap
,
she would have added, but he was already trudging away.

۞

There was a new cafe on
board
? He ought to get out more. There was no telling
what else might have sprouted up recently. He got the name of the
place, and found that he had actually heard of it before. The
large-sized business was crowded for breakfast, but was blessedly
hushed. He guessed morning had that effect on most individuals,
regardless of species. There were a number of varied individuals
clustered in yawning packs throughout the rooms of the cafe. Tark
paused to soak in this new scene.

The main area of the cavernous space was the
bar, with tables pushed against the walls. A deeper recess held
couches, providing a more intimate gathering spot. But the most
interesting feature was a huge boulder, strategically cut to
provide more seating. This was littered with large cushions, all of
which were occupied by reclining bodies.

One group seemed to be locked in a heated,
but good-natured debate over some intransigence of politics or
another. Two of them were human, one was of Sa’andy’s people, and
the other two were heavily furred creatures of great height. The
latter two were humoring the hushed furor around them with a great
deal of what one might call snickering.

He walked up to the barista and ordered
vaguely, the only stipulation being caffeination. He let the girl
have free rein to create whatever she liked. Eyebrow raised, she
set to work, wondering whether it was a practical joke or a test to
have the station commander pop in unannounced. She peeked over her
shoulder at him, wishing she’d washed her hair that morning, rather
than leaving it wound around and tied up in a scarf.

Regrets…oh well. The barista mustered up her
sultriest smile and handed him a latte, crisscrossed by salted
caramel drizzle. Tark smiled back at her, noting the slightly
crazed look in her eyes. He recalled Sa’andy’s dry remarks as
regarding female attentions toward him. At the time, he’d been
inclined to disregard her words as exaggeration. Since then, he’d
begun to notice these looks. He wondered if it had always gone on,
or was a new development. It wasn’t as though he was as rakishly
handsome as his executive officer, after all. Now, there was a man
who fished for attention and usually landed it.

With that thought as accompaniment, he
strode back to his quarters, seeking out privacy, as well as the
warmth and comfort of the space he shared with Sa’andy. Once
inside, he sat gripping his mug of coffee, trying not to lose his
comfort or think about the container. He drifted into a light
slumber. As the forgotten sensation gripped him, he twitched while
the mug trembled slightly. Steaming liquid hissed at its sides.
Luckily the entire contents didn’t pour into his lap. Relaxation
finally and thoroughly found him and pushed him into a brief
oblivion.

۞

Just outside in the immutable blackness, a
small towing craft was returning with their mysterious find. It was
still a good ten minutes away from their location, guaranteeing a
few more moments of respite for Tark. Now serenely encased in a
sleepy cocoon, a wake-up call would be like an ice bath when it
came.

At that moment, he was dreaming of a
childhood memory. About the only event of nature he could clearly
recall; a summer thunderstorm. He’d been traveling in the reclaimed
frontierlands with his parents. Those were the places given back to
wildness after the last recent wars on Earth.

The soil had been hard and warm, angrily
seething at the invading moisture. In the landscape of this dream,
thunder shuddered across the sky. He trembled against it. Thor, of
his favorite mythology, chased Loki across the sky, threatening to
crush him with his thunder.

Tark came to, feeling lightheaded,
smelling the long-buried scent of rain. He looked around, taking in
peaceful surroundings. Half the day had passed. He rubbed his eyes,
and stretched, while anxiety crept in. It was the lingering
aftereffect of his dream. A tangible connection to whatever was
being towed back to the station.
It must
nearly be here
.

He felt that he could sense it just
outside, as though it was watching and sizing him up. Looking at
his tablet, he could see a dozen or so messages regarding the
progress of the retrieval.
Definitively an
artifact. Earthmade origin seems probable.
Possibilities sprang to mind. Time capsule, experimental
station, or any number of other things. There were DNA storage
projects he had heard about, seed storage…well, it no good to
anyone to sit around speculating. He groaned to his feet, yawning
as he walked out the door.

۞

Tark got to the cargo area a few minutes
later. The bay was still cold from decompression. He could see his
breath, and shivered a bit. Their find was much larger than he’d
imagined, even having known the dimensions. It was comprised of
dulled grey titanium, erratically streaked with prismatic color.
There were two thick plated hatches; these looked like the
proverbial window painted shut. Presumed to operate the hatches
were old hydraulic hinges, though they were completely seized up,
according to the mechanics and engineer.

"Sir, we’ve managed to hack our way through
the locking mechanism. If you'll just stand back, we'll give a shot
opening this can up." He obliged, feeling his fists ball up in
anticipation. This was the most notable thing to take place since
the beginning of his tour here, never mind the storm periods. As
promised, the hatches eventually began to move, groaning out of an
ancient sleep.

It took five minutes for them to pry the
doors open wide enough to allow passage through. Just as they were
about to give up and leave it, the thick titanium plates
mischievously gave way to the pressure, sending six befuddled men
and women crashing to the floor. An odd off-white mist billowed
out, and almost immediately, ice crystals formed around the frame
of the entrance. Tark squinted through the mist as he cautiously
crossed the distance and went inside. He was followed closely by
anyone else who could fit into the space. An audible intake of
breath collectively sounded as the container began to give up its
mysteries.

Nine compartments surrounded them, all with
a glassed area at the top of each outline. These windows shaped
like half moons; they were dimly lit from within. Tark approached
the forwardmost compartment and polished clean condensation formed
from the outside moisture. His jaw fell slack in surprise, while he
drew in a clean knife of air that seconds later gave him goose
bumps.

There was a young woman inside, her head
tilted slightly back, eyes closed. What could be seen of her face
was unbelievably pale. It was an unbearable semblance of death. It
frightened Tark on some level he could not grasp. A mask covered
the rest of her face completely, possibly to feed oxygen or protect
from the cold. Her hair was fine and straight, to her shoulders.
Its color was elusive; as he moved from side to side, he watched it
shift in the flickering lights. One moment it seemed red, the next,
brown. He wondered if she would be as difficult to pin down as her
hair.

The rest of her body was covered similarly,
giving nothing away. Around Tark, other personnel crowded in,
peering into the other windows. Six were occupied, came the final
count, two empty, one…expired. Tark maneuvered himself over to the
spot where broken glass scattered around the floor, and saw for
himself the mummified remains of some unfortunate soul.

Surely that would mean the rest of these
people were alive, wouldn’t it? Or were they just exceedingly
well-frozen? He called the clinic, praying that one of the better
docs was on duty. His joy was to be denied; soon enough one of his
less-favorite individuals was making her way into the confines of
the container.

"They're all human." The doctor observed
this to no one in particular as she elbowed her way in. She moved
authoritatively around the space, touching what appeared to be
terminals and computer relays. The engineer politely requested that
she stop, earning himself a nasty glare in the process. The doctor
noticed Colonel Tarkington standing transfixed in front of one
particular stasis chamber.

Involuntarily, her eyes rolled in disgust.
He was someone she could have admired, had he not gotten involved
with that off-worlder. She had her own private thoughts on
non-humans, none of them very pleasant. Her name was Commander
Maria Hawke. At times, she was capable of being a competent
physician.

A bare minimum of her energies went into
caring for the ill. The rest was poured into doing the work she
believed she had been sent to carry out. She was not a missionary,
not of the traditional baptismal sort. The word she secretly
preached was something else entirely. It was a call to arms and
action, to panic and fear. It was not new.

During her tenure aboard the Nimitz, she had
carefully concealed her work. At least, her vanity let her think
that. She’d had been some near misses. A low profile was necessary
in order to serve the group that had secured her this posting. They
had given her that message more than once.

This was a sticking point for her. It went
against her every desire to remain a faceless servant. After the
last warning, however, she’d realized she could only push her
masters just so far. Anyway, eventually everything would be put to
rights. Her role would become indispensable when the next phase of
their grand plan was implemented. She had done everything in her
power to make certain of it.

Tark, for his part, had noticed her behavior
long ago, at first thinking that it might have been work
stress-related. Many people cracked up a little on space rotation,
especially if they’d been born planetside. If you couldn’t handle
it, you got out. Transfers weren’t uncommon, after all. In time, he
had come to know better the reasons for her behavior. There was a
small stack of complaints regarding her refusal to treat non-human
patients. There was a history of vague threat making.

She was under his command, strictly
speaking, but every attempt he’d made in the way of disciplinary
action had been denied. He took that as an indication that she’d
gotten her position through some form of nepotism. It was
aggravating, but he’d taken the hint. Leave her alone. This didn’t
mean he had to ignore her actions, merely that he couldn’t do much
about them. He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that
day, wishing his XO was by his side. Dmitry always seemed to know
how to handle Hawke.

Dr. Hawke peered over Tark’s shoulder.
The woman inside the compartment had seemingly hypnotized
him.
At least this one was
human
, she thought,
maybe
there was hope after all
. From what could be seen of
her, symmetry of features lent to speculation that she might be
pretty. Hawke felt the itch of a memory tickling at her brain. She
tried to think more clearly, but the thought ran off.

Cryogenics was still a largely
unexplored science, primarily because there weren’t any successful
cases to work from. Perhaps these people could change that. If she
was the one to do it, it would be
her
name circulating. She allowed herself a
brief fantasy of recognition, perhaps coming with an undemanding
research position. If
they
would only allow it.

Personnel moved ceaselessly around her. Her
thoughts continued along their own unbroken path. She recalled how
there had once been those who’d sought out her honest and outspoken
views. She’d been encouraged to look beyond the surface of so many
things, to see the roots of evil hidden below. Through the years,
her supporters had faded into wan shades of themselves.

They hadn’t liked some of the notoriety that
had followed Doctor Hawke. Ultimately, this had been the reason for
her entry into the military. She’d been granted a commission and
sent somewhere far enough away to keep out of trouble, but near
enough to keep her under control. If she had been more
introspective, she might have realized it. Instead, she viewed her
current circumstances as the sort of menial work one must put in to
attain eventual glory. Her stupor was broken by the sound of the
Colonel’s voice.

“
Let’s wake them.”

He chewed his lip after tossing out the
order. Strangely, he hadn’t yet thought of this as a situation that
would be dictated by command, so much as by science. But there it
was. He stood silently by as the enlisted personnel moved in sync
with their officers, getting things started. This in spite a lack
of fully understanding the direction in which they were headed. Did
they know what they were getting into?

The compartments were opened with far less
resistance compared to the larger door. Carefully, with the
delicate touch of archaeologists, they extricated cold bodies from
metal tombs. Tark found himself needing to let go of the
particulars of the mystery for now. He hadn’t come to any plan of
action, and he couldn't come up with any tangible reason not to
inform his command.