The Darwin Effect (3 page)

She ripped the plastic open and pulled out the clothes. There were three sets of long-sleeved shirts and pants that reminded her of thermal underwear, only lighter and slicker, along with a white cloth belt. The clothes were a little tight-fitting and revealing (not that the others hadn’t already seen her body), but the clothes felt good against her skin. It felt good to be warm and dry again.

After she was dressed, she walked over to the bed which took up nearly a quarter of the room. Above the bed was a curtain that she guessed covered a window. She pulled the curtain to the side and saw a small circular window that looked like a port window on a cruise ship. Beyond the thick glass of the window was the never-ending deep black space and twinkling stars. She let the curtain fall back in place and stared up at the ceiling. Even here in her room there was that constant hum of machinery working behind the walls.

A knock at her door startled her.

At least whoever it was had knocked instead of barging right into her room.

She hurried over to the door and opened it. Outside her door was the older man they had helped out of the metal and plastic cylinder after the gel had drained out. He was dressed in the same style of white clothing that she wore, and what little hair he had left on his head was wet from a shower. His scraggly, gray beard was also wet. She had read his nameplate when they had helped him out of his chamber, but she was having difficulty recalling it right now.

“Abraham,” the man said as if reading her mind. He smiled and she thought that he had a kind face.

“Yes,” she said and nodded like she had just been about to spit his name out. “Abraham,” she repeated.

“I came to ask you for some help.”

Sanders braced herself.

“The other woman from the … uh, the chambers we woke up in, she’s still in some kind of shock or something. She’s just standing in the middle of her room. She’s still … uh … I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping her with a shower and help her get dressed.”

Sanders nodded. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

Abraham smiled at her and led her down the hall to Butler’s room.

They entered the room together and Sanders saw Butler standing near the bathroom door. She was still naked and her skin was glistening with gel, her black hair was shiny under the lights of her room. The woman didn’t seem to be bothered that she was naked, but she was shivering from the cold and she needed to get warm. Her eyes were vacant as she stared at the wall, her hands down limply at her sides.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Abraham told Sanders. “I wanted to help, but I just thought it would be more appropriate if …”

He let his words hang in the air.

She understood what he meant.

“I can take it from here,” she told the older man, her words clipped short. She glanced at the open doorway.

Abraham got the message; he bowed his head a little and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Sanders looked at Butler who didn’t seem to notice that she was there. She walked towards the woman who looked like she was at least ten years younger than she was, maybe in her late twenties. Her body was slender and looked graceful. She had slightly slanted dark eyes, and Sanders thought that she might be Japanese.

She touched Butler’s shoulder gently.

Butler looked at her with dark eyes that still seemed lost. But at least she had reacted to her touch.

“We’re going to get you in the shower,” Sanders told her. “We’re going to get that gel, or whatever the hell that stuff is, off of you. Okay?”

The woman didn’t nod, but she didn’t fight as Sanders led her into the bathroom. The shower in Sanders’ room had been cramped, and she could imagine how difficult this was going to be to help this woman get showered.

What happened to this lady? Sanders wondered as she started the shower. She thought of the gaps in her own memory, and the short-term memory loss that the computer had told them they were all suffering from. But this lady seemed to have more than just some short-term memory loss.

Her brain seemed to be fried.

T
hirty minutes later, after everyone had showered and dressed, they met in the dining area as they had all agreed.

Cromartie leaned against the long counter on the other side of the large room and sipped coffee from a plastic cup—the coffee was hot and it felt good on his throat. MAC had told him how to make the imitation coffee which was sealed in individual packets. He had found the packets in the cabinets above the countertop where other stacks of cans, metal containers, and packets of food were stored. There was also a large walk-in cold storage room off of the galley kitchen with more boxes and cans of food.

He had scanned the names on the labels of food, but Cromartie didn’t want to eat right now—he was too nauseous. What he wanted right now was answers.

“Is everyone okay?” Cromartie asked the group after Sanders and Butler joined them. “Is anyone injured?”

Ward paced back and forth in between Cromartie at the counter and the others seated around the built-in dining table. “No, we’re not okay,” he snapped. “We just woke up on a fucking spaceship and none of us know how the hell we got here.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “And MAC doesn’t seem to be any help.”

“Let’s all try to stay calm,” Cromartie told him.

“Calm?” Ward barked. “What the hell are you talking about? Why should I be calm? Somebody stuck me on this damn ship and I don’t know why.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I haven’t seen anyone else on this ship so far,” Cromartie finally spoke. “There are only six of those container things we woke up in. There are only six seats on the bridge. And there are only six sleeping quarters with our names on them. So I’m assuming we’re the only ones on this ship.” Cromartie looked up at the dining room ceiling. “MAC, are we the only people on this ship?”

“That’s correct, Cromartie.”

Ward had finally stopped pacing. He took a deep breath and seemed to be calming down a little.

Cromartie looked away from Ward and he stared at the others who sat on a bench seat that wrapped around the large plastic table in the corner of the dining area. Sanders and Abraham sat on each side of Butler like they were there to prop her up in case she leaned over too far.

Butler sat back in the bench seat, listless and slumped to one side a little. Her hands were on her lap underneath the table. Her dark hair was still wet from her shower, and her eyes looked blank. She had been pretty much unresponsive since they had gotten her out of her cryochamber.

Maybe she’s in shock,
Cromartie thought.
And who wouldn’t be?
They were all in varying degrees of shock. They had woken up on this spaceship and none of them could remember how they got here.

Cromartie stared at Butler for a moment longer. She could walk by herself, but she needed help to do basic things. Abraham had told him that he’d asked Sanders to help her with a shower and to get dressed.

“Butler, are you okay?” Cromartie asked her.

Butler looked up at Cromartie. At least she knew her name. But she didn’t answer him and her gaze was still blank. Finally, she nodded.

Cromartie’s gaze shifted towards the other end of the bench seat where Rolle sat. He still looked a little scared and nervous, but he hadn’t said too much so far.

“I don’t understand why I’m having so much trouble remembering how I got on this ship,” Rolle finally spoke, meeting Cromartie’s eyes.

“MAC said we have some temporary memory loss from the cryosleep,” Cromartie reminded him.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rolle answered, but he didn’t seem convinced.

Sanders looked up at the dining room ceiling. “MAC?”

“Yes, Sanders.”

“Can we talk to you from anywhere on this ship?”

“Everywhere except your rooms. Those are your private spaces.”

Ward darted to the metal archway that led out to the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Cromartie asked him.

“I’m going to the bridge. We’re drifting through space. I’m going to find out exactly where we are.”

Ward left the room.

Abraham got up to his feet. “Maybe we should go with him.”

Sanders looked at Cromartie and nodded in agreement. Her eyes were cold and hard, a contrast to Butler’s soft dark ones. Sanders seemed strong and confident, and she seemed to be handling this better than any of them so far. He wanted to know more about her, about each one of them. But maybe she and Abraham were right; maybe they should follow Ward to the bridge.

Cromartie set his cup of coffee on the counter. He looked at the others for a second, and then they all hurried after Ward, Abraham and Sanders helping Butler.

There was something about Ward that Cromartie didn’t like, something unpredictable about him that made Cromartie wary. Ward seemed like a rattlesnake that was coiled up and ready to strike at any moment.

Cromartie knew that he was going to have to watch Ward closely. They were all scared and confused, and that could make people dangerous.

T
hey found Ward in the middle of the bridge. He stood right beside the captain’s chair where he had stood nearly an hour earlier when he had been dripping wet and naked. He stared out at the windows again.

Cromartie walked towards Ward while Sanders and Abraham waited beside Butler. Butler had shuffled along, lethargic and apathetic. Abraham kept a gentle hand on her shoulder like he was afraid she would wander away if he didn’t have a steady hand on her.

Rolle walked over to the bank of computer screens against the wall with the plastic counter and swivel chairs in front of them. He stared at the display of screens, watching the different colored pinpoints of light floating around on the black screens with the ISF logo hanging lazily in the middle of each screen.

Cromartie kept a cautious distance from Ward, but he watched him.

“Where’s the Earth?” Ward asked, not turning around to look at Cromartie. “I don’t see the Earth out there anywhere. Are we circling the Earth? Are we circling the moon?”

Cromartie looked up at the ceiling. “MAC, are you there?”

“Yes, Cromartie.”

“Where are we?”

“You are part of the Darwin Mission,” MAC sang back.

“Yes, you already told us that. The Darwin Mission—what is that? We need more of an explanation. Where are we going?”

“You are traveling to a distant planet to help set up a colony.”

They all looked at each other in shock—except Ward, who still stared at the windows, and except Butler who looked down at her feet.

Cromartie tried to catch his breath as that wave of panic tried to build up inside of him again … but he had to fight it. “What are you talking about, MAC? What planet?”

“The planet was discovered one hundred and eighty-two years ago. It has nearly the identical atmosphere and gravity as the Earth does.”

“What’s the name of this place we’re going to?” Abraham asked; he still had a hand on Butler’s shoulder like he had forgotten about it.

“It’s called Eden,” MAC told them.

That wave of panic washed over Cromartie. He couldn’t accept this—he couldn’t believe this was true.

“Are there other spaceships on this mission?” Sanders asked MAC.

There was a slight hesitation from the onboard computer, and then it answered: “Yes, Sanders.”

Rolle cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. “What are we supposed to do when we get to this planet? This place called Eden.”

Another slight hesitation from MAC—it was almost like the computer was thinking for a moment before answering. “I’m not permitted to give you that information yet, Rolle. Not until we arrive.”

“So, we’re almost there?” Cromartie asked with hope in his voice. “That’s why you woke us up?”

There was an even longer pause from MAC this time. And then the computer answered Cromartie’s question. “No. You’re not almost there.”

T
he group was stunned into silence for a moment.

They glanced at each other, and then Cromartie looked up at the ceiling. “What do you mean we’re not almost there, MAC?” Cromartie demanded. “Explain more.”

There was another long hesitation from MAC, and this was worrying Cromartie. A lot of his past was a fog to him, but there were things that he just seemed to
know
, and he was pretty sure that a computer hesitating before answering questions wasn’t a good sign.

“You are still two hundred years away from the planet Eden,” MAC finally answered.

They all stared at each other in shock. Only Butler seemed unaffected by the news, it was like she wasn’t even listening to MAC, like she was daydreaming about something else.

The bridge was silent for a long moment—there were no sounds except for the constant hum of machinery working somewhere behind the walls and ceilings, recycling the air.

“Two … two hundred years away?” Cromartie finally spit out. “You’re absolutely sure about that, MAC?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you wake us up?” Abraham asked.

“I was programmed to do so, Abraham.”

“Why?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Abraham. Those are the instructions of the program.”

“What program?” Cromartie asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the program,” was all MAC would say.

Ward had never taken his eyes away from the front windows that looked out onto space. “Two hundred years,” he whispered.

Sanders watched Ward. She was tense, her body ready to react if she needed to. She had seen men like Ward many times before. She expected Ward to fly into a rage at any moment.

And her suspicions were confirmed a few seconds later when Ward lashed out. He exploded into motion, stomping around the bridge, pacing like a wild animal that wanted to escape its cage. “Two hundred years! What the fuck are you talking about?! Two hundred years?!”

“Ward,” Cromartie said. “Calm down.”

Ward turned his rage towards Cromartie. “Calm down? We’ve just been woken up in the middle of a fucking space mission and you want me to calm down?”

“Maybe there’s been some kind of mistake here,” Cromartie said. He looked up at the ceiling with hope. “MAC, could this be some kind of mistake?”