Talking Man

CHAPTER SIX - AKACHI

To say that the passengers of the Aten returned to some state of normalcy over the next month of their journey would give their situation too little credit. This became the most serene and joyful time yet. The regularity of social calls between technicians, assistants, scientists and doctors returned and increased. The doors to each cabin were nearly always open to the other passengers. New acquaintances became unlikely friendships. Scientists and doctors shared knowledge, fascinated one another with their ideas and generated new perspectives through their meetings of minds. Lance had never considered himself to be a man of science, but he was able to participate fully in their conversations by virtue of his various skill sets and his degrees from ATI (from where many of the younger scientists received their doctorates). Karl proved himself to be well-versed in art and literature, rounding off the more philosophical bent of their conversations.

And Traver grew more and more closed off, to everyone but himself. The more he dedicated himself to his exercise regimen – the more he shut off the wants and desires of his past life and looked ahead to whatever mysteries awaited at the end of his journey – the more he began to look at the other occupants of the Aten as a troupe of lesser creatures, and became less and less successful at hiding his disdain. Only two of the other souls onboard were what he might consider to be his equals. Of those two, Misleh had reciprocated his approval through the development of their friendship. The other – the captain – remained enigmatic. The fact that Traver had not yet won her over remained a thorn in his side. For him, the journey would not be over until he could somehow communicate with her, convince her of his value and find her vulnerability. She was the last of the Aten's mysteries.

First Officer Akachi was not so stingy with his presence, continuing to visit the passengers with more regularity as time went by. Traver avoided him when he could, but there were only so many places where he could hide. Even from across the corridor, Akachi's deep voice would bellow out from a cabin as he laughed, recited and sometimes sang. What was more unfortunate, Dr. Misleh seemed to thoroughly enjoy listening to Akachi; he would stare at the officer with eyes wide and mouth agape during his stories or jiggle with uncontrollable laughter during his jokes. If spending time with Misleh meant spending time with Akachi, Traver knew it was a sacrifice he'd begrudgingly make.

His mind always wandered when Akachi was talking. He'd find his mind's eye occupied with abstract, imagined shapes that danced and exploded, growing large and infinitesimally small at the same time while existing in all the colors of the wheel and more besides. He didn't know where the shapes came from or what they meant, but he saw them – felt them – more and more often, and not only during Akachi's storytimes. They came to him when he drifted off to sleep, when he exercised, or whenever his mind was not otherwise occupied. He never stopped to analyze them or wonder about them, but they made him feel violent.

It was because his mind had drifted that, one cycle after dinner, he was blissfully unaware of Akachi's current tale about the time he'd saved a drunk and lascivious member of the First Norwegian Family from a group of Martian ex-convicts while stationed in the failed city of Graceland – himself off-duty and also drunk. To the chagrin of everyone else in the cabin, Akachi was not able to finish the story before Traver snapped back to reality, looked dazedly at Akachi and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Why are you here?"

"What?" Akachi was still grinning, though the jollity in the room ground to a halt.

"I was given the impression that our pilots would remain apart from the crew. Both of them. What makes you different from the captain?"

There was neither a hint of rudeness in his voice nor scowl on his face. Traver's inquiry seemed honest enough, if strangely-timed.