The Vessel

4. Attollo

Growing up on the Ark, little Jenny Ashby would watch the Captain walk past her in the hallway wearing his pristine, black uniform and his confident smile. She would imagine how exciting that man's life must be. The daily adventures, days of setting and reaching impossible goals, of making tough decisions for the good of the people. To her that man in black was larger than life, a hero. No, a superhero, responsible for every life on board, human and otherwise. And that man, he would nod down at her as he passed, a striking image of the self-assuredness that came with power, yet not so superhuman that he couldn't take the time to acknowledge the small girl peeking up at him.

Now she knew the truth. So much of being a Captain was reading reports. Hours going over statistics, from plant growth updates to population counts to system status details. It wasn't an adventure but a daily trudge. She remembered how space was once the great unknown, a frontier harsher than any other in human history, full of excitement, with danger hidden around every corner.

The reality of space was that, more than anything, it was empty. Just an uncaring wasteland where even sound went to die.

Jennifer had learned the sad truths of adulthood the hard way. For all of its limitless potential, nothing much happened in deep space. Aside from occasionally navigating around an anomaly picked up by their sensors, the most interesting days were the ones they came across an asteroid. Then it was a lovely dance of automated machination and human ingenuity, various departments and systems coming together for one, shared goal, the goal of mining the floating rock for all its resources. But until then, it was the reports for her.

Captain Ashby rubbed her eyes, giving them a short break from the screen in her lap. She let her gaze pass over the ship's bridge. The circular room had five workstations in total, each with its own array of screens and instrumentation, as well as the center command chair where she sat. The bridge normally glowed bright with artificial sunlight, twenty percent brighter in fact than her predecessor had kept it, the extra energy usage justified by explaining how important it was for morale. She wanted the crew to see the bridge as the brightest place on the entire ship- short of a few of the more desert-like environments, of course. Today, however, she had requested that the light be kept low. Though she'd blamed it on a headache, the truth was she was feeling distracted, a feeling compounded by all the bright lights and steady beeps, all those screens vying for her attention.

Before she'd been that little girl peeking up at the Captain, she'd been an even smaller girl. Scared. Alone. Taken from all she'd ever known and loved, torn from the ground like a weed, its roots ripped painfully from the dirt. Those first steps onto the Ark had felt like a death march. Even at such a small age, she could imagine nothing more for her future than a slow, quiet death; a stinking weed, rotting in the sun.

As her thoughts shifted back to the present, Captain Ashby realized someone was speaking to her. She turned to see First Officer Oberlander at her side. He was a young man, not quite as young as she'd been when she held the same position, but still inexperienced. The look of concern on his face made her wonder how long he'd been standing there trying to speak to her. Ashby glanced at Hopes, the Communications Officer, and caught him trying not to look at her.

"What is it, Oberlander," she asked, placing the screen on the table next to her.

"You asked me to update you when today's thaws were completed."

She paused, giving him a disapproving look. "The what?"

"Revivals," he corrected himself.

"How many were scheduled for today?"

"Three. Two male, one female. Would you like to see the reports?"

"Send them to me. I'll be in my office for the time being." She stood from the center chair, smoothing out her uniform as she walked past Pagani, the ship's Navigator, to the stairs that led down to her private office. "The chair is all yours," she added over her shoulder.