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Chapter Three

 

The Dark Sleep

 

 

 

Skip withdrew once again from the humans, this time motioning Sandra and Woody to join he and Rusty on the bridge.  As the androids waited for the humans to respond, Abe turned to Max, who now, because of Sheila’s continued lack of resolve, was, at least in spirit, second-in-command.  Max had given up trying to reason with Nicole, his assistant, and the other faint-hearted members of the crew.  While Said’s dark mood was difficult to fathom, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were easy to read.  They had, Max detected, the classic symptoms of paranoia and borderline psychosis.  Nicole was jabbering incoherently to Sheila, who jumped up and ran to her quarters as if she might escape.  Carla was cursing under her breath again, as Ingrid prayed.  Each of the four women dealt with their emotions in their own way.  Motioning for Gandy, Mbuto, Carla, and Ingrid, who were trying very hard to be brave, Abe took them aside with Max and himself to give them his final thoughts. 

“Well, it’s come down to this.” He sighed raggedly. “Like everyone else, I’m devastated by this turn of events.  Now I just feel tired.  If the others decide to mutiny, I can’t control them.  They’ll face the consequences.  Our caretakers mean business.  They’re much stronger than us.  Said, more than anyone else, understands this.  We were warned of space psychosis, but the calculations were wrong.  They claimed that the chances for it to occur after cryogenic sleep was infinitesimal (a one percent chance), and it looks like even I’m feeling its effects.  All we can do folks, is hide it from the others.”

          “I agree.” Max exhaled wearily. “What else can we do?  But how do we talk them into returning willingly to their chambers and the dark sleep, this time for perhaps centuries.  Look at their faces: it’s as if they’re facing a death sentence.  I heard Elroy threaten to slit his wrists rather than go on indefinitely.”

          Abe shrugged. “Given the facts, let’s hope most of them come around.  Those that don’t will have to be drugged.  I’m certain Nicole and Sheila will have to be sedated.  Elroy and Hans might put up a fight.  Said will probably have to be dragged bodily to his fate.  If they don’t do it willingly, there’s no other way.”

 

******

With that said, Abe gathered the ship’s company together.  While the androids looked on quietly from the bridge, the captain once again stated the case that Skip had presented so well, but in a more paternal way.  In addition to the hopelessness of their situation and the foolishness of staying awake, he explained, he added his own estimation of their caretakers, which caused outbursts in the group.

          “I’ve thought about this a lot,” he began thoughtfully. “…. What is motivating the andies?  I couldn’t understand why they didn’t warn us.  As soon as we lost communications, they could’ve awakened at least the captain.  But to what good would this have been?  Skip and his group, though there weren’t details of the event, understood immediately what had happened.  For years it had been building up: the final conflict.  The sudden break in communication meant only one thing.  After checking the database countless times, myself, I know for a fact there’s no record whatsoever of communication with Earth after Decemeber 20th of the third year.  There never will be either.  The people of Earth suffered a catastrophic even three years after launch.  Because the colonists and members of the space station were called back to Earth shortly before this catastrophe, they were wiped out too.  We might hope that our friends and relatives survived the holocaust, but we’ll never know.” “…. And so my friends,” his tone softened. “I’m asking all of you to be reasonable, sensible, and brave, and return, without incident, to your chambers.  Some of you must set good examples for other crewmembers.  For those who fight the process, you will be physically forced and drugged, if necessary, to return to hibernation.  Please don’t fight it.  You’ve gone through it before.  You can do it again.  The fact is, considering the crisis, you have no choice!”

          “No,” shrieked Nicole, “it’s bad enough to hibernate for seventeen years.  This might be forever.  The dark sleep’s like death—sleep without dreams!”

“Yes, oh yes,” Sheila, who had returned reluctantly from her quarters, muttered inconsolably, “…. it’s darkness and death.  Forever is a long time.  What if they never find us a home?  It’ll be like dying if we don’t wake up.”

“Stop it!  Stop it!” scolded Abe. “You want to be manhandled and drugged before processing?  Our caretakers mean business.  You don’t want that!”

“Uh huh!” Nicole nodded hysterically. “I do!  I do!”

“No you don’t,” Abe frowned at her.  Looking at Sheila with contempt, he chided her severely now  “What kind of officer are you?  You’re crewmates don’t want to see this?  You’re supposed to be my executive officer, Sheila.   Show some backbone!  Set an example for the crew!”

I’m sorry!” Sheila looked pitifully up at him. “Your right, I’ll do just that.  I’ll set an example.” “…. Just so I wake up!” she added in a small voice.

Nicole rocked back and forth again, clutching herself.  As Abe stood contemplating his co-pilot and second-in-command, Sheila dropped her face into her hands and bawled.  Said, he noticed, looked up at the bridge that moment, contemplating the androids, Elroy and Hans stared silently into space, and Ling Soon also wept.  As he had hoped, however, Gandy, Mbuto, Carla, and Ingrid sat calmly in their seats, as though they had accepted their fate.

“Captain, let’s wait awhile,” Elroy spoke up finally. “Maybe it is a malfunction of some kind and things aren’t so bad on Earth.  Said’s right.  I don’t trust those andies.  They just want to take over the ship.”

          “Ya, I agree,” Hans nodded vigorously. “This is big risk—stupid gamble.  When sleeping, what will happen?  Nothing but unconsciousness—endless sleep.  The nearest likely worlds are light years away, with no proof of oxygen on any of them.  I’m telling you, captain.  This is long shot.  Phoenix might travel forever!

          “Shut up—both of you!” Abe lost his temper. “Get it through your thick skulls; there’s nothing else we can do!” 

          Looking up at him, half of the crew, began wringing their hands, shaking their heads, and mumbling under their breaths in despair.  With the exception of Carla, the other crewmembers seemed to be following Ingrid’s example and praying.  Even Max closed his eyes now and cringed at the thought.  Abe didn’t know what else to say to those crewmembers in such a panicked state.  Considering the mental strain this was having on everyone, what would immediately save his crewmembers and himself was, in fact, hibernation.  Space psychosis, already in its early stages for many of them, could prove disastrous, even deadly on the ship, until they were all back in cryogenic slumber once more.

At this point, seeing half of the crew reaching that dangerous point, the androids took what Abe’s military mind saw as a pre-emptive strike.  In an effort to prevent a case of space psychosis and also set an example, the androids took the step Skip had warned them about.  Upon a silent signal to the android medics, a mere nod from Skip, Sandra and Woody stepped forward, to remove the person among them closest to a psychotic lapse.  Seeing the medics approach, Nicole shook her head, chanting, “No! No! No!”  The medics stood there before her, as if waiting for her to go peaceably, then, when she refused, her legs going limp in protest, they lifted her up by her armpits and dragged her from the ship.

“We’re sorry!” Sandra apologized. “This is for her own good!”

As they carried her to the space station, Max almost broke down when he heard her shrieks.  As a death row inmate of the twentieth century being escorted forcibly to execution, Nicole was certain this was the end.  Then suddenly, after she was given the sedative, silence returned to the corridor of the space station.  Sensing that they might be next, Elroy and Hans jumped up and raced toward the staircase to the docking area, but were quickly cut-off at the entrance by Skip.  As Rusty restrained Ling, Sheila managed to stay put under Abe’s restraining hand.  Upon hearing, the commotion of Ling and the cornered men, however, Sheila rolled up into a fetal position on the deck and sobbed. 

Though Nicole’s treatment seemed cruel, she would have gone insane if the medics hadn’t intervened.  As Abe explained this simple fact and attempted again to console the crew, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were under guard.  Skip and Rusty stood, arms folded, until Sandra and Woody returned, ready to restrain them if they so much as budged.  While Ingrid uttered an eloquent prayer that sounded almost like the Last Rites, Carla sat there stoically, as did Gandy, Mbuto, and Max.  Sheila, who remained curled up on the deck, was simply ignored.  When Sandra and Woody returned finally from the cryogenic chambers, Woody explained in a business-like tone, that Nicole, using special equipment, had been purged of her stomach and colon contents while she was unconscious—a process the others could only imagine.  Rather than being knocked out with drugs, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were given one more chance to go peaceably.  The thought of Nicole’s ordeal and what was in store for his crew shook Abe as he looked down at his crew.

“…. My shipmates,” his voice broke, as he gathered his thoughts, “after a little prick in the arm, you’ll go asleep and before you know it you’ll be awake again.  That’s how it is with hibernation.  Time is irrelevant.  A day, a year, or a hundred years are like the blink of an eye.  Stop fighting it.  You heard poor Nicole.  Is that how you want to be processed and enter your chambers, kicking and screaming like children?” “You’re stellarnauts—act like it!” He raised his arms and looked around the table. “Before you know it, you’ll be awake again, setting at the table, ready to explore a new world!”

For many, his words fell on deaf ears.  They had seen what happened to Nicole.  No one else wanted to be prematurely ushered into hibernation.  Yet, despite the threat, it was difficult for some of them to control their emotions.  Hysteria and paranoia, the first stages before psychosis seemed impossible to dispel.  When the atmosphere remained thick with gloominess, despair, and foreboding, Abe was cut short by Sandra.  As she placed her arm around his back, her flashing eyes and gentle movements seemed to offset her blank Barbie doll expression.  Briefly, her touch was almost maternal as it must have had been when he was awakened that first time.  What he vaguely recalled about those moments when cognition set in, was how much she reminded him of Rosalie, the girl he left behind on Earth.  Like the others, he was going under again, and he was afraid.  When he awakened once more, he would look up and see that lovely face again and remember only her resemblance to Rosalie.  Now, as he looked into Sandra’s face, he could almost picture that moment of wakefulness that was, as Max put it, like being born.  This creature had been his midwife, the one who extracted him from the womb, a function she would perform again.  Unlike before, when he cringed at the thought of his extraction from his chamber, it gave him comfort that she would be there again.  How was it possible, he wondered now, that science had created such a perfect machine?  Inexplicably, though it seemed impossible, her skin and breath were warm, the twinkle in her blue eyes was real, and a vague Mona Lisa smile was, at this moment, fixed on her glowing face.  She was to all appearances and touch, a woman, and yet she had, according to the Stellarnaut’s Handbook, the strength of three men.  With these thoughts in mind, his voice faltered.  He could think of nothing more to say.  As Sandra gently interrupted his speech, her presence and purring voice, was like a warm blanket on his soul. 

          “Listen to your captain,” she called sweetly to the crew. “You’re holding onto the last shred of consciousness as if your never going to awaken.  That’s so absurd.  Our whole purpose was the mission.  As Skip told you, now it’s survival.  Please accept the fact that we’re your protectors, not your jailers.  Would you rather go insane and, in stages, age, and finally die.  Do you remember those words in your handbooks: ‘Prolonged periods outside the chamber, without normal gravity, hastens the aging process of humans.’  When you’re dead, we, Generation Eight, will be all that’s left of the human race.  How sad that would be.” “…. It’s a byproduct of this crisis,” she added after a pause, “but we offer you immortality.  Is that so bad?”

          Abe stifled a sob, and yet several listeners in the audience seemed unmoved.  Not satisfied with the reaction that either Abe or herself had on the faint-hearted members of the crew, Sandra’s maternal tone turned suddenly harsh.  The transition, which was typical of androids, caught Abe by surprise.  Hearing her use this tact broke him from his reverie.  Instead of weeping, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat.

“Get it through your human brains once and for all!” She looked squarely at Said. “You really have two choices: life or death.  In truth, of course, you have no choice, at all.  We won’t let you commit suicide.  Your mental state requires immediate action.  There’ll no more dragging of the feet by some of you.  The sooner you’re all in your chambers, the sooner we’ll find you a home and you’ll awake up on a new world.  Once again, those of you who don’t go willingly into cyber-sleep will be forced to comply.” “Please,” she implored, looking round the table, “you who are stronger set an example for the weak among you.  You saw what happened to Nicole.  In a drugged state she was forcibly purged, top and bottom.  Believe me, like your last experience, this is something you want to do yourself.  Don’t force our hands!”

            Abe tried not breaking into hysterical giggles.  Sandra’s forcefulness belied her Barbie features.  Rosalie, it occurred to him, had been spirited too, but then Rosalie didn’t have the strength of three men.  Skip, the leader of the androids, said nothing this time, yet, by hand signals, directed the remaining two non-humans, Rusty and Woody, to stations themselves aft and forward of the captain’s table, as if once again standing guard.  After he nodded to Sandra, she ordered the humans to have their last meal (an ominous note in itself) then, not long afterwards, purge their colons and stomachs as they had before takeoff, so that within the next few hours or as long as it takes, be ready for hibernation.  To avoid any more mental stress, Skip wanted it taken care of this in the most timely manner.  As it had before, Abe recalled grimly, such a process depended on when they had their last meal, when their food settled, and how long it took each of them to manage the purge.  The process of purging, Sandra reminded them, began with purgatives and laxatives, followed, if necessary by self-induced vomiting and self-performed enemas.  At least for an indeterminate period, they had time to achieve the desired results.

Even before the medics delivered their dinner, the oral laxatives had been administered to them.  It was, Abe and Max agreed, the worst meal of their lives.  Not having vomit reflexes or a sense of smell, made Sandra and Woody excellent nurses and medics but poor waiters.  Ingrid, the most cheerful member of the group, added religious significance to it when she gave a benediction before their meal.  Carla cursed her effort and, until forced to do so, Hans refused to eat, but most of the others joined in politely as Ingrid prayed.  It didn’t matter how much they ate, Woody explained, they would be feed intravenously when asleep.  Though such a statement was expected from the least human of the androids, such callous words during their last supper, as Ingrid thought of it, was especially tactless.  Already, because of their state of minds, it was difficult to enjoy the special dinner offered to them (something resembling steak, mash potatoes, and peas).  Said, who continued to glare at their caretakers, demanded to know what, in his words “This shit is!”  Or, as Elroy summed it up for the crew, “At least make it look more appetizing!”  Abe forced himself to eat as much as possible, as did many of the diners.  The one reassuring thing about the meal and attitude at the dinner table for Abe’s peace of mind was the participants somber acceptance of their fate.  It appeared as though space psychosis might have been averted. 

To this end, Ingrid’s comparison of their last meal to the Lord’s Last Supper had helped.  Normally, her prayers and words of encouragement rubbed the atheists and agnostics in the group wrong, but her spirit, at this dark hour, caused unexpected mirth.

“You compare this to the Last Supper?” Carla snickered. “Who at this table is Jesus: Abe, our captain.”

“Oh, I’m no Jesus,” Abe snickered, “maybe Noah or Moses.”

“We’re like the Twelve Apostles,” murmured Sheila.

“No,” Ingrid shook her head, “this has nothing to do with Jesus and his apostles.  That would be sacrilegious.  Noah and Moses were holy men.” “But we’re serving God’s purpose,” she informed them. “This is our last supper until we find a new home.  You heard what the andies said about the clones: we carry mankind on the ship!”

“Listen to you people?” Carla looked around in disbelief. “For Christ’s sakes, this is the twenty fifth century!”

“It got damn nonsense!” exclaimed Hans. “One big joke!”

“Isn’t it strange,” Ingrid posed the question. “that atheists, who don’t believe, use the Lord’s name in vain?’

“That’s true,” Gandy smiled at her. “They do in deed, Ingrid.  You don’t hear them say Vishnu damn it!  Or Allah damn it!  It’s always God damn it! or Jesus Christ!  I never liked those words.”

“Well, I appreciate Ingrid’s prayers.” Mbuto reached over to pat her wrist. “We need all the help we can get!”

“I am not atheist.” Ling muttered belatedly. “I am Buddhist.”

Carla laughed sourly.  “When have you ever given that fat guy a thought?  I’ve known plenty of Buddhists.  Face it Madam Butterfly, you’re an atheist like me.”  “Except our resident nun here,” she added, pointing to Ingrid, “all of you, if you’re honest, are atheists.  You don’t believe that crap!”

“Oh, I believe some of it!” Sheila nodded.

“Me too!” Mbuto insisted.

“No you don’t!” Carla scowled. “Not genuinely.  Fear of death, makes you want to believe.  It’s called the air raid syndrome.  When there’s a threat overhead, everyone prays.  When there’s no threat, its back to normal.  It’s hypocrisy!” 

“That’s quite enough!” Max cut her off. “You said your piece.  I agree with them.  As a psychologist as well as doctor, I’ve found faith an excellent balm for human fears.  We’re under constant threat, Carla.  This is the new normal.  Nothing will be the same anymore!”

  “Frankly, Carla” Gandy jumped in, shaking his head. “I find your language and attitude appalling.  Why are you so bitter?  I was a practicing Hindu until I became a scientist.  We Hindus have high regard for the Christian god and his son.  What did Jesus ever do to you?  Why are you giving Ingrid such a hard time?”

“I’m cool with Jesus.” Carla shrugged her shoulders. “I just don’t like hypocrisy.  Ingrid’s praying gets on my nerves!”

“That’s too bad!” Elroy glared at her. “We like it.  Your logic doesn’t make sense.  What do you think of when you face the dark?  That black void is a terrible end!”

“Nothing,” she confessed dubiously, a frown playing on her face. “…. Nothing at all!”

“I will pray for you.” Ingrid sighed. “I will pray for all of you until I fall asleep.”

“Hah!  Fall asleep?” spat Hans. “You mean go like blank sheet into coma.  If there is God, where was He on Earth.  Where is he now?”

“All right folks!” Abe slammed the table with his mug. “This has been edifying, but let’s change the subject.  We have a short while as our food digests before the procedures begin.  Do any of you have anymore questions?  I don’t mind answering them again.  As we’ve been told, time’s irrelevant during hibernation.  It will seem like a few moments at the most, when your cognition sets in after you awaken again.  In such a timeless hour, you’ll be sitting here again chatting as if you just had a brief nap.”

“Our captain is an optimist to the last!” exclaimed Max.

“Here’s to Captain Abraham Drexel!” Mbuto raised up his mug.

“Here-Here!” Gandy joined the toast.

 

******

Going down the Phoenix’s duty roster, Sandra held a roll call to make sure everyone was accountable on the ship and not hiding in the docking area below or somewhere in the station.  The action intensified most of the humans resentment for the androids, making them feel like children back in grade school.  Captain Drexel, as Max, the ship’s doctor, however, understood that it was necessary.  As they demonstrated by their treatment of Nicole, the androids had to be tough with this group.  Unless they went into hibernation, space psychosis would claim them long before physical degeneration occurred.  For Carla, who put up a hard front, Elroy and Hans, who were trying desperately to be brave, and Sheila, who had found strength joining Ingrid in prayer, the threat of space psychosis seemed to have momentarily passed.  In agreement, with some reservation, with Abe and Max, were Gandy and Mbuto, but Said would hold onto his resentment until the last.

“They make it sound like such a trifling matter,” he grumbled. “Like we’re children taking a nap!”  

          “More like bears hibernating in winter.” Gandy managed a smile.

“Yes, a long winter nap,” Elroy murmured sadly, “in which we might not wake up!”

The English geologist, whom no one heard that moment, had seemed to make peace with himself.  This, Abe thought he understood, was true for everyone else, including Carla, who’s mental defense was a hard crust which no one could penetrate even now.  Unfortunately, the period of preparation, would rattle the crew again. 

During the waiting period, the crewmembers were finally ordered to purge their stomachs by the purgative handed to them by Woody and, if this was not quite adequate, finish the job by cramming two fingers down their throats.  For those whose laxatives were taking too much time, they were forced to use enemas, which were almost as distasteful to them as making themselves vomit.  These preparations, conducted in a special compartment in the space station, in fact, were dreaded almost as much as the cryogenic chambers themselves.  When they were finished, all eleven of the crewmembers returned to the conference table to be called for enclosure in the chambers.  Nicole, who had been processed while in a drugged state, had been the first, now Ingrid, who, because Skip considered her to be the bravest member of the crew, would set an example for the others.

“Have faith!” she called over her shoulder. “Remember what I told you and the prayers I taught you.  There is no death, only eternal life.  Believe and you’ll be saved!”

With great patience now, noted Abe, Sandra, the mid-wife, waited patiently and politely to allow Ingrid to quote verses from the Twenty-Third Psalm:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.  Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.  Thou anointest my head with oil, and my cup runneth over.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

At first her words seemed to have made an impact on the crew.  There was absolute silence in the ship.  As Sandra led her to the station entrance, Ingrid called out, with a trace of fear in her voice, “My friends, it doesn’t matter what words come into your head; just pray.  Make your last thoughts spiritual, not worldly concerns.  Go into hibernation for the glory of God!”

“We’re not dying, bitch!” Carla growled.

          “No, not dying,” Said sneered. “Just taking a snooze—permanently!”

          “Yes, sleep,” Ingrid responded quickly, “but not permanent.  Sleep in which, if things go wrong, you’ll awaken in paradise!”

          “Nothing’s going wrong!” yelled Carla. “We’re going into hibernation, for Christ’s sake!  Shut that woman up!

          “Das est das ende!” Han lapsed back into German.

          “The End!” Elroy gave a wounded cry.

          “What is this?” Abe frowned. “I thought we settled this issue.  We don’t need this kind of talk.  Come on Hans and Elroy, you were doing great.  We talked about this.  This is no different than the first time.  It’ll be over soon, and, before you know it, we’ll be looking down at a new world.”

“‘Over soon’ are the operative words!” Elroy stared vacantly, rocking back and forth.  There will be no other world, alien or otherwise.  This the end!”

          “Yes, there’s another world waiting,” promised Ingrid, her voice trailing into the distance,“… a glorious one, greater than Earth!” “Oh, you faint-hearted,” her words were punctuated with sobs. “… Look at me, I’m not afraid, because I have Jesus.  Pray, reach out, and believe!”

“Zhè jiùshì jiéjú!” Ling translated Elroy’s last sentence into Chinese.

Skip and Rusty, having taken over the bridge again, now looked on with concern.  Hans and Ling were in the panic mode.  Sheila was close to it, too.  Elroy had appeared calm on the surface, but was, Abe could see, on the verge of hysteria.  Like Nicole, they might very well explode.  Though they had no visible symptoms of panic, everyone, including himself, were filled with foreboding and dread.

“Shape up, men and women!” he used a different tact. “You’re stellarnauts—emissaries of Earth.  Go into your chambers willingly, with your heads held high.  Don’t make them manhandle you like Nicole!” 

Gandy inspired by Ingrid, put a different spin on her message: “Ling, Hans, Elroy.” Gandy.  Listen to Ingrid.  My people, the Hindus, also believe that life doesn’t end.  We are reborn, in an endless cycle of reincarnation.  She’s right, there is no death!”

“I’m Buddhist, not Christian or Hindu,” Ling replied in a quivering voice. “I never understood that stuff.  Buddhist say there’s no soul, no heaven, only nothingness—what bullshit is that?” 

“It doesn’t matter what you call yourselves!” shouted Ingrid. “Believe and you’re saved!”

“Yes, yes….” Sheila looked around fearfully.  “…. We must believe…. We must believe!”

“La-la-la!  La-la-la!” Carla uttered, her fingers stuffed in her ears.

At that point, Max whispered anxiously, “They have to go under, Abe.  Considering their mood, the sooner the better.  The worst thing that could happen now isn’t forced hibernation.  It’s space psychosis.  That condition is permanent.  You don’t want crewmembers going mad!”

Soon, Hans, and Elroy were clutching themselves tightly and rocking to and fro, as Sheila assumed a fetal position on the floor.  Watching them lapse into deeper levels of hysteria and borderline psychosis, Abe nodded at Max, swallowing hard.

“Captain!” Mbuto poked him gently. “Do something.  This is getting out of hand!”

Clearly, by their wide-eyed expressions, Max, Mbuto, Carla, and Said, were trying desperately to hold it together as the others fill apart.  Torn with emotions for his crew and their mutual dread, Abe gathered his composure, rose up, and shouted at the bridge, “Skip, you told me to take command of the ship.  Okay, you’re in charge now.  You need to crank this process up a notch before this gets out of hand!”

It was, he realized, a serious understatement.  Matters were already out of hand.  Responding calmly now, Skip gave Abe a nod, called Woody up to the bridge, and whispered into his ear.  As Ingrid continued to spout off in the distance, Sandra spoke firmly to her, “That’s enough Doctor Westfall, they get the point!  They can pray for themselves.”  Nodding to Skip, Woody, the enforcer, stepped down from the bridge and, in a loud voice, threatened the panic stricken crew: If you don’t calm down, I’ll sedate you.  You’ll be forced into your chambers like Nicole!”

His words and the look on that cold wooden-like face evidently instilled terror in the fainthearted crewmembers.  Suddenly, there was silence again at the table.  No more doomsday forecasters dared speak.  Even Said, who had been the boldest critics of the androids kept his peace.  Almost unheard now were the trembling words of Sheila Livingston, who, rising up into a sitting position, quoted Ingrid’s childhood prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul shall take.”

Ling clamped her mouth shut with both hands, Elroy and Hans stuffed their fists into their mouths, and Carla laughed hysterically to herself, as Sheila repeated the prayer.  Satisfied that matters were under control, Woody stood back, his hands on his hips, watching their every move.

 

******

After a period of less an hour, which seemed like half the day, Sandra returned to fetch another warm body.  As Abe had hoped, he was the next one on the list.  One-by-one, they would all suffer the final procedure of enclosure as Ingrid had.  Abe heaved a sigh, turned, and smiled bravely at the remaining crew, and tried comforting them one last time.  His comforting words had not helped very much, and yet he repeated them almost verbatim.  It seemed questionable to him, considering the other scientists’ frame of mind, that they really believed Ingrid’s words, but it appeared that Gandy, Mbuto, and Sheila had found some comfort in them.  Wishing desperately that he could discard his own agnosticism now, he thought about Ingrid’s words.  How was it possible, he wondered, that a geologist of her standing, had hidden this side of her until awakening from the dark sleep?  If she could believe, and if Gandy and Mbuto made the effort, why couldn’t he make the attempt?

What was it? he murmured to himself: “Yea, thou I walk through the Valley of the Shadow Death?… What comes after that?”

Try, as he may, as was led by Sandra into the space station, he couldn’t remember India’s prayers, not even that simple prayer, he had learned in childhood, himself.  His head was muddled with so many thoughts that would soon be put indefinitely on hold.

As she helped him undress, Sandra, to his surprise and delight, finished the Twenty-Third Psalm for him. “I will fear no evil:” she purred, pulling the jump suit over his head, for thou art with me, and thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.  Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

Resisting the urge to kiss her, he exclaimed, “That was lovely.  You remembered it perfectly!”

Sandra, however, had spoken the words without emotion.  The vision of seeing a Generation Eight android again transformed into the caring mid-wife was too much for him. Thankful that his crew didn’t see him, Abe allowed himself the cleansing luxury of breaking down in tears.  Sandra continued to prepare him for hibernation.  It happened so quickly and expertly, before he realized it he was in his chamber, ready for hook-up and cryogenic sleep.

Following Ingrid and then Captain Drexel’s example, the crew would suffer the final procedure of enclosure.  Each shipmate would be scanned to make sure his stomach and colon were clear.  If not, they would have to force themselves to vomit and, if necessary, also suffer an enema douche.  As before when their course had been set for Triton, they would then be stripped down and given a brief garment to hide their private parts, and once again climb into their chambers, receive anesthesia, and while unconscious be prepared for cyber sleep. 

Sandra talked to some of the crew as she would to children, reminding them of why they must do it, coaxing them in each step of the way, and, in several cases, with Woody’s assistance, forcing them into their cryogenic chamber against their will.  The anesthesia knocked them out quickly.  Life-support tubes were then attached to the unconscious humans, and the temperature lowered until, with the lid shut, the body remained frozen in suspended animation until awakened one day when Skip had found them a new world.  Time, was irrelevant Sandra reminded each of the humans, as they were tended to one-by-one.  In the dark sleep, a thousand years was no longer than a minute.  The worst part was waking up.  It would be uncomfortable, and traumatic, and yet, as before, they wouldn’t remember this procedure.  Now during the hours that Phoenix’s crew were ushered into hibernation, all they would experience after the initial discomforts of the bodily purge of food and liquids earlier, was a painless shot as they lie in their chambers…. then darkness.  The dark sleep had begun and wouldn’t end until a likely home was found.  While they slept, it would be the caretakers who suffered the boredom of space.

          Of the crewmembers, Sheila, for all her praying, like Elroy, Hans, and Ling had to he forced into her chamber and given the needle quickly to shut her up.  Said, though silent and presenting a fearless facade was, because he struck Woody in the face with his fist, sedated while he was being undressed and then dragged unconscious to his chambers.  For everyone, regardless of their behavior at this time, the anesthesia administered knocked them out quickly.  After this point, the hook-up, which included the intravenous food tube, heart and brain monitors, and what Said called the zombie drug, would not be felt.  At one point, while they were under normal unconsciousness caused by anesthesia, they would fall into the dark sleep and, as Said characterized, become zombies once again.  

Doctor Max Rodgers, who followed Abe, though terrified himself, presented a brave front for everyone.  Gandy, Mbuto, and, in the end, Carla Mendoza, also proved to be stoic and resolved.  The most influential force for compliance was, of course, Woody, who would allow no dissent.  Abe’s last thoughts, which he would not recall, were strangely calm.  He had done all he could for his crew.  If there was a God, he hoped He could read his thoughts.  A mantra filled his brain when it became his turn to be anesthetized and then frozen cryogenically: “Find us a home!…. Find us a home!”

 

******

For Captain Abe Drexel, who, that last moment, looked up searchingly at Sandra’s synthetic face, a feeling of loneliness, more than fear, had overtaken him.  The long-held dread that mankind would be dominated by its machines had been, for this small remnant of humanity, realized.  The Phoenix and its android crew were in control of their lives.  If they failed, this state of unconsciousness would be permanent.  Yet, before the drug was administered, he found himself tranquil and at peace.  He realized he had lived a long, eventful life.  So had the other men and women on this journey.  He had, as the other humans, felt great sadness for Earth, but that was behind them.  Now, there was hope for the future.  He had to believe this.  What Skip told him about the break in communication with mission control had been born out by his own investigation.  There was no question in his mind that the problems on Earth before takeoff had mushroomed into a cataclysmic event.  As for the reassurances by the android captain that they would find a new home, he took that on faith, not reason.  There was no proof whatsoever given by Skip and Rusty that such an Earth-like planet could be found nor was he totally confident of the self-sustaining features of the ship’s fuel and food, disclosed by Skip.  These were facts drawn from the android’s database.  Everything told to them was, in the end, a leap of faith over many light years in space.  That the androids might be lying to them, as Said, Elroy, and Hans suspected, had been put to rest in his mind.  There was no logical reason for them to lie.  They were, in a manner of speaking, all in the same boat… When Sandra approached him with the needle, it made no difference. 

It was apparent that there was nothing behind them…. Earth was history.  All that remained was the odyssey ahead.  The motives of the androids, whether it was really to protect them or for their own self-preservation as they languish in their chambers, was almost a moot point when weighed against the problems of space psychoses and physical degeneration.  If nothing else, he reassured himself, that was averted.  Captain Abraham Drexel had never wanted immortality and yet the thought intrigued him…. He had, for the first time in his life, prayed to his distant god.  Then it happened to him, too.  Remembering the tale of Rip Van Winkle, the man who went to sleep and awakened many years later with a long, gray beard, he laughed softy when he felt the needle, and was plunged into darkness.  Sandra checked his vital signs to make sure they were functioning, hooked him up to his intravenous feeding tube, life support lines, and cryogenic drug, turn down the temperature, and then, glancing once more at Abe’s sleeping face, shut the lid.  For Captain Abraham Drexel and the crew of the Phoenix who followed, the dark sleep had begun.

 

******

          When the last lid was shut, Sandra and Woody inspected all twelve of the cryogenic chambers meticulously.  Faithfully, as Skip navigated and Rusty piloted the Phoenix, they would watch over the crew, making sure that the intravenous food tubes, life support lines, and cryogenic feed readings were correct and the temperature inside the chambers remained unchanged.  The men and women of the Triton Project’s aborted effort to explore Neptune’s dark moon, lie peacefully in their enclosures, eyes shut, hands folded on their chests as if in caskets ready for burial.  What separated them from the dead were the life-support monitors on each chamber, all indicating normal readouts.  What kept them alive were the tubes connected to their bodies which fed and hydrated them, the temperature which preserved them, the cryogenic drug that kept them in a deep, comatose state, and a special tube for bodily waste and urine which emptied into containers in back of the chambers and was dumped each day.  It was a never ending task for the medics, who, unlike their human charges, never complained and never had a moment’s rest.   

Satisfied with their efforts today, Sandra and Woody returned to the conference room where Skip and Rusty waited.  Unable to show human emotion, except for perfunctory gestures and tones, they nevertheless resembled their human counterparts in their speech and mannerisms. 

          “The humans are asleep,” Woody announced, standing at attention. “The chambers indicate normal readings.  They will be monitored each hour.”

          “Many of them believe they won’t wake up,” Sandra reminded their leader.

          “Yes.” Skip nodded. “It’s not whether they will awaken, but when.” “Come,” he motioned to the two. “While you were at your tasks, something happened.  Rusty and I have already watched the message.” 

          As they stood around the captain’s console, Skip pointed to the computer.  In the black background of the screen, was a message listed from earth.  Pressing the video recorded communication, the unshaven face of Thomas Wayland, the director of the Triton Project, appeared against a background of hallow-eyed bedraggled men and women, standing silently as he delivered his message.  Listening and watching the pre-recorded broadcast, Sandra and Woody stood in respectful silence displaying little emotion, and yet a frown seemed frozen on Skip’s face. 

“When you get this transmission,” the director began solemnly, “I might be dead.  Hopefully, with the androids help, you will one day be standing on the bridge alive, ready to land on a new world.   Because of the electromagnetic blackout here, I was unable to send a message until today.  In the Southern Hemisphere, where our convoy moves southward, I’ve been able to do just that.  But there’s little time.  Finally, the powers that be have done it.  The earth that you once knew is finished.  In the event of such a cataclysmic even, I instructed the androids not to awaken you.  Because of the bombs, which caused a world-wide blackout, we couldn’t communicate with the Phoenix, but now there is a brief window in the Southern Hemisphere.  On the side of the road, near a grove of hardwood trees, I’ve found a meadow where unpolluted water still flows through.  Frankly, at this point, I don’t even know where we are.  This is the first and might be the last transmission.  Attempting to enter the earth’s atmosphere would be suicide now.  My final orders to you all is do not to return!

Thomas Wayland now paused, fighting back tears.  The once smartly dressed, clean-shaven, and dapper director that the androids remembered so well was now, along with members of his staff, a mere shell of himself, a fugitive from a nuclear apocalypse, trying to escape the radioactive clouds drifting from the north.  Drawing close to the camera capturing this moment, he called out the Generation Eight androids’ names: “Skip, Rusty, Sandra, and Woody.” “This message is for you,” his voice broke, “You are the caretakers of mankind…. When the Phoenix reaches it’s destination—a safe harbor to begin anew, you may waken the crew and break the news to them.  They have countless worlds to pick from.  Since you, the caretakers, are seeing this message first, I leave with you this communication—the last from planet earth.  Take care of this remnant of mankind.  Their fate is in your hands.  The clone specimens you were instructed to take from the crew are humanity’s last hope!’” 

“That message is only eight hours old, sir,” Rusty announced. “Shall we reply?”

“Yes.” Skip placed a hand on his shoulder. “Inform the director that everything’s in order: the crew are asleep and the Phoenix will begin its search.  Tell him we’re sorry for Earth’s misfortune, but the humans are in good hands.  With the specimens taken earlier, the human race  is safe.  Because of conditions in Earth’s atmosphere, the message to the director may or may not be received, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s up to us now.  Mankind’s fate is in our hands.  Following our directives and the star-map, we’ll search until we find an Earth-like world.”

          His hands clasped behind his back, Skip, the android captain of the Phoenix, looked out of the great window that moment.  Sitting down in the captain’s chair finally, he once again took command of the ship.  While they searched the cosmos, Sandra and Woody would continue monitoring the sleeping humans.  While they kept watch over their charges, and the captain and pilot navigated the ship, the Phoenix headed away from Neptune into the unknown.

In a monotone voice, Skip spoke into the computer’s database, “Space Log, 2100 hours, October 17th 2458.  The ship’s company are safe and secure.  All indicators are normal except the link with Earth.  Our last communication came in belatedly from the dying world from Director Thomas Wayland.  We can’t go back now, only forward.  We’re on our own!” 

          “Where to sir?” Rusty beamed. “We have a list of possible destinations.  Should I pick the first one on the list?”

          “Perhaps.” Skip seemed to sigh. “We have plenty of time to decide—centuries, perhaps millenniums.  For now, Rusty, it’s just out.  Take us into deep space!”

 

 

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