Fuzzy. Headache. Dry mouth. Eyes blurry. The taste of cheap beer lingers. Memories of a cheap bar on a back street surface— A woman was flirting, her hair a vague shade between blonde and brown. Her accent? It morphed in my memory from French to South African, then settled on Scottish—distinctly Scottish and brimming with confidence. Was she a doctor, a physicist, or both?
The fog in my mind begins to lift. My eyes focus. The room I find myself in is not the cheap bar but a bedroom. It bears no sign of the confident Scottish doctor or physicist. The bedroom is minimalist, dominated by clean lines and chrome finishes. The bed is simple yet comfortable, adorned with white sheets and a pillow.
I sit upright, placing my feet on the floor, which feels smooth, neither warm nor cold under my feet. The texture isn’t metallic, nor is it plastic—it’s firm yet somehow spongy. My clothes have changed; gone are my checkered shirt, blue faded jeans, and cowboy boots, replaced by pristine white overalls. A black stitched name tag with ‘Captain Mack’ in yellow letters adorns my left breast, indicating my rank and surname.
Suddenly, the bedroom is bathed in a soft purple light. A door, previously unnoticed, whooshes open, revealing a corridor that mirrors the room’s clean, minimalist chrome aesthetic. Compelled, I rise from the bed to explore, certain of one thing—I am no longer in a backstreet bar in downtown New York.
The corridor is sleek, cylindrical, and slightly narrow, illuminated by the same soft purple light. My surroundings are neither cold nor warm but somehow just…perfect. The air is fresh and invigorating. Clarity returns, and my headache nearly vanishes, though my mouth remains parched—not from the beer, but as if drugged. Could the flirtatious Scottish woman be responsible? And if so, why bring me to what seems like a scientific facility?
“Hello?” My voice does not echo down the corridor; instead, it falls dead, smothered by the sterile environment. “Where am I?”
From nowhere and everywhere, a soft feminine voice responds, “Good evening, Captain John Mack. You are aboard the Hephaestus, and I am your onboard AI assistant, Zenith. For more formal human interactions, you may call me Zen.”
“What the hell is the Hephaestus?” I stop, turning in vain to locate the source of the voice named Zenith, fully aware of the futility as she is a computer system, not a person.
“Hephaestus was the Greek god of fire, craftsmanship, and was the son of Zeus and Hera. Known for his physical disability, he played a role in resolving a conflict between his parents.”
“Thanks for the mythology lesson,” I interject. “But what is the Hephaestus, exactly?”
“The Hephaestus is a hyperspace exploration module, the brainchild of Dr. Allison Walker and her team of astrophysicists, known as The Oracles.”
A flash of memory— the backstreet bar, the taste of cheap beer, a drunken introduction. “My name’s Allison,” a soft Scottish accent returns to me. “Or, as my friends call me, Dr. Walker.”
“Dr. Walker, huh?” I recall slurring. “What are you a doctor of?”
“The great unknown and the unexplored.”
“You can get a doctorate in anything these days,” I quipped. “I’m John. But my friends call me Mack.”
“Captain John Mack of the 101st Airborne Division. You served two tours in Iraq and three in Afghanistan, receiving the Medal of Honor and the Silver Star for gallantry during your first tour in Iraq, and the Bronze Star Medal for heroic achievement during your third tour in Afghanistan…”
“You know a lot about me, lady,” I hiccup.
“It’s my job to know things.”
“I thought you were a doctor of the great unknown and the unexplored,” I laugh.
“That too…” The memory of Dr. Walker evaporates from my mind.
“Zen, what the hell am I doing here?” I snipe.
“If you would like to proceed to the bridge, I will inform you of the mission you agreed to participate in…”
“Whoa, I don’t recall signing up for anything. The last thing I remember is getting blackout drunk in a seedy bar.”
“Please proceed to the bridge, Captain Mack. Once there, I will brief you on the mission Dr. Walker and The Oracles have prepared for you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, setting off in search of the bridge.
The corridor is longer than I expected it to be. But then again, how long had I expected the corridor of a hyperspace exploration module to be? I suppose by now I should have panicked at the thought of hurtling through space rather than having my feet firmly planted on planet Earth. But I don’t easily panic. The US Army has trained me both mentally and physically not to falter under pressure. I won’t lie about my situation. I wasn’t entirely pleased to have been drugged and kidnapped by Dr. Allison Walker and her team, known as the Oracles, and to find myself aboard the Hephaestus. Although Zen informed me I had agreed to participate in Dr. Walker’s mission.
“About time,” I mutter as I near the end of the corridor, and a door, previously invisible, swishes open. “Well, I’ll be damned,” I say as I step onto the bridge of the Hephaestus. “It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie.”
“Dr. Walker and her team took inspiration from the Starship Enterprise, from the popular TV show and motion picture franchise Star Trek,” Zen informed me.
“I was more of a Star Wars fan,” I quip. “I would have preferred the Millennium Falcon, if I’m honest.”
“The design of the Millennium Falcon isn’t sufficient or practical for a hyperspace exploration module. I can show you Dr. Walker’s thesis and the team’s prototype designs if you wish, Captain Mack.”
“I’ll pass. Maybe we can save it for a rainy day, Zen.”
“There is no rain in space due to…”
“I know,” I sigh. “I was joking.” It’s at that moment I fully take in the bridge of the Hephaestus. I count at least seven workstations with state-of-the-art consoles. Then I notice four huge monitors dotted around the bridge, adorned with information I have yet to understand. “Zen, how many people are on the Hephaestus?”
“On the Hephaestus, there are eight flight crew including yourself, six flight engineers, four medical crew, three academics, and twenty-six civilians,” Zen said.
“That’s forty-seven people,” I say. “Where is everyone?”
“Their sleeping pods are programmed to wake them in the next forty minutes, with ten-minute intervals per person to be activated from their hyper-sleep.”
“Sleeping pod? I didn’t have a sleeping pod. I awoke in a bed.” In the center of the bridge was an inviting black plush chair that I assumed was the captain’s chair. I sat down, and it was the most comfortable chair I had ever experienced, as if I was sitting on fresh, cool air.
“You were moved from your sleeping pod and prepped for awakening by an S-Class Med-Droid, Captain Mack.”
“What in the world is an S-Class Med-Droid? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know just yet.” I stare out what I assume is the observation window, but it’s murky grey, and I can’t see a thing. “Zen, show me where we are.” The murky greyness quickly disappeared, and before me was nothing but infinite space and infinite stars.
“We are currently stationed in the Carax-3B Sector,” Zen said. “Our estimated time of arrival at Earth Alpha is approximately four months.”
“Earth Alpha?” My brain struggles to process the infinite space before me. “Zen, be straight with me, will you?”
“I will try to perform your request to the best of my abilities, Captain Mack.”
“How long have I been aboard the Hephaestus?”
“The Hephaestus departed your home planet, now referred to as Earth Major, six years ago.”
“Six years!” I hoist myself from the captain’s chair and make my way over to the observation window. I press my hands against the glass, and my mind whirls with questions. “You can’t be serious, Zen.”
“I am programmed not to lie, Captain Mack. It’s not within my parameters to deceive. You were in hyper-sleep for six years, ten months, twenty-six days, three hours, and forty-three seconds.”
“This can’t be happening. This has to be a bad dream.”
“Would you like me to show you the presentation Dr. Walker has prepared for you? It might assure you that you’re not in an unpleasant dreamlike state, Captain Mack.”
I smashed my hands against the observation glass and screamed. I smashed my hands against the glass again. “I don’t want a presentation, Zen. I want to go home.”
“Earth Major is no longer your home, Captain Mack,” Zen said, devoid of any emotion or concern for my well-being. “Earth Alpha will be your new homeland. You and the rest of the Hephaestus crew will be known as The First Settlers.”
“First Settlers. Earth Alpha. Dr. Walker,” I seethed. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“That is a false statement, Captain Mack,” Zen said. “Please take a look at the screen to your left.”
I pulled away from the observation glass, my blood boiling with rage, and the pain in my head returned slightly. I looked at the screen as instructed by Zen. “These are my discharge forms from the army. What about them?”
“I’ve highlighted Section 4.3b, Paragraph 19, Subsection 4 of the Obligation to the Nation Request. You can see your signature, Captain Mack.”
“I see it,” I said faintly. “I don’t remember signing this, but then again, it was nearly ten years ago.”
“Would you like me to summarise the section for you?”
“Yeah, that might help.” I tried to read the small typed writing but my eyes hurt doing so.
“To summarise, Section 4.3b, Paragraph 19, Subsection 4 of the Obligation to the Nation Request stipulates that if you are unmarried with no children, dependents, or living family members and the United States of America needs your services, you waive all rights to your freedom and free will and sign your well-being to the Cause.”
“What the hell is the Cause, Zen?” I asked in utter disbelief at what I had just been told.
“The survival of the human race, Captain Mack.”
Just then, a faint memory briefly returned. Dr. Allison Walker was lecturing me on how my skill set was paramount to ensure the success of her mission. As quickly as the memory came, it went again. Was that conversation really six years ago? It still feels like it only happened a few hours ago. “I don’t want to see a presentation by Dr. Walker or her cronies,” I seethed. “I want to talk to the doctor face-to-face.”
“That request is impossible, Captain Mack. I cannot complete that task.”
“Why? Is the mad scientist already on Earth Alpha?”
“Dr. Allison Walker died six years, ten months, twenty-four days, seven hours, and twelve seconds ago…”
“Whoa, she’s dead.”
“That information is correct, Captain Mack. Dr. Walker was found unconscious in her bathtub with fatal self-inflicted wounds to her wrists.”
“The doc killed herself.”
“The coroner found no foul play. So, your diagnosis is correct. Dr. Walker took her own life a day after you were placed in hyper-sleep aboard the Hephaestus.”
“Why?” I sat back down in the captain’s chair. “Why would she do that?”
“Dr. Walker left no note to explain her actions. Her superiors speculate her mission may have taken too much of a mental strain on her being.”
I sighed, rubbing my fingers across the now throbbing vein in my head. “I’m screwed either way, Zen, aren’t I? I’m stuck on the Hephaestus whether I like it or not. I’m never going home to Earth Major, am I?”
“The statement you have provided is correct, Captain Mack. Your objective to become First Settlers on Earth Alpha is a one-way mission.”
I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into balls of rage. I wanted to tear the bridge of the Hephaestus apart. I wanted to lay my hands on the now deceased Dr. Allison Walker and beat the living shit out of her (even though I don’t believe in violence against women). But I won’t get that chance, will I? She’s six years dead, and I’m millions of miles away from home.
“Your heart rate has increased significantly since I informed you of Dr. Walker’s passing,” Zen said. “Would you like to retire to your bed station for some therapeutic massage delivered by an S-Class Med-Droid?”
“No,” I snapped. “I don’t.” I rubbed the throbbing vein in my head. “If I’m stuck on this godforsaken ship for another four months, you can tell me who my crew is made up of.”
“Certainly, Captain Mack. Would you like me to show you who will be your Second Command?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” I grumbled as the throbbing vein still persisted.
“Lieutenant Catherine Garvey…”
“You’re joking!” I almost choked with shock. “You can’t be serious?”
“It’s not within my parameters to make jokes, Captain Mack. I have no concept of humour.”
“I don’t care about your parameters, Zen. Do you know who Lieutenant Garvey is?”
“Yes, I do have that information. You and Lieutenant Garvey were once married for two years. According to my records, the marriage ended after Lieutenant Garvey had an affair with your father. You were arrested for assault upon your father, in which you broke his nose. My records show that before you left Earth Major, you hadn’t conversed with Lieutenant Garvey for almost five years.”
“Not everything is in your records, Zen,” I sniped. “Other things happened too.”
“Would you like me to add these other things to my database?”
“No. I wouldn’t.” Just then, I heard the door of the bridge swish open.
“Captain Mack,” Zen announced, “your Second Command has just arrived.”
“Hello, Cate,” I said through clenched teeth. I refused to turn in my chair to look at the woman who ruined my life.
“John, it’s been some time,” my ex-wife said as cold as ever.
“Some would say not long enough, Cate.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
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6 comments
very interesting, good take on the prompt
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Thanks for the feedback, Suzanne! Glad you enjoyed the story.
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Nice work on this prompt! Man what a horrible fate to be condemened to, stuck with your ex of all things.
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Thanks for the feedback! Glad you liked the story
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Fine work again, Martin. The details you put in here made the story come alive. Great job!
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Cheers for the kind comments!
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