SG: Aurora #45 - Above and Beyond (Part Nine of Nine)

Frobozz frobozz at eyrie.org
Sat May 27 17:34:08 PDT 2006


CONTINUED FROM PART EIGHT

Day 11

    Peterson smelled something -delicious- as he came around. It had been
a long time since he'd awakened to something pleasant, almost ten days
in fact, and he decided that he could get used to the sensation.
    "Hey," said a soft voice. Peterson turned his head, focusing on the
speaker. After a few moments of blinking, his vision managed to resolve
the vague, human shape into one trooper Chambers, who was seated on the
chair next to his bedside.
    "Medbay, right?" croaked Peterson, wishing his throat didn't feel as
if he'd just come in second at the local cotton baton swallowing
competition. He gratefully accepted a sip of the water that Chambers
held out for him, which at least cut the feeling in his throat, though
by no means cleared it out. "Just can't keep me out of this place."
    "Right," she replied, sounding a little reluctant to move beyond the
monosyllables. Peterson frowned, realising that the woman hadn't met his
eyes once during the whole minute that he'd been awake. Finally she
spoke again. "Don't try to move. Not that you could, you're bound up
tighter than an SF star in a Creations contract."
    "Oh yeah," replied Peterson, realising that his legs were elevated
and in casts. "The whole broken bones thing."
    "Yeah. Don't worry though. You'll be skiing on the Alps in no time."
    "Oh goodie, you mean I finally get some vacation time?"
    Chambers snorted, trying to maintain the air of feeling amused. "I
don't think that any of us will have time off for a while. We broke all
our toys and now we need to clean up the playroom."
    "Mommy will just buy us new ones," Peterson sighed at the thought,
leaning back. "Well since you're not here with an armed guard watching
over you, I'm going to assume either we won or..." He paused, then shook
his head, not wanting to bring up a bad topic. "We won."
    "Yes," sighed Chambers. "We won. The door is closed until we open it
again, and we're going to. We can't just let that pot keep boiling over.
How long before they find another way to get through a crack? Maybe we
can do something, pull off a miracle. Like convincing a whole world that
thinks we're insane that we're not."
    "I wonder if we could dig up Henry Kissinger for that one."
    "We might need to clone him a few dozen times, but maybe." Chambers
smiled faintly, still avoiding Peterson's eyes. The smile grew strained.
"They mostly lost the will to fight, Peterson. We cut the strings. It
was easy after that. A few resisted, but they were scattered.
Disorganized. They were acting out of anger and not discipline. It--"
    "I'm sorry," interrupted Peterson, wishing that he could say
something which didn't sound so hollow. "I wish it was the other way
around..."
    "I didn't think I could do it, Al. When I saw her, I knew I was going
to freeze. I couldn't do that to a child. But then, when you gave the
word..."
    "You saved me. You saved everyone."
    "I know. That's what makes it worse. People will keep telling me that
I did the right thing."
    "Chambers..."
    "I -know-," she snapped, finally meeting Peterson's eyes. Her own
were filled with so much anger and self-loathing that Peterson had to
force himself not to look away. "I know. It was the right thing for
everyone. The good of the many was served. But I'm not sure how the one
is going to be able to deal with it."
    Peterson nodded, knowing better than to speak now.
    "I'm going to have to see someone about this. A professional. Someone
who isn't biased. That's going to be hard as Hell(tm), isn't it? How am
I going to find anyone who won't want to cheer me on for pulling that
trigger?"
    She rose, looking at Peterson. "But there's one more thing."
    Peterson nodded, meeting her gaze again. "Go ahead. I'm listening."
    Chambers took a deep breath, clutching her hands together. "I'm
trying to let this go. I'm trying. But... the thing is... you... I know
it's not your fault, but... " She gritted her teeth, forcing out the
truth. "You... gave the order."
    "I know."
    "I know I said I'd do it. I volunteered for the job. I knew that it
would be hard. But..."
    "But that doesn't mean you can forgive me for taking you up on it."
    Chambers turned away before nodding. Peterson dropped his head back
against the pillow.
    "S'okay, Chambers," he said, after several moments, feeling something
that could have been wonderous pass away. Like she said, the good of the
many had been served. And all it had taken was the sacrifice of one of
the most beautiful, brightest souls he'd ever known. Peterson wondered
if he would ever feel clean again. "Promise me something, though?"
    "Y-yes?"
    "If you ever do work it out. If you ever do manage to forgive me,
give me a call, okay? Just... let me know. When you do. If you do."
    "Okay," whispered Chambers, nodding. "I need to go. I'm sorry. I
wanted to be here to tell you, but..."
    "S'okay. Go. You've had a rough time of things."
    "So've you."
    Peterson smiled faintly, but didn't otherwise answer her. Chambers
walked out the door and likely out of his life forever.
    "Mental note," Peterson sighed to the ceiling. "Life? You are a total
bitch."

***

    Day 25

    Doyle glanced up from his paperwork at the approaching sound of a
whirring motor. Paperwork, he sighed. There were some benefits to having
a body again, but paperwork was -not- one of them. He'd be so glad when
his technical division finally got the computer systems up and running
again. Not being able to finish off a day's work in an hour was
beginning to take its toll on his reputation of being miraculous
manager.
    "Peterson," he said, as the trooper's motorized wheelchair buzzed
into the office. Though Peterson was finally out of bed, his legs still
had plenty of healing to do. Despite himself, Doyle couldn't resist.
"Don't bother rising."
    "Oh gosh," Peterson mock-gushed, trying to pretend that every last
person who had come to visit him during his convalescence hadn't thought
that particular joke had been absolutely hilarious. "Thanks. Sir."
    "Think nothing of it," replied Doyle, setting his work aside. "You've
done me a favour, so I might as well do you a kindness."
    "Favour?"
    "Yes. You've given me a reason to put off reading through an endless
series of reports for at least a few minutes. I'm fairly sure we've
deforested an entire continent with the paperwork required to rebuild
Aurora. I wish we could think of the monkeys who've lost their homes.
The poor, poor monkeys..."
    "It's a big job. I mean we didn't exactly have neat houseguests."
    "That's putting it mildly. I think there only could have been more
damage if we'd offered the Beanstalk to the Rolling Stones for a
weekend. Oh, speaking of things that don't bear thinking about, did
Graham ever forgive you?"
    Peterson shrugged, grinning wryly. "Not really. He's trying not to
hold a grudge, but I can tell that he wishes it'd been him leading the
charge."
    "You made the right decision, Peterson. Given how much they knew
about us, they probably could have neutralized Graham before he'd even
gotten started. You threw them a wildcard, and that's exactly what we
needed."
    "I know," replied Peterson. "But that's the problem. And that's why
I'm here right now."
    "Why? Don't leave me in suspense, please."
    "I've made a lot of 'right' decisions. But you know, it's amazing how
many of those decisions taste like ashes. Seems that for every right
decision I made, someone hates me for it, but is really really trying to
hold it in."
    "Aha. Peterson, is this about resigning?"
    "Yes."
    "Denied."
    "Hear me out first, please?"
    "Fine," sighed Doyle. "but it's still denied. We need you here.
Aurora needs you now more than ever."
    "I know." Peterson licked his lips before continuing. He had to make
the pitch good, because he didn't know if he could go on should this be
denied. "I've burned a lot of bridges, sir, and half of those bridges
are in my soul. The other half are friends who either can't look at me
or are lying under the ground in a hero's grave. I'm tired of being a
warrior, but I'm not tired of being able to make a difference."
    "I have a feeling I know where this is going."
    "I believe you likely do, sir. We're still on-track to go into the
void, aren't we?"
    Doyle nodded. "More or less. There's still a lot of work to do on it.
We need our computers, we need nations to recognize us and join up, we
need time to finish construction. But yes. Right now, I think there is
nothing we need more than the space program. If our neighbours from 001
taught us anything, it's that what unites us makes us stronger and what
divides us makes us weak. We have the possibility of bringing the world
to the sky and after what's just happened, I can't think of anything
that would unite hearts and minds more than this.
    "And you'd like to go up, wouldn't you Peterson?"
    Peterson nodded as his heart skipped a beat.
    "Yeah. I mean yes, sir. Not... on an in-system ship, though. I can't
do that, sir. I know how important it is for us to have our own defense
force in the sky, but I just can't. I'm sorry. I'm not up to holding the
line any more. I want to push past it."
    "It's fine. Peterson, honestly it's fine. I understand. What you've
been through would realign anyone's priorities. As it happens, we have
one ship on the drawing board that should be finished in just a few
years, which would give you a chance to pick and train up your crew.."
    "Yeah? I'm all ears. Sir."
    Doyle smiled and leaned back, steepling his hands together. It was a
wonderful feeling to be able to offer hope for once. "She's smaller than
the Invader vessels we've been converting over to in-system use, but
she's based on a combination of their tech and our own. She's lightly
armed, nimble as Hell(tm), and uses the new mark II Glid drives that
Col--" Doyle paused, then bit back the name and pressed on. "That we'd
been working on before the world turned upside-down. She's meant for
long-range exploration, cartography and scouting."
    "I love her already, sir. Is she named yet?"
    Doyle nodded. "We've decided to name the class 'Valhalla'."
    "And the ship?"
    Doyle smiled a touch, looking wistful. "She'll be the 'Carol Trent'.
Unless of course you have any objections to that."
    "Damn," replied Peterson, shaking his head at the thought of
objecting to the name. "Now I -really- love her."
    "Take good care of her, Peterson. She deserves the best."
    "She'll get it. When can I start cherry-picking?"
    "Soon as you're on two legs again."
    "I was afraid you'd say that."
    "You've got at least three years to wait before she's ready for you,
Peterson. Think of this as practice."
    "Yes sir," replied Peterson. "And... thank you, sir."
    "I say this without reservation," replied Doyle. "But it was my
pleasure. Are you heading for the medical bay?"
    "Yeah, Honeybear wants me back in there. He wants to make sure I'm
healing."
    "The nerve of the man. I'll go with you. I want to check on Treis."
    "Say hi to him for me," replied Peterson, turning his chair for the
elevator.  Doyle rose and moved alongside him. "Hear much about his
condintion?"
    "Still unchanged", replied Doyle, as the two stepped out of his
office. "But the doctors are optimistic. After all... we're finally
allowed the luxury of hope."
    "Thank God for small favours."
    "Amen, Peterson. Amen."

***

Author's Afterword

    Well, here we are at the end of the last 'true' Aurora arc. Though
the next five issues will still be named Aurora, they'll be reflecting a
general shift towards a new story that I want to tell. I hope you'll
enjoy reading it half as much as I'm going to enjoy writing it.
    It's hard to believe that eleven years have passed since I decided
that I wanted to tell this tale. That's a heck of a long time! Part of
the problem has been that my writing time has been greatly reduced over
the years by jobs and having a personal life. And part of the problem
has been that I've just needed this long to really get around to telling
this tale. I suppose everything has its season and this arc had to come
out when it would come out.
    There are changes ahead. Other super groups have gone to the stars,
but now humanity as a whole is reaching out for them. I'm excited about
the stories that I can tell.

    I'd like to thank Todd Perlmutter, Chris Meadows, James Rinehart,
Keith Martin, Eric Burns, Jon Robertson, Gary Olson, Daniel Pawtowski
and Mason Kramer - all of whom lent me their characters for the final
battle against Gladiator. This issue just wouldn't have been the same
without them. Aurora has always been about the strength of the group and
I would have felt as though I'd failed that message if I'd done
everything myself.
    Besides, it's always cool to get the band back together for another
gig.
    I want to give a very, very special thank you to the Readers, without
whom this would all be meaningless. Thank you for being there and thank
you for sharing in this with all of us. You make writing worthwhile.
    Well, that's me for now! Please look forward to Aurora #46 which will
be out... whenever it's out. Until then, keep watching the skies! I'll
be sneaking away on the ground.

    Chris 'Frobozz' Angelini

***

This issue is mine, mine, mine and you can't have it. Nyah and copyright
belongs to Frobozz/Chris Angelini, 2006. Mess with my legal rights and
I'll send over Gggthstx to discuss 'fair use' with you. Email to
frobozz at eyrie.org. Homepage at http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz.

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

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