Variations on a ThemeSponsored By Paper Ships & Poetic Joy Variations on a Theme is a new "regular" feature for the Pan Historian. As we were putting together the Sci-Fi edition, Lady Isabella suggested going to the writing Reference Books Paper Ships and Poetic Joy and asking them if they'd be willing help us publish some poetry and short stories on the Sci-Fi theme written by members of Pan. The idea was embraced by both Reference Books and Poetic Joy put out a request especially for this issue. Paper Ships on the other hand turned the Sci-Fi theme over to their members as one of their regular writing assignments. Each then selected the two best from the submissions made to them. So, without further ado, we bring you Lemon Wafers by Asha, In the Wake of Terrible Hours by Jick Hambleton, Ad Astra by Isobel Delgardo and Blue Planet Blues by Summer Isle. Lemon Wafersby Asha "Hey. Hey. HEY! Yeah, yeah, you! HEY YOU! Do you have any lemon wafers?" "Shut-up, prisoner." "Hey, c'mon. I got fuzz growin' on my teeth in here!" "Be happy you still got teeth for fuzz to grow on and shut-up." "Well where are we?" "On our way to a prison." "Why?" "Why what?" "Why are you taking me to a prison?" "Right guard 2 reporting. Prisoner 1146 secure, Warden, if a bit mouthy. Moving on to Prisoner 1148." "Hey! HEY! Can't you at least tell me what my name is?" Outside the cell, the guard sighed. "You know I can't do that," he said, then moved on. "Reoprting on block 11, cell 48, Prisoner 1148, Warden. Waiting for report on block 11, cell 47, Prisoner 1147, by left guard 2." 1146 kicked the wall of her cell. Even sitting on her bunk, that was all there was room for her to do. She looked around the cell she was in. It was so small that there wasn't even room for her to lie down and stretch out fully. And at just over five feet tall and just under 100 pounds, she was not a large woman. Or maybe it was girl. She didn't know how old she was, but she didn't have grey hair, and she certainly didn't feel old. But she did know that her teeth felt like they were covered in fur. The whole inside of her mouth felt fuzzy. 1146 looked around her cell. It was the first time that she'd been coherent enough to actually see what was there. Wasn't much, but what there was was pretty effective at keeping you bored out of your mind and thinking about the fuzz on your teeth. And incidentally, how much good a couple of lemon wafers could do you. Four walls, much too close together. That alone told her that whatever had happened, it must have been pretty serious. If she'd been put into a cell this small, she'd obviously been mindwiped, so that the people who had put her in here wouldn't have to worry about her freaking out from latent claustrophobia. It was dark here, too. So that was why she didn't know who she was or how old. If she'd woken up in a hospital, she would have been able to make several different suppositions. An accident, an attack, a disease of some kind affecting the brain, or even just an unexplained memory loss. But she was definately being punished for something that she had done, or been a party to. Well that left only two things because she knew she had been mindwiped, and she knew she was in prison. Whatever she had done or been a part of had either been high treason or mass-murder. 1146 was hoping for treason as opposed to murder, but it didn't take a genius to realize that the two things often went hand in hand. But then, it could have been a mistake. Even though that was relatively unlikely, it was not unheard of and sometimes... "Hey." The whisper seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "Hey, you awake down there? Can you hear me? Can you understand me? Hey? This is 1246. Are you down there?" "Yeah, 1146 awake, alive, and coherent." "Mindwipe's pretty rough, ain't it. Remember coming awake after my own. All of us do. So we make sure we're all okay when we can. You okay?" "Yeah, I'm alright. I don't feel very good right now, though." "Teeth funky?" "Yeah." "What are you?" "What do you mean, what am I?" "Male of female?" "Female." "Male guard?" "Yeah, why?" "Offer him a kiss. Maybe he'll give you a couple of lemon wafers first." "I don't think I want to talk to you anymore, 1246." "Okay. But could you do me a favor? Check on 1046 in the cell below you. It's been a couple of weeks since you were 'wiped, and you were pretty out of it, so we didn't really try all that hard to get anything coherent out of you." "What the hell does that have to do with 1046?" "We don't know if he, she, or it is okay, 'cause we couldn't ask you to check up on him, her, or it while you were recovering from the 'wipe." "Oh. Well, what'ya want me to do when I find out? Want me to tell you?" "Yeah. And I'll pass the word. Thanks, 1146." "Uh, 1246?" "Yeah?" "How do I talk to 1046?" "Get off your bunk and speak into the hole in the floor. You have to look real hard because it's right up against the wall by the corner." 1146 got off of her bunk, and squeezed her way under it. She had to tuck her feet up to her butt and squirm under on her side, but she got to the hole in the floor. "Hey." "Hey?" "You alright down there?" "You alright down there?" "1046?" "1046?" "Hey, you're not m' damn echo, okay?" "Hey you're..." 1146 sighed, and squirmed out from under her bunk. "1246," she said. "Hey, you still up there?" "Still here, and trying to think about what I can do about your teeth." "My guard said we're bein' taken somewhere. I can do something about it then, I guess." "That could take a while since we're on a spaceship." "WHAT!" "Hey, don't yell, it hurts! Whatever they do to us that they call mindwipe, it affects all of us differently. I've become very sensitive to noise. Why the hell do you think I've been whispering? And did you do what I asked you? How's 1046?" "Whatever's down there, it just keeps repeating back everything that I say to it. Tell me exactly what you mean when you say that we're on a spaceship." 1246 chuckled. "What exactly did you have trouble understanding? We are on a ship that travels through space, and since we've all been mindwiped, I guess that we're going to a prison colony." "But they can't do that. I love Earth." "Do you remember Earth?" "Well...no." "1246 sighed. "Well, there isn't anything we can do, not about the ship, and not about 1046 either. Do you have anything else you need to know right now?" "No." "Well, I'm gonna go to sleep then. Not much else to do in these boxes." "Yeah, me too, I guess. There's not even enough room in here to nod your head and scratch your ass at the same time." 1146 was almost asleep when she heard a noise at her door. It sounded like a small animal scratching to be let in. "1146?" The hoarse whisper came from near the bottom of the door. "1146, come on! I'm squattin' down here under camera range, and m'knees is 'bout t' go." 1146 thought for a moment, wanting to get the 'name' right. "Right guard 2?" she asked. "Yeah, girlie. There's a hidden panel at the bottom of your door. Press it in and slide it to the right." "Why?" "So it'll open. Don't worry, it's too small for me to get through." It sounded like he was smiling. "Why should I open this panel? I'm sure there's plenty you could do to me without gettin' in here if you wanted to do...something." "1146, do you want these lemon wafers or not?" In the Wake of Terrible Hoursby Jick Hambleton Chris Frost stepped out of his quarters aboard the HMS Essex and walked slowly down the decks. He did not use the elevators. This was not a time for machines; it was a moment for human reflection. Along the way, he took in his surroundings, watched while repairs were carried out, meals were eaten and company was enjoyed. He allowed his frown to soften. The ship was returning to life; the healing process well advanced; the battle over. His journey took him down through a thronged canteen and a badly scorched recreation area. He passed many crewmen. None yelled at him or pointed. With each step, his paranoia ebbed. As his confidence grew, he passed through busy parts of the ship, gauging his ability to see people, testing his guilt against the living. Those who might accuse him. As he passed the door to Titan squadron’s briefing room, a voice hailed him. ‘Doctor.’ He turned and looked through the door. The room was dimly lit by emergency lighting. Repair crews filed through the small room into the vast hangar beyond. Through the cracked glass of the hangar overview, Chris could see the ruptured deck of the squadron’s egress point. Small fires burned in isolation. An officer picked his way around the various tools, wires and tubes that now lay scattered across the deck. Lieutenant Commander Bors Nillson stepped out of the darkness and spoke again. ‘Dr Frost. I’m glad I ran into you. I was planning on coming to sick bay next. Are things under control in the medical section?’ He pondered his answer. ‘Things are operating correctly now, lieutenant commander.’ ‘You make it sound like that has not always been the case,’ said the first officer. Chris nodded. ‘At the last count we had 114 dead, 23 on the critical list and another 50 or more who won’t see active service for at least another year. Medical has not had a good couple of days.’ ‘Nevertheless, doctor. I’m sure you and your team did your best.’ ‘Looking at the casualty list and then around the ship it is hard to see it that way, sir.’ The first officer nodded and glanced over his shoulder at the wrecked starfighter hangar. ‘I think it was Wellington who said the only thing more miserable than a battle lost, is a battle won. Before today I didn’t see his point. But now I feel different.’ They watched as an engineer carved a hole in a buckled deckplate with a laser torch, sparks splashed as the young man cut through the metal. ‘And where do you go now?’ asked Nillson. ‘To make my peace.’ Nillson nodded and turned back to the repair crews. After a moment, Chris resumed his journey. On the next deck down he passed a quiet lounge and watched as a handful of off-duty officers from mixed service branches attempted to relax. An unrecognisable tune played softly in the background but was drowned out by conversation and occasionally forced laughter. Chris marvelled at this indication of the crew’s powers of recovery. Were these the same people who had been at battle stations 12 hours earlier? As he strained to make out faces in the dark, Sabine Thiessen appeared at the door. She squeezed past as a group of crewmen entered, whispering her apologies as she jogged arms and shoulders. Chris watched as she approached. ‘Dr Thiessen, how pleasant. Is this how the other half relax while they are off duty?’ She smiled and glanced back at the noisy crowd. ‘Oh no. I think they are in a celebratory kind of mood. Thankful to be alive, I guess. And you sir? Are you adhering to my prescription? Are you on your way to see the ship’s counsellor?’ ‘In a manner of speaking, yes, I am.’ ‘I’m pleased. You should not blame yourself. Many died in the battle but that is the nature of war, especially in a hard environment like space. You could not have saved them all.’ He smiled awkwardly, unsure how to accept good advice from a subordinate. Sabine continued. ‘You led us well. If anyone is to blame for the deaths it is the generals who started the war.’ There was another pause that he found himself unable to fill. She spoke again. ‘You should come back up here later. Perhaps you can meet a few of the medical team in slightly less formal surroundings.’ ‘I would like that, Sabine. Thank you.’ She smiled again. This time it was her turn to feel awkward as the extent of her boldness sank in. At last, she pointed over her shoulder. ‘I’d better get back.’ ‘I understand. Have fun.’ Chris watched her pony tail flick from side to side as she vanished back into the melee. He had enjoyed her smile. It had warmed him but it did not deflect him from his task. He turned away from the lounge and started down the ship again. Finally his excursion ended in the forward observation lounge. He entered the wide space and walked slowly up to the vast window that spanned the width of the room. He marvelled once again that the toughened glass had survived the battle, although engineers had reassured him many times that the plate was as tough as the ship’s hull. He approached the window and gazed out on the cosmos. Below and to his right lay the devastated world of Effa. He stared around the nightly vista but could not see its moon, only the occasional sparkles of debris from the battle as it caught the sun’s rays. While he looked, a squadron of starfighters blasted from their hangar in the belly of the ship before pulling a sharp turn that twisted their formation and sent them darting below the hull. Chris’s eyes followed their path before losing them in the glare from the planet below. Around the ship, other tiny vessels darted to and fro, carrying engineers to external damage, ferrying senior officers between the HMS Essex and the rest of the fleet or patrolling the dangerous depths of the system. The area just beyond the glass was a hive of activity, which could not be said of the area immediately behind it. The obs lounge was empty but for Chris and a woman at the far end. She sat with her arms wrapped round her drawn-up legs and her knees resting inches from the glass. He could not see whether her eyes were open but he recognised the signals of someone who wanted to be left alone. He hoped he was transmitting some too. He moved further away from the woman and sat down near the window. He glanced around once more to ensure his privacy was total. Satisfied, he looked out again. ‘I’ve had a bad few days, Kirsten.’ He whispered. ‘A lot of people have died and I probably could have saved them.’ He fell quiet for a moment. ‘I didn’t think this would happen to me again but it has. And this time you’re not here to help. You probably think I’m being melodramatic. "Same old, Frost, worrying about how others think of him," you’d say. But I’m not. It’s been bad, Kirsten. In many ways, even worse than what happened to us on the Dreadnought, what happened to you.’ He took a deep breath and looked around again. The woman at the far end had gone. He had not heard her leave. He was completely alone in the obs lounge. He pondered that concept. Completely alone. Yes, he thought, I am. ‘I’m not sure what I’m seeking, Kirsten. I thought if I could put into words what had happened here, put into words for you, I might make some sense of it. Or at least feel better about it compared to what has gone before. I’m trying to make my peace. And you’re not here to help me do it this time.’ He looked out at the stars and ships spinning around the heavens and waited for a reply that would never come. ‘The medical teams here are first rate. I mean, superb. They worked tirelessly and endlessly, some of them performing tasks they had never done before. It was a privilege to work with them. Yet still so many of the crew died. It is a difficult juxtaposition. The professionalism of the medical staff aligned with such a death toll. I believe it could have been much worse. But it could have been much better. For that, I blame myself.’ He paused again. ‘I bumped into a woman on my way here – a young doctor. She reminds me of you. She said some sensible things about the nature of medicine amid the heat of battle. You’d say, "She has a wise head on those young shoulders". But, I wonder, has she really? Here we are in the aftermath of a horrific battle and we bravely carry on as though nothing had happened. Is that the wise thing to do? Would a truly wise being put the immediate past behind them and concentrate on getting the lights on F deck working again. Shouldn’t we aspire to something better? ‘I don’t know whether or not I can do this again. I’m used to picking up the pieces on an individual scale but these vast conflicts and the unceasing damage they cause drain me. You’re not here to help. Maybe I feel this way because you’re not here and nor will you ever be because of what happened on the Dreadnought at Gamma Sigma Tau Five.’ He stopped for a moment and watched as a shuttle burst from the nearby USS Constitution. It speared away from the cruiser and plummeted towards the planet’s surface. Peace talks, surmised Chris, as his eye followed the tiny dot of light until it was absorbed into the atmosphere. He spoke again. ‘In truth, wisdom can only come with experience. And the experience of the last few days has shown me how little wisdom I possess. Nevertheless, Sabine’s words were good. They were rational and hinted at a truth lurking behind the heavy emotions of the moment. I think you’d like her, Kirsten. You’d probably pretend to hate her but only because she’s like you. I think, deep down, you’d like her. ‘I’m going to listen to her this one last time.’ He stood and placed a hand on the glass. ‘Don’t think I won’t be listening to you, too. I just need someone to actually hear what I have to say and occasionally reply.’ He turned from the pane and edged towards the door. He glanced one last time at the spinning debris and shook his head. Ad Astraby Isobel Delgado "To the stars!" the Captain cried Past the moon we hurtled on We floated out in silent space As we sailed toward another star We tumbled back to earth and then Blue Planet Bluesby Summer Isle Blue
swirl of ocean motion Yellow smear of sullen sun Green swatch of bungled jungle |
