Dawnbreak Ch 1-3
DAWNBREAK
By: Rebecca Mickley
Edited By: Kat Luck
When I was growing up, most other girls wanted a pony, but not me.
I wanted to be a sea otter.
It was a fantasy, a hope; a secret inner identity that I quickly learned, through the blood sport cruelty of childhood social existence, to keep to myself, my daydreams and my drawings.
My identity calcified around that one fact, and so I quietly grew apart. I wanted to be a sea otter, but to my mind and my heart, I already was; I was just stuck living a human experience.
It was my deepest truth, my most hidden belief. How could anyone understand something so alien, so different, as not identifying with the species you were born with?
And so I hid. Hiding became a way of life, and I soon became addicted to its convenience. There was no reason to reach out, no reason to share that hidden part of myself and risk the pain, until suddenly, there was.
I was in the nursing program at Ohio State University, but was doing a summer internship at Jerusalem Fleet Academy. The Earth military was actively recruiting, and it was one of a few ways to pay for college.
The program was a bust; I found out I was unfit for military life, but elected to tough it out; a summer in Jerusalem, even with inspections, was infinitely better than Columbus, Ohio.
Still, the summer dragged on; moments of freedom punctuated by long periods of ritual and military routine, until the fateful day when I met John Dawkins.
We had been paired up on a blind date together and got to talking. One thing led to another, and then, there was something, besides avoiding Columbus, that had me wanting to stay in Jerusalem.
Heady first love, the passionate quest to share everything, to learn about each other. I dared, in a fit of utter disastrous foolishness, to share my secret, though I had bore the scars of failed attempts from so many times before.
I liked him, desperately, and so I wanted him to know me.
A fateful connection. I shared my secret, and then he... shared his.
A lifetime of difference, a lifetime of being alone, but we had found each other, an otter and a hare.
The romance faded as summertime loves do, but our friendship remained, forged in the impossible truth that we were somehow the same. We became inseparable in spite of the distance, and now, he had returned with hope itself; hope in tangible form.
"Joyce?" John Inquired, snapping me out of my reflection.
"Sorry, was thinking of past things. When was the last time you heard from Sandy?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by my brief walk in nostalgia.
"Oh years now, she graduated that summer and I think is at Lunar One now. Haven't really had the time to keep up," he shrugged. The answer didn't surprise me. After her attempts at matchmaking produced a disappointing friendship, she seemed to fade from our lives, moving on quickly to her next project.
"You know there are more layoffs coming at the hospital next quarter," I mentioned, pivoting the conversation. Fewer people were dying as nanitic treatments revolutionized medicine and extended the life span. Gerontology and "Nanitic Maintenance" were the only growing fields these days, and with the news of the Treaty of Gates and Morphic Tech, I had lost all interest.
"Please. Can we wait to have this conversation again? I just got in from the dock, I'm tired. Press hasn't left me alone," he complained, definitely having seen it coming.
"I don't understand how you can be like that. I don't understand how you can be this calm. It's possible dammit. Why would you want to wait?" I pushed.
"Your field is experiencing layoffs so you are going to throw all caution to the wind, become a sea otter and live on an alien planet?" he asked, his tone incredulous.
"It's cruel when you put it that way, Hoppy," I spat. He narrowed his eyes at me, sighing. The fight was on. We were both caught in its gravity.
"I'm thrilled about Shift Tech, but I'm suspicious too. They aren't opening the Gates to anything but probes until it's publicly released. Why would anyone do that? It makes no sense, unless they want something. It scares me, Joyce. Let someone else be the first, let someone else take that risk. I've got two years left on my contract. By then it will be well understood; we can go through the process together, and then go from there. What's the rush?" he said.
"Did those space snakes replace you with a copy or something? Are you hearing yourself? Why rush? We've both been rushing towards this our whole lives. It feels like fate, John. You can leverage your position on the First Contact team, to get them to let you out early to shift. The Mendians would love that and you know it. Then we can leave this all behind and be part of something real; start a colony together. The Morphic Colony Committee even selected a planet today, Centioc One."
"You know what we are calling it in the service? The shift and fuck off club. It's a risk," he insisted.
"And it's worth it. I'm tired of waiting John, I'm tired of hurting all the damn time. How can you ask me to wait when there's an answer? All I had to do was sign up for the colony and I'm in the first five-hundred. There's still space. You don't have to wait," I begged. It seemed cruel to leave him behind. Deny all he wanted, I knew this was his dream as much as it was mine.
"No," he said flatly, finishing his beer before rising. "You do what you want. You're my best friend and I'll support you, but at the very least, I'm finishing out my contract and seeing where this goes. I'm in no rush to become somebody's puppet, or worse. There are just too many questions right now," he replied.
CHAPTER 2
I was running late.
Shift change report had run long at work, mainly because my relief had been late and now I was scrambling.
The Morphic Colony Committee was meeting today, and voting on a starship; that was the official reason. We had to select one that we would buy from the UEA that was, up to now floating in a boneyard. The unofficial reason was why I was stopping by the liquor store on the way despite being late.
It was early September; the Shift Tech Beta Program had been approved and we were all in.
Tonight we would pick our colony ship and celebrate.
A strange man in a black jacket appeared to have been watching me from a distance as I loaded the bottles into the back of my car. Gripping my keys tightly in my left hand, I quickly made my way to the relative safety of the cabin of my vehicle.
With one eye behind me and one on the door, a quick sense of panic built as I fumbled with my keys; a growing worry that he might be behind me, that I might not be quick enough.
Sliding in and locking the doors, my sense of safety returned as I drifted away and quickly forgot about the creepy guy. Today was a day to celebrate. In two short months, I would be at United Earth Medical getting my first boosters, the start of the process.
Checking the clock on the dash, I was already a half hour late, with more than ten minutes to go. Damn. I sped up, bending the traffic laws.
It did little good, but it helped my morale at least.
Crossing Woz Way, I soon slid into a small, disused building parking lot; it was an old church-turned-community center, so it still retained it's sacred appearance.
Crossing the threshold, I arrived just as the vote ended. We had a ship and I had missed it.
"What did we get?" I asked Ricky, as he turned to welcome me. The crowd was breaking up, as the official business was over.
"An ancient Gen 1 cruiser, the Horn Shark. BEC Fusion Drive Gen 1; thing is practically an antique," he laughed. Ricky was our chief engineer and a future ocelot.
"Can you make it work?" I asked, and a look of feigned shock appeared on his face.
"You dare question my prowess? I'm not just an engineer, I'm a legacy." He struck a dramatic pose, as I mouthed the words along with him.
"Grew up around the BEC-1's. No problem. They aren't too temperamental," he confirmed, full of optimism.
"Problems?" Sonya poked her head out from the former sanctuary.
"No problems Sonya, just getting caught up," I replied.
"Well how about the other way? You're late ya know," she reminded me. I hadn't forgotten.
"The report sometimes runs long, and I had to stop by the liquor store for the party, you know how it goes," I shrugged.
"So why didn't we pick a newer ship?" I pushed, it seemed silly. The colony was being underwritten by a grant from the UEA and Martian Marauder Incorporated.
"Oh, another program the UEA wants us to trial. In exchange for taking the older vessel, we get a newer auto freighter that we can deorbit and turn into housing. It works out," Ricky reported.
"Makes sense. We're already guinea pigs in so many ways, might as well double down," I commented.
"You never know, there may be one aboard the ship," Sonya replied
"Wasn't that Kevin?" I mentioned.
"It's kangaroo rat you sea-loving asshole," yelled a voice with a New England accent from where the altar once stood.
We all shared a laugh as Kevin slid over to join us.
"Hey freaks," he said casually, holding a drink in his left hand.
"Says the one that grew up at the edge of the Zone," I teased.
"You calling me a mutant? That old game. What, should I call you a hippy?" Boston was on the edge of the habitable zone. A nuclear exchange had wiped out New York and Washington D.C in 2030.
"Nah, we won't be mutants for a few more months," Ricky chimed in, not content to simply watch the banter.
"Fair," he replied.
"So we're doing this?" I volunteered. "Moving to a new planet?"
Another figure walked up to the growing party. I may have missed the vote, but there was still plenty to do and discuss.
We had a ship, and were moving to an alien planet. There was a lot to talk about.
A tall and imposing figure stepped up; he was easily 6'4, and well over three-hundred pounds. A giant of a man.
"Everybody getting to know each other then. I'm Mack, Mack Douglas." He spoke with a British accent, which gave the impression of a cultured, gentle giant.
"Oh hi! Yeah we spoke by tablet a few days ago. I'm Joyce Coswell, the medic for the colony." I offered my hand, slipping into professional habits.
"Colony coordinator, as you well know. Boot strapping up with Ricky here, good Lad," Mack continued, as he made a gesture, to which Ricky humbly smiled.
"I just keep the mechanics running. Paperwork is your monster, man," Ricky responded.
"Been that way since college. I talk it up, you make it look good," Mack replied. It was clear they were old friends.
"If this shift works out how we're expecting, you're the one who'll be looking good." Ricky said, as Mack blushed.
I looked at them both, my curiosity building.
"I uh." Mack said.
"How's the family business?" Ricky asked with a grin, throwing Mack a lifeline.
"Oh, Dad is still trying to talk me into it. Bloody disappointed with the news as of late." He looked down at his massive hands, as if looking for something.
"You're wasted running a logistics company. Mars will always find a way to get its fruit. This is starting a new world," Ricky volunteered.
"I hear you. Looking forward to building something of my own, not have it just handed to me. Blood and sweat. Something real. Something true." He drifted off.
"Now that's a recruiting poster," Kevin commented, and we all shared the laugh.
"Here, come outside and help me unload," I offered.
We wandered out and started unloading bottles from the car. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw the man in the black jacket again, sitting in his car down the street, but that was impossible. It wasn't like he had followed me.
We got inside and started setting up to get the party underway.
It was our first real meeting. I was one of the transplants into the team, having no previous connection. A call for a medic had gone out, and my Bachelors in Nursing made me an attractive candidate. My friendship with John and namedropping him to Mack as part of the first contact team in the interview, had guaranteed my place.
There was so much to do, and we were at best, a skeleton crew. Sonya was our financial expert, while Kevin worked navigation and communication. Mack knew how to run the ship and Ricky knew how to keep it working in deep space.
Just like the pioneer days, we had all gathered to chase the dream of what might lie over the next horizon, and were determined to find out what, no matter the risks.
Two hundred and forty-three other brave souls had joined, and were waiting for their embarkment letters.
It was our job to make sure they had supplies and a ship on which to board; and in the meantime, become a new person.
No pressure.
Still, for the night, there was the party.
Playful banter. The beginnings of new bonds. An hour passed by and we were all beginning to get comfortable with one another.
Then suddenly, a Molotov flew through the window.
It exploded into fire nearby the pulpit; liquid flames danced across the floor in hellish choreography, as the room devolved into screams.
Then another burst through the window on the other side. Mack was screaming; he fell to the floor, rolling, as Ricky threw a jacket over him patting him down, extinguishing the flames.
The smoke became choking, thick and oily; still, the exits were clearly visible and open. In a panic, we all rushed outside.
Four men in black jackets and ski masks were waiting in the back of a truck.
"You freaks are selling out your own kind. You deserve to burn!", one yelled before the truck peeled out. As we all fell back from the attackers, they threw one last cocktail in our direction, but we were already too far away. It pooled out in a fiery circle as we heard sirens in the distance.
"Joyce, you need to help Mack! He's burned pretty bad," Ricky called out.
"I can't do too much, I've had a few drinks," I commented before rattling off first aid advice. Nodding, he carried it out, while I observed, protecting my nursing license.
Firemen quickly arrived on scene, along with paramedics, blessedly relieving me from my duties.
I had no one to call. John was away on some kind of official business and would be gone until next week.
Instead, I just waited, related what I could remember to the police and hid under the grey blanket the firemen offered me.
The next few hours passed in a strange blur, as my statement was taken three separate times. My head was now cleared, as I hadn't drank that much, but still, the entire experience had left me numb.
The police kept saying something about anti-morphic groups. I had honestly never even heard the term before.
Why would anyone care? Weren't we leaving?
In that moment, the time couldn't come soon enough. The world seemed alien and terrifying and the idea that someone would do such a thing just astounded me.
It was futile to consider. Humans had always found reasons to divide and hate, and it seemed they were now finding another one.
The desire to shift suddenly surged harder, feeling almost like an act of defense, living in defiance of the barbarism I saw in them.
Knowing what I did about sea otters, made that slightly funny. They too, could be vicious creatures. Maybe it was a fact of life that everything had a dark side. It's just that when that dark side has a certain level of intelligence, it makes Molotov cocktails or nuclear bombs.
Talk about scale. Kevin had grown up on the ruined edges of that scale's extremes.
Still, the Mendians had made it, hadn't they? Earth wasn't burning, and for all their mysteriousness, they wanted to share. Was there success the proof that the ultimate trend for humanity was more hopeful than I dared imagine in that moment? After all, John had said they hadn't had a war in almost two thousand years.
The image of Mack burning pushed any idea of 'enlightened humans' firmly out of my mind. He had been transported and was in critical condition. No one knew for sure if he would survive, or what this would do to the possibilities of his shift.
We hadn't even started, and we were already losing people. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was the dream, what I had been waiting for my entire life; it wasn't supposed to be a nightmare. No... I wouldn't let it become a nightmare.
This was the dawn of my hope; it was always coldest the last hours before the dawn, and ours was coming, just two short months away. Then, we would have a chance to start again, away from all the crazy.
After what felt like an eternity, I was finally officially released and cleared to leave the scene. I ordered a transport and immediately set out for home.
I wanted nothing more than a hot shower, my bed, and out of this species.
Just two short months after a lifetime of waiting, and my wish would come true.
CHAPTER 3
A week had passed. The police had no leads.
"So they just tanked him early?" John asked, astounded.
"Yeah, the burns were to 90% of his body. Our medical technology couldn't fight all the infection, so, they figured, why not try it? He agreed. It's going to be eleven months in but he's already stabilized floating in there," I reported.
"Shit. So there's a cure for everything now," John whistled, leaning back in his chair.
"Practically. Everything's changing John," I commented.
"Isn't that kind of the point?" he replied, laughing to himself.
"Fair," I nodded in agreement.
"So if they just put him in a tank, why don't they just put everyone in the tank, from the start? I don't understand what Earth is doing and you've been to the workshop," John remarked.
"Mainly because it's not necessary. It's a long time to check out, and we all still have lives. Seven months asleep is better than ten. That's at least how they explained it to me; I dunno." There had to be a method to the madness somewhere, but from what I understood, it was currently elusive.
There was a knock on the door.
"Message ma'am. Certified Post, sign here," she snapped efficiently.
The mystery deepened. Quickly signing it, I tore the envelope open.
The document inside bore my hospital's letterhead; it began with the words:
"Notice of Layoff and Severance Package- J.Coswell"
"More Changes." I waggled the piece of paper in the air. "I'm terminated!"
Dramatically, I faked my death over the couch.
"You seem so broken up about it, too," John said.
"I was quitting in the next six months anyway, and I get severance, unemployment, etc. I'll be fine. It doesn't matter anymore," I replied.
"Still, are you sure that's a healthy way to look at it? You worked your butt off for that job," he pushed, then continued. "Feel something, throw a pie, or a fit; wave if you're in there."
"Yeah, and I can still do my job, on Centioc; in the meantime, don't you think I have enough going on?" I countered.
"Hey, it's your life," he answered, holding up his hands, retreating back to his room.
Pouring myself a bowl of cereal, one of my favorite comfort foods, I flopped down and turned on the screen in the living room, flipping towards the news.
"Will the princess marry Dirk Johnson? Tune in next week to The Drama Bloc," intoned a voice over the speaker. I rolled my eyes.
Firm pass.
Breaking News: More high level meetings with the First Contact Team today, as the now, historically long, debriefing continues. UEA and Central Command remain tight lipped on details, saying that for now, there is no visible threat from the Mendians in spite of their level of technology. More on that situation as it develops.
It seemed apparent to me that if the Mendians wanted us dead, we would be. There persisted in me a pragmatic belief in their benevolence.
And in other news, protests continue at the capital tonight surrounding the Treaty of Gates, calling it blackmail, demanding more time before the technology is released upon the public. The UEA official spokesperson stated that while they respect the rights of all citizens to protest, they stand behind the Treaty of Gates and its fulfillment.
I switched the screen to cartoons, something more informative and productive, and ate my cereal in brooding silence.
Watching the cartoon canary smack the hell out of the alley cat brightened my mood some. The poor dumb bastard always came back for more, but the canary just kept handing it out relentlessly.
For once, at least in the cartoon world, the little guy didn't have to take it. Maybe we could make it like that on Centioc.
Centioc- Where the little guy wins.
The thought warmed my heart in a way that only hope can. When it's in full bloom, no matter the season by date, its spring.
It inspired in me an idea.
John was right, I did need something to do.
Running to my bedroom, I grabbed my tablet off its charging pad and dashed back to the living room, putting in a call to Ricky and Sonya, inviting them over for lunch.
If I was going to Centioc, and had nothing better to do, I might as well use my time to help build the colony.
Two messages chimed in quickly. They were both unemployed, and were in a similar situation to my own.
Well, maybe Sonya. Ricky was "retired" after twenty years serving in the UEA military. He had started his career aboard ships like the ancient Gen 1, something he referred to as the "bailing wire, duct tape and pressure suit days".
He was only forty-three, but he talked like a man twenty years older. I guess that was life in the military.
Distantly, I thought of what John might be like in twenty years, but with Shift Tech, that was now impossible to tell.
I hoped happier. I hoped that for all of us.
Two months out before the initial boosters, and something was already changing. In that moment, thinking of the harshness I saw at times in Ricky, and was beginning to see in John, it was a viewpoint they had, where shared experiences from a martial culture shaped their perspective.
For John, it had inspired such a forethinking caution in him that he was willing to deny his own dreams, while I eagerly sought to redefine my relationship with happiness.
If he hadn't gone to Jerusalem Fleet Academy, he might be with me now going through the shifting process, but that would have meant we would have never met.
Could that have somehow been better? To meet at a time when we could have our happiness, before we had ever shared the pain of its absence?
The idea seemed foreign. In truth, happiness had always seemed foreign on some level.
I'm not talking, black-hole-on-a-windy-day emo kind of never happy. I'm talking about happiness as an alien, an unfamiliar concept in your greater world.
There's no hatred of the concept, no shunning of it. It's simply an impossible dream. No matter how good the day or joyous the time, there is a garish truth that hangs like a blood red moon in the sky, heralding the deep and sinister conceit of it all.
In this world, for all the time I came close to that feeling of happiness, it had always seemed hollow, never full, authentic or complete.
There was one exception, a day I'd never forget, April 23rd, 2071. The memory was, in my mind, perfect. The clouds parted, and for the first time, true happiness felt real. It was the day I learned escape was possible, and my dreams could come true. There was finally a way that I could be a sea otter.
True happiness, as if for the first time, feeling full, whole and complete; like sunshine, unabated, the first hints of spring after an interminably long winter.
There was a way out. It was coming. The prison sentence was ending and new, more complete happiness began to grow within me with each revelation about the technology.
In that moment, I could see how its lack, and the struggles that John and I shared forged our connection; one I would never have with Ricky or with Sonya, even if it was now taking us on two separate paths.
Nudging my reality, my tablet chirped and vibrated, as a sound flowed from the smart speakers positioned around the apartment.
Someone was at the door.
Ricky and Sonya had brought burgers, and they had come early.
I set my philosophy aside, and dug into a working lunch.