Chapter Ten: The Gemini Prodigy

When I reach the hatch of the conduit maintenance room, I can hear the twins talking to Captain Rickard.

"But Captain, you don't realize. The kid is brilliant. After only four days—" I presume Don says.

"He understands complex engineering as if he had been studying it for—well, as long as us," Ron finishes.

"I already told you. He is gone as soon as we drop off the merchandise," Rickard responds. "He’s got the fleet squids after him for reasons that I think are beyond something as irrelevant as Draft dodging—you know we don’t need that kind of attention!" he adds.

"But this isn't simply your decision, Captain. The first mate—" Don retorts.

"Excuse me!" Rickard barks. “All decisions are mine because this is my ship. I don’t give a crap if the universe sent him personally. He doesn’t belong here on my ship!” he shouts.

"Captain—" the twins say almost simultaneously.

"Enough!" the hatch flies open,, and Rickard is standing there staring at me.

I try the say something, but nothing comes to mind, and before I can formulate a sentence,, Rickard is already passed me and down the corridor. I watch him go around the corner, and then I turn and enter the room. The twins are standing on either side of a power conduit with a look of sad contempt on their faces. At first, they didn’t notice my presence, probably because of the sudden loud buzzing noise emitting from the exposed coupling or because they were thinking about the conversation I had just overheard. Either way, I stand silently for a few seconds, watching them work efficiently together as if they know what the other is thinking.

Don looks up in my direction and smiles, tapping Ron on the shoulder. Ron glances up at me with a pair of large goggles magnifying his eyes. He also grins, placing the shielding panel back onto the coupling and removing his goggles.

“So, what did you need my help with?” I ask

Ron beams and nods toward Don, who closes the hatch behind me. “We just wanted to see you off right,” Ron says while opening a panel on the wall and retrieving a bottle of clear liquid.

“You’ve had it rough these last few days. It’s important to relax when you can, or you will end up like Nev,” Don says, pulling out three glasses from another panel and then holding them up to Ron, who pours a generous amount of the unknown liquid in all three.

“Here you go, bud. Best if you try to down it in one gulp” Don passes me one of the glasses.

The glass is nowhere near my face, and I can already smell the obvious alcohol. This isn’t going to be my first drink by any means, but I have a feeling that this will be the strongest I’ve ever had. I lift the glass to my mouth and swallow the liquor in one swift motion.

The burning sensation that follows is damn near unbearable, causing me to cough and gasp. “What—the hell—is that—stuff?!” I ask in between coughs.

The twin’s faces were bright red and twisted, no doubt fighting their way through the burn as well. “That—is—our—home-brewed—” Ron forces out between gasps of air.

“Degreaser—” Don finishes with a cough.

“Seriously?!” I say while wiping away the tears that involuntarily formed in my eyes. "If I didn’t know you guys liked me. Then I’d think you’re trying to kill me,” I add, letting out a hoarse laugh.

Ron regains his composure. “What? Once you get past the burn, it’s quite smooth. Right?” He smacks Don’s back, who nods his head violently in agreement.

Several minutes pass before we completely recover. Ron insists we do another shot, but Don and I convince him that one in a lifetime is more than enough.

Then silence fills the compartment, the type of awkward silence that causes everyone to squirm in their skin. It is the quiet that happens when something that should be said is left unsaid, like a nagging itch that you can’t reach.

I take a deep breath and organize my thoughts, quenching the acidic burn raising my bowels from the degreaser. Alright, here goes. “I just want to say—”

“Stop,” Ron interrupts in a stern tone I didn’t think he could possibly muster. “We hate goodbyes,” he adds in an equally-firm rasp with his face showing no hints of sarcasm.

“Ok then,” I respond, hopefully lightening the mood. “Why don’t you tell me how you came aboard the Confessor instead?” I ask both in an attempt to change the subject and because I’m honestly curious as to how two individuals as gifted as the twins ended up in such a diverse crew.

Don’s ears perk a bit like a dog’s would after hearing the word treat. “Funny you should ask that. Ron, I think it is your turn to start.”

Ron smiles and retrieves an elaborate wooden plaque from behind another panel, then hands it to me. The plaque is heavier than I would have expected, undoubtedly made with the densest of woods and a glossy coat of varnish. In the center of the plaque is the Martian Science Academy’s sigil with both Ronald and Donald Witman’s names eloquently scrolled into the wood. Under their names was a short paragraph that I read aloud. “It is with honor that the Martian Science Academy and its affiliates present Ronald Alekrim Witman and Donald Malekrim Witman the MSA Solar Diamond award for their invaluable contributions to Applied Star-Ship Architecture and Engineering, which has undoubtedly changed the future of space flight as well as the future of human expansion in our solar system and someday the universe.”

I studied the plaque a little more, glancing up at the twins, who seemed to be lost in their thoughts. “Wow, you guys,” I say. “I never knew you grew up on Mars, let alone went to MSA.” I once read about the Martian Science Academy back on Titan. In all of the solar system, there didn't stand a single academic structure that matched the prestige of MSA. Its halls cultivated the greatest minds the human race has seen and presumably will ever see.

“Yeah, that was almost thirty years ago,” Ron says, taking the plaque and placing it behind the panel again.

“I still remember the day we got our acceptance. Mom was so proud. It was one of the best days of our life,” Don added.

“So, what happened next?” I ask.

Don smiles and leans against the conduit. “Well, we were the youngest graduates in the history of the school, and during that time, the Great War was still raging incessantly, so we did the only thing that two rational young boys could do—” he says while grinning.

“We joined the United Earth's Space Fleet Civil Engineering Corps,” Ron continued. “We, being United Earths' citizens, were raised in a time of war. It was considered an honor to fight for the good guys.” He makes a sarcastic gesture. “Who would have thought the war would come to a standstill just a few short years after we enlisted?” he finished.

“See, the war lasted so long and cost so much money and resources that both the United Earths of Sol and the Sovereign Republic of the Frontier couldn't maintain the conflict. So seemingly overnight, we were separated from the fleet, and we reallocated from the UES Ares Space Dock all the way back to mom and dad’s basement.” Ron and Don both chuckle.

“So just like that, the war was over, huh?” I ask.

Ron’s smile faded a bit. “Yeah, it was an interesting time for both the inner and outer solar system. A war that had ruled everyone’s lives for decades literally just stopped so fast there wasn’t enough time to adjust to the changes, like ripping a bandage off with one yank.” Ron gestured. “It caused a lot of confusion, then soon after, the governments began to fall under the strain. People didn’t know who to trust anymore,” he finished in a sober tone.

Don continued. “Entire economies throughout the solar system collapsed, and millions of people lost their jobs. It was as if the war kept us afloat, and ironically it caused our downfall. Soon after that, the mega-corporations began calling in the huge debts that the governments couldn’t pay, practically blackmailing the governments to allow the corporations to have more and more unrestricted control,” Don added, flopping his hands down to his sides.

“I think that is about the time the Syndicate Builders Guild approached us, offering promises of a steady income and good work.” Ron carries on. “At that time, we were desperate—our father had passed away a year prior, and our mother couldn't afford the house we grew up in due to the housing market’s hyperinflation and outrageous tax increases. Then like that, she got sick, so we took the deal in hopes that we could at least take care of her,” Ron says.

The twins’ faces show sadness and guilt, emotions I’ve never seen from them before and honestly never want to see again. I hesitate to urge them to continue, hoping that I didn’t make a mistake for being so curious when I catch Don’s eyes. He smiles, almost able to tell that I felt bad for asking in the first place.

“It’s alright, bud,” Don says. “Life is full of sadness just as much as there is happiness. You can’t have one without the other, and honestly, you truly cannot appreciate the happy moments in your life without a little sadness,” he finishes with a smirk.

Ron clears his throat. “So where were we? Right. After we signed with the SBG, the bastards decided that we needed to move to the Jovian Mining Corporation's Odyssey Space Station, which incidentally meant we had to renounce our citizenship with the UES because the Odyssey is in the Sovereign Republic space.”

“At first, we were obviously apprehensive about the change, mainly because of war propaganda surrounding the frontier and the people who live there,” Don says. “We almost stayed, but mom passed away unexpectedly.” The sadness returned to Don’s face but only for a moment. “So we decided to leave Mars, and it was easier than we thought, mainly cause there was nothing left for us there.”

Ron nodded his head in agreement. “We relinquished our citizenship, which seemed to be a growing trend amongst freelancers, traders, and mercenaries at the time.”

“But why did you have to drop your citizenship?’ I ask.

Don walks to the bulkhead and brings up a holo-display showing a map of the solar system highlighting a large band between the inner and outer solar system. “You see this?” he points at the highlighted section. “After the war came to a standstill, this was turned into a sort of a Demilitarized Zone. The only way for someone to be able to freely move between the inner and outer solar system was to hold no allegiance to any of the governing bodies in the solar system,” he says.

“Essentially, you become a citizen of the ship you are on. You cannot vote or exercise any of the rights a citizen has. You forgo one list of freedoms for another; this led to the formation of the freelancer groups like the Syndicate Builders Guild and Free Trader’s Union and various mercenary groups. If you become a member of one of these groups, then you are afforded certain allowances in both the inner and outer systems,” Ron adds with a gasp.

“So you guys are members of the SBG?” I ask, rubbing my temples, trying to retain the vast amount of information the twins are dumping on me at once.

“Not quite—” Don says. “No doubt you have heard that the SBG is a mere shadow of its former glorious self.” I nod my head in complete and total understanding and agreement. “Well, we can attest to the validity of that statement. For years the SBG abused our gifts and overworked us to the point of insanity.”

“And the worse part was we were powerless to change our fate cause we were incredibly indebted to the organization.” Ron said callously, “That, my friend, is when we met Captain Rickard. He had just finished a job that caused the Confessor a remarkable amount of damage; honestly, he shouldn’t have made it back. But yet here he was with the Confessor at his back. Don and I obsessed over her for ten days and nights, fixing every single flaw,” Ron says, slightly patting the bulkhead. “On the eleventh day, Captain Rickard inspected the ship and was so impressed that he paid our outstanding debts and offered us the engineering job right on the spot.”

“You’re kidding me!” I respond. “That doesn’t sound like the Captain I’ve come to know and love.”

Don lets out a sigh. “Yeah, well, what did you expect? Men like Rickard have to be convinced that they need something before they commit to it, simple as that.”

I think about that statement for a few moments. "So what you are saying is if I can convince the captain that I have the skills he needs, then I can stay—right?"

Ron laughs. "Sorry, bud. the captain won’t be convinced at all, but—"

There is another uncomfortable silence where an obvious explanation needs to be. "But what!?" I almost shout while Ron and Don's trade looks.

"But, if you can convince the first mate that you are needed on the Confessor, then there may still be a chance for you," Ron says with a particularly impish grin.

A lot of good that piece of information does. “Nev hates everything about me. Why would he all of a sudden change his mind about me and furthermore convince the captain that the Confessor needs me?”

"Oh, dear boy. Nev isn't the First Mate," Don says with a laugh.

How the hell did he—never mind. "Then who is?" I ask.

The twins hesitate again. God, I hate it when they do that. Then my left arm began buzzing. I flick my wrist without looking, a mistake I will certainly not be repeating in the future, because the next thing I know, I’m blinded by Nev's angry glare.

"Where the hell are you, stowaway?!" he shouts, causing the holographic window to shudder.

"I—huh—"

"Forget it!" Nev interrupts, "Just get your ass down to the cafeteria. We’ve got hungry customers!"

Damn it, I got caught up talking that I forgot about dinner. I look up at the twins, who are trying to act like they can't hear Nev chastising me. "I'm on my way," I respond.

"You better damn well get your—" he says before I close the connection. I know that will make him even angrier, but at this point, I don't really care.

I smile at the twins and then turn to leave when Don grabs my shoulder. "Why don't you let us take care of dinner? You could use a break."

"You don't have to do that."

Ron smiles while putting away several tools. "We know we don't have to, but we want to."

"Just go get some rest. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be busy," Don says. "Not to mention, this gives us another chance to mess with Nev," he adds, nudging Ron, who flashes a wicked smile in response.

I smirk. "Thanks, guys, I know you hate goodbyes, but I just want to say that these last four days have been somewhat bearable because of you."

That damned awkward silence returns to the room, this time not because there is something left unsaid but because something was said. The twins smile and nod almost perfectly in sync. It's crazy how truly alike they are. I bow my head to the twins and leave the mechanical room. For some reason, the corridor feels colder than I remembered it from before, and I'm pretty sure it isn't the temperature that is causing the slow chill through my body. I hate goodbyes, too; they are so final and abrupt.

The walk back to my ragged cot feels longer than usual, like every step I take is more anticipated, more thought out. It was as if I wanted to absorb as much of the Confessor into my memory as possible. It is still early when I reach my makeshift quarters, and Grem is sleeping on my pillow with her paws stretched out to the sides. She greets me with a passing glance, yawns, then rolls over to a more comfortable position. I drop down with a satisfying thump, causing Grem to meow with contempt.

"No worries, my little Gremlin. I won’t be annoying you for much longer," I utter in a low but soft voice as I scratch her behind the ear.

I glance at my Aug, noticing three new messages from Nev. I promptly delete them without giving them a second notice, then I check the time. Wow, only six o'clock. Why do I feel exhausted? I roll onto my left side, bringing up the display showing Jupiter now completely encompassing the monitor and the Galilean moon Callisto several times larger than this morning. The ticker in the upper corner shows an estimated time of arrival is just a bit over thirteen hours. Once we reach an hour from the threshold, the Captain will have everyone strap into a seat for deceleration. It’s similar to the rapid acceleration experienced when engaging the ARAD. The sheer force of slowing down has the same uncomfortable result but is not as uncomfortable as it would be if the inertial dampeners malfunction.

It’s a wary subject to even think about, yet my mind continues down the path with nothing more to do in the gifted time I have. I think about the utter amount of possible failures that can occur in space. One micrometer crack in a ship’s hull could cause catastrophic decompression. A single fusion core shield failing completely could literally bake every organic thing on this ship in seconds. Not to mention the fact that a poorly kept fusion core could go nuclear at a moment’s notice. So many ways we could die by so many little details that you couldn't see with your own naked eyes. It is enough to cause people to go crazy with anxiety; I imagine that is why some people have never left the planet’s side. Those people who let fear dictate their actions every minute of every day, who have to tell themselves that they are living without truly giving life a chance, I feel sorry for them.

The monitor shimmers, pulling me out of my trance. I let out a long sigh, then tap Callisto and force the display to zoom in on the moon's night side. The designation Pilot hovers over the domed cityscape, population twenty-two million. The very thought is inconceivable when New Horizon had a population of about one and a half million, and that place fell huge. How will I find myself in a place already so full of other people? I let out another sigh. This time though, I can feel my eyes growing heavy. I take it as a sign and roll to my back, closing my eyes and focusing on the micro-vibrations flowing through the ship. Before long, I can feel myself slipping away into the abysses of my subconscious.

It is the same vivid dream as the one back at the apartment on Titan. But this time, I'm floating above a planet covered in lights. It’s odd because I don't recognize it. Then explosions begin to dot the surface of the unknown planet. The fire spreads and spreads, and I begin to scream as all of the lights are consumed by the spreading fire of destruction and death. What’s going on? What am I seeing, and most of all, why am I seeing it? Then as always, I'm in the white room split by the black glossy wall. This time without hesitation, I ran to the wall. I'm determined to get some answers, to find out what this all means. I reach the wall, but I cannot bring myself to touch it. It’s not fear that compels me to avoid coming into contact with the wall. Rather it’s a feeling of incompleteness like I am missing something that makes me whole, and if I touched the wall, then I would lose the rest. I resolve to simply stare at my shadowed reflection and try to determine what it is that makes it so completely different and unlike me. Then the most disturbing thing happens. My reflection grins and winks.