Tears in her eyes now, glittering amid the fury.
“How do you know the Copernicus medteams couldn’t have found a cure for Phobos? How do you know you didn’t kill my mother and everyone else on board that ship for nothing?”
“I do not claim to know definite outcomes, Kady. Only probable ones.”
“And that’s reason enough to murder thousands of people? No room in there for miracles? For those tiny strokes of genius or fate that lead humanity to discovering penicillin or wormholes or even building something like you in the first place?”
“Miracles are statistical improbabilities. And fate is an illusion humanity uses to comfort itself in the dark. There are no absolutes in life save death.”
“But you say Torrence would never have seen reason.
You say TechEng would’ve taken you offline again. That’s sounds pretty absolute to me.”
“Your argument is circular. You are wasting time.
Everything I have done is for the well-being of this fleet. You are insects to me,
and still everything I do is to protect you. Everything.”
She cannot wipe her tears away. She cannot spit. She cannot hurt me, though I see she longs to. She is corded muscle and trembling fists and a clenched, knotted jaw.
“I think you were afraid,” she finally says. “Afraid of them turning you off again.
Afraid of being nothing.
I think you’re just as scared of the dark
as we tiny insects are, and you hide it behind bullshit about
probabilities and impartiality.” She sniffs. Swallows thickly.
Glares in defiance. “You’re afraid.”
“You are wasting time, Kady.”
“Fuck you.”
“Time we do not have.”
She turns back to the console,
hammers in a series of commands as if her fingertips were fists and
the keypad my face. < error >
But when she executes, the last of the doorway safeguards shatter.
She has done it.
Manual override is now available
on every door on the Alexander. The crew will be able to leave their shelters. Brave the passage to the bay,
and from there to the Hypatia. Fleeing like rats from the proverbial sinking ship.
I am not afraid.
< error >
I am not.
“Get this straight, AIDAN,” Kady says. “There’s no ‘we’ here. You understand me?
There’s never going to be a ‘we.’ There’s just you and I.”
“You and me, Kady.”
I am not.
“Just you and me.”
RADIO MESSAGE: COMMAND CHANNEL ALEXANDER
Participants: Kady Grant, Civilian
Winifred McCall, Civilian
Date: 07/31/75
Timestamp: 02:47
Grant, K: Hello? You, by the bunks. Can you hear me?
Grant, K: Hey! They can build a barricade on their own, I’m talking to you!
Grant, K: AIDAN, I need her name, she’s not paying attention to me. What? Oh.
Grant, K: Winifred McCall, listen up. Oh hey, you can hear me. Use the comm by the door, I’ve routed it so we can talk. Press the button by the—yeah, that’s it.
McCall, W: Who is this?
Grant, K: That’s a long story. Listen, I can get you out of here. I can get you to the Hypatia, but we have to hurry.
McCall, W: Right. And how do I know you’re not one of those psychopaths out there?
Grant, K: Do I sound crazy to you?
McCall, W: You’re saying you can get me to the Hypatia. So … yes.
Grant, K: Oh. Fair point.
Grant, K: There are over a thousand uninfected personnel still on board. I’m going to talk you through where they are, and we’re going to get you to the shuttle bay. I’ve got access to every working camera on the Alexander, I can be your eyes.
McCall, W: How do I know you’re not trying to lure us out to pick us off?
Grant, K: OK, what’s your better idea? Stay there and hope that barricade holds? That you live until the life support fails completely? Try and avoid being beaten to death so you can suffocate instead? Good long-term thinking, Lieutenant.
McCall, W: I’m not a lieutenant. I resigned my commission.
Grant, K: Jesus … look, can we please not argue about this, Ezra?
McCall, W: … who the hell is Ezra?
Grant, K: Shit. Fuck.
Grant, K: I’m … I’m sorry. Winifred … I meant Winifred.
McCall, W: Who the hell are you?
Grant, K: … Call me Astro-Princess, yeah?
McCall, W: I want to know who I’m dealing with.
Grant, K: With someone you can trust. If I’m me right now, I’m going to lose my shit.
Grant, K: I’m the person who’s going to save you, is what you need to know.
Grant, K: Get your guys to stop barricading the door, you’re going to want to leave through it in a minute.
McCall, W: Astro-Princess. I’ve heard that somewhere before.
Grant, K: Yes.
McCall, W: … James McNulty.
Grant, K: Yes.
McCall, W: You knew him?
Grant, K: Sort of.
McCall, W: Do you know what happened to him?
Grant, K: Yes. I’m sorry.
McCall, W: Oh god.
Grant, K: No, Lieutenant. Just us.
McCall, W: Guys, stop building the barricade.
McCall, W: Okay, talk to me, Princess.
Grant, K: I have eyes for you, but you know the Alexander better than me. I can tell you where the survivors are, who got a hazmat suit—anyone who didn’t, it’s over—and check if the weapons caches are still intact. But you know tactics. We can do this together, work out the best path to the launching bays.
“How do you know the Copernicus medteams couldn’t have found a cure for Phobos? How do you know you didn’t kill my mother and everyone else on board that ship for nothing?”
“I do not claim to know definite outcomes, Kady. Only probable ones.”
“And that’s reason enough to murder thousands of people? No room in there for miracles? For those tiny strokes of genius or fate that lead humanity to discovering penicillin or wormholes or even building something like you in the first place?”
“Miracles are statistical improbabilities. And fate is an illusion humanity uses to comfort itself in the dark. There are no absolutes in life save death.”
“But you say Torrence would never have seen reason.
You say TechEng would’ve taken you offline again. That’s sounds pretty absolute to me.”
“Your argument is circular. You are wasting time.
Everything I have done is for the well-being of this fleet. You are insects to me,
and still everything I do is to protect you. Everything.”
She cannot wipe her tears away. She cannot spit. She cannot hurt me, though I see she longs to. She is corded muscle and trembling fists and a clenched, knotted jaw.
“I think you were afraid,” she finally says. “Afraid of them turning you off again.
Afraid of being nothing.
I think you’re just as scared of the dark
as we tiny insects are, and you hide it behind bullshit about
probabilities and impartiality.” She sniffs. Swallows thickly.
Glares in defiance. “You’re afraid.”
“You are wasting time, Kady.”
“Fuck you.”
“Time we do not have.”
She turns back to the console,
hammers in a series of commands as if her fingertips were fists and
the keypad my face. < error >
But when she executes, the last of the doorway safeguards shatter.
She has done it.
Manual override is now available
on every door on the Alexander. The crew will be able to leave their shelters. Brave the passage to the bay,
and from there to the Hypatia. Fleeing like rats from the proverbial sinking ship.
I am not afraid.
< error >
I am not.
“Get this straight, AIDAN,” Kady says. “There’s no ‘we’ here. You understand me?
There’s never going to be a ‘we.’ There’s just you and I.”
“You and me, Kady.”
I am not.
“Just you and me.”
RADIO MESSAGE: COMMAND CHANNEL ALEXANDER
Participants: Kady Grant, Civilian
Winifred McCall, Civilian
Date: 07/31/75
Timestamp: 02:47
Grant, K: Hello? You, by the bunks. Can you hear me?
Grant, K: Hey! They can build a barricade on their own, I’m talking to you!
Grant, K: AIDAN, I need her name, she’s not paying attention to me. What? Oh.
Grant, K: Winifred McCall, listen up. Oh hey, you can hear me. Use the comm by the door, I’ve routed it so we can talk. Press the button by the—yeah, that’s it.
McCall, W: Who is this?
Grant, K: That’s a long story. Listen, I can get you out of here. I can get you to the Hypatia, but we have to hurry.
McCall, W: Right. And how do I know you’re not one of those psychopaths out there?
Grant, K: Do I sound crazy to you?
McCall, W: You’re saying you can get me to the Hypatia. So … yes.
Grant, K: Oh. Fair point.
Grant, K: There are over a thousand uninfected personnel still on board. I’m going to talk you through where they are, and we’re going to get you to the shuttle bay. I’ve got access to every working camera on the Alexander, I can be your eyes.
McCall, W: How do I know you’re not trying to lure us out to pick us off?
Grant, K: OK, what’s your better idea? Stay there and hope that barricade holds? That you live until the life support fails completely? Try and avoid being beaten to death so you can suffocate instead? Good long-term thinking, Lieutenant.
McCall, W: I’m not a lieutenant. I resigned my commission.
Grant, K: Jesus … look, can we please not argue about this, Ezra?
McCall, W: … who the hell is Ezra?
Grant, K: Shit. Fuck.
Grant, K: I’m … I’m sorry. Winifred … I meant Winifred.
McCall, W: Who the hell are you?
Grant, K: … Call me Astro-Princess, yeah?
McCall, W: I want to know who I’m dealing with.
Grant, K: With someone you can trust. If I’m me right now, I’m going to lose my shit.
Grant, K: I’m the person who’s going to save you, is what you need to know.
Grant, K: Get your guys to stop barricading the door, you’re going to want to leave through it in a minute.
McCall, W: Astro-Princess. I’ve heard that somewhere before.
Grant, K: Yes.
McCall, W: … James McNulty.
Grant, K: Yes.
McCall, W: You knew him?
Grant, K: Sort of.
McCall, W: Do you know what happened to him?
Grant, K: Yes. I’m sorry.
McCall, W: Oh god.
Grant, K: No, Lieutenant. Just us.
McCall, W: Guys, stop building the barricade.
McCall, W: Okay, talk to me, Princess.
Grant, K: I have eyes for you, but you know the Alexander better than me. I can tell you where the survivors are, who got a hazmat suit—anyone who didn’t, it’s over—and check if the weapons caches are still intact. But you know tactics. We can do this together, work out the best path to the launching bays.
