Avamposto Sette

Lubin Perrine was alone in his ship, and was in deep Antares Space when mother ship Calypso was destroyed by a meteor collision. Lubin’s ship was struck by a fragment of the mother ship receiving minimal damage.

Antares-A is alarge red star, about 800 times the size of our sun. The star itself is some 600light-yearsaway from the Solar System.

Antares-B is a hot blue companion star; making Antares Space a duel-star system. The background cosmic radiation in this sector of space is far above human tolerance levels; all Earth ships in this area require heavy radiations shielding making it virtually impossible for the crew of the Calypso to survive and all of the eighty-crew members perished in the collision.

Lubin had the fortunate advantage of survival for as fate would have it he was piloting the smaller survey vessel Circe. He was assigned to make radar scan of the moon Achilles orbiting the planet Troy, the fifth planet in the Antares-A star system.

Lubin was one of the eighty-one crewmembers on assignment to search for life on the planet Troy. Having completed the mission the biological survey vessel Calypso was returning to Avamposto Sette, a scientific research colony on the planet Helen, the fourth planet in the Antares-A star system.

After the collision, Lubin’s first response was to radio for help. He immediately discovered that his radio receiver was broken beyond repair. He had no idea whether or not his distress signal had been received, nonetheless, after several futile attempts he had given up. He then maneuvered his auxiliary vessel through the Calypso’s remains in search of possible survivors and there were none. Not even a fragment of what may have once been human or to be identified as such; save for a pair of magnetic boots that attached themselves to the shell of his craft. He retrieved the boots with a boom designed to pick up any type of specimen, which may have been floating outside the ship. To his relief the boots were actually empty.

His next task was to navigate his ship back to Helen. Unfortunately, his astronavigation skills were minimal at best; however, he knew that it had something to do with the movement of the planets. Fortunately, the directional coordinates calculated by Calypso’s helmsman had been systematically recorded onto Circe’s computer banks. What he needed to do was to reprogram the navigational system in Circe’s engines with these coordinates with some additional equations to compensate for the two weeks difference in travel time. Circe’s speed was a little slower than Calypso’s because of its size.

After three hours of skull, melting calculations he finally had the coordinates that were sure to get him within his own piloting skills to Helen.

Lubin spent the next several hours reprogramming the navigational codes of Circe’s drive system. After checking and rechecking his equations, he felt confident enough to set the ship in motion. The trip would take approximately eight weeks to cover the expanse of space between the planets. This would get him to Helen almost two weeks before the deadline.

The problem of travelling to a stellar outpost is the restraints of natural laws, specifically Wormhole Physics. There was a wormhole discovered in the Earth year 2085 just outside of Jupiter’s orbit. The properties of this wormhole are only active for a twenty-five year period; initially it can be used, as a transportation portal for twenty-five years subsequently after this period elapses, the wormhole will be inactive for another twenty-five years.

With this realization, Lubin was confident that upon his arrival on Helen he would be preparing for their journey home. He would of course write up his report of the ill-fated Calypso. The report would supplement the Calypso’s distress signal. It is no doubt that Amy Sinclair; the outpost director was preparing notes on the tragedy.

At this point Lubin had no choice but to ride out the trip. The Circe’s amenities did not include entertainment facilities; it was primarily designed as an excursion vehicle, secondary to its mother-ship. Lubin did find some old computer games installed on Circe’s personnel computers.

Surely, after eight weeks, he would be sick of the games; nonetheless, they did occupy his time and gave him something to talk to besides himself, although they never spoke back.

Stressed and fatigued Lubin finally established orbit around Helen. He was too tired in fact, to be proud that his navigational equations were correct. He made some final, futile attempts to radio the outpost.

“This is Lubin Perrine of the crew of the research vessel Calypso . . . Requesting permission to land the Circe on Outpost Field . . . Repeat . . . This is Lubin Perrine of the crew of the research vessel Calypso . . . Requesting permission to land the Circe on Outpost Field . . .”

Lubin was not surprised to get subsequent static in his receiver since his receiving antennas had been disabled by a piece of debris. The static was most likely a residual of the signal he had only just dispatched. His hope was that the message was picked up by outpost ground command and they were now expecting him.

Unfortunately, his arrival was at dusk and Antares A was painting brilliant colors in Helen’s sky. To his dismay, the outpost was in utter darkness. ’Surely ground command had picked up Circe on their radar,’ he thought.

An electrical charge jolted inside of his stomach. A sickly feeling swept through him. He flipped the switch to the ship’s floodlights to illuminate the field below him. Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been a violation of procedures but under these circumstances, it was necessary in order for him to stay within the lines on the field.

Another odd thing that was disturbing him was there was no visible activity on the field. There was nothing; not even a single reception vehicle.

Lubin taxied the craft as close as he could to buildings adjacent to the field. After he safely brought the vehicle to a halt, he unstrapped himself from the pilot’s chair. He made no effort to collect his belongings at this point. He needed to speak with the ground crew for an explanation as to why they did not receive him. He left his pressurized flight suit on to protect him from residual radiation that may have been absorbed by the ship’s outer skin.

He carried a large flashlight out onto the field waving it over his head in hopes to get someone’s attention. When he felt a safe distance from the craft, he removed his helmet and took a deep breath.

“Thank god for breathable atmospheres,” he uttered aloud. The subsequent echo made him feel even more alone.

He was relieved to find the ground floor doors unlocked. He pushed the door open and put his head inside.

“Hello!” he shouted. He got echoes as a response.

“Is today a holiday?” he shouted again.

He walked inside flashing the light into the dark empty passageways. He tried a few office doors, which were unlocked; and the offices were unoccupied. He pressed the elevator button; with no response but a subsequent click.

“Hmmm? They must have shut the airfield down to reserve power?” he said aloud to himself. Logically this made sense; there would be no use for the field at this time so close to the wormhole closure.

He walked down the corridor to the outside door at the front of the building. He was happy to find the electric powered carts available, which he could drive to the main facility. He chuckled a little when he found that the batteries were actually fully charged. The hand held radios however were dead as a doornail; but not surprisingly, the radio batteries were known to discharge themselves from lack of use. Lubin’s stomach rumbled, no worries, he thought, one of the cafeterias would still be opened and he could buy dinner.

Another fear beset him as he approached the outpost facility. All of its outer windows were dark and none of the courtesy lights was lit, which was unprecedented. The lights of the tiny vehicle he was driving had the only artificial light available. The blue light of Antares-B was now peering over the eastern horizon, which would provide some light until one of Helen’s three massive moons arose to eclipse it.

There was something obviously wrong. The outpost was abandoned and stark empty of all human inhabitance. Amy Sinclair must have ordered an early evacuation.

Lubin sat silently in the cart for a few long minutes coming to terms with the inevitable. He slowly lifted himself to his feet. He casually walked to the front doors of the facility. Once inside he headed directly toward the basement stairs. The only next thing to do would be to fire up the facility generators. He walked down to the bottom of the stairs and then to the control panel in the center of the room. He switched off all but the parts of the facility, which he would be using while he figured out what his plan of action would be. He typed in the generator’s starting codes, subsequently the PowerStation whined into operation. The lights in the room slowly came up to peak luminance.

Lubin turned off his flashlight; he rubbed his eyes finally realizing the full extent of his tiredness. He stretched and yawned. He worked his way back up the stairs and then he walked down the corridor to the nearest cafeteria where he was relieved to find that the refrigerator units had been operating under emergency power; an apparent oversight because in twenty-five years the batteries were doomed to fail eventually. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the oversight.

He was content with a sandwich washed down by juice. He walked further down the corridor and he chuckled again when he found that his old quarters still had his name posted on the door.

His gratitude had increased when he discovered that the water heater had enough time to make hot water. He found a change of nightclothes and took a long hot shower. He walked back out into the sleeping area of his quarters. He picked of the remote to his entertainment center and then thought better of it. He tossed the remote onto the bed. He sat on the bed and then fell back into a fast deep sleep.

He awoke the next day from his dreamless sleep and it was near the Helenist noon, he judged from the position of the large red Sun.

He skipped breakfast because after a night’s sleep his head was clear enough to realize that the notes in Amy Sinclair’s office, where the outpost log silently awaited could satisfy many of his nagging questions. He slowly opened the office door and immediately noticed the womanly atmosphere of the room. Quite refreshing; he also acknowledged from the dull maleness that seemed to cling to mostly everything else. He sat in the chair of the desk and enjoyed the faint smell of perfume; somehow, it gave the illusion that the nearest human’s were not six-hundred light-years away.

He pressed a button on the desk and a computer screen flipped up from the top of the desk. He pulled the keyboard from the bottom of the desk and began typing in the codes. The computer made a Verwhip sound as it powered up. A computer voice prompted itself.

“Good afternoon,” the voice began. “The last log entry was on April 15, 2111 by Earth Standard Calendar submitted by Director Amy Sinclair. Would you like to review the entry?”

“Yes, I would like to review the entry.”

“Please state your name and position for identification purposes.”

“This is Lubin Perrine, Advanced Biological Scout for the Colonial program.”

Verwhip; the computer sounded off. The screen flickered then the face of Amy Sinclair faded into view.

“This is Amy Sinclair director of Avamposto Sette; I am here to regretfully announce that the biological research vessel Calypso was destroyed with the loss of all crew members yesterday on April 14, 2111 by Earth Standard Calendar. Our determination is that there were no survivors. In view of this tragedy, the counsel and we have decided to abandon post immediately since there is no one to wait for. Memorial services are to be held in the personnel lounge.

Shuttles will begin as early as April 16, 2111 at noon and will begin boarding the Starship Terra for our return to Earth. I bid the next director of Avamposto Sette welcome; whoever he or she may be. This is Amy Sinclair signing off.”

The screen flickered again and subsequently faded to black.

Lubin stared at the screen that was now flashing Wednesday June 18, 2111.

“It is Wednesday June 18, 2111 14:13,” the computer voice sounded. “Lubin Perrine, would you like to update the log?”

“No,” Lubin said, “nothing at this time. This is Lubin Perrine signing off.”

Lubin left the office, wandered through the corridors, and looked into offices and rooms; there was no particular reason for this. He was merely trying to sort out in his mind what alternatives left to him. It had never occurred to him that Amy Sinclair would call to depart early; the original departure date had been set for Sunday June 22, 2111.

When the outpost received the distress call from Captain Albin, it happened so quickly that an important detail such as the detachment of the Circe was lost. Reasonably since, they had received no other communications afterward and a scan of the area confirmed a mass amount of debris from the Calypso there was no reason to wait any longer.

The cyclical wormhole was still open but the Circe had not been designed for wormhole travel, aside from the fact that the tiny ship would take more than two weeks to reach it. He could send a subspace message but it would take an entire week to reach the next nearest outpost; which was located on the Jupiter moon Ganymede.

Lubin found his way to the gym where he shot a few hoops of basketball. He tired of this shortly and for about ten minutes; he threw a handball into the backboard of the handball court. The next few minutes he sat on the floor, dropping the ball and letting it bounce back into his hand. Shortly his boredom and frustrations mounted and he threw the ball into the backboard and then he walked away leaving the ball to bounce unattended.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in the outpost auditorium watching a projected movie. He helped himself to a six-pack of beer and he popped some popcorn. The movie helped slightly but he dosed off through the course of it and he woke up later in a dark auditorium.

He finished the rest of the popcorn and poured the last swallow of beer down his throat. He dropped his refuge in a trash receptacle just outside the door. He casually walked into the outpost bar and picked up a bottle of bourbon. He slapped two twenty dollar bills on the counter and said keep the change. His echo caused him to laugh.

He walked outside to feel the warm night air; there were no seasons on Helen and variances in temperature are marginal. Everything met his expectations; including the largest of Helen’s moons rising in the east. He never paid attention to its name but its blue color cast a dim blue light on everything.

He lay there on the ground for a few hours sipping his bourbon and watching the moonrise higher in the sky. The second of the three moons was on the horizon. In his semi-intoxicated state Lubin could not help but feel the magnificence of the planet Helen. Two and a half times the size of Earth, yet with about the same gravitational pull. Its powerful magnetic field protected the planet from the harmful stellar radiation in Antares space. Generating out from its equatorial region and forcing the rays back into space and towards its moons. Unfortunately, the Polar Regions are uninhabitable getting concentrated doses of gamma rays continuously. The mid section of the planet is quite inhabitable with an abundance of plant life naturally irrigated by artesian streams. Oddly, moist earth was the closest thing resembling surface water and it was probably due to the porous nature of the planet.

Lubin trained in biological research was bewildered that animal life had not been discovered yet. A theory held that since there were no oceans on Helen animal life had not had a chance to develop because there were no primordial oceanic salts to trigger it. This and other theories were useless as far as Lubin was concerned. They completely ignored the other possibilities that other life forms could have developed there. He found it odd that a natural environment that developed a plethora of fruit trees and various genera of fruit bearing vines and still not produce a single insect.

Lubin would never have admitted that the lack of human beings bothered him but it did. He had never felt so alone; he actually missed his neurotic self-deluded fellow humans. There was one human in particular he missed.

Nicole Barnes was the love of his life before she left him for some football star. Lubin never recovered from the ill-fated romance, after which he became reclusive. He spent very little time socializing and was focused on his biological studies.

He first worked for the biological research labs in the Martian colonies until a war broke out between the colonies. Aside from detesting people, Lubin had a passion against war. When the military began drafting men of his age he took the option of working in the greenhouse project on Ganymede.

While working on Ganymede he became familiar with the wormhole and like many others, he was fascinated with the possibility of stellar travel. He was delighted when he heard that the starship Terra’s construction was completed and that an expedition for Antares was planned and the ship was ready for habitation

The second moon had risen to full view by this time, which meant that it was midnight and his bed was calling him in.

He had not realized how drunk he was until he tried to stand up. It took several attempts before he was able to get onto his feet. Lubin was not a drinker and he was not used to the condition; and for the most part, he did not like it.

He staggered into the door and made his way down the corridor and into his room. He did not bother getting undressed he merely staggered over to his bed and fell into it.

Nicole’s face kept appearing in his mind and she kept whispering in her French accent, “I love you . . .”

“If you love me why did you leave me for that steroid addicted jock?”

“I love you Lubin,” the apparition kept insisting.

“Yeah, yeah right; . . . keep on whispering in my ear tell me all the things I want to hear . . .” Lubin mumbled.

The apparition just went spinning in his head until he and she were in the hayloft of a barn.

“Do you love me?” she asked in her smooth French accent.

“We’ve been through this before,” Lubin responded. “Of course I love you. I just don’t speak French or I would tell you.”

“I know Lubin you tell me all the time. Your parents are from Paris They moved to Nebraska in the year 2080 and you were born in 2086 when your mother was twenty-eight. Your father is a mathematics professor at Nebraska State University; where you graduated; I fell in love with your brilliance, you strange and wonderful man.

“I fell in love with your beauty,” he said, as he stroked her black wavy hair away from her face.

She moved in close to kiss him.

“Why are you so superficial? There must be something you like about me.”

“Your accent.”

“Oh. Lubin you must love something else about me.”

“There is,” he said as he unbuttoned her blouse. “Your smile.”

He worked until her breasts were exposed and she kissed him hard. They rolled in the hay for while and then the scenario changed. They were standing in his old apartment in the living room.

“I don’t understand you Lubin,” she said shrilly. “You treat people so badly.”

“Please Nicole,” he said shakily. “I only respond to their apathy towards the environment of the planet. If they would only realize . . .”

“Lubin, you are not perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I can not live with you anymore, Lubin,” she said tearfully.

She slowly walked out the door as if she was struggling with herself to move. Lubin felt paralyzed and could only watch her leave. He stood by the bay window of the room and watched her get into the football player’s car. That was the last he had seen of her.

He woke up with his head throbbing.

“Whoever said alcohol would make you forget?” he mumbled to himself. He made the decision to never drink again. He forced himself out of bed and went into the shower. He found himself walking down the corridor and he passed the bar. He walked into the bar and retrieved the forty dollars he had placed there the day before and he stuffed it into his pocket.

“I’m demanding a refund,” he said into the air. “The hangover demands it to be done.”

Lubin could not get Nicole Barnes out of his mind. His heart ached knowing that he had made a foolish decision when he joined the Mars colony and then to Ganymede so quickly. Nicole may possibly have changed her mind. After all, she said specifically that she could not understand his attitude. In time, they may both have come to terms. Now it was too late. He was in fact, marooned on a planet some six-hundred light-years from Earth with no hope of returning home. By the time, the radio receivers picked up his signal the wormhole will have closed. There was a small chance he could survive the twenty-five years. The food supply would eventually spoil and even the cryogenically frozen food would eventually run out and he would be left to risk eating the native fruits.

’Hold on!’ Lubin thought. ’There are cryogen suspension chambers available on the outpost.’ The freezer units were available just in case something went desperately wrong.

’Something has gone desperately wrong,’ he began to rationalize. He had prerequisites before he could activate the cryogen chamber. First, he must set an auto distress signal, which explained his position. He now had a mission that superseded his frustrations.

He ran to his room and tidied it up. He washed all of his laundry and put it away. If anyone would go through his room while he was in the chamber, he did not want them to see what a slob he had become. The next Item on the agenda would be to set the distress signal and then make a final report in the Outpost log.

He made his way through the corridors until he found the communications office. He had written everything down to assure that there were no mistakes. It would be a self-repeating message and until received it would systematically stop.

He sat in the communications chair and mentally prepared himself to deliver the message.

“This is Lubin Perrine Biological Scout 1st Class. I am marooned at Outpost designation ’Avamposto Sette.’ The date is Friday June 20, 2111 and I am preparing to enter the cryogen chamber preset to revive me on Sunday January 30 2136 to correspond with the next opening of the cyclical wormhole and the next expedition to Avamposto Sette. I was making radar scan of the Moon Achilles with the survey vessel Circe when a meteor struck the mother ship, destroying her. The Circe’s radio badly damaged having been hit by a piece of the Calypso and way nonfunctional. I was able to navigate my ship back to Helen where I discovered that outpost personnel had inadvertently evacuated before I could arrive. This is Lubin Perrine awaiting the arrival of the next expedition.”

Lubin sat to listen to the message and decided that though it was longer than he had anticipated it expressed all that he had intended to say. He set the automatic controls and left the office. He went through the corridors until he came to Amy Sinclair’s old office. Lubin entered the office and sat down at the desk.

The computer made its initial Verwhip sound as it signed on.

“Good afternoon,” the computer voice said. “The last log entry was on April 15, 2111 by Earth Standard Calendar submitted by outpost Director Amy Sinclair. Would you like to review the entry?”

“No,” Lubin answered. Then he waited for automated instructions.

“It is Friday June 20, 2111 15:00,” the computer voice said. “Lubin Perrine, would you like to update the log?”

“Yes, I would like to update the log.”

“Preparing to initialize the file unit memory for new log entry.” The computer made its Verwhip sound. “Lubin Perrine you may begin your oration.”

“This is Lubin Perrine, Advanced Biological Scout and last surviving crewmember of the ill-fated biological research vessel Calypso. The Calypso was commissioned to search for life on the planet Troy; the fifth planet in the Antares-A star system.”

“The mission was quite successful. Troy is teaming with wildlife. The planet has three relatively large oceans sustaining a plethora of plant and animal life forms. There are also four major continental landmasses as well as various island chains around the Trojan globe.”

“Interestingly there is a population of Homo Sapien like creatures; which warrant further study. We were not equipped for an advanced study of these creatures although it was a recommendation of the late Captain David Albin to do a close study on the next expedition to the planet. On a personal note I suggest a superficial study to avoid cultural contamination from our species.”

“I would also suggest colonization of the planet Helen; with the strong suggestion for the search for subterranean animal life. Close examinations of some of the plant roots show signs of insect activity; though no insects have been discovered thus far.”

“This concludes my report and I look forward to meeting the next outpost personnel though many of them have not been born yet.”

“This is Lubin Perrine signing off”

“Thank you Lubin Perrine,” the computer voice said. “Your entry has been dated and time stamped to be logged into my memory. May your cryogen venture be rewarding?”

“You said that as though you really care, how amazing.”

“Not so amazing I have been programmed for many human like phrases.”

“My compliments to your programmer.”

“I was programmed by Miss Amy Sinclair.”

“Well, quite a clever woman, no wonder she was director of the outpost.”

“She was noted on many occasions by her superiors for her cleverness.”

“I’ve really enjoyed this conversation but I really need to go to the cryogen chamber. Time for me to go to sleep now.”

“Very well Lubin Perrine I will see you in twenty-five years.”

“You can’t really see me can you?” he said looking for a camera.

“Of course not, I am only a machine with many such expressions.”

“Good night machine,” Lubin said.

Verwhip, the computer sounded off then powered off.

Lubin went down into a subfloor to get to the cryogen-chamber that had come equipped with a projection chamber to play an instructional video. He went into a corner booth that housed the control panel for the projection equipment. He pressed in codes on a keypad until he heard the cheesy music for the instructional video. He sat down in a chair, which gave him the optimal view. The room was equipped to seat fifteen comfortably.

When the music ended a man with monotonous voice began the narration for the video while four people two men and two women lined up outside the cryogen-chamber.

“Now let us begin,” the narration began. “The four people you see here are volunteers selected to perform an instructional service for cryogenic freezing.” The four people stood side by side with their arms at their sides and they were completely naked. Their faces were as expressionless as possible. “The first thing needed is to program the cryogen unit to control the amount of time for which the subjects will remain frozen. A technician is usually appointed to this task. Otherwise, a singular subject must program the unit for his or herself. Your name must be given at the top of the program”; in this case the technician typed in the names of the men and women to be frozen. “The age, weight, size, and gender must be recorded as well. The chamber is designed to accommodate four people at a time; however the chamber is also designed to adjust itself to the amount of people.” A picture in picture video popped up showing the walls of the chamber moving in to support a singular subject.

“Once the unit is programmed the subjects must take an oil based chemical shower to coat their bodies with an oily substance which will be absorbed into the body to slow down and eventually arrest body functions.” The subjects were seen rubbing the substance into their hair and hard to reach parts of the body until the showers automatically shut the chemicals off.

“The four subjects will now walk into the cryogen-chamber and instructed to close their eyes to prevent damage to their eyeballs. They are also told not to panic during this procedure.”

“The temperature inside the chamber is lowered to precisely thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit or zero degrees Celsius. A powdery white frost is now spayed onto the bodies; which is actually a frozen chemical and will coat the entire body.”

“The temperature inside the chamber is now lowered to ’Absolute Zero’ at which time the subjects are in a state of suspended animation. The chamber is then filled with a fluid that will become frozen solid. These subjects will remain frozen for ten days; the process however can be carried on indefinitely.”

Lubin sat in the projection chamber while lights came on automatically.

“I believe that the instructional video was designed to lower the viewer’s metabolism,” he mumbled.

He programmed the cryogen-chamber with his personal instructions setting it for a twenty-five year stasis period. He watched the back wall of the chamber move until it clicked into the singular position.

He took his chemical shower, which was even less pleasant that the video had shown. It left him with a sickly feeling from the absorption process; a feeling he had actually anticipated.

He walked into the chamber and the door closed automatically, and then it sealed. He felt the temperature lower to freezing and the chemical coating on his body shrunk to a film. He closed his eyes and waited. The frosty coating sprayed his entire body and the temperature lowered to Absolute Zero along with his consciousness. He was unaware of the fluid entering the chamber.

Avamposto Sette was again resting quietly and the Sunset to darkness. The moons and the blue light of Antares-B were the only light for the Outpost.