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Tinaya decided to not tell Arqut, Silveon, or Audrey about the post-death
asteroid that could be waiting for them once they finally leave the ship at
the end of their first life. It isn’t something they need to be worried
about for now. They still don’t talk to Audrey a whole lot, because it’s
riskier than ever, but not impossible. Waldemar isn’t the least bit
suspicious, and he’s not all that possessive. He sees Audrey and his friends
as props. He really doesn’t care what these props do when they’re not busy
making him look like a normal, well-adjusted person fit for leadership.
While he ended up announcing his engagement instead of declaring his
intentions to restore the civilian Chair system, that doesn’t mean he
doesn’t plan on doing that eventually. He holds secret meetings all the
time, with all sorts of people, some of whom have obvious political
connections on this ship, others who seem unremarkable and inconsequential.
They don’t have time to worry about that today, and won’t for a good long
while. Everyone else has become quite preoccupied with the upcoming
event. It’s the halfway mark. The thing to remember about this mission
is that the outcome is, by definition, unknown. No one has ventured out to
space this far, and they have definitely not gone as far as Extremus
eventually will. The mystery is part of the experience, which they all hope
their descendants will appreciate, and not resent them for it. The idea of
it taking 216 years has always been more of an estimate than anything. There
is no clear boundary forming the edge of the galaxy. The galactic halo alone
makes it undefined, and with there being plenty of stars in the
intergalactic voids anyway, there really is no standard scope of the Milky
Way. Someone—no one seems to remember who—supposedly chose the duration to
be 216 years simply because they liked the number. It’s impossible to verify
that since the figure predates any serious discussion their ancestors made
regarding the Extremus mission itself. It wasn’t like some fabled “founder”
stood before the cameras, and unveiled a fully baked idea to travel across
the galaxy. People started murmuring about it first, with different concepts
being bounced around until landing on this one. It was a years-long process.
So basically, July 17, 2378 is only halfway between their starting date and
their ending date because they had to make some sort of plan, even if it was
always going to be subject to change. It definitely will change,
because statistically speaking, there is almost no way that their 215th
anniversary rolls around, and they happen to find a viable planet on that
very day. Which is okay, because there is also no way that they let this
nebulousness stop them from celebrating. Not even the Bridger section knows
what happens at the end of the target deadline. It’s written into the
charter that no one possesses knowledge about the future that far in
advance. They could have hypothetically asked a seer to warn them of how
things would turn out, and craft their plans meticulously to account for
every eventuality, but that would have gone against the spirit of the
endeavor. They don’t want to know what they’ll find, because then
what’s the point of looking for it?
They’re arguing. Well, Tinaya isn’t arguing. The council members are
arguing with each other while she, Lataran, and Oceanus sit in silence.
Their first issue? The theme. What will the theme of the party be? Well,
hopefully nothing, because that’s a little childish. Plus, there is no
single area on this ship where every passenger and crewmember can
congregate. The Attic Forest might be big enough, but there are hills,
trees, and other vegetation blocking views, so it’s not a great place if you
want to have some kind of presentation or performance. Plus, Tinaya really
doesn’t want all those people in her forest all at once, trashing the place.
There will be multiple gatherings, some happening at the same time, some
happening on different dates. The exact date of July 17 is important, but
they’ll be doing things in the weeks leading up to it, and probably after it
too. The council will decide on some of them, but passengers can party
whenever they want, for pretty much any reason, so other events will be
unaffiliated.
Oceanus has clearly grown weary of all this back and forth, but the
expression on his face isn’t enough to clarify what’s going on in his head.
Not even when he blurts out; “a committee!”
“What?” Councilman Linwood questions.
“Why are you handling this?” Oceanus questions. “You’re the council for the
ship, made up of crew and civilian policymakers. You have important business
to attend to. Why are you wasting your time on a party?” Hm. It’s not just
about the pointlessness of this particular debate.
There is silence for a moment. “You may leave if you wish, Captain,” Head
Councillor Spalden says to him. “This is not a mandatory meeting.”
“It’s not just me,” Oceanus begins. “Yes, I’m too busy for this, but what
I’m trying to tell you is that you are as well. I’m not saying that members
of the council can’t also be part of the party planning committee, or
whatever you wanna call it, but it should not be taking up all of your time.
This is a different subject of discussion, and therefore requires different
voices. Let’s open it up, and invite others to join. Meanwhile, you can move
on to more crucial concerns.”
“Would you want to be on it?” Spalden asks.
“Absolutely not,” Oceanus retorts. “I don’t care.” He gives the side eye to
Tinaya and Lataran. “The war is my current worry.” The Admirals are aware
that there is a war against the Exin Empire, and that it is being fought by
the Verdemusians, in whatever capacity they are able. They are not, however,
privy to current operational details. It’s not technically relevant to the
ship, and more of a diplomatic problem, so they don’t need to know. It
sounds like something happened, or is happening, which has Captain Jennings
anxious. They’re both curious to learn what that might be, but not entitled
to any such answers. “With all due respect,” he adds.
“We recognize, appreciate, and understand the duties of the Captain,”
Spalden says, “which is why I invited you to leave, and return to your post.
There will be no hard feelings here. The Halfway Party is vital to keeping
passengers enthusiastic about our mission, and to pass this enthusiasm down
to the next generations. It is not frivolous. It is not irrelevant. It is
vital to our survival as a people, and for that reason, I must insist on
maintaining our commitment to the matter. Thank you very much.”
“He’s not saying that it’s not important,” Councilwoman Flowers defends.
“He’s not even saying that we shouldn’t have any input. He’s arguing that we
were elected to manage the safe, secure, and prosperous transportation of
our passengers across the galaxy. Our obligation to them covers all matters,
as well as ship morale. As morale is but a subset of our duties, perhaps a
more focused committee is in order. Not only do we have other issues to deal
with, but including people who are not on the council in the decision-making
process would actually aid in our endeavor to boost ship morale itself.”
Head Councillor Spalden squirms in his seat. It’s becoming apparent that the
issue is not that he wants the council to be solely in charge of it. It’s
that he wants to personally be in charge of it.
Tinaya stands. “I move for the creation of an official Party Planning
Committee, to be responsible for the Halfway Celebration, as well as any
other state-sponsored festivities, which may be conceived of in the future.
I would like to include in this motion a provision that Head Councillor
Spalden be installed as the first Premier Facilitator of the PPC...final
name to be determined by the selected Premier Facilitator.”
“Seconded,” Lataran says.
As Head Councillor Spalden is being called in this motion, he is unable to
be involved in any way. He can’t even be present for a vote. Councilman
Linwood stands. “Motion is engaged. All other business on the agenda are
tabled until further notice. Discussion on new order will be open as soon as
Head Councillor Spalden excuses himself.”
Spalden stands, and holds back his excitement. He doesn’t want to seem too
eager. They’re all picking up on how he feels, and there’s little chance
that they won’t let him do it. Oceanus isn’t the only one who doesn’t care
what happens to the celebrations; he’s just the only one in a position to
vocalize his apathy.
As Spalden is leaving, Councilman Linwood turns his attention to Tinaya and
Lataran. “Admirals, as non-voting members, please excuse yourselves as
well.”
Lataran points finger guns at him, winks, and clicks her tongue just before
she disappears.
Tinaya nods at the council. “With respect to the Dais,” she says, which is
the right way to leave these chambers. She walks out manually.
Lataran didn’t teleport too far. She’s waiting for Tinaya on the other side
of the doors. “Anything interesting happen after I left?” she jokes.
“I’ve not asked in a while. How’s Sable?” Tinaya asks as they start walking
down the corridor together.
“She’s good. Knows what she wants to do with her life already.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m glad we were able to get out of that meeting early, because there’s
something you should see, and earlier is better than later.”
“Okay...”
They continue to walk instead of jumping right to their destination. It’s
apparently not all that urgent. Lataran exudes a sense of calm and reserved
excitement, rather than anxiety or fear. This thing that she wants Tinaya to
see must not be bad. That still doesn’t tell her what it could possibly be,
though. They take the elevator all the way up to the top level. It’s
evidently something in the Attic Forest. Lataran continues to lead her
between the trees and bushes until they can see a group of children. Sable
is one of them, but Tinaya doesn’t know any others since her own son has
aged out of this demographic.
“This is her Enrichment class,” Lataran explains. Enrichment is a vital
component of children’s education. It typically includes studies that are
not, strictly speaking, necessary for the continuation of the mission. No
science, no engineering, no Earth studies. It’s about art, music, and other
creative activities. It’s a generic term at this age. If a student decides
to pursue a career in one of these fields, the course options will narrow
later on.
One of the kids notices that the Admirals have arrived, and starts spreading
the news. They were standing in random spots before, but now clump together
in a vaguely orderly fashion. Off to the side, a white sheet hangs over the
trail between two trees, which is perhaps ready for an image to be projected
upon it? Once Tinaya and Lataran step fully into the clearing, the
performance begins. In their best attempt at unison, they cry, “thank you,
Admiral Leithe!” They then sing a song, which seems to be wholly original.
It’s not a literal interpretation about the past, but is essentially about a
cold, lifeless ship being turned into a lush garden full of joy and calm,
where all the children can laugh and play. It’s about the forest. It’s about
her.
After the son is over, seven-year-old Sable separates herself from the
group, clearly intentionally, and as rehearsed. She reaches up and tries to
take hold of the corner of the white sheet, but she’s too short. “The
stool!” she complains, looking around on the ground. In lieu of looking for
the stool, one of the older boys picks her up by the waist so she can get
the sheet. She pulls it off of the hook, and lets it drop. On the other side
is a garden. Of course there’s vegetation all around, but this is a distinct
section, surrounded by stone pavers. The flowers planted here are some of
the most vibrant and delicate, such as zinnias, carnations, and blue
alyssum. There’s a small water fixture on a small retaining wall. The water
splashes into a tiny pond, which spills over the edge of the lower retaining
wall, and into a tiny creek that disappears around the corner.
Tinaya tears up when she notices one last thing. On a wooden sign on a
wooden post are the words, Leithe Gardens.
“They’ve been working on this for months,” Lataran explains. “Sable only
fessed up when I grilled her for coming home late two weeks ago.”
“Oh, boys and girls,” Tinaya says. “Thank you. This is so sweet of you.”
It’s nice, after all this heartache—with Waldemar, and baby Silvia, and just
everything—to see something so pure and delightful. As a leader, she’s had
to endure all too much danger and drama. It’s great to be reminded that life
is about happiness, and they’re flying through the black in the search of
that; not war or political intrigue. The thought and care that went into
creating this masterpiece shows that it is possible to find harmony, and to
build a society based on love and community.