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New Territory
Kayla Akin's Diary, Entry 1, June 6th, 2213, aboard the Freedom Dear Diary, I have some things I need to figure out. Actually, I have lots of things to figure out. My punishment has made me consider things I’ve never thought about before, things I’m not sure I want to know. But I don’t have much of a choice now. This all started with a choice I made, though. I tried to do a good deed, but I ended up getting punished for it, and that’s when all this … confusion started. This … uncertainty. At the time, I was happy with my decision, but now I just don’t know if it was worth it. I was really excited when Captain Colby decided to take me along on the anthropological mission to Logria III. She thought that some of the junior officers needed experience observing primitive populations, and since I’m even more junior than the junior officers, she offered to let me go along, too. I’m always begging to do more stuff, and she probably thought letting me go would shut me up for a while, but I didn’t mind. I was going to do something important! I was on the way to becoming a captain myself! The other kids acted like they weren’t interested, and they said the same thing they always do, that I’m too straight booky, but I’m guessing that some of them really were jealous. At first the mission was interesting. I learned how they landed the observation craft high up in the hills, chameleonized it so it would look like it belonged, and then placed the scopes so we could see the valley almost like we were standing right next to it. That was all pretty neat, and very creative, I thought. Watching the natives was pretty interesting, too, at first. They were pre-industrial (they didn’t have any motors or computers), but not too primitive, so they knew how to weave cloth and use animals to help them do their work. I watched them farm, wash clothes in the lake, and feed their animals. Their planet was really pretty, too. It was nice to look out the craft’s window at the village, which was built around a peaceful greenish-blue lake under a bright yellow sun. Outside the village were clumps of trees with great big maroon leaves. And there was grass everywhere. It was almost as nice as Lake Arrowhead back home. But all that was fun for only about a day. On the morning of our second full day on the planet, the sky turned gray and foggy and then it rained, and it wasn’t as pretty to look out anymore. And I didn’t get to do anything other than watch. This time it wasn’t just because I was a kid, though. Everybody on the team just watched. We looked through the window sometimes and through the scope others. We used all kinds of sensors that could tell us the temperature, do life sign scans, and analyze the soil, but really all there was for any of us to do was watch and record what we saw. Before the sky finally cleared around lunch time that second day, I had studied every centimeter of our craft, too. I was that bored. But Mom had said that was part of what I needed to learn on the mission, that not all missions are exciting. Most of them are routine. Well, this one sure was. That’s why I was so glad to hear Ensign Tuttle say that a native was approaching our position. Anything new or different at that point was welcome. Sure enough, when I moved to the window I could see a little Logrian moving sideways across the slope toward us. He was coming from the part of the village on the east side of the lake, I guess, and was headed west. Once I noted and reported that the chameleon projectors were, indeed, operational, I was free to just watch him without being afraid that he could see us. It was nice to see him from only meters away. I hadn’t been able to tell before, even with the scope, but the brown fur that covered most of his body (and the bodies of all the Logrians) was actually light and fuzzy. I imagine it felt soft and warm like my flannel bathrobe. He might have looked like a chimpanzee except for big ruffled ears that stuck far out of the side of his head. He would have made a cute stuffed toy. I’m not sure how old he was, but he was about a head shorter than me. It was warm outside the observation craft (27°C), so he was wearing only a pair of short pants made of what looked like animal skin. While all of us on the team watched, he passed right in front of our window, heading for a tree to the right and a little in front of our craft. I knew the tree well from staring at it for two days. It was stubby and had lots of thick branches coming out of its trunk not far from the ground. Its leaves were at least ten centimeters across and deep red. As he got closer to the tree, I had to move to the far right of the window to still see him. The boy went to the tree with a grin on his face. Every tooth was sharply pointed as if he were a carnivore like Teacher taught us about, but they didn’t make him look mean at all. I liked his smile. He looked like a fun person to play with. I think the captain thought so, too. She said that the tree he was heading toward was a good climbing tree. I agreed, and remembered that it had been a couple of years since I’d climbed one. By then, the little boy was working his way through the branches, climbing up and around the trunk. Rainwater showered down from the giant leaves as he disturbed them. Sometimes he would settle onto a branch for a few minutes before he was off again, scrambling around. Now he looked even more like a chimp. I wished I could run out and join him right then and there, but of course I couldn’t. The first rule of one of these missions was to observe only, not get involved. Finally, after about fifteen minutes in the tree, the Logrian jumped down and skipped back toward the village. This time he turned somersaults and rolled across and down the hill until he was completely soaked. He was so joyful, he turned my boredom into happiness. I really liked this strange alien boy. It was too bad I would never meet him. He turned a funny-looking almost-cartwheel and fell on his bottom, making me laugh, but I didn’t laugh for long before I realized that he had stopped moving. He lay so still I couldn’t believe it. The whole team froze and watched him for a long time without making a sound. Then we all figured out that something was wrong and everybody sprang into action. Crewman Watabi pointed the life sign scanner at him and with a shaky voice reported a toxin in his body. Practically before Watabi got the words out, the little boy started to convulse. He shook and shook, and his eyes didn’t seem to focus. I was so scared for him. It was horrible, but I couldn’t look away. I kept willing him to get up and to be all right. Ensign Tuttle went to the scope and saw a small animal on his arm. She couldn’t tell if it was an insect or some kind of rodent, but it must have bitten him and either poisoned him or caused a bad allergic reaction. Captain Colby reported anaphylactic shock and told me to go into the backroom lounge and get something to eat. Then I knew that she didn’t want me to see him die. I didn’t want to go, and I tried hard not to whine, but I guess I did anyway. The captain said I couldn’t help him. That none of us could help him. Then she told me to go again. I did this time. I knew that tone of voice. My mother uses it, too, when it’s really important for me to listen. Somebody shut the door firmly behind me. I sat on the sofa in the lounge, kicking my feet back and forth and feeling completely helpless. I kept imagining myself as that little boy, writhing alone on the ground just because he’d been bitten by some stupid bug. Why wouldn’t the captain help him? Because of the rules. We were just supposed to watch, nothing else. But what if he got better on his own? Wouldn’t everybody be happy to see him recover and go back home healthy? Maybe I could find a secret way to help him. I started to cheer up as soon as I thought of that. Obviously, I couldn’t just leave the observation craft and go to him with medicine to fix him. Even if I could sneak up so that the little boy didn’t see me, my team certainly would right through the window. I decided to handle first things first and asked the lounge’s reference computer what the prescribed medication for anaphylactic shock in a humanoid was. I didn’t know how to answer its question about the antigen, but I told it that it was probably from an alien insect or small animal bite. I hoped that was enough. The computer recommended cephalifoxane and then asked me for the patient’s weight. I crossed my fingers and guessed thirty kilos, since I weigh about thirty-five and he was smaller than I am. Luckily, the dosage for all weights below fifty kilos was the same, ten ccs intravenously or fifteen intramuscularly. Proud of myself for solving one piece of the puzzle, I ran to the medical dispenser and ordered the intramuscular dose. I remember thinking that all the time I had spent with the doctors in the infirmary because of my asthma was finally worth it. I guess I’ve always been so bored there that I listened and eventually learned something useful. I couldn’t pronounce “intravenously” or “intramuscularly,” but I knew basically what they meant. I had the right medicine. Now I just needed to get it to the boy. I looked around the lounge for anything that might help. I decided the back-up chameleonizer was my best bet. But was it powered? I might be able to activate it, but there was no way I could connect the power by myself. I took a deep breath and pushed a button. I didn’t let go of it until the console beeped and its screens lit up. It was on, but I still had to figure out all the buttons to press to make me and the medicine patch invisible to my teammates. I had watched when they had set up the primary chameleonizer a few days before, but would I remember enough? I put the looked at the console. First I needed to tell the machine what to chameleonize. I crossed my fingers again and pressed the start button. I grinned when the view screen prompted me for the item to chameleonize and showed me a map of the observation craft and the surrounding area. I focused the beam as close to where I was standing, just in front of the chameleonizer, as the screen would let me. I could really do this! Then I told the computer what false images to send. I scrolled the arrow around the screen for a long time until I could finally see the hill outside my craft window. It was hard, but I managed to zoom in on the back door out of the craft and then smear the indicator over next to the little boy, who was still again. I was relieved when I saw him move just a little bit. I had been afraid I was taking too long and he had died already. Finally, I set the computer to start the false image in five seconds and pressed Go. I almost jumped up and down when “Countdown set” and then “5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 …” flashed across the screen. I had set the chameleonizer! I grabbed the medicine patch and ran out the door. I couldn’t see my crewmates once I got outside, and, praying they couldn’t see me either, I went to the boy, bent down, pulled away the adhesive backing, and slapped the patch onto his leg on the side furthest from the craft window. Then I ran as fast as I could back into the lounge. It took me a minute to figure out how to turn the chameleonizer console back off, and then I couldn’t help but peek through the lounge door to see what had happened. Crewman Watabi was smiling, reporting that the boy was much improved. After he said that, the captain came and got me and led me over to the window. “He’s getting better, Kayla,” she said. “We don’t know how or why—his species must have amazing regenerative abilities—but I think he’ll be fine.” I could only smile a goofy smile at her. Then we watched the little Logrian get to his feet, shake to wake himself up, and wander home. He wasn’t very steady, but he was alive. A part of me wanted to announce what I had done and take credit for saving his life, but I held back. It took three days for anybody on the Freedom to find out what I had done. My mother, as usual, knew something was wrong and managed to get the story out of me. I can never fool her. As I said, after I saved the little boy’s life, I was happy and very proud of myself. I’m sure Mom thought I was in a good mood because I had been allowed to go on a mission with the captain. After a day or two, though, I started to have doubts. I was still glad to have helped the boy, but I was scared. I was afraid that somebody would find out what I had done. After all, not only had I disobeyed the direct orders of my captain, but I had broken the rules on observation of less advanced species. What if everybody decided that I would never be good enough to be a ship’s captain myself one day? My whole future could be ruined! I had a hard time thinking about anything else. Anyway, when she saw how I was acting, Mom said maybe she could help. I thought if I confessed what I had done to Mom, she would punish me and then nobody else would have to know. Mom’s punishments are never any fun, but she can’t keep me out of the military academy, can she? At any rate, Mom always says that getting things off your chest can make you feel better. It certainly couldn’t make me feel any more rotten than I already did. So I told her that I had done something bad. I explained that I had done it to help somebody else, but that I really wasn’t allowed to and I was scared of what would happen. Then I had to tell her the whole story. When I did, Mom got a really strange look on her face. She looked partly amazed that I could use the medical dispenser and chameleonizer like I had, and partly mad and disappointed at what I had done. She didn’t say anything for a long time after I finished, and I got more and more worried while I waited. Finally, she did what she usually does and quizzed me about what I had done wrong. Of course I told her that I had disobeyed a direct order and violated the fleet rules. She said that it was wrong even through I was trying to help. If the grown-ups around me weren’t allowed to help, I shouldn’t have taken matters into my own hands. She asked me if it had occurred to me that my medicine might have made the little boy worse. It hadn’t. She said I also lied, indirectly, by saying nothing while the mission team was trying to decide how the boy had survived. I hadn’t thought of that before, either. I hate it when people lie, and my mom does, too. I wondered what punishment she would come up with for me. I knew it would be bad, but it ended up being worse than anything I could have imagined. She said that it wasn’t up to her to punish me this time. Because I was on an official mission team, it was up to me to report to the team leader for further orders. She meant that I had to tell the captain. It took all my strength not to burst out crying when she said that. The last thing I wanted was for the captain to find out! Knowing I would procrastinate, Mom also set a deadline for me. I had to tell Captain Colby by lunchtime the next day or I would be in even deeper trouble. Well, I’m not writing about that meeting here. I can’t even think about it without wanting to cry. My mistake was looking at the captain’s face. I only did it once, for just a second, but her expression won’t leave me alone. I can still see it even if I close my eyes really tight. I’ve seen her use that expression before when she’s really, really disappointed in something or somebody. She has this way of staring at you with her eyeballs frozen and her lips pressed together, and you can tell she’s thinking hard. Thinking hard about how to solve the problem or how awfully mad she is, I’m not sure, but she’s quiet for what seems like forever. You feel like she’s a cat about to pounce, and you’re the mouse. I couldn’t stop squirming. I just wanted her to yell at me or throw me off the ship or something. I couldn’t stand the silence. Why do grown-ups always do that? Anyway, I went into the meeting hoping never to see that expression aimed at me, and I left the meeting praying never to see it again. Twice in a lifetime would probably kill me. In the end, the captain added new lock-out codes to the Freedom’s equipment in places like Engineering section and the infirmary so that I (and the other kids) won’t be able to use those ship functions by ourselves. She said that learning what buttons to push was not the same as being responsible enough to know when and how to use the equipment properly. I will have to earn those privileges through hard work and gaining back the crew’s trust. The captain also gave me a history assignment, making me read and write about five different times important fleet rules were violated in the past. She did that, she said, to give me perspective beyond my own experience. She thought maybe other people’s decisions would help me make sense out of mine. She said we would talk more about it after my assignment was done. Well, I wrote the report as best I could, had Mom proofread it, and then sent it to the captain’s terminal. Less than an hour later, she showed up at my bedroom door, my report in hand. She asked if she could please come in, and I squeaked out that she could. Mainly I just tried to clean up the mess left over from playing school with my dolls. I had been demonstrating acid/base titration to them earlier and hadn’t put away all my flasks and burettes. The rug was stained with a pink splotch of converted phenolphthalein, too, but at least I hadn’t gotten it with the acid this time. Of all the days for Mom not to force me to clean up my room, it had to be this one! The captain had never been in my bedroom before, and this was a bad first impression. Anyway, I sat down on the bed and invited Captain Colby to take my desk chair. It was a little too small for her, but she didn’t complain. She looked thoughtful for a minute, but then smiled just a little. “I have your report here,” she said, raising the hand-held. Then she turned it on. Grading time, I thought. “You talk about one incident that was an accident. You didn’t do what you did by accident, though, did you?” I shook my head. The captain turned back to the padd. “René Rusteau took over the city of one species and forced his own politics on them. Why did he do that, Kayla?” “Um, I think because he wanted power over somebody,” I answered. “That wasn’t your reasoning, though, huh?” Again I shook my head. It was amazing how much she sounded like my teacher. “What about Captain Torley saving one of his crewmembers from being hung by aliens for breaking one of their minor laws?” I fidgeted a bit as I tried to decide what she wanted to hear. “He made a choice to disobey the rules because he didn’t think the man should die just for walking on the grass.” “And what did the aliens think of that?” “They thought that letting the man go would hurt their justice system, since if one person can get away with disobeying the law, then anybody should be able to break the laws, right?” I had a flash of insight. “I guess that’s true about our rules and laws, too. If I violated one of them, why can’t Mom, or my friend Jenny, or you?” Captain Colby nodded, and I knew I had finally said something smart, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I jumped up. The room suddenly seemed too small, the captain too close, the pressure too great. I wanted to crawl under my covers hugging a doll and have my mother sing me to sleep with a silly song that made no sense, but was fun anyway. Captain Colby let me pace. “Why don’t you tell me what was going through your mind when you saved that little boy?” she said. “I was only trying to help. I wanted to save a life like you and the doctors do all the time.” I was whining again, but it all came out of me in one big gush; I couldn’t help it. “I really didn’t mean to be bad, and I would have hated to see that little boy die. I can’t feel sorry for what I did, even though I know it was wrong based on what our rules say. But I think that there must be other sides, and good reasons for disobeying them, and other people in history seem to think so, too, even grown-ups. I understand the order you gave me. I understand why I’m being punished. But I also know why I saved that little boy and I can see why the other people I read about violated the rules when they thought they were doing something good for somebody else. What I don’t know is how I can understand both sides of the situation and how I can see what I did as good and bad at the same time. Does that put me in even worse trouble? I don’t know what’s right anymore! I don’t know anything!” I threw myself facedown onto my bed and buried my head in my arms. I let my tears soak into my sleeves so they wouldn’t roll down my cheeks. I didn’t want the captain to see them. The next thing I knew, Captain Colby sat down next to me on the bed. She touched my arm gently and stroked it like Mom does when I’m feeling sick. “You know plenty,” she said, so softly that I had to raise my head a bit to hear her. “You’re just beginning to see that the world isn’t all black and white, even for adults, as much as we want it to be. You’re growing up and beginning to realize that even though rules, regulations, and command levels are parts of life, in the end, we’re really only accountable to ourselves.” She patted my back and pulled at my hand until I sat up and looked at her, hugging my pillow to my chest and sniffling. “If you thought you could have saved that little boy’s life, yet you hadn’t, you would have had to live with that decision for the rest of your life, like I would have and like every other member of the mission team would’ve.” I nodded, and she stroked my hair. “You’re a good girl, and your heart is in the right place. I’m glad some part of you still feels triumphant that you saved him, that you did something meaningful.” Her gentle look faded and she changed from the nice, motherly woman back into the captain. “You still needed to be punished, though, to pay the price for what you did. I hope it was worth it.” I swallowed hard, surprised again. It’s not every day you get in trouble for something you did, but the person punishing you says they’re glad you did it anyway. If being confused all the time was what growing up meant, I thought I might just as well stay a little girl forever. At some point while I sat there thinking, the captain got up and left. After she did, I took a good look around my room. From their pile in the corner my dolls stared with big eyes at the science equipment I’d tried to shove under the bed. My teddy bear screen scene covered my intermediate archeology homework on the computer terminal. The stand next to the bed held a picture of me, wearing only diapers and hugging my mother, right next to the one of me from last year’s advancement ceremony, trying to look grown-up in a brand-new dress. I sighed. So much for staying a little girl forever. But couldn’t I just grow up all at once and get it over with? Many times in the next couple of days Mom said she was worried about me. I guess I was quieter than usual, thinking about all that had happened and everything I had learned. Even the cook’s blueberry pie couldn’t take my mind off my troubles. It wasn’t until today, just a couple of hours ago in fact, that I really smiled again. You see, I got a present from Captain Colby. Inside a plain brown wrapper was a real, old-fashioned book. There were purple and pink flowers drawn on the hard cover underneath the word “Diary,” and all of the pages were blank except the very first one, which said:
I felt like crying and smiling at the same time. After my hands stopped shaking, I found a pen and sat right down and wrote this entry. Well, after I wrote my thank you note, that is. It said:
And for the record, Diary, yes, it was worth it. It was all worth it.
Kim Sheard got her start as a professional writer with two wins in the Star Trek Strange New Worlds contests in 1999 and 2000. You can find her other science fiction/fantasy tales in New Writings in the Fantastic, Expanded Horizons, Crossed Genres, Beyond Centauri, WomanScapes, and Continuum Science Fiction. Visit her at www.kimsheardauthor.com This story was first published in Beyond Centauri.
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