Endeavor

  Endeavor

  Scott McElhaney

  ONE

  I was seventeen years old on the day that the entire world was split in two. Well, I guess that statement might sound a little more melodramatic and apocalyptic than what truly happened. In truth, the world had always been split in two and it just happened to be during my seventeenth year that I actually discovered the unexpected yet clearly surmountable crack.

  I’m probably moving a little too fast already. Perhaps I should go back to the morning before I stepped over the “crack”. Why don’t I just begin this tale back at the moment that my own day actually started? Yeah, let’s just go back to the subtle call of reveille on that fateful morning.

  TWO

  Reveille awoke us all at seven AM as it always did on every day besides Sunday. Up until the day I turned twelve, that morning bell meant it was time for me to get ready for school. But once I reached that young age of graduation, well that’s when the morning bell meant six days a week of contributing to the daily functions and maintenance of this MSC or Multi-generational Salvation Craft. And no, I didn’t say “Salvage” – I said “Salvation” as in saving or rescuing. This ship had been built alongside a few others in order to save the last of mankind. See, there were slightly over a hundred of us and we needed to make our way to Kapteyn C in the Pictor constellation or else mankind could perhaps be lost forever.

  A little background would help, I guess: Almost eighty years ago, this ship left an inhospitable Earth with only thirty-three people aboard. The planet had been hit by a speeding comet two years prior, exterminating almost a quarter of all life on Earth in the first six months. That comet, twelve miles in diameter, was ultimately going to be responsible for killing most, if not all, life on Earth.

  These predecessors of mine were smart and realized the sort of world that was to come. They devoted all their time to those four MSCs that they intended to send off to four different Earth-like exoplanets which presented the best possibilities of sustaining a remnant of the human race. Our ship, the Endeavor, would be headed to a smaller version of Earth 12.7 lightyears away. This planet, Kapteyn C was discovered by the TESS planet-hunter satellite back in the 21st century and it was found to be orbiting an M1 red subdwarf called Kapteyn. While the star was quite small, barely twice the size of Jupiter, it was very stable and gave just the right amount of light and heat to the vibrant planet orbiting in that sweet spot known as the Goldilocks Zone. But I digress, it seems, so I’ll return to that morning.

  I awoke tangled in my three blankets barely ten seconds before my father cracked open my door and stuck his head in. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as I waved my hand toward my dad.

  “You up?” he asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled.

  “Sensei is starting at 7:30 today, so you’ve got to move fast if you want breakfast,” he said, just before he withdrew and closed the door.

  He was referring to my Martial Arts class that I often ended up reporting late to. The training, followed by a half an hour of weight training, was mandatory for all able-bodied members of the crew. It was just one of the ways we kept the last of humanity strong and able to defend themselves should we find some unruly or hostile aliens on Kapteyn C. That was my standing theory anyway.

  I got up and dressed myself in my white karate-gi, then proceeded to the bathroom to brush my teeth and quickly run a wet comb through my hair. I then bumped into my mother in the general living room.

  “Are you planning to stop back here before work today?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll probably shower then,” I said, heading toward the kitchen.

  Instead of eating a proper breakfast today, I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, then spun around and headed for the main door to exit our suite.

  “Have a good day, Vastian!” my mother called as I headed out to the main central corridor.

  I bit into that crunchy Gala apple as I made my way through the light morning traffic in the labyrinthine passageways of the Endeavor. These long, bland corridors of blue linoleum tile connected all the portions of my known universe. After traversing perhaps a hundred yards, I made my way into the dimly lit dojo with five minutes to spare.

  “What’s this?” Sensei asked, feigning a huge amount of shock, “Vastian Fox has decided to grace us with his presence before 7:30?”

  I tossed my apple core into the trash can as I continued chewing my last bite. She finished straightening the lampshade on one of the tall decorative lamps that usually lit that particular corner of the large room.

  “You said I couldn’t compete for my Cord today if I was late,” I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

  “Ah! But surely forgot about Quinn’s broken foot,” she chuckled, tossing a cloudy and consumed lightbulb into the same trashcan where my apple core rested, “You can’t compete.”

  I shrugged, then gestured toward her, “I merely need to compete against a Razor Cord. You’re a Razor Cord, Sensei.”

  She actually laughed as she took a step back. My Sensei for the past five years had been this exceptionally attractive longhaired Asian woman named Song Li. She was twenty-eight years old, fit, and the sole resident of my most intimate dreams for as long as I could remember. She was also, quite understandably, married to a good-looking man closer to her own age.

  “I want my Razor Cord, Sensei,” I said, straight-faced, “Why’s that funny?”

  She then lifted the sleeve that covered her right forearm, revealing to me the tattooed Cords she’d earned over the years. The first Cord was a tattooed rope encircling her upper forearm near her elbow. I had earned the same rope back when I was eight years old. Except back then, you weren’t allowed to wear your Cords, or more accurately, you couldn’t get tattooed until you were twelve.

  The next Cord just below that was the knotted gold twine which I also earned at nine. Below that, she had the brown braid which I earned when I was twelve, having all three Cords tattooed onto my forearm that same year. I was proud to show off my three Cords that year because not many twelve year olds already sported three Cords.

  Below that, she had the decorative red ribbon which I also earned just last year. Then below that, she had the gray and silver Razor Cord which I wanted. Perhaps she was trying to show me that she also had the yellow twisted ribbon tattooed below that, and then just below that was the braided blue and white wrist Cord, marking her as a true master of the martial arts. That was the moment she turned her hand around and showed me the circular medallion tattooed on her palm. That medallion was reserved for those who had won the annual ship-wide competition, which I’d already known she’d done just last year. She didn’t need to brag for my benefit. I already respected her completely and adored her in all the ways that I probably shouldn’t.

  “That Razor Cord still hasn’t been erased,” I said, approaching her, “So if it’s alright with you, I’d like to have the honor of taking yours, Sensei.”

  She laughed again. My way of phrasing my request was considered to be very confrontational and often used only on the sparring mat. Although she wouldn’t be losing her Cord which was permanently tattooed, I was still suggesting she would be losing it and giving it to me. The two other students in my class had already arrived while we were standing there near the trash can.

  “I was going to let you have time to think about what you’d just asked for, but I don’t think you deserve that opportunity. So for the class’ sake, please repeat what you just said, Vastian,” she said.

  I inhaled, suddenly feeling a little bit of fear invade my heart and stomach. The way she looked at me suggested that she intended to do some damage.

  “Since Quinn’s foot is broken, I can’t compete for the Razor Cord. I’d like it if I could compete-”

  �
��No. My answer is ‘no’ unless you phrase it like you did just a moment ago.”

  I found myself grinning just then, “I’d like the honor of taking your Razor Cord, Sensei.”

  She immediately pointed toward the sparring mat, “Let’s get this over right now so that we can spend the rest of the time doing something productive.”

  This wasn’t the usual way of things. Whenever someone was competing for a Cord, there was typically a little ceremony as well as some complementary introductions. A lot of time was committed to explaining what the student had achieved thus far. Instead, Sensei was putting her hair up into a bun while she too approached the sparring mat. I was getting pretty scared as I took my position on the opposite side of the yellow painted ring.

  “Three points loses. If your foot leaves the ring, it’s a point. If your shoulder touches the mat, it’s a point,” Sensei said as she spread her feet apart and took up a fighting stance, “Begin.”

  “Please just be a Razor Cord,” I said as I cautiously approached her.

  “I’m not going to use anything above that level, Fox,” she said, circling with her eyes on mine, “Come at me.”

  I knew she wasn’t going to strike first, so I struck toward her face, expecting the common practiced block. She struck back insanely fast, but I’d been studying her moves for years. I expected everything she sent my way and I either dodged or blocked it all. She grinned now, realizing that I wasn’t just joking around about wanting my Razor Cord. That was when she surprised me with two quick blows, all of which I blocked, then she executed a powerful kick to my midriff which sent me back a step. She didn’t offer me the moment I needed to regain my balance as she then attacked me with two more kicks, knocking me out of the yellow ring and onto the mat.

  “One,” she spoke loudly as I quickly leapt to my feet and regained my stance.

  “Not as quick as you thought it’d be, right?” I asked.

  “You asking me to stop taking it easy on you?” she smirked.

  “End this now so that we can get back to doing something productive,” I gestured for her to bring it.

  She laughed as we both circled each other, “Taunting? You think this will work on me?”

  “You’re going down this time. I’ve got something prepared just for you,” I replied.

  She shook her head and then she did as she’d done many times before when she led an attack. She went for a roundhouse kick to the head while I ducked easily and landed a nice kick to her gut even before she had the foot planted back onto the mat. She landed nicely outside of the yellow ring.

  “One up!” I laughed.

  She didn’t look happy at all now as she quickly rose to her feet. No more taunting smirks or laughter would be coming from her. The class was completely quiet, having just watched their Sensei taken to the mat by her student.

  To my shock, she lunged at me with rapid-fire strikes toward my face and chest. I blocked all but one which hit me painfully on the left side of my jaw. I stumbled back and she took advantage of the hit that dazed me. I dodged a kick to the face and retaliated with a leg sweep which she also dodged. She wasn’t giving me any time to think as she lunged forth with rapid-fire strikes again which I struggled to block. She was too fast though, landing two powerful strikes to my face, causing me to fall flat on my back.

  “Two, one,” she said, walking away without showing me any amount of concern, “You sure you want this?”

  As I sat up, I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth, realizing that my lip was bleeding. The dojo seemed to be spinning, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me. Sensei turned finally and looked at me. Her lack of concern for my bleeding mouth made me angry just then.

  “Your speed isn’t that of a Razor Cord,” I argued as I rose to my feet, “This fight isn’t fair, but no, I won’t give up.”

  “Then let’s end this now,” she lunged at me before I even had a chance to get my footing.

  I leapt back to avoid the flying kick, jabbing her with a nice chop in the midriff. She spun quickly with a kick aimed at my head, a move she taught me just last week as a follow-up to the flying kick. She’d also taught me how to dodge it and sweep the planted foot, which I did. She tumbled as I leapt upon her with my knee to her chest, forcing her shoulder to the mat.

  “No!” she shouted with a man-like growl.

  She spun out from under me, coming at me with an attack as though this weren’t a proper sparring match. I’d just evened the score and we both should have taken our places at the opposite sides of the mat.

  “Sensei!” I shouted, still on my knees as she somehow twisted around and scissored my head between her thighs, dragging me to the mat face-first while she remained on my back with my head clamped inside her legs.

  “Sensei!” someone else hollered.

  Before I knew what was happening, she had my head clamped inside her hands, her right hand on my chin and her left hand on the back of my head.

  “Sensei!” I cried out, knowing that this was a kill move.

  She released me suddenly, rolling off me just then as she sat down on the mat and dropped her face into her hands. Both of her hands had previously been positioned for an upper-level kill move not permitted in the lesser competitions such as this one. I turned to her as I sat up, discovering that she surely realized she had disqualified herself during a moment of anger, causing me to win the match.

  I scooted close to her while the whole room remained silent. I patted her on the knee.

  “Sensei?” I muttered.

  She removed her hands from her face and looked at me. There were tears in her eyes. I suddenly felt bad for winning.

  “I’m sorry, Sensei,” I breathed.

  “Sorry? Vastian, I was the one who lost control and I was literally about to snap your neck! I’m the one who’s very sorry, Vastian,” she said, almost pleading with me, “I let my anger get the best of me and not just there at the end. I’m… I’m not fit to do this.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re the best! Please don’t say such things!” I pleaded, taking her hands in mine, “Please keep being my Sensei! Please?”

  She seemed to inspect me just then. Finally, she squeezed my hands in hers and then lifted them high into the air.

  “Let it be known that Vastian Fox has just earned the Razor Cord. He can get the tattoo immediately while the rest of us take to our regular training,” she said, smiling at me.

  My fellow students clapped, then to my own surprise, I leaned in and hugged my teacher. She appeared to be taken aback at first, then reluctantly seemed to take me into her arms.

  “This is not appropriate, just so you know. I’m only allowing it because I almost killed you,” she breathed in my ear.

  THREE

  I got to skip the rest of the Martial Arts training while Ariel Lauber tattooed a beautiful Razor Cord on my right forearm. As she’d started inking my arm, I began imagining my upcoming training. I’d finally get to learn to fight with a knife, a club, and a pole. I was starting to get a little excited.

  “What is it that you do again?” Ariel asked, inking the outline in black.

  The incessant metallic buzz of that pneumatic needle was probably the background music in Ariel’s dreams at night. I pondered that momentarily before I realized she’d asked me a question.

  “Navigation Assistant,” I said, watching as the needle vibrated rapidly against my flesh, “They started me out in IT when I was twelve, but then there was an opening in Navigation and that had been the other field I’d excelled in back in school. It was always going to be either IT or NAV.”

  “Hmph… What are the odds? You gonna disappear forever after today’s artwork?” she asked.

  She looked up, tilting her head so she could see me past her long blonde bangs. Her eyes were thickly lined in black, causing her to look somewhat villain-like.

  “Uh… no?” I said, “Why would I disappear?”

  “Your predecessor on the bridge – the prior Navigation Assist
ant,” she said, clearing her throat, “I tattooed him with a Cord just before he disappeared. It wasn’t the Razor Cord like this. If I remember right, I think it was the Red Ribbon.”

  “You’ve done all my tattoos, Ariel,” I said, “If the ink makes people disappear, I’d have been gone long ago. Besides, I heard that the guy basically quit and became a bum or something.”

  She chuckled, returning to the task of decorating my arm.

  “Do you ever see any jobless bums around the ship anywhere? Dude left that day to solve the mystery of the voids or maybe it was the obvious mystery of the food. It was definitely one of the two and apparently, he found answers,” she said.

  “Nothing you’re saying makes any sense to me, Ariel. Why don’t you speak English? Pretend I’m a complete idiot,” I replied, feeling a bit frustrated by her words.

  “Vastian, we both know that you aren’t an idiot except for in the field of the ladies,” she glanced up at me again as she dipped her needle back into the ink, “What have you heard so far about the voids or the question regarding our food?”

  “Ladies? What do you know about me and the ladies?” I asked.

  She shook her head and muttered something. Then she wiped the blood from my arm and set her needle down. The outline was complete, so now she’d probably begin with shadowing and fill.

  “I couldn’t have been more ‘out there’ the last time you were here, dude. Nevertheless… food. We’re going on about eighty years in space, yet we always have fresh fruit, vegetables, bread, beef, turkey, eggs, and chicken. Have you never questioned this anomaly?” she asked.

  I was suddenly reviewing the time I came here for my last tattoo. Ariel was so nice to me that day. She was so talkative and… and flirtatious. She was at least ten years older than me, however. Was she really flirting with me back when I was underage?

  “You’re thinking about it,” she nodded, “That food is coming from somewhere.”

  It took me a moment to return to her line of thinking, “Wait, the food comes from the commissary! My mother goes there twice a week!”