Lila in Background Noise

One of my many attempts at fiction - Lila 6/27/2012

I looked to the port and saw our three mosquito craft astern and slightly trailing. Over the wireless I told them to break off and head back toward the mouth of the bayou.

“Orion’s Belt is preparing for a full stop and 180 - get out of our way.”

“There are eight of them ahead on that heavy clump of stumps” came back from either my brother or son. Their voices were merging in my mind.

“The drop is coming - down eight degrees in the last ten minutes. I want everyone in hibernation before the door closes. We don’t know how long that will be. I’ll give you ten minutes then we shut it down.”

“Copy”

I leaned back to the starboard - “Mr. Stevens, make our speed zero, rotate ninety degrees to port.”

“Aye, skipper”

I watched the horizon spin to the right as the ship spun left, the mosquitoes coming into view through the front visor. I watched as the crews corralled the lycanthropes and with almost military precision began beating them with twenty pound pikes - the animals shrieking in fury.

The temperature was down another fifteen degrees. Over my head a light turned yellow - negative 100F.

“Finish this up or let the autocannons take care of it.”

I swung back to the port and watched the last of the wolves going into the water, through rapidly freezing skim. The six members of the mosquito crews pounding mercilessly at the animals. As they came to the surface there was always a pike coming down on a head.

“Now. Goddamn it Randy, either back to the boats and back to the mouth of the bayou or move into the well deck. The drop is here. We are out of time.”

How many I wondered?

She answered even though I hadn’t said a word: Probably 75% of the remaining 200 million humans left.

“Mr. Stevens, reactor status?”

“Twenty alpha, fifteen bravo…“

I confirmed it on the status board.

“Sensors - drop status?”

“Looking to be hard and cold - predictive models call for -375F.”

“Weapons?”

“All up and up”

Let’s go, let’s go.

Over the wireless my brother’s voice - “We’re done here, they aren’t coming back up - we are heading out. See you in the morning.”

Morning had lost its meaning. The rise and the drop weren’t synchronized with the milky sun coming up over or going down under the hazy horizon. It was independent. This drop would take us cold, then the next rise which could come in as few as 12 hours or as many as 48 hours would take the ambient temperature up to over 200F.

“Copy. Your batteries are topped off, acknowledge?”

“Topped off…” his reply as the mosquito GTEs fired and Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka raced south, leaving us as the ice settled against the hull.

The crew of the Orion’s Belt stood ready for orders. The woman by my side headed down the hatch toward our stateroom, or tomb.

“Take the hull de-icing ring off line.”

“Aye.” Stevens slowly pulled back on a large handle until it was seated aft.

“Sensors - lower the protective closures…“

“Aye sir.” There was a hiss as pneumatics lowered thermal shielding over the ships sensor arrays.

“Weapons - arm autocannons, set autoprotect” - activating the forty 30mm robot cannons to detect and engage anything that moved and telling them to hunker down once the temperature fell below -300F.

“Engineering - set temperature controls for hibernation.”

“Already set, skipper.”

Now all non-essential areas would free-fall with ambient temperature. Living spaces would drop to 0F.

“I want everyone’s Hibernation Initiation Trigger set in five minutes. Indefinite wakeup, sensor controlled. Go.”

I wended my way to my tomb, stripped off eight layers of insulation and climbed into our bed, already warm with her body. She held up two pen injectors as I plugged myself into the ships mainframe.

“HIT me baby.”

As gently as I could I injected her in her upper thigh.

“We’ll wake.” I wasn’t sure she was making a statement or asking a question. Then she was out.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” I kissed her and turned her on her side.

The status lights over the stateroom door showed the autocannons going into protect, dropping their guard, covering up and shielding their sensors as the temperature dropped below -300F.

I pulled a foot deep layer of blankets and insulation over our heads.

The feed to the mainframe reassured me everything was it should be.

I pressed the injector to my thigh and wondered if we would wake.

The only answer I could come up with was “I don’t know, Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?”

I rolled onto my side and pulled her close, spooning.

I whispered “I love you, Lila” before I faded into hibernation.

Last updated October 10, 2015