Midway: Chapter 11

  Dhika was in her office, hard at work.  Her official title was Head Curator of the Archives, and while she had a staff, the department was quite her own.  It was an important job too, what she did was thought to be one of the most important jobs on the ship, just below maintenance of the ship systems that kept their physical bodies alive.  In a sense Dhika and her department were charged with keeping the ship’s brain and intellect alive.

  It was a busy time for her department.  The next transmission from Earth was coming in a few days and it would be her responsibility to ensure a proper integration of all the new information into the existing archives.  She would be responsible as well for backing up the new information in all the various forms required.  The job was a stressful one, but Dhika fed on the responsibility.  She was the kind of woman who enjoyed being challenged, and relished continual opportunities to prove herself.

  It was not insecurities which fed Dhika’s ambition or work ethic.  Too often people who come from privilege tend to coast on it.  They learn early on that there are no consequences for being lazy or unambitious and choose not to even try for one reason or another.  While this had been an all too common trend on Earth, it was rare on the ship since everybody was so interdependent and it was so hard to hide or to really get away with anything.  Dhika embodied the opposite of that disposition.

  She was the type of person who was proud of her heritage, and instead of coasting on it she strove to prove herself worthy of it.   The ship was a closed system though, and there were harsh limits on how far ambition could take anyone.   Sure one could run to become matriarch or patriarch, or even captain, but those opportunities came along so extraordinarily rarely.  The jobs only became open when the existing person filling the role died.  She understood that she could be one of the most exceptional human beings to ever live, and she still couldn’t even approach the level of accomplishment her grandparents enjoyed… Her friend Tycho liked to remind her of that when he felt that she was working herself too hard.   There was a very definite and unflinching ceiling on how far her ambition and hard work could ever take her.

  Dhika was a special kind of person.  Many people suffer awful things in their lives, but it is the special ones who are able to overcome these difficulties.   They are able to find a way to accept that suffering into their being and find it in themselves to move on with their lives, bravely facing the darkness every day.  Dhika was in a sense the very inverse of that kind of person.   She had every opportunity in her life to coast, and had a general guarantee that her hard work and passion could never benefit her in any measurable or tangible way, but this didn’t stop her.  She worked hard because she preferred to be able to honestly think of herself as a person who worked hard and who contributed.

  She didn’t work hard looking for any advantage over anyone else.  She did it because she was wired that way, because it was how she was brought up, because she enjoyed it, and because she had no idea how she would fill her days if she didn’t work.  She worked to serve her fellow crewmates, to serve her own sense of duty, but most importantly because it felt good to work hard; it was satisfying. 

  When the main door opened she looked up from her private office to see Johannes entering the main area of her department’s space.  As he made his way over to her office, he gave pleasant and casual greetings to her staff as he passed them.  Once he’d made it to her door he entered and closed it behind him.  “Hey Dhika,” he said.

  “Johannes,” she acknowledged, returning the majority of her focus on her work terminal.  It was not unusual for him to stop by for a variety of social or professional reasons.  The door closing was interesting though.  He came over to her desk and began running his fingers over the model of the New Horizon she had sitting on it.  After a few moments he sat down in one of the two chairs facing her behind her desk and stared off into space.

  Eventually, Dhika was distracted enough from her work to notice his odd behaviour.  She looked up at him with curiosity and asked: “What’s up Johannes?”

  “Maharet, Anaru, and I need would like to consult with you on an issue we’re having.  I’ve asked them to meet me here if it’s alright; I’m just waiting for them to get here.”

  “Of course,” she answered.  She was always happy to help out the leadership team in any way she could.  “What’s the problem?” she asked.

  “Well… it’s your brother actually,” Johannes began but at that moment the door chimed a second time and in response to a wink from Dhika, the door opened again.  Anaru and Maharet both entered and the door closed behind them.  Dhika winked at the transparent wall and door to her office, and both went opaque to give them some privacy.  Some people when first learning how to use their Brainchips developed unique quirks which helped them to focus their use.  Dhika was one such person and had developed a habit of winking her right eye at technology she wished to communicate with.  

  “Hey.  I had only just mentioned to her that it was about Neil.”  Johannes informed them somberly.

  “What now?” Dhika asked.  There was something of a history of problems with her older brother.

  “That’s just it dear.   More of the same really, but worse this time.  We’re considering sending him a stronger message this time,” Maharet answered.

  “What is it this time?” Dhika asked again, somewhat more concerned now.

  It was Anaru who answered her this time.  He was angry; Dhika couldn’t remember a time she’d seen him so visibly so.  “He has finally refused altogether, to do any brain or body work.”

  “What?” she asked incredulously.  He’d been known to skip his duties sometimes and to generally shirk responsibilities, but he’d never put anybody at risk and he’d never so flagrantly disobeyed the ship’s authorities or protocols before.

  “He thinks he’s bested us!  Can you fucking believe it?”

  “He thinks he’s fucking royalty,” Johannes added with a sneer, to which Maharet and Dhika exchanged a brief expression of concern mixed with eye rolling at the comment.

  Unfortunately, there had always been a problem with Neil.  He was now thirty-one and two years younger than Dhika, and unfortunately he seemed to have modelled his whole way of being in opposition to her.   While she was an ambitious team player, he was a malcontent who had so far spent his whole life trying to coast on the reputation of his grandparents.  He felt that since he had two grandparents who put the whole mission together, that he had some sort of right to just be a passenger and not to have to do any of the work.  What he failed to appreciate was that while it only took four people to come up with the idea of the mission, it took thousands of other people working for years to actually make the ship and mission a reality.

  “His sense of entitlement has always been a problem…” Maharet conceded, “but I think his recent behaviour does call for more severe actions against him.  That boy needs to learn a very severe lesson, I’m afraid…”

  “You’re going to shun him,” Dhika declared half in question and half in amazed understanding.

  “Dhika, it’s what we’ve been taught is to be used as the last resort and we’ve tried everything else,” Maharet stated sternly.  

  “Oh I’m, I’m not really protesting,” Dhika countered.  “He really just said that he just… wouldn’t do any more work at all?”

  “Yes.” Anaru answered coldly.

  “And he still expects to eat and… and breathe and what not?”

  “That’s right,” he answered again.

  “Hunh,” Dhika uttered as she slowly shook her head and stared off into the corner of her office for a few moments.  “It’s a pretty extreme move… we’ve never done it before.”  She sighed heavily.  “I don’t think you’re wrong though.  What do you need from me?  Did you want me to talk to him first or something?” She asked, flipping her hand over to an open palm.

  “No,” Maharet answered, “we think that if we’re going to do it we should just start as soon as possible.  We thought you deserved to be consulted on it though, since you’re family too.”

  “Well I appreciate that Mom… so what, we just start quietly spreading the word and then when everyone’s been told we start?”

  “Yes dear, that’s the protocol.”

   

  A few minutes later Johannes and Anaru stood outside Dhika’s office once Maharet had left.

  “Johannes… I can’t help but notice that Neil’s behaviour seems to have dramatically changed at practically the exact same time as our murder happened.”

  “I know.   He doesn’t fit our profile at all though; I mean he’s not the technical wizard his sister is.”

  “No,” the captain replied, “but on the other hand nobody who did meet our pretty weak profile did appear to be guilty.  I looked into it Joh, he doesn’t have an alibi for that night.  He was home alone.  The Brainchip logs showed him there, but we already know that whoever committed the murder had to have manipulated those logs.  It’s not out of the realm for practically anybody to have learned those skills without anybody knowing, just to pull off the murder the way they did.”

  “All very good points Ana…” Johannes agreed despondently.  “But let’s see how he responds to the shunning before we act on those suspicions.  We might be able to use it to get him to confess before we lift the shun… if he’s guilty that is.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me… that guy’s always bothered me.  No respect for anyone…”

  Johannes softly and halfheartedly chuckled at Anaru’s animosity.

  “You okay there old man?” the captain asked, newly concerned for his friend.  “You seem… drained somehow.  This all getting to you?”

  “Yeah… but it’s not just the murder, it’s… it’s everything.  I’m beginning to suspect that problems are just going to accumulate from this point out, that… that oversights by the founders are just going to continue to snowball and…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know Ana…   It’s just been a rough week.”