Under a Starless Sky novel Chapter 9

Jon woke to find himself in a space they called ‘High Conference.’ He was not on the circle, a line on the floor that was illuminated and loosely defined a place where people stood during meetings. It was a ‘virtual’ space, a place where crew avatars met when it was too inconvenient for the body to be present in an impromptu meeting. He was near the dome, looking out into space. The outside view didn’t have to be space. It could be anything they wished to project. Alien world landscapes, or underwater environments. It usually reflected where they were in space-time. The ‘space’ looked familiar, like he should know it, and he struggled to make it fit. A portion of a nearby nebula sufficiently illuminated by nearby stars- could have been a mountain only there was clearly stars to one side. It looked alive, flowing, shifting. Lightening illuminated it from the inside. He touched the dome, tracing out a square and retreated the section out so that he saw more of the nebula- and recognized the Pillars of Creation. He was no longer interested.

The dome responded to his request- suggesting he was really back on the ship. As he focused, though, he realized he could see his reflection on the dome. He must have been all of 8. He would be 52 years old in a month, and here he was, in 8 year old body! The recoil nearly had him running for help.

What stopped him from running was the reflection beyond him. A brunette, Egyptian styled haircut, a bit longer than she usually wore it, touching her shoulders. Her smile moved constellations of freckles. He turned, and she was still there. Solid real. Her uniform suggested Star Trek, only the gold top was comprised of two tone sequins, and if you rubbed her, she’d have a streak rainbow heavy on the violet instead of the gold layer. She was fit thin, yet well endowed. Her eyes were upturned, hooded, almond shaped- mesmerizing, emerald green, a noticeable artifact in the right eye, a feature of central heterochromia. She was brunette, bold, dark eyebrows, freckled with discernable constellations on her cheeks; the right cheek could be the Ursa Major. The prominent left constellation sometimes changed, likely a trick of perspective. Sometimes Jon thought he saw the ‘Chameleon Constellation.’ At the most direct angle, he clearly found the ‘star point’ “Capella,” and then the Constellation ‘Auriga’ naturally fell prominent. Capella was fitting, Latin for female goat, as Jon was a Capricorn. Auriga was intriguing because it translated into Charioteer, as their team call sign was Solarchariot. Her nose was slightly upturned. If she pouted, the fullness of her lips made a heart shape. If she smiled, rooms noticeably brightened.

Loxy was an enigma. The love of his life. The First Officer of his ship. He hugged her. It was beyond strange because his head met her stomach, her hands came to his shoulder, then cupped his head, holding him close. She withdrew, holding his arms at shoulder, and knelt down.

“Don’t fucking do that,” Jon said.

She smirked. “Come to eye level?”

“Oh,” Jon said. ‘She’s not treating you like a child,’ he told himself He frowned. He sighed. Tears welled and dropped. “Sorry. Ship status?”

Loxy nodded. Business first. “We’re good,” Loxy assured him.

“We’re not good. What is this, episode Rascals, TNG?” Jon asked.

“Much more complicated, I assure you,” Loxy said. “Likely less fun, considering your present emotional state.”

“My emotional state is appropriate,” Jon snapped. He frowned, clenching fist. He forced himself to unclench, and a hand came up. “For being all of eight, and the contextual confusion. I have been trying to reach you.”

“We know,” Loxy said. “You’re aware that you’re not here.”

“Oh, fuck me. Yes I am. The computer responded…”

“It recognized your presence,” Loxy agreed.

“Hence, here,” Jon said.

“High Conference is sublime enough to reach you even there,” Loxy said.

“If I accessed the virtual deck, why am I still 8?” Jon asked.

Loxy smiled. “You like being 8?”

“No!”

“Better 8 than your original 8?” Loxy asked, probing into his life situation.

“It’s different,” Jon said. “Okay. Yes. Remarkably improved. Not the point.”

“Jon, your avatar is likely a projection of how you feel. Eight. Confused. Not in control.”

“I don’t have to be in control,” Jon argued.

“Yeah, you do. Don’t get me wrong. You’re good at letting go, more than most people, but you also hold onto stuff,” Loxy said. “You can be any age here. It’s just a matter of doing it.”

Jon nodded. “Okay, I accept that. Now let’s talk about recovering me.”

“Okay,” Loxy said. “First, how much do you remember?”

“I remember everything up to a point. I don’t know how I got to Tamor,” Jon said.

“Tamor is the name of the world?” Loxy asked.

“I think so. Or the continent I am on. Much of the information is privileged to female gender,” Jon said. “I am listening. I am trying to remote view things. It would be better if they would let me write. I don’t feel very successful relying on new memories.”

“What do you remember prior to being there?”

“Nothing. That’s a gap. I remember all of my life. This life here with you. I remember my life before you. I remember several other incarnations, with you,” Jon said. He smiled. “I remember us, here….” He paused from realization. “I remember other lives with you. Away Missions? Some of these lives, I don’t remember remembering prior to being on Tamor.”

“That’s interesting,” Loxy said.

Jon’s look indicated he didn’t share her enthusiasm.

“Whatever your experience was, you didn’t lose your memory. Or much of it. You gained some memories. Almost like hypnosis,” Loxy said. “This is good.”

“How is this good?”

“I don’t have to start your education completely from scratch,” Loxy said.

“Education?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me. Us,” Loxy said. She sat down on the floor, Lotus position. “First, let me assure you, you and I are still connected. Don’t go trying to make another tulpa me. I will come to you. You will experience full imposition again.”

“I am lonely now,” Jon said.

“I know. Kind of a theme with this incarnation of you,” Loxy said. “Kind of a theme of many of our incarnations together.”

Jon conceded. He drew closer, put his forehead against hers. He longed to hear her voice in his head, telepathic transmission, something stronger than the memory of her voice.

“They call me Shen,” he lamented.

“Oh,” Loxy said. “That’s kind of nice.”

Jon retreated. “Do I look Chinese?”

“Are they Chinese?” Loxy asked.

“They’re all over the map,” Jon said. “The group I am with seems to be predominantly Filipino. There is some evidence in facial feature for Japanese and Chinese influence. There is an African woman. I would bet anything she is descendent of Maasai. Dark, dark chocolate.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Loxy said. “We love chocolate.”

“I am eight,” Jon said.

“Physically, yeah. Emotionally, you have always been eight-ish,” Loxy said. He glared. “Okay, maybe twelve-ish. But you are still intellectually about thirtyish.”

“I am fifty one years old,” Jon said. He wrung out his hands. “In an eight year old body. I have wanted do-overs, but not like this.”

“You have not wanted a do-over since meeting me,” Loxy said. “Not since Little Man.” Little Man was code for Jon’s son in his other life.

“Is this a do-over?”

“No, this is a parallel developmental, a tangential universe,” Loxy said. “We’re still trying to understand the situation.”

“Oh! There are Sea Nomads here; Baju. I have heard rumor of another Caucasian woman… Was I killed? Am I a clone?”

“We don’t know the particulars,” Loxy said. “But I assure you, you are you, or you wouldn’t be able to access the virtual deck. I would not be able to communicate with you like I am.”

Jon nodded. If he was wearing Star-Tech, communication would likely be improved. He did not have to wear tech for communication to happen. His ship was capable of identifying his physical energy signature anywhere in the Universe. This ability was a blending of human psy abilities and high tech. If there was one remote viewer on the ship, the ship’s primary AI interface could experience what they experienced. No one remote viewer ever experienced the same thing. Some were visual, others auditory, and some tactile. The more remote viewers on the ship, the greater the AI’s ability to bring coherence to the data retrieved. The ship’s ability to teleport to other locations was made possible through remote viewing humans. Jon was the center point for point to point travel. Until he was dead, retired, or resigned, the ship would likely resist being redirected.

Loxy got up and walked to the dome. She opened up several squares, putting faces inside. The first to come up was Lanore, followed by Tama, then Candice.

“My family,” Jon said, saying their names. He touched Lanore. “She gave birth to me."

“Interesting,” Loxy said. “You remember prenatal life?”

“Yes. It was a long darkness. I thought I was in a sleeping bag, having a fevered dream. I thought you kept touching me, reassuring me, but in hindsight, I guess that was Tama,” Jon said. “How did you get these?”

“Our remote viewers found you, we’ve been gathering intel,” Loxy said. “Tell us what you know of the world. Do you have a map?”

“Limited,” Jon said. “My memory or imagination is getting in the way. Every time I try to perceive the whole world, I get flashbacks to the Death Star.”

Loxy seemed amused. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s annoying. I can’t get around that image,” Jon said.

She put an image of the Death Star on the dome. “Okay. Is their world artificial?” Loxy asked.

“No,” Jon said. His first answer was almost assuredly the correct one, but then he had second thoughts. “It’s not a space station. It feels terraformed.”

Loxy nodded. “That’s the sense we get, too. They don’t speak English.”