Humanity's Vessel

Jana Si Yi-Liu’s brow was knitted by her frown. Her normally noble bearing was gone. Her pale-brown eyes gave character to her ashy-brown skin. As a Gen 4, her genetics yielded to blending and possibly the environment. With her face lowered so it was not obvious, she glared toward the Chair, glared at Cesar Er Yi, her grandsire. Captain Cesar was Gen 2, barely removed from the Innovators themselves. In fact, his parents were of the Innovators. Cesar was among the first generation to be born on Humanity One. He followed in his sire’s footsteps. They were called “fathers” back then. She had heard that somewhere from someone. Jana was taller than her Gen 4 peer females, and many of the males. That particular sequence of her double helix strands remained true, inherited from Cesar’s lineage. At fourteen, almost fifteen, her life was good. At least it started good. She was in the line of Crew members destined to be true leaders. Against the developing tradition, her parents opted to allow her sire to train her to be his replacement as Captain. Higher status was afforded by that variation. From birth, she was destined for greatness. To sit at the helm of Humanity One. To guide, lead, coax and charm the vessel across the vastness of space to a tiny spot many lightyears from Earth. To establish humanity on another planet in another star system. To Earth Two. She liked the status her role afforded and quickly grasped the basics of her future responsibilities, eager and ready to fulfill her destiny, even though she was still more than a year from adulthood – and two lifetimes away from becoming Captain, those of Cesar and Joseph. Unlike most Crew Member functions, Captain training began at a very early age. Mentored by her sire, Jana essentially had no childhood. Her behaviors were conditioned toward being a strong, selfless, singularly focused leader beginning the moment her parents made the decision to train her to be Captain. Watching her sire, Joseph San Jui-Er, sit in the chair to the right of the Captain, in the Trainee chair, became unbearable as time passed. She was driven … by training, by nature … to be in charge, to be engaged in the role chosen for her. Cesar still lived and still sat in the Captain’s Chair. That fact was not lost on Jana. She recognized the incongruity of her position. She was being trained by someone who had not yet proven his viability in the job. She was training for a position that would not be available to her until two prior generations of her lineage recycled. Second-in-Command Juan San Er-Qi sat in the Chair when Cesar went to his quarters for his rest period. Not Joseph. Joseph was Cesar’s heir apparent. The son would assume the role of Captain, not Second-in-Command. Until that day came, Joseph shadowed Cesar. Juan and his Trainee knew that any crisis required the Captain to be summoned to the bridge, regardless of time. Sitting in the Trainee chair with Second Officer Juan was not an option for Jana. She had asked several months earlier when it became apparent to her that Cesar’s recycle day was not fast approaching. She was denied and lectured about her place in the hierarchy, about her brazen attempt to take away opportunity for the Second-in-Command Trainee, a fellow Gen 4. Born to lead but with no chair. Jana wandered the Control System Room, a shadowy presence, watching every person, every activity. Her waking life was in that room. Everything she knew was in that room. When … if … she achieved Captain, even her sleeping life would be connected to that room. She often wondered if she could choose another function, learn something different. Protocol would not allow it. Not after completing Captain training. Her bearing of leadership, her demeanor of control, the role of Captain was too deeply ingrained for her to fit compatibly into a lesser role, to be subservient to anyone. She could not seek lower status. Jana liked her peers. She admired them in some ways. She envied them for the certainties of their futures. As the prospects of her achieving the Captain’s chair anytime soon paled, she found solace in her friends. Trainees, not yet adults. She joined a small group in the mess hall. They laughed. They joked. They respected her, deferred to her, unaware of her fears that she might never sit in the Captain’s chair. They accepted her as their future Captain without question. She was in her element when she was with her friends. A leader. And some of them were as unhappy as she. Rex Si Wu-Wushisi piqued her interest emotionally. Throughout her training, Jana was conditioned to avoid emotional entanglements. The responsibilities of Captain were too important to allow distractions. When she was able to sit across the table from Rex, Jana watched his every move while he ate, when he spoke. She knew her observation skills were better than most. Observation was a key element of Captain training. Observation affects outcomes. What is seen and considered by the observer. What is perceived and feared by the one observed. A practiced observer can guide the outcome without overt interference simply by watching. Rex was not easily affected. He was focused. Whenever he noticed her watching him, he simply smiled. His deep-blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. So did his teeth, even while eating spinach. But it was just a smile of friendship and acknowledgement. He was cordial but seemingly disinterested. That drew her to him more. Another prize just out of her reach. He was more than a year older than her and would be an adult before she was. He would be mated before she was allowed to take a mate. He was beautiful, and he was in control, as elusive as the Captain Chair. The Control System Technicians were always busy, focused on their screens and alarm lights. Jana strolled and watched. She understood every function in the Control Room, every necessary decision required by the Con-Sys Techs. She knew what specific ship functions were represented by the wide array of screens and consoles. The panels were arranged so primary functions were in a specific area. Della San Qi was generally accountable for atmosphere in the Hydroponics part of the ship. Hydroponics scrubbed the air that was breathed by the Crew. It was a critical function. Maddison Si Wu-Qi, Maddie to her friends, was training to learn that function. Della and the other Con-Sys Techs were cross-trained to monitor any atmospheric anomalies and direct required corrections or repairs with simple keyboard commands. The system was not automatic, but it was smart, smart enough to offer suggestions to the humans in control. In truth, any qualified adult Con-Sys Tech could adequately function at any of the consoles. The Captain was never required to intervene – at least not since Cesar became Captain, to hear him tell it. Jana heard that mantra again and again. “Never interfere. No matter how much you think you know, the Technicians know more. Let them perform their duties.” But - and there was always a “but” - “Be ready to provide guidance and encouragement during times of crisis.” In other words, know what to do, even if it was never required of you. Observing and asking questions was more effective than routinely thinking for everyone. Jana was looking forward to the day when Maddie, and even skinny Sean Si San-Si, were allowed into the Con-Sys Trainee chairs. She would have someone with whom she could connect on a routine basis, someone to break through the boredom of not even having a Trainee chair. They would think she was special because she was not confined to a chair. They would not know the true reason she wandered. She heard Cesar’s voice in the background. She did not hear his exact words, but she knew what was said. She stepped toward the Captain’s chair, turned to face the control consoles, alert and anticipating what would happen next. It was part of the routine, but it was a break from the regular monotony … though at times a monotony of its own.