Spike Martinez as Solus

The Calivada Oubliette was quiet. It was always quiet, but today had a certain weighty silence to it that Solus appreciated. It meant he’d be able to concentrate on organizing the latest outside supply requisitions. The oubliette didn’t need much from beyond its borders, but some things just couldn’t be grown or built on their lands. Things like, well, toothpaste. And a new sound system for the Main Hall. It was a begrudging allowance to permit the purchase and trade of goods between the ghosts and the ‘regular’ world, but one Solus took seriously. He decided what came in and out of the commune. He was careful not to push for too much integration of items, but wise enough to know no man, or Ghost, was an island. They were still human, after all.

It was in the afternoon that the visitor arrived. Suited, stiff, slick - everything the ghosts were not. He was led into Solus’ office, a small room that was part of the oubliette’s administrative building, and extended his hand. “I’m Cary Tyler, the CCO of Isely.”

Solus blinked and it took a minute to remember himself and accept the proffered hand, shaking gently. “Welcome to Calivada, Mr. Tyler. Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing to a chair opposite his desk. The two men settled, and Solus spoke first. “What can I do for you?”

“I understand you recently terminated your contract with the GAF,” Tyler began. “It seems -...”

“I have no interest in discussing that particular topic, Mr. Tyler. I understand it was an early release, but I was given the proper approval for discharge of duty.” Solus tried to keep his voice steady, but it was difficult.

“You misunderstand,” Tyler said hurriedly. “Your contract’s end isn’t in dispute. The paperwork filed more than explains and excuses the need to leave the assignment. To be honest, I admire you for sticking it out as long as you did.”

“For all the good it did,” muttered Solus. “They couldn’t even get an idea of the general sector.”

“It gave them some idea of what had gone wrong, which is fairly vital information, I’d think.” Tyler’s voice was measured, stepping carefully. “You provided a very valuable service.”

Solus closed his eyes briefly. A valuable service. That was an  interesting choice of phrase. A mind-ripping trauma-filled nightmare would be a better description. “It made my life a living hell, for a good long time, Mr. Tyler. Even know, the nightmares…”

“Do you hold any grudge against the GAF?” Tyler asked, curious.

Solus’ eyes opened immediately. “No! How could I? It was a clever idea, and I was the only one who fit the bill.”

Tyler’s brow arched. “How so?”

Solus sighed. “As far as we know, there are only four Ghosts with the cyberpathy ability. Four, out of seven-hundred and twelve. Two of us live here at the Calivada oubliette - myself, and my cousin, a young woman named Nova. She also has some regular empathic abilities. I, on the other hand, have psychometry. I can hold an object and ‘read’ it - see and sense things about the owner or the person who touched or used it last. The combination made me an ideal candidate to get information on the Far-Gone. No one expected...what happened when I tried to find them."

"No one had expected the tragedy of what happened to them," Tyler said quietly. "I don't think they would have asked it of you if they'd had any idea it had gone so...badly."

Badly. Horrifically. Unenduringly.

The Far-Gone was the world’s first generational ship. It was such a tremendous feat, such a grand undertaking for humanity. It launched one-hundred and sixteen years ago. Fifty years after launch, a message was sent back to Earth - the project was a failure. The scientists and officers had conferred and knew the self-sustaining protocols which had proved feasible in theory and testing would not last here in reality. Variables which had been improbable had come into play. Some of the crew had developed Pandorum – a variant of HSDD dealing with prolonged space-flight without hyper-sleep. A murder had been committed. They had decided to turn around and come back. That was the last official communication from the ship. Radio silence occurred almost immediately after. Soon after that, Earth lost its bead on the Far-Gone. Nothing was pinging back. It was if the ship had just...vanished.

Efforts to locate and contact the ship pursued for the next few decades, but eventually it was decided to count it as lost, mourn the crew, and move on. And then someone had the idea that perhaps Ghosts could use their abilities to reach out mentally and see if any traces could be found. The project was called StarTouch, and over a hundred Ghosts gave time and effort in all kinds of various conditions and settings in hopes of finding anything at all about the Far-Gone. Nothing worked. Nothing, until Solus.

He was given items - bits of material left over from building the ship, personal belongings of the crew and passengers. He was played messages that had come from the Far-Gone as it traveled. In a darkened room, surrounded by all things Far-Gone, Solus had flown across the stars in his mind, searched, felt, willed himself to connect to the great ship. It worked. Oh, god, had it worked. He learned the fate of the Far-Gone.

They were turning around. Announcements were made, explanations given. They were going home.

And then the mutiny happened.

Thirty-one people dead. Comm. and nav ops destroyed. Captain killed. So much destroyed. And the survivors left with no course charted, no direction. They could only go the way they’d been going and pray.

Twenty-six years later, another massacre occurred. This time it was just one man, but he was mad from Pandorum and flooded the vents with poison. Those who managed to be in a safe part of the ship were hunted down and mutilated to death. After the bloodbath, he turned the knife on himself. For some inexplicable and evil reason, he left the children alive. Seventeen in all, the oldest only eight. They wandered, frightened, amidst the carnage. They tried so hard to stay alive. They tried to care for each other. One by one, they all died. Babies first, then the older ones, wasting away because they didn’t know how to work the food dispensaries, or they ingested something poisonous thinking it was edible, or tried to fix some bit of tech and were electrocuted. Dropping, one at a time, to join the corpses of their parents and caregivers.

And that was the end. One-hundred and twenty-five people. Gone. Gone in the most horrific way imaginable.

And Solus saw it all within a matter of moments.

It took four tranquilizer hypo-sprays to just stop his screaming.

That was four years ago. Now…”I really had planned on living the rest of my life without discussing this, Mr. Tyler,” Solus said grimly. “Did you really come here just to gouge me emotionally?”

“No,” Tyler said. “I came because I want you as purser and counselor aboard a ship we’re sending into the Norma Arm to investigate something.”

Solus tensed. “Is it the Far-Gone?”

Tyler shook his head. “No. With the...information you provided, we know the ship could not be so close. It’s an anomaly of some sort. We think it has the potential to be evidence of extraterrestrial life. We want a small, covert ship to check it out.”

“Let me guess - neither the GA nor the military are informed about this potentially humanity-altering discovery.” Solus’ tone was wry.

“Isely remembers, all too well, what happened when we gave out our secrets prematurely. I know a lot of good came from the Galactic Campaign, but when we handed faster-than-light travel to humanity, it promptly started a war.”

Solus chuckled despite himself. “Fair. But I haven’t left Terra in a long time. I’ve never even been farther than Alhambra. Why me?”

“Because your cousin’s on contract with the GAF currently, and we want someone with cyberpathy.”

“And after the mission?”

“You’re welcome to come back here, or continue, if you’d like. Most of the crew has signed a two-year contract. We won’t ask that of you, but will pay you significantly more if you take the option.”

Solus nodded, slowly. “And just a jaunt out to Norma, a scan or two, and back home. That’s all.”

Tyler’s nod was firm as he rose from his seat.  “That’s all. The Fairburn is leaving from Alhambra in two weeks.”

Solus made no promise as the CCO exited. He didn’t have to. He was going to take the job. It was time to get back up on the proverbial horse and he prayed, prayed that he wouldn’t regret it.