Tatum's War

Tatum absently skipped in the low gravity, his mind continually playing over the failed assumption. Even though the process appeared sound when he saw the towel disappear, something at the back of his mind nagged him. One piece of information was still missing. He obviously didn’t know what it was, for he had spent too many wakeless nights combing over the reports and data, not to understand that he was close. But how close, he wasn’t sure. Seeing the correlation of curved space appeared to be the answer. He sighed. What was he missing?

He stopped at the Zero tube entrance, while several crewman shot on by. He watched them glide effortlessly by and smiled. The one thing he loved about this ship was the Zero tubes. Looking back, to see it was clear, Tatum jumped in. Devoid of gravity, Tatum pushed himself along at a good pace, but not nearly at the reckless speeds as some. Though he smiled at the one time he had tried to go as fast as he could, and while his smile grew, he remembered missing an exit and crashing into the end of the tube with a resounding thud. Needless to say, the trip to Dr. Oullwyyng was a slow painful journey that for once was not because of MeerRhonda and her training. Tatum turned himself around and got ready to grab the handle to exit the tube. With a deft move, which was more of a ‘throwing someone out of the car’ motion, Tatum grabbed the handle, swung his feet through the opening just missing a crewman that gave him a hard stare at his clumsiness. Tatum barked a short apology before walking towards the mess hall. The gravity in the middle of the ship was a bit more normal then the outer parts or the upper decks. He walked the short distance to the mess hall and entered. Normally empty, Tatum was surprised to see it almost full. He stepped to the side to allow other crewmen to enter, and began to watch.

When he had first arrived on the space station, he had marveled at the diversity of the alien cultures that he’d seen. Noting how wrong the movies were in their depictions of alien species, he still hadn’t seen a huge gathering of them like this. Most of the time, between training and working on his assignment from Ishmael, the mess hall had been empty. Not really caring to keep track of what time it was, since his regiment was mostly dictated by MeerRhonda, Tatum didn’t know if this was the equivalent of lunchtime, dinnertime or neither. Either way, he found himself fascinated by the sight before him. Tatum had often marveled at how large the mess hall was. With just a few people in it, it appeared huge. But now it seemed small in comparison. Long tables that were normally empty, barely held the occupants trying to fit themselves in. Conversations that were translated by his implant, blathered on about ship operations. As he continued to watch, Tatum noticed that despite the colored uniforms of the different departments, the same species were grouped together. Even at a table where several types were seated, a small gap segregated them. Albeit small, the unspoken space could clearly be seen if one watched close enough. A Sciurus came to a table that clearly had enough room to sit next to his own kind, but since the empty space would have put him to close to the Klossi that shared the table, he turned and found another table that had room. Continuing to watch, example after example presented itself of this behavior. Perplexed, Tatum though it strange this kind of discrimination would still exist. In the short time he’d been around, he never noticed anything but the most professional albeit strict conformity by all. Everyone went about their way, helping when needed, offering advice when asked, and treating each with the respect due to another while on the job. But here, the underlying racial stigma continued. Tatum wandered over to the food dispensers, ordered his usual meal, and looked for a place to sit. A lone table sat way in the back that offered a perfect view of the entire mess hall that he hadn’t noticed before. On his way there, he stopped at several tables that had the small gape between each species, and each time he stopped, the same look was always given; Not here. Each time he stopped, and was politely rebuffed from sitting, Tatum would put a small smile on his face, incline his head, and respectfully move on. His smile didn’t come from any pleasure at being denied to sit, but from the understanding that it didn’t matter if it was someone he knew or someone he didn’t, he wasn’t allowed to join them. And that recognition that even an advanced races were somehow the same emotionally and racially as those on his own world, made him feel good about his planet. Everyone is flawed.

Tatum sat down at the lone table in back, tapped his arm, and Flexi brought up the map. He bit into his hamburger, allowing greasy goodness to run down his chin, and studied how curved space might connect, when a gentle cough made him look up. A Marguiy stood in front of his small table. Her darker skin contrasted her purple nurse’s uniform. Her dark green eyes with their black vertical slits widened while looking at him. Tatum smiled at her, and she reluctantly returned it with a nervous look in her eye.

“Hi. You’re from the infirmary.” Tatum smiled wiping his chin with a napkin.

“Yes.” She looked back over her shoulder at a table full of Marguiy and then back at him. “Are you under arrest?”

Taken back by the question, Tatum sat back surprised. “No, am I supposed to be?”

Relief flood the Marguiy face, but quickly turned to concern again. “You shouldn’t sit here. This is for prisoners only.”

“What? Prisoners?” Tatum glanced around her at the table near him. All the tables were watching him, quietly talking amongst themselves. “There are prisoners on the ship?”

The Marguiy shook her head.

“Where do you suggest I sit, then? Is there room at your table?” Tatum asked.

The Marguiy turned to look, and the only open spot was mutual space between her species and some Colletidae. She appeared sad when she addressed him.

“No.”

Tatum shrugged. “Then I guess I’m a prisoner.” He laughed. “Why does it matter anyway?”

“No crewman is supposed to sit here. Those are the rules.” She told him in earnest. “The rule.”

Tatum huffed at that. Not a religious rule breaker nor even a part time rule breaker back home, but he did tend to do things against the rules if it suited him.

“How about, instead, you tell me your name?” Tatum asked.

The Marquis’s eyes lit up. “Daryiha.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m…”

“Tatum, from Earth.” She blurted out.

“Correct.”

“You are quite famous in the infirmary.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. No one comes in as often as you. It’s uncommon to get to study a first time species as thoroughly as you. Usually, that information is gained gradually over time as they are brought into the collective. But with you,” she sighed delightfully, “several of us have already wrote articles and had them published in the Prefect-Dent Galactic Mosafer Majani’s guide to Medica.”

“I guess that’s good.” Tatum scrunched his nose.

“Oh, it is.” Daryiha fell silent. “You shouldn’t sit here.” And walked off back to her table without another word.

Upon sitting down she began talking adamantly with her neighbor. Tatum continued to watch as they pointed, clearly concerned that he hadn’t moved. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to study the map. After finishing off the rest of his burger, and his soda, he sat back and huffed. No matter how he spun, tilted, flipped or changed the light colors, the pattern he had hoped for never materialized on the map. But he had to acknowledge that part of him was distracted. The looks he got from crewmen walking by and the side glances from the tables that had first left him perplexed but smiling had by the end, when everyone had exited the mess hall, had made him highly annoyed. Uncertain why everyone cared so much whether he sat here or not, he found himself deliberately not moving just to make some statement he thought he had to make. He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t move. But either way, it rankled him that he should be treated this way.

Finally, when he thought he could leave and not be seen as giving into the imaginary peer pressure, which was stupid in itself, he gathered his tray, placed it in the disposal and marched off towards the Zero tube.

He stopped at a window that looked out into the vastness of space. Pinpoint lights flickered in the background, which mingled with his thoughts. His conversation with the Two started to filter back to him. Particularly the notion that you don’t kill the tree for a few bad apples. But if the tree produced bad apples, maybe the good apples were the oddity, not the bad ones. And if those good apples would soon become bad, wouldn’t it be prudent to pluck those before they became bad? This line of thought was making him wonder if things weren’t quite as black and white as he had led himself to believe. He’d never questioned why he was here. Just that they needed his help in defeating the Conclave. But what did he really know about the Conclave that hadn’t been told to him. The Two didn’t make it sound like they would hurt Alexa. Maybe the Conclave thought, as the Trifectoric did, that they could make a difference in their causes. But what Alexa could contribute, he still didn’t know. He smiled at that. He wasn’t sure what he could contribute to this war that had been going on long before he was born. Therefore, what was he doing here? It had been almost nine months since he’d left his home and family, and what did he have to show for it. A sweet laser gun collection, lots of data on machines and devices that he’d thought would be useful for his planet, but he wasn’t sure he’d get to keep any of that when he left. If he ever did got to leave.

“Zuib for your thoughts.” A familiar voice asked behind him.

In the reflection of the window, Daryiha appeared nervous. Her eyes kept darting around. He hadn’t had time to fully appreciate her beauty in the mess hall. Tatum turned around and smiled.

“I’m still a prisoner?” He asked.

Daryiha’s eyes widened, then softened as the humor filtered through her translator. “No. I just wanted to warn you, that’s all. Prisoners and the enemy are taken very seriously aboard ship. I just wanted to protect you from any misunderstandings that might arise from you sitting there. Not everyone aboard ship might know how nice and brave you are.”

Tatum snickered. “Brave? I’m not sure I’d go that far. But I do appreciate your kindness in looking after me.”

Daryiha blushed. “But you are brave. Everyone knows how you saved Space Station Hope from attack and how you sacrificed your safety for Buccaneer Iyara. You are a hero!” She chirped. Then her face fell, “And how you are going to marry her too.”

This last statement brought a raised eyebrow to his face. “First, I got lucky on the station. Second, I wasn’t thinking and almost got us both killed, and third, I’m not marrying anyone.”

Daryiha’s eyes immediately lit up with hope. “Really? That’s what she’s been saying.” Then her eyes narrowed. “She’s trying to keep you for herself.” Daryiha whispered.

Not sure where this might lead, Tatum took the initiative to change the subject. “Daryiha, is there a library or something like that here on the ship?”

Her face scrunched trying to understand and then smiled as the translation came through. “Not really. There is the data center that holds all the archives of each civilizations, but your flexipad can access that without having to go there.”

“Oh, okay. Well thank you.” Tatum turned to leave.

“Tatum!” Daryiha called to him.

He stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

Daryiha nervously tapped her two index fingers together in front of her chest. “If you want, we’ll be entering the Streem shortly, uhm, we…can uhm, watch it together on the observation deck.”

At Tatum’s perplexed look, Daryiha quickly added, “If you want.”

Tatum shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

Daryiha’s body shook with pleasure. “I’ll query you before.”

“Sounds good. Bye.” He waved to her and retreated down the corridor.

The bland colors of the corridor followed him through several turns until he came to a panel next to the Zero tube. He punched a red button.

“Destination?” A bland computer voice asked.

“Data center.”

Small lights blinked on the wall to his right. Surprised, he followed them until they brought him to a white double door. Lights around the door blinked several times then extinguished themselves. Tatum walked up to the door and it obediently opened.

The room wasn’t very large. Not what he was expecting anyway. Visualizing the alien libraries he’d seen in the movies back home, the room was hardly bigger than his quarters. One chair sat in front of a large glass panel that was blank. Undescriptive walls surrounded the scant furniture and almost looked more like an interrogation room than a library. One of the other things that he hadn’t noticed, but now seemed to be keenly aware of; the lack of anything resembling a warm feeling. He did have to remember he was on a combat ship, but even the Enterprise - D looked more comfortable.

The doors closed obediently behind him as he moved to sit in the chair. Upon sitting, the glass panel came to life; a small, rotating sword and shied appeared.

“Query?” A monotone voice asked.